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“You don’t know that. I doubt you even believe it.” Wynter sure didn’t.
The Ancient’s back snapped straight. “Do not presume you know what I do or do not believe, witch. You do not know me.”
No, but she knew plenty about Ishtar from Cain; enough to draw fairly accurate conclusions about the woman. Despite not having that same insight into Wynter, Ishtar nonetheless thought she had her all figured out. Wynter allowed it, as it sometimes served a person best to leave an enemy to misread them.
“I see that you have no intention of giving my suggestion some thought,” said Ishtar. “You believe all will turn out fine in the end, I expect. Perhaps you are right. Perhaps it will. Perhaps the cage will be broken. But I do hope you don’t also believe that you would then live a happy life with Cain. In truth, you will not wear that seal for long.”
“What gave you that idea?”
The bitch took one sauntering step forward. “Cain wants you now. But you age every day. You will develop lines, wrinkles, stretch marks, pigment changes. Parts of your body will lose their shape, including your very best assets. Give it ten years or so and you will no longer hold any physical appeal for him. Do you truly think he will still want you then?”
Pausing, Ishtar let out a delicate snort. “You will have given him your best years, and for what? He will throw you aside at some point. There will come a time when you matter to him no longer. And then, witch . . . then I’ll kill you.”
Her lips thinning, Wynter closed the short distance between them. “No, you won’t. You’ll simply die trying.”
Ishtar barked a laugh. “Yes, you definitely live in a fantasy world. It will be such fun for me to watch as said world crumbles around you. Assuming we all live long enough for that to come to pass, of course. For as long as you stay here, that remains unlikely.” The Ancient then turned and strode out of the shed.
*
Sitting in the middle of Cain’s bed later that day, Wynter watched him pace back and forth. He made quite a picture, fluid and predatory, his muscles bunching and rippling beneath his shirt. Her stomach would have gotten all fluttery for sure if he wasn’t also seriously pissed. “You promised you wouldn’t overreact,” she reminded him.
He spared her a quick look. “And I haven’t,” he clipped.
“You just said you’re going to rip out her spinal cord and wrap it around her neck.”
He gave a stiff shrug. “She deserves worse.”
Wynter would have preferred not to have told him about the visit Ishtar paid her. He had enough things on his mind right now, and she didn’t want the bitch to take up space in his head. But he would have found out from someone else, just as he’d found out about the woman’s first visit months ago. Then he’d have been upset that he hadn’t heard of it directly from Wynter. Plus, there were enough secrets between them as it was.
Moreover, it was only sensible to alert Cain. After all, there was a chance that Ishtar would sneakily deliver Wynter into the Aeons’ hands herself. If Wynter did mysteriously disappear, Cain would know exactly who to question.
“Not gonna lie,” Wynter began, “you make my hormones weak when you turn growly and snarly like this. But she’s not worth the energy you’re putting into all that pacing. And she’s far from worth the kind of reaction you’re considering giving her.”
“I will not show her mercy,” he said, his voice as dark as those eyes that glittered at her. “She tried to make you give yourself up, knowing you would eventually die if you did.”
“But to her, this wasn’t a big deal. You know how her mind works. The way Ishtar sees it, I’m a mere mortal, as common as an ant. And just as a mage might sacrifice animals without much of a thought, she’d easily urge me to sacrifice myself because in the grand scheme of things I simply don’t matter.”
A low growl slipped out of him. “You matter to me. You matter a fuck of a lot to me. She knows that. She ignored it. And she needs to answer for it.”
“But what I said before still applies—you can’t afford to lose any Ancients when you might soon be coming up against the Aeons again. And it wouldn’t only be Ishtar you’d be without. Inanna wouldn’t exactly take her sister’s death well. She’d probably seek to avenge her. You’d kill Inanna, of course. But then you’d be two Ancients down.”
He stopped pacing, his teeth grinding. “I can’t—I won’t—let what Ishtar did slide.”
“I’m not asking you to. I’m simply asking you not to kill her.” Wynter would rather do that herself, though of course not yet.
“She knew what she was risking.”
“But my point still applies.”
Cain cursed. “It never even occurred to me that she would make such an illogical move,” he said, crossing to the bed. “She couldn’t have honestly thought that you would agree to surrender yourself to the Aeons.”
“You’re forgetting that she doesn’t know me. She thinks she does. In truth, she decided I’m a naïve girl so blinded by you, your fabulous cock, and your level of hotness that I make idiotic choices.”
“Fabulous cock?”
“It’s nothing short of fabulous. Anyway, due to her insistence on viewing me as dumb and easily manipulated, yes, she truly thought I’d agree to leave in order to spare you the consequences of a shrunken cage.”
He bent over and caught Wynter’s face in his hands. “It would spare me nothing. I would lose my mind if you were in the hands of Adam and Abel, especially when I had no way to get to you. I’d want to scorch the fucking Earth, and I’d settle for scorching the one part I can touch. Devil’s Cradle would soon be no more, and there would be no survivors. Giving yourself up wouldn’t save anyone, Wynter. It would only guarantee both our deaths. Promise me you won’t do it.”
