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“She’s fine,” Cain assured him, knowing that the gargoyle had developed a fondness for Wynter. “But we have a problem.” He told him of the Saul situation. “Have a search party sent out. I want him found. And make the other Ancients aware of the situation.”
Maxim gave a nod. “It’s done, Sire.” He tipped his chin at Wynter and then stalked off.
Cain gently squeezed her hand. “Come on.”
He led her through the arched hallways, where the old and the new fused together with the imperial staircases, carved columns, state-of-the-art features, and domed, frescoed ceilings.
Anyone who took in his collection of artwork would sense that he liked to collect rare objects—whether they be books or paintings or sculptures. It was part of why he’d been so fascinated by Wynter right from the start. She was a singular creature. Plus, he’d never before had partial rights to an undead soul. That had made him more eager to collect her.
Inside his bedchamber, he flicked a hand and sent out a small wave of power, lighting the many candles. The small flames danced, casting light and shadows over the tapestries, heavy drapes, and furnishings.
He wished it would take a mere flick of his hand to capture Saul. But the male was a being whose power almost matched Cain’s. Almost. That would be the bastard’s downfall.
After they showered, Wynter slipped on one of his tees at his request—he liked the look of her in his clothes. Perching herself on the edge of the four-poster bed, she watched Cain closely. He loved how she so boldly held his gaze—no nervousness, no fear, no submissiveness.
He even loved when she fixed him with her trademark hunter stare that told him she’d pounce if he ever proved a threat. It never failed to stir his blood . . . which was probably perverse, but he gave no fucks.
Cain found his gaze dipping to the arm that had earlier sported an ugly burn. “Saul’s going to suffer in ways he didn’t know it was possible to suffer.”
“I don’t suppose reminding you that I’m okay will be enough to calm you,” she said.
“You suppose correctly.” Not bothering to pull on any clothes, he moved to stand in front of her and planted his feet. “Run through the incident again. I want every detail this time. Miss nothing out.”
“That’s not gonna help you shake off your mad.”
“Every detail,” he reiterated. “And stop looking at my cock—you won’t distract me with sex, so don’t bother trying.”
Sighing, she folded her arms. “Okay, fine.”
Cain listened as she elaborated on her earlier story. His monster narrowed its eyes when she spoke of how Saul told her she never would have let Cain touch her if she knew what he was. The most annoying thing about that was . . . “He’s probably not wrong.”
“I’ve told you before that I don’t spook easily. But hey, there’s only one way you’re ever going to know for sure if I can handle it.” You’ll have to tell me, she didn’t add but he heard.
He accepted that with a nod. “I need more time.” More specifically, he needed her to feel that she couldn’t be without him. “Then what happened?”
“Not much. I pointed out that I’d warned Lailah there’d be consequences to her exiling me. He got pissed that I suggested she had some hand in her own demise, and then he started ranting about how he’d make you and me pay; that he’d enjoy hurting me. And then my monster surfaced. By the time it retreated, he was gone.”
Cain flexed his fists. “He shouldn’t have touched you. I already had plenty of reason to loathe him, given he helped build this cage and almost killed Seth during the war many years ago. Still, I might not have planned to drag Saul’s death out too long if he hadn’t tried to take you from me.”
“In his mind, he’d have merely pissed you off a little. He thinks I’m your toy.”
“You are.”
She barked out a surprised laugh. “Oh yeah?”
“When we’re in bed, yes, you often are.” Cain took her hands, pulled her to her feet, and drew her close. “You are many, many things to me, Wynter.”
But he was greedy for more than what they had. Greedy for everything. Which made him remember . . . “I told you this morning that I had something to run by you.” They had been interrupted by one of his aides, so they had agreed to table the discussion.
Humming, she slid her hands up his chest. “Yeah, I remember. So what is it?”
The simple feel of her fingers splayed on his bare skin was enough to make his cock twitch, but he wouldn’t do anything about that yet. The conversation they needed to have was too important. He cuffed her wrists to ensure her hands didn’t wander any further and said, “I want you to agree to be my consort.”
She squinted, wary. “And what would that mean for me? The word ‘consort’ carries a different definition depending on what preternatural race we’re talking about. And I was under the impression that Ancients generally don’t take people as their consort.”
“It is the truth. Lilith was the only exception, though her consort died long ago. To my kind, consorts aren’t simple companions who share our bed. Although they don’t rule alongside us, they’re our equal, our partner, our mate.”
“So this is no small deal for you.”
