AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Rolling back her shoulders, she fixed a placid look on her face. Innocuous, staid, uninteresting—thatwas what she was going for. Wynter wanted to fade into the background and draw as little attention as possible while here. She wanted to be simply another resident, wanted to come across as a mere run-of-the-mill witch.
Finally, her guide halted near a mahogany door and wrapped his knuckles on it. A deep voice bid them to enter. Following the gargoyle into the room, Wynter almost blinked in surprise. She’d expected a simple office. It was a parlor. Gothic and elegant, it had antique Victorian furnishings, thick red drapes, a large stone fireplace, Persian rugs—
Sharp, hooded eyes clashed with hers, so serpent-like in their intensity that it tripped every one of her inner danger alarms. At the same time, though, her body perversely perked up. And she couldn’t really judge it for that.
Long and lean and supremely male, this man was perfect in form. His face looked carved from stone, all sharp angles and hard lines like an uncut jewel. His short, smooth hair was the color of obsidian, and he had the kind of full, carnal mouth that made a girl wonder just what he could do with it. His eyes were definitely his best feature, though—they were dark and almost … lustrous, like two black pearls.
So this was Cain … The originator of murder, the ancestor of envy, the quintessential personification of sin.
Someone could have warned her that he was also built to compel and seduce.
He stood tall and straight with his shoulders back and his feet planted—the image of self-possession. The long-sleeved tee he wore stretched tight across a delightfully toned chest. He’d shoved the sleeves up to his elbows, revealing ancient-looking tattoos. Even his forearms were toned, like those of a drummer.
“The coven I mentioned,” the gargoyle said to him.
Cain lifted a glass tumbler from a liquor cabinet. “So I see.” His voice was a deep, rumbly,I’ll talk dirty to you all night longkind of sexy that made her thinkveryfilthy thoughts. “You can leave now, Maxim.”
The guy obligingly breezed out of the room.
Cain took a swig of his drink, his gaze sweeping over the others, who’d all fanned out behind her. His eyes then once more locked with hers, unapologetically direct.
Her pulse skittered as his long legs began to cover the space between them. He moved with the sinuous grace of a tiger on the hunt, each step slow and precise, like he was callously savoring every fluid stride that took him closer to his prey. Damn, he had an explicit, sexyrawnessto him. An edge. Not a devil-may-care edge; no, the edge of an apex predator who knew he was the penultimate alpha male and wouldn’t hesitate to slit your throat if you stepped a foot wrong. And she was entirely unprepared for how much that revved her engines.
Silently cursing her unruly hormones, she kept her expression blank, trying and failing not to admire the muscles bunching and flexing beneath his shirt. While her combat-trained mind instinctively plotted all kinds of potential pre-emptive strikes just in case he moved to hurt her, the entity inside her blinked and lifted its head. It went on high alert, but she sensed no panic from it. It didn’t feel threatened or vulnerable. She wasn’t sure if it could feel fear.
Finally, Cain came to a stop in front of her, so close she could feel his body heat. He gave her a lazy, head-to-toe perusal. An electric awareness snapped the air taut as little sparks seemed to spring from her to him. Not liking that visceral chemistry or the damn fluttering in her stomach, she fought the frown that tried tugging at her brow.
Towering over her, he watched her. Studied her. Missed nothing. “I am Cain. And you must be … ?”
She gave him a respectful dip of the chin and said, “Wynter.”
“Wynter,” he echoed, swirling his tumbler. “Pretty name.”
“It is, isn’t it?” said Delilah, remaining slightly behind Wynter. “Perfect for a Priestess.”
Wynter felt her lips thin.
“So you’re a coven?” asked Cain.
Since they no longer needed to pose as one, Wynter shook her head. “No, we’re—”
“The Bloodrose Coven.” Delilah reached past Wynter and handed hima fucking business card.
Wynter whirled on her. “What in the hell? When did you get—you know what, we’ll talk about this later.” She quickly introduced the others, thankful they remained quiet.
Cain inclined his head at them, a ghost of a smile now touching one corner of his mouth. It didn’t soften his expression or relax Wynter’s nerves. Something told her he’d still wear that hint of a smile while caning your fingers.
“Drink?” he offered.
“No, thanks.” She’d rather keep her wits about her.
The others also politely turned down his offer.
He gestured at one of the sofas. “Sit.” An instruction, not an invitation. It wasn’t spoken rudely, just in an expectant, no-nonsense tone that told her this was a man used to being in power.
He was also undoubtedly used to being obeyed … so it would probably be bestnotto spend a lot of time around him, because Wynter had a will of her own and wasn’t afraid to use it. That wouldn’t help with her whole ‘innocuous’ act.
She sat in the center of the couch he’d indicated and then crossed one leg over the other. Anabel and Hattie sat either side of her while Delilah and Xavier each claimed an armrest.
