Page 89 of The Wicked In Me


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That didn’t feel like enough, though. Nothing did. Maybe because so many things had been taken from him that his hold on her always felt precarious. Like she could slip through his fingers at any moment. There was really only one way to guarantee he couldalwayskeep her with him, but she’d never go for it.

His monster didn’t believe that, though. It didn’t see why she’d object to staying with them forever. Or why Cain would worry that she’d leave them if she learned the truth. Again, it was that lack of self-awareness at work.

“You’re frowning all of a sudden,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

What was wrong? Nothing. Except that she’d so wholly and unknowingly snagged the interest of a creature that would absolutely terrify her.

Sometimes, Cain felt that Wynter nonethelesscouldtruly accept him and the truth of what he was. Other times … other times he remembered he wasn’t that fucking fortunate.

He could very easily turn his back on someone who rejected him, but he wasn’t sure he could so effortlessly do that with Wynter. And that left him only one choice—never let her learn just what she shared a bed with.

Doing a languid stretch, Wynter glanced at the shelf on the shed wall. She was almost all out of reversal potions. Again. Well, it had been a long day, and she’d had a tricky customer who’d asked her to edit the runes on his dagger four times before he’d been satisfied with the results.

She’d originally thought that people’s interest in enchanting weapons would decrease once the novelty of it wore off. But she still had a steady stream of customers. Some even came with cutlery or jewelry. And once the shapeshifting beings learned that she could also put runes on claws, some had come seeking such a service.

The rest of her crew were doing just as well. Xavier, being such an expert at divination, had plenty of regular clients who liked to have weekly readings. Many people stopped by of a morning to pick up baked goods from Hattie. Anabel’s potions practically flew off the shelves on a daily basis, since she had such a massive selection. And Delilah’s cosmetics remained highly popular—particularly her gift sets.

In sum, their homerun shop was still doing well. Which still supremely irritated many of the local businesses. Some had had the downright gall to attempt to replicate both Anabel and Delilah’s brews, though they’d had little success.

Still, both females were furious that others would try to steal their ideas and products. It had taken Wynter a good fifteen minutes to talk the nutcases out of cooking up their own improved versions of Molotov cocktails for Xavier—who’d happily volunteered his services—to sling through their windows … all while Hattie walked around demanding to know who’d hidden her copy ofFifty Shades of Greybecause she still hadn’t yet located it.

Wynter had managed to distract them by relaying Cain’s response to Ishtar’s visit. Delilah had crowed about being right that Ishtar’s actions were motivated by both her hurt ego and how threatened she felt by Wynter’s involvement with Cain. The crew felt uneasy on hearing that he hadn’t addressed the claim Ishtar made that the Aeons had something he wanted. Wynter hadn’t felt too great about it either, butsheskirted shit all the time to preserve her own secrets, so she had no right to press him.

Her stomach rumbling, Wynter grabbed her empty mug and set of keys. It was time to lock up and—

An otherworldly breeze slammed into her body, vibrating with urgency and a warning of danger. She heard a heel scuff the floor a mere millisecond before pain lanced through her back and chest. Sucking in a sharp breath, she glanced down. Shock and panic zipped up her spine.No.No, that wasnota sword sticking out of her body.

Except it was.

And it had penetrated her heart.

A hiss sounded in her ear. “That’s for my father, youbitch.”

Agony scraped Wynter’s insides like a serrated blade as the sword withdrew from her body. A hand roughly shoved her to the floor, and she was too damn weak to even throw out her hands to catch her weight. Her heartbeat pulsed in her ears—slow, erratic, faint.

Footfalls sounded, and then a male spat out a curse. “Annette, what have you done?”

Bowen.

“I did what I had to do,” the woman claimed.

Wynter’s heart stuttered to a stop, and darkness swallowed her.

*

Cain kept his expression blank as Ishtar swanned into Seth’s drawing room with an overly bright smile on her face. Well, of course she was smiling, and of course said smile held a hint of smugness. Given that Seth had invited her here, she probably thought that his brother had ‘come round’ and wanted to revisit old times. She’d soon be disabused of that theory, because he was just as pissed as Cain about the shit she’d pulled with Wynter.

“Seth, darling,” she all but sang. Her step faltered when she noticed Cain standing in front of the fireplace, but then her smile widened. “Well, hello, you. I get to have quality time with both brothers. How lovely.” She elegantly lowered herself to the spot on the sofa beside Seth, her brow wrinkling at the hard look he wore. “Whatever has gotten into you?”

“Tell me something, Ishtar,” said Cain, “did you really think that urging Wynter to run to Seth to seek refuge from me would work?”

Ishtar’s smile melted away. “She told you, I see.” The Ancient spoke as if Wynter was a petty child who ran off to tell tall tales to her parents.

“She chose to fairly give me the chance to speak in my own defense,” said Cain, purposely vague. Any conversations he had with Wynter weren’t Ishtar’s business.

The Ancient’s upper lip quivered. “And you fooled her into believing she matters to you.”

Cain took a menacing step forward. “I told you to leave her be.”

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