Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 121324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Her coven had agreed with him that she shouldn’t change her sleeping arrangements, claiming that if the two people that Saul badly wanted dead began sleeping in a building that had fewer defenses than Cain’s Keep, they’d be making it easy for him to get to them. It would also serve to lure Saul to the cottage, which was the last thing Wynter wanted.
Really, her main worry was that he might use someone else to attack her just as he’d done at the market. Hence why her coven had given protective talismans to the guards. Still, it meant that Wynter had to treat anyone else as a possible attacker; she had to watch them closely and be ready for them to pounce. It was tiring.
Anabel cocked her head. “What’s with the church bells?” She straightened in her seat, her eyes widening. “Shit, do you think they’re supposed to be some kind of alarm? Oh my God, the Aeons must be here.”
Delilah sighed, her eyelid twitching. “You’re hearing things again, potion-test dummy. And there is no church around here.”
Anabel blinked. “Oh yeah, I forgot that.” She went back to her soup.
“You know, I figured the Aeons would have attacked by now,” said Xavier before taking another bite out of his sandwich. “Actually, I also figured that Saul would have made a move by now.”
“I heard he was in pretty bad shape after his time at Azazel’s dungeon.” Anabel took a swig of her soda. “He’d need to take a few days to heal and rest up, right? Maybe that’s why he’s lying low.”
Wynter exhaled heavily, setting her glass back on the table. “Maybe. I wish he’d just attack me already so we can put him out of commission and be done with it.”
“I’d personally much rather he attacked Cain, since your dude has a better chance of killing Saul than you do,” said Delilah. “I also think . . .” Her nose wrinkled as a pungent smell wafted through the open window. Grumbling to herself, she pushed out of her seat and stormed over to the window. “Hattie, you promised you’d stop smoking that shit.”
“How else is an old lady supposed to relax?” asked Hattie from outside.
“I can think of a lot of ways that don’t involve smoking a joint,” said Delilah.
“They’re good for the soul,” claimed Hattie.
“They’re bad for your lungs.”
“My lungs are just fine, thank you very—Dammit, now I’ve got ash on my book.”
Delilah huffed. “It serves you right.” She closed the window and grabbed the cannister of air freshener from the cupboard beneath the sink, muttering beneath her breath.
Wynter arched a brow. “You do realize she’s only sitting out there so she can ogle the guards, right?”
“Oh, I know.” Delilah sprayed the air freshener, filling the room with the scent of lavender. “They don’t, though. They’ve fallen hard for the helpless, frail old woman act. And they adore her because she’s always plying them with free baked goods. They don’t realize that those goods do actually come with a price attached—they’re being constantly objectified.”
“George just thinks she’s being kind to them,” said Anabel, dumping her spoon in her empty bowl. “He has no clue that his woman is a perve.”
Delilah snorted, retaking her seat at the table. “Oh, I think he has some idea, considering the kinky stuff they get up to. I love that they’re so unashamed of it.”
“That’s how it should be.” Xavier ate the last of his sandwich. “It doesn’t always work out that way, though. My brother is convinced that anyone who’s into BDSM must have had a traumatic childhood and needs therapy. He said some cruel shit to me when my ex told him I used a paddle on her ass, like that’s even a big deal.”
“You don’t have a brother,” said Wynter. “You have a younger sister—that’s it.”
Shooting her a sour look, Xavier licked a crumb from his lip. “I hate how good your memory is.”
Her mouth tight, Delilah threw up her hands. “Why say it if it isn’t true? Seriously?”
“Maybe your bafflement is a balm to my soul,” he replied.
Delilah made an exasperated sound in the back of her throat.
Anabel flinched and hunched her shoulders. “Jesus, who’s whistling?”
“No one,” said Wynter. “You’re hearing things. Again.” She lifted her arms in the air to do a long, languid stretch.
Delilah’s eyes fell on Wynter’s wrist. “Given the serpent on that seal, Cain’s affinity for snakes, and those reptilian eyes his creature has, I’d say it’s got to be a serpent. Do you think your monster would stand a chance against it?”
Frowning, Wynter lowered her arms. “I’ve never even thought about it. Thanks for putting the horrible idea in my head.” The thought of the two monsters turning on each other . . . no, Wynter didn’t want to entertain it.
“So yours isn’t, like, possessive of his or anything?” asked Anabel.