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)
“Maybe Saul feels too drained from experiencing the pain of the shades’ injuries to carry on,” suggested Xavier.
“Maybe.” Still, Wynter didn’t lower her sword, keeping herself braced for another—
A sphere of blinding light crashed into her head. It burned like lava, hit like metal, crackled through her system, and arched her back violently as an agonized scream got trapped in her throat. She hit the ground as her vision dimmed, and then her heart stuttered to a stop.
Shock stole Cain’s breath as Wynter collapsed to the ground like a broken doll. That shock swiftly vanished under a hot wave of feral fury that all but drowned him. His head whipped in the direction from which the sphere of light had come, and he noticed Saul standing on a cliff beyond the outskirts of the town.
Cain’s monster roared so loud his head fucking hurt. The roar wasn’t just a mere expression of rage, it was a challenge. A promise of painful retribution.
Another bright sphere appeared in Saul’s hand. Cain acted fast, launching a power grenade that exploded in the air, sending small fragments of dark energy into Saul’s skin. The Aeon cried out in pain, staggered backwards, and then abruptly disappeared as the wind snatched him up once more.
Too worried for Wynter to be pissed that Saul had vanished, Cain blurred to her side, barging right past her coven members—all of whom had surrounded her protectively. He scooped her up off the ground, his gut in fucking knots. Cradling her limp form against him, he swallowed hard.
She was dead. He knew it. The link he had to her soul was beginning to fade.
Her coven tried reassuring him that she’d come back, but Cain didn’t respond. Didn’t spare a glance for anyone around him. Didn’t care about anyone but her. He moved with the enhanced speed of his kind as he rushed back to the manor and upstairs to the mirror that then took him straight to his Keep.
In his chamber, Cain meant to lower her to the bed, but he found that he couldn’t let go of her. Instead, he sank into the armchair, keeping her huddled against his chest. Holding her, knowing she was dead in his arms and feeling his connection to her soul continuing to fade, was an epic mindfuck.
Closing his eyes, Cain drew in a breath. It hurt. As if his ribcage had become smaller, or his lungs had expanded.
Silently willing her heart to begin beating again, Cain opened his eyes and kissed her forehead. He’d never felt so fucking powerless. Not even when the Aeons imprisoned him and he’d realized that no amount of attacking the cage would break it.
“Wake up for me, Wynter,” he said without moving his mouth from her forehead. “Come back to me.”
She didn’t wake. Didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
His creature pushed against Cain’s insides, wanting to be near her. It was still vibrating with rage, taunted by the memory of her dropping to the ground like a stringless puppet.
Cain didn’t allow himself to even consider that she could truly be dead for good. No, she’d come back. She would. Just as she’d once come back from Ishtar’s blow.
He ignored the voice in his head reminding him that the Ancient’s strike hadn’t meant to be lethal; that Saul’s blow, on the other hand, had aimed to kill.
“Open your eyes, Wynter.” He stroked her hair and nuzzled her neck, silently swearing to himself that he’d find some way to get to the netherworld and drag her back if she didn’t wake.
His mind cast back to when she’d earlier stood in the manor’s foyer, primly informing him that she wouldn’t stay behind. Cain had been torn between wanting to shake her and wanting to fuck her—the battle-thirsty look of hers never failed to make his cock twitch.
His monster was similarly affected. It had longed to bite her. Hard. It wanted to do the same thing right now, as if the act would somehow bring her back.
Cain’s muscles bunched as his connection to her soul abruptly snapped back to its normal state . . . as if it had never faded at all. Her eyelids then fluttered open, and a relieved breath slid through his gritted teeth. Thank fuck.
As she let out a weak moan, he held her closer. “Shh, I’ve got you.” There was nothing soothing about his voice right then; it was as jagged as a serrated blade.
Wynter blinked hard, looking dazed and drained. “God, I hate dying.”
He nuzzled her hair. “I hate it when you die.”
She looked around, noted where she was, and quickly took stock of him. “Are you okay?”
“Me? I’m not the one whose heart stopped beating.”
“Are you okay?”
He grunted. “Fine.” He’d suffered minor wounds, courtesy of the shades, but they’d healed already.
“Everyone else okay?”
“Yes.” Most likely. He hadn’t cared to check. “You weren’t, though. That’s twice now I’ve watched you die.”