The Wicked in Me (Devil’s Cradle #1) Read Online Suzanne Wright

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Magic, Paranormal, Romance, Witches Tags Authors: Series: Devil's Cradle Series by Suzanne Wright
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Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
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Finally, Cain uncurled his hand. Grouch collapsed to the ground, coughing and sucking in huge gulps of air.

“He’s going to faint if he keeps breathing like that,” said Maxim, somewhat dispassionate.

Cain pursed his lips. “Most likely.” He narrowed his eyes. “I won’t tell you not to fuck up like this again, Grouch. I don’t need to. Because you’ll never have the chance to repeat your mistake. No one who targets something that belongs to me ever does.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Throw him in the snake pit.”

Whistling, Maxim freed Grouch from the chains, fisted the back of the berserker’s shirt, and then hauled him out of the cell and along the passageway.

Wynter managed not to tense when Cain’s dark eyes slammed on her. She stayed very still and held his gaze steadily. She never ever let herself forget that she was in the company of an apex predator. But sometimes … sometimes she failed to remember that him having access to her soul meant she was so very vulnerable to him.

His lips twitched. “Ah, there’s that hunter stare yet again,” he said, amusement lacing the words. “I find that I like it.” He crossed to her, standing oh so close. “I’d never hurt you, pretty witch.” Sobering, he added, “Still … you’ll never be utterly safe with me.”

She swallowed. “I don’t know what that means. But I do know I’m not looking for someone to wrap me up in cotton wool and keep me safe and protected, so there’s that.”

Plus, as few things could truly kill her, there was some part of Wynter that perversely liked being around a creature that was a true danger to her. It made her feel more alive. Which was probably twisted, but there it was. Hell, they were both twisted, really. What a pair they made.

The cottage was rarely ever quiet. Especially in the morning when they were usually getting ready to open their homerun shop. But today was their day off. And since Delilah was in the bath, Hattie and Xavier were shopping, and Anabel was experimenting with potions in her bedroom, Wynter found herself alone in the kitchen and … yeah, the silence was almost eerie.

Still, it was kind of nice to be able to sit at the table drinking tea and be alone with her thoughts. So her mouth tightened when there was a gentle knock on the front door.

Wynter pushed away from the table, crossed the living area, and pulled open the door. She tensed as she took in the astonishingly beautiful blonde standing on her doorstep with a female aide at her side. What in the hell … ?

Ishtar gave her a soft, practiced smile. “Good morning, I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Wynter highly doubted the woman would care if she was. The words were polite but empty.

“We’ve never officially met, have we?”

Careful to keep her expression neutral, Wynter said, “No, we haven’t.”

“I am Ishtar.”

“Wynter.”

She peered over Wynter’s shoulder. “I do hope you don’t rudely intend to leave me standing on the doorstep.”

The Ancient wanted to enter her home? The same Ancient who’d glared at her several times? Not funny, universe. Not funny.

Unable to turn the woman away without insulting her, Wynter stepped aside and invited her to enter.

Ishtar instructed her aide to remain outside and then slowly strolled through the door and into the living area. She glanced around, unimpressed. “I sometimes forget how small these houses are. It must be frightfully inconvenient to have so little space. Why, you couldn’t swing a cat in here.”

Wynter really wouldn’t want to swing a cat anywhere, but whatever. Her inner monster tilted its head, studying the visitor. It didn’t want her in its domain. Didn’t trust her near Wynter. But it remained calm, not getting the sense that the woman meant her physical harm. At least not today.

“Can I get you a drink? Tea? Coffee?” Cyanide?

“No, thank you.” Ishtar gingerly sat on the armchair, her brow creasing in concern. “I heard about the attempted kidnapping. It must have been quite an upsetting experience for you.”

Wynter sank onto the sofa. “You could say that.” It wouldn’t be true, but it could be said.

“You know people will keep coming on behalf of the Aeons, don’t you? It will be never-ending. I am aware that Cain and the other Ancients believe that one of the Aeons will eventually come here. I am more of the opinion that they will continue sending others to do their dirty work. But if they do come here, you will need to be ready for what happens next.”

“What does that mean?”

Ishtar smoothed a non-existent wrinkle out of her long, flowing skirt. “I know you are involved with Cain. I can see why you would be drawn to him at a time when your life is in such peril. He is, after all, more than a match for the people who would do you harm.” She paused. “This is the first time we have ever had something that they want. And so, it is the first time we are in a position to barter with them for what we want. I cannot elaborate on that. Not without the full support of the other Ancients, and they would never grant it to me. What I mean to say … is that you should brace yourself for what will feel like a betrayal.”



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