: Chapter 12

Returning to the Keep after having a long meeting with Seth a few days later, Cain was met at the front entrance by Maxim. The aide informed him of a minor issue that had cropped up in his absence, adding, “Also, Ishtar arrived while you were with your brother. I explained that you might be a while, but she insisted on waiting for you. She is in the solar room.”

Cain felt the corners of his eyes tighten. For the most part, she’d given him the cold shoulder since he first got involved with Wynter. Apparently that phase was over, but he didn’t mistake that for Ishtar having shaken off her ‘funk,’ as Azazel called it. She pettily clung to the slightest of insults. To Ishtar, that he’d be sleeping with Wynter when he could instead be sharing a bed with her was an insult.

“Thank you, Maxim,” he said.

Cain headed for the solar, intent on getting this over with before Wynter arrived. As per usual, she would turn up at some point within the next half hour. He wondered if Ishtar was aware of that; wondered if the Ancient hoped to annoy his witch by being present when she arrived. It was the kind of childish thing that Ishtar was apt to do.

Entering the solar, he found her sitting on the sofa, casually dressed, her legs tucked underneath her, her face a mask of uncertainty. He held back a frown, wondering at her game. And this was a game. Ishtar never showed vulnerability unless it suited her agenda. She certainly didn’t dress in a simple get-up of jeans and a tee—that was more Wynter’s style. He inwardly sighed, sincerely tired of the never-ending plays that Ishtar made.

“Does anyone in your service have the ability to resurface a person’s lost memories?” she asked without bothering to greet him, as if too unsettled to waste time on formalities. “Since waking, I have noticed that there are many holes in my memories. As if they were suppressed during my Rest. I have already spoken with the other Ancients. They all said they know of no one who can help me.”

His creature huffed at the feigned urgency in her voice. “If any in my service are capable of it, they haven’t admitted to it,” Cain replied simply. “But then, I don’t ask about people’s abilities.”

Her hand fisted. “There has to be someone who can assist me with this.”

“You haven’t been awake long. You need to give it time.”

“But my memories should feel less foggy at this point.” She stared out of the window, exhaling a wistful sigh. “I wonder if Inanna will have the same problem. We will have to wake her soon, won’t we?”

“Lilith plans to do it tonight.”

Ishtar’s gaze snapped to his, blazing. “And no one thought to tell me? Inanna is my sister.”

“Lilith went to your Keep yesterday to speak to you,” he calmly reminded her. “One of your aides told her that you were not receiving guests.” If he had to guess, he’d say that Ishtar had been sulking after feeling slighted by the, in her opinion, ‘boring’ celebration Lilith threw for her that included poetry recitals and theatrical entertainment.

“She could have returned at another time to deliver her message.”

Like Lilith had nothing better to do than chase after her? “She was no doubt waiting for you to contact her at your earliest convenience to ask what she’d wished to speak with you about.”

Ishtar pulled a face. “Stop being so reasonable. There was a time you were never reasonable. We had such fun in those days,” she added, injecting a sultry note into her voice. “But then you changed. Fired all manner of dramatic demands at me.”

“Only you would think that someone was being dramatic by demanding to be treated as an equal.”

Her mouth firmed. “You are not exactly in a position to judge. Your current toy is hardly your equal. I doubt you treat her as such.” Ishtar examined her nails. “She fought well in the gauntlet. For a witch. I do hope she will partake in other such celebratory activities.”

Cain went very still. “Do not even think to bring her into your games and put her in harm’s way. I will not allow it. The other Ancients will not allow it. She is to be protected.”

“So you say, yet you do not protect her from you or your monster,” Ishtar sniped. “She is in danger every moment she is with you simply because you are what you are. Still, you keep her as your toy. That tells me you care nothing for her.” She sniffed, a triumphant glint in her gaze. “Does she know that?”

Cain refrained from rolling his eyes at how eager she was to believe that Wynter meant nothing to him. “Why don’t you ask what you really want to ask? I may answer. I may not.”

Ishtar straightened her legs and planted her feet on the floor. “Is it true that she sleeps in your personal chamber when she is here?”

For fuck’s sake. Did the woman really have nothing better to do than monitor his private life as best as she could? “I will not discuss the finer details of what is between myself and Wynter.”

Ishtar barked a harsh laugh. “You think there is something between you? She doesn’t even know you, Cain. You will have shown her only parts of you.”

That wasn’t something he could deny. It also wasn’t something that he intended to confirm. The matter simply wasn’t Ishtar’s business.

“If she were to learn the truth, if she were to learn about your monster, she would leave you.”

Said monster narrowed its eyes, in complete disagreement. That was the thing about the creature. It had no real sense of self-awareness. It didn’t see itself as a monster.

It also didn’t seem any less possessive of Wynter. Yet.

“You know I am right, Cain. She would never accept the real you. She would never look past your secrets. So I hope your creature is as bored of her as I suspect it must be. Because if not and she chooses to leave you before you end things first, it will kill her for the insult.”

“You judge my monster by the standards of your own. Mine does not possess an ego that, much like yours, cannot handle criticism, rejection, or abandonment.”

Her face hardened, her fingers digging into the armrest. “You can be such a bastard.”

“I can.”

“But you are only being so testy right now because you know I am not wrong.” Ishtar regally rose to her feet. “The witch would not accept you as you truly are, Cain. You are fooling yourself if you believe differently.” With that, she stormed out of the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts … and those thoughts didn’t take his mind anywhere good.

*

Adjusting her tee, Wynter was just about to say her goodbyes to her crew when a fist pounded on the front door of the cottage. Feeling her brows snap together, she walked into the living room. “Who the hell is that?”

Glancing out of the window, Xavier replied, “Uh, there’s a bunch of demons in the front yard. One of them looks seriously pissed, and I think he might be holding a fireball in his hand. Could be hellfire,” he mused, uncaring.

Her face solemn, Anabel sank further into the sofa and put a hand to her chest. “So this is how we die.”

Wynter rolled her eyes.

“Delilah, get out here now!” a voice from outside bellowed.

They all looked through the archway that led into the kitchen. Delilah was currently muttering to herself while peppering ingredients into the steaming cauldron.

“Del!” Wynter called out. “We need you in here!”

Delilah cursed but hurried into the room. “What’s wrong? Make it quick.”

“Did you get on the wrong side of any demons lately?”

“Not that I’m aware of. Why?”

A fist once more pounded on the door.

Wynter sighed. “Hattie, keep an eye on the cauldron.”

But the woman who was curled up in the armchair didn’t even look up from her book.

“I’ll do it,” volunteered Anabel.

Wynter pointed at Delilah. “You come with me.” She led the other witch to the front door and opened it wide, revealing eight males who were also local demons. The furious-looking one holding a fire ball had a bandage on his cheek.

“Is there a problem?” Wynter asked.

“Yeah.” He jabbed a finger in Delilah’s direction. “Her.”

Delilah put a hand on her hip. “What about me?”

“All I asked for was a potion to make my girl’s tits bigger,” he said, his nostrils flaring. “You told me to pour it on her breasts and lick off any excess liquid. I did. Only it didn’t work, and shit got fucked up.”

Delilah folded her arms. “I warned you there might be side effects.”

“Woman, I grew a third nipple. On my face.” He tore off the bandage and, yep, there it was.

“You can hardly notice it.”

Wynter glanced over her shoulder at a smirking Xavier. “Get me a reversal potion, please.”

“Sure thing,” he chuckled.

Wynter shot her an ‘I know I told you not to sell any karma potions’ look, but Delilah was too busy arguing with the demon to notice. It was a wonder she hadn’t gotten herself killed long before now.

Xavier reappeared, his eyes still bright with laughter. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Wynter took the vial and offered it to the demon. “Drink that. The nipple will vanish.”

He jerked back, his hands raised. “You think I’m gonna drink anything else she made?”

“Actually, this is one of Anabel’s brews. It’s just a reversal potion. Look, take it or don’t. The nipple will probably go away by itself in a few days anyway. So if you’re happy to wait that long …”

His lips thinning, he snatched the vial and downed the contents; the effect was pretty much immediate. He looked at his lair members. “Has it gone?”

They all nodded or answered in the affirmative.

He rounded on Delilah. “That shit was—”

“Unfortunate,” Wynter cut in. “I’m guessing you didn’t tell your girl what the potion was meant to do.”

He averted his gaze briefly. “Well, no.”

“And that right there is the problem. Performing such magick on someone without their knowledge can backfire. Delilah did warn you there could be a price, correct?”

“Yes, but she didn’t mention anything about third nipples.”

“No one ever really knows what the cost will be. Look, I get why you’re upset, but you’re not at all blameless here. The potion wouldn’t have backfired on you if you’d been honest with your girlfriend.”

He sighed. “You realize I’ll forever be known as the guy who once had a nipple on his face?”

“Another thing which is unfortunate,” she said, hoping her words overrode Xavier’s snicker. “In future, whether you purchase a potion like this from here or somewhere else, be upfront with the person you want the potion to work on. We said the same to a woman who was looking for a cock-lengthening brew—”

“You make cock-lengthening brews?” he asked, all his hostility slipping away.

“Me? No. But Delilah does.”

“They only work for a few hours,” Delilah told him. “It’s kind of like Viagra, only it changes the size of your dick as well as enhances your libido for a short period.”

He and his lair exchanged intrigued looks before he turned back to Delilah. “How much are these brews?”

Wynter inwardly snorted. Men. Figuring all was now well, she shot Delilah a ‘We’ll talk about this later’ look and then turned to Xavier. “I’ll leave you guys to handle this.”

“We got it,” he vowed, smiling. “You go see Cain.”

That was the plan. It had become a routine—she worked, she ate with her crew, and then she spent the night in Cain’s bed. Each time a voice in her head taunted that she was in danger of growing attached to the Ancient, Wynter pointedly ignored it.

Reaching the Keep, she greeted the aide at the entrance, who then escorted her upstairs to Cain’s chamber. She found him standing near the window, sipping amber liquid from a tumbler.

“Sorry, I’m late,” she said. “Had to avert a crisis.” The hairs on her neck stood on end when his eyes met hers, utterly vacant. “What’s wrong?”

He very slowly angled his head. “Why would you think something is wrong?” he asked, his voice flat.

“Because I’m not stupid.” It was easy to tell that all the shutters were down right now. Still, she raised her hands and said, “We don’t have to talk about it.” She had no right to push him to share things with her, given that she wouldn’t return the favor if he ever pushed too hard. “Just don’t insult my intelligence by expecting me to believe you’re not working through something in your head right now.”

He let out a low hum. “What was the crisis you mentioned?” he asked, though he didn’t sound particularly interested.

She plonked herself on a bulky chair. “To cut a long story short, Delilah pissed off a demon. He and a bunch of his lair turned up at the cottage looking for her. All is well, nothing happened; they were buying more potions when I left.”

His gaze returned to the window. “It must be strange for demons to have to coexist with an entity that differs from them in many ways. There would surely be a struggle to find balance.”

Her skin tingled, because there was something about the way he’d spoken … as if he was fishing for something. Testing her, even. “I guess.”

“Have you ever been around a demon when their inner entity surfaced and took control?”

“Quite a few times since coming here, yes. They’re intrigued by dark magick. They like to ask questions about runes.”

Cain’s eyes bore into hers. “And you answer? As if they are a being in their own right?”

“Of course. They are a being in their own right. Just because something is the epitome of inhuman doesn’t mean it should be feared or loathed or seen as ‘less.’ It’s simply different. I’ll only have a problem with such a being if it means me harm. Otherwise, I’m all about ‘live and let live.’”

There was a flicker of … something in the depths of his dark eyes, and then a warmth steadily filled them. “Come here.”

That bedroom tone made her pulse spike. “I like this chair. It’s comfortable.”

“But it can’t make you scream with pleasure.”

“You do make a good point.”

He set his glass down on the window shelf. “Come here.”

Huffing, she pushed out of the chair. “It really is a good thing for you that you’re a master orgasm deliverer,” she began as she crossed to him, “or the whole demanding routine would not work for you.”

His hands slid up her sides, over her breasts, and up to cup her neck. His eyes drifted over her face, glimmering with heat but also something else. Something she couldn’t quite name.

Once more, her skin prickled. “Is this where you tell me we’re done?” she asked.

“I should, for your sake. I’ll never be good for you.” It wasn’t said with self-loathing. It was a mere statement of fact.

“Okay, let’s be clear on something. I don’t need someone to be good for me. I take care of me. I’m pretty good at it, actually. What I really don’t need is someone giving me the brush off with a modified version of ‘it’s not you, it’s me.’ If you want this to be over, well, it’s not like it’ll be a shock. I figured you’d get bored fast.”

“So did I, but I’m not bored. Nor do I want you to go anywhere. I simply wish to be transparent about this one thing—having me in your life will not make it better. That really is the most I can say.”

Wynter had never thought he would be a positive contribution to her world … mostly because she hadn’t expected him to be any kind of contribution. She would have originally thought that he’d have turned her away by now. She wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that he hadn’t. “Okay.”

He dipped his head. “Never say you weren’t warned.” Then his mouth was on hers, feasting and consuming. Not taking her over, but demanding her participation; demanding she give as good as she got—which she did. He ended the kiss with a nip to her lip. “Make me one promise.”

“What?”

“If there ever comes a time that you’re so afraid of me you want to run, don’t run.”

She blinked. He’d said it as if running would be the absolute worst thing she could do in such a situation. Like it was a matter of life or death. Which confused the shit out of her. But then, so did many of the things he said.

Unable to imagine herself ever being so scared of him that she’d flee—something she generally never did in the face of danger—she nodded. “Okay, I promise.”

His hand squeezed her nape. “Keep that promise.” And then he was devouring her mouth again.

Soon, they were both naked and he was pinning her to the bed as he fucked her into the mattress. He took her hard and fast, pleasuring her soul and her body at the same time.

Afterwards, he drew her close. They talked a little about mundane things before finally drifting off.

A whispered voice came to her while she slept, coaxing her to follow. Wynter refused, burrowing deeper into the warm arms that held her. But the voice kept on whispering, kept insisting that she follow. She frowned, intent on ignoring it. Cold fingers ghosted over her face, demanding her attention but patient for a response.

More whispers, more coaxing, more cold fingers.

She clung to Cain, wanting to stay exactly where she was.

“Wynter!”

Again, she frowned. That was not a whisper, nor was it spoken by the same voice.

“Wynter, stop!”

Why were they yelling? Why was Cain yelling?

Fingers snapped around her upper arm, and she flipped her eyes open. Her breath caught. The fuck? She wasn’t in bed anymore. She wasn’t even in his chamber.

She knew that statue. Knew that bog-like pond. Knew the twisting path she stood on.

She was in Cain’s garden, and the man in question was staring down at her.

“Wynter, what in the fuck are you doing out here?”

She blinked hard, shivering at the cool air. “I-I don’t know.” Licking her lips, she glanced around, her stomach twisting when she caught sight of lots of narrow, wriggly dudes on the ground.

He dragged in a ragged breath. “Listen to me, Wynter. You cannot come out here alone. Ever. It isn’t safe.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose.” She rubbed at her brow. “I must have been sleepwalking.”

He heaved a sigh and curled an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s get back inside.”

She caught a glimpse of something just before she turned. A small temple of some sort. Maybe. She really didn’t care because, hello, wriggly dudes with fangs.

She let Cain lead her back to the Keep, wishing the stone floor wasn’t so damn cold beneath her bare feet. And then she remembered the voice that had come to her in her sleep. Remembered that it had wanted to show her something but hadn’t been clear on what.

No, it had only been a dream. She’d been sleepwalking. She’d definitely been sleepwalking.