Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 125179 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125179 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Anabel folded her arms. “Fine,” she clipped.
“Fine,” Delilah bit out.
Xavier rolled his eyes. “Thank you. Oh hey, Hattie, there’s George.”
Hattie tracked his gaze and smiled. “My, my, my, the man wears a suit well.” She tipped her glass in his direction, and he returned the gesture.
Anabel’s brow pinched. “Who’s the guy next to him? They’re sitting pretty close. Almost intimately close, really.”
Hattie patted the back of her hair. “Ah, well, he’s one of George’s swinger friends.”
Wynter blinked. “Swinger friends?”
The old woman cocked her head. “You don’t know what swinging is?”
“I do, yes. I’m wondering if you do.”
“Well, of course.” Hattie sipped her cider. “I had a most fascinating introduction to it.”
“Hold on,” began Delilah, “on top of everything else, you’re into swinging now?”
“A girl should try everything at least once,” said Hattie. “According to George, the man sitting next to him is into Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. Though why he felt the need to tell me that I don’t know.”
Anabel tipped her head to the side. “Cognitive Behavioral Therapy? He said that?”
“Well, he abbreviated it to CBT, but Xavier explained what it stood for,” said Hattie.
Her mouth tightening, Anabel rounded on him. “Xavier.”
He laughed silently, his shoulders shaking.
Hattie straightened. “What? It means something different?”
“Cock and Ball Torture,” explained Delilah.
The old woman’s brows lifted. “Oh. That explains a few things.”
Anabel looked at Xavier, her face hard. “You’re going to hell. You know that, don’t you?”
Grinning, he lifted his glass of cider. “I’ve always known that.”
Wynter snickered and then took another sip of her drink. The conversation turned lighter as time went on, though there was some playful shit talking here and there. Delilah and Hattie hit the dance floor a few times, always huffing at Anabel’s refusal to join them.
Neither Wynter nor Cain were particularly fond of dancing, so they mostly amused themselves by watching Xavier flirt with server after server, adopting a different identity each time.
The music came to a stop when it was time for the feast to begin. First, a bell was rung forty times to call the dead the guests wished to honor. Only after that did the food arrive.
The feast consisted of three courses and offered different selections. Wynter went with potato soup, pot roast, and apple pie. Every single course was utterly fricking delicious.
Shortly after the feast, the folk music started up again. There was then more dancing and laughing. At one point, most of the guests tossed a list they’d written in advance of emotions and habits they wished to purge themselves of right into the bonfire.
It was just as Wynter burned her own list that Cain gently cuffed her arm and said, “I need to leave now.”
He hadn’t said “we”, she noted. He was giving her the choice to stay behind and continue to celebrate with her coven. Which she appreciated but, yeah, that wasn’t happening.
“I’m coming with you.”
He searched her eyes. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
*
Cain waited near the table as Wynter explained to her coven that she’d be back in a while. As he’d expected, they weren’t surprised by her leaving. He knew she’d warned them of it beforehand—though, of course, she hadn’t broken Cain’s confidence and explained just why she’d be leaving.
With that done, he led her out of the hall and over to his Keep. After making their way to the surface via the mirror in his chamber, they left the manor and walked to the northern boundary of the transparent cage, far away from any residents.
There, they exchanged greetings with Ishtar and Inanna, who were waiting somewhat impatiently. Maybe it was due to the seriousness of the situation, but Ishtar didn’t pettily shoot Wynter any “I hate you, please die” looks for a change.
The other Ancients soon arrived, along with Eve and the twins. Rima had apparently decided to help after all. The three Aeons seemed surprised by Wynter’s presence but made no comment.
A subtle hum of restlessness in his blood, Cain rolled back his shoulders and said, “Let’s get this done.”
“Have you tried puncturing the cage before?” asked Eve.
He nodded. “Many times.” Particularly in the beginning. They’d attempted it on a daily basis for a long time. It took a while before any of them were prepared to accept that they were forever trapped.
Noah squinted. “Even though the cage was created by Aeons, I don’t see it.”
“They didn’t want us to be able to see it,” Azazel told him. “They wanted us to be taunted with how it seemed we were free.”
An “Ah” expression washed over Noah’s face.
“It worked,” said Dantalion, his voice sober. “A person can get used to the sight of bars. They eventually come to view the space within it as their world. They will come to feel safe only while surrounded by four walls, in many instances—even if only as a psychological defense mechanism. But if they are no walls, no bars, only a view of places that are so close yet so far . . . I would liken it to being stuck on a small island in the middle of the Caribbean. You can see the world beyond it. You simply can’t get there. It is maddening at times.”