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)
“You assume correctly.”
She leaned into him. “Why don’t we just head back home, then? I miss the place. Miss the Keep.”
“And your coven,” he pressed.
“Them, too.”
“And you want to ensure they haven’t set the cottage on fire or gotten themselves killed,” he hedged.
“Either is a very real possibility. Honestly, I can’t even say that potential threats to them will only come from outside sources. It’s highly possible that they’ve tried to murder the shit out of one another. But we can keep traveling for a little while longer if you’re open to it, or just go on another trip at a later point. You can come and go anytime you please now, remember?”
Satisfaction blotted his dark eyes. “I can.” Those eyes skittered over to the bench, as if he sensed their scrutiny. He honed in on Anaïs, his expression unmoved.
His woman nudged him. “Don’t even think about trying to scare children because you’re bored. It’s beneath you.”
He frowned at her. “Sadist, remember?”
The two then walked away.
Khloë hummed. “Well . . . they were weird. And powerful. A little too powerful.” She’d been able to feel it rolling off them.
Devon kissed her daughter’s head. “Did they scare you, baby?”
“She has good instincts. Killer instincts.”
Devon’s eyelid twitched. “You just had to add that, didn’t you?”
“I’m not wrong.”
“My daughter is not a—” Devon’s words cut off as the hellpup wrapped her little hands around her mom’s throat.
“She’s not a what?” asked Khloë, watching dispassionately as her friend choked.
Her eyes widening, Devon moved her lips as if trying to communicate something.
“Sorry, can’t hear you.”
Fury flashed in those cat-green eyes, and her lips moved faster.
“Still can’t hear you.”
Devon thrust her daughter away from her just enough to escape her grip. She coughed, glaring daggers at Khloë. “I loathe you.”
“Hate is part of your love language, so I’m good with it.”
Her nostrils flaring, Devon angled her daughter toward Khloë. “Anais. Kill.”
“You can’t use her like she’s an attack dog on a—” Khloë cut off as the toddler grabbed her throat tight.
Devon grinned. “Sorry, I can’t do what?”