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)
He didn’t otherwise touch her. Didn’t meet her eyes. Didn’t talk to her. He quite simply took her. Possessed her. Made use of her.
She lifted her hips to meet every pitiless thrust. He drove so deep. Slammed so hard. And it felt so fucking good.
Even with her moans, his grunts, the smack of flesh, and the slap of his balls she could hear how wet she was. It would have been embarrassing if she wasn’t consumed by pleasure.
His eyes lifted to hers, glittering with the same savage need that she felt in every thrust. “I swear I could live my life buried in this pussy.”
Waves of pleasure rolled over her soul—some hot, some cold, some crackly, some smooth. Sensation after sensation thrashed, scraped, kneaded, and played along her very being. Soon, she was adrift with pleasure and over-sensitized from head to goddamn toe, both inside and out.
Cain rolled his thumb around her clit and fuck, fuck, fuck. “Come,” he ordered. “I want to see my baby break for me.”
He spanked her pussy just as he sent a surge of pure rapture sweeping over her soul. Oh, she broke all right. A supernova wave of euphoria caught her up and all but drowned her.
Spitting out a curse, he draped his body over hers as he hammered into her violently. His cock swelling, he licked at the corner of her eye, scooping up a tear. And then he exploded.
Chapter Eleven
Gratefully accepting cash from her customer, Wynter waited until he’d left before stuffing the bills in the locked box she kept out of sight. She doubted anybody would get the stupid idea to swipe some of her earnings, but it was better to be on the safe side. After all, many of the people here were criminals. Including her coven members, as it happened.
Taking the small empty potion bottle, she plopped it into the basket of other empties to be washed. Whenever she embedded runes into weapons, she demonstrated on her customer just what sort of enchantment she’d chosen for them—there was no other way for them to “know” its effects. Hence the need for the many reversal potions lined up on the shelf.
Said shelf also included healing potions, since demonstrating enchantments involved cutting flesh. But some preternatural beings, including those who were immortal like herself, didn’t need such brews—any superficial wounds healed swiftly enough to not require any magickal interference.
Needing to ready the shed for whatever customer might come next, she reached for the cloth so she could wipe down the wooden bench. Her fingertips barely scraped it when a breeze slammed into her face vibrating with a warning, but it was too late—a hand clutched Wynter’s hip from behind before she could even consider reacting. The world around her flashed white, and then suddenly she was standing in what appeared to be the middle of goddamn nowhere facing four familiar male vampires.
What in the fuck?
It all happened so goddamn fast it was almost dizzying. She snapped out of her shock quickly, but she didn’t attack—not the people in front of her, and not the person behind her. In fact, Wynter didn’t move at all. Because one of the vamps before her, Claud, was pointing a freaking gun at her. He happened to be one of her best customers. Traitorous bastard.
“Don’t move,” barked Claud. “This is loaded with iron bullets.”
Huh. Special.
Revenants were susceptible to iron. Although the bullets wouldn’t kill her unless the shot was fatal, they’d weaken her for sure. Possibly even weaken her enough to prevent her currently furious monster from surfacing. It wanted to eat these bastards alive, along with the person who’d teleported her here. Said person released her hip quickly and stepped away.
“I’d shoot her in the leg or something, if I were you,” said her kidnapper. Shelia. “It’ll be best for you to keep her weak.”
Her blood boiling, Wynter looked over her shoulder and pinned the little bitch with a glacier cold glare. The otherworldly breeze brushing over Wynter’s skin buzzed with the same rage she harbored—still, the deity silently cautioned her inner monster not to rise yet.
Wynter felt her nostrils flare. “You’ll die for this.”
Shelia laughed. “How? No one will know I had anything to do with your disappearance.”
“But I will. And I’ll come for you.”
Shelia smirked. “Sure you will.” She waggled her fingers in goodbye. “Do enjoy your time with Adam.” In a blink, she was gone.
Oh ho, ho, ho, someone needed to cut that bitch up.
Drawing in a calming breath through her nose, Wynter let her gaze flit around as she slowly turned her head to face the front. All she could see for miles was prairie land. There were no distant noises to indicate that there were other people anywhere close.
Refocusing on the vampires, she flexed her fingers. “This was seriously ill advised. I really can’t stress that enough.”