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)
A powerful blast of sand whacked her face and—
She hissed in pain because, fuck, that wasn’t just sand. There’d been a rock or something. It had hit her smack on the cheek, leaving it throbbing and stinging in a way that told her she was bleeding.
Fabulous.
There might have been something awing about the power of the storm if it wasn’t created by annoying elemental beings rather than nature.
Her heart beating hard with panic and adrenaline, she turned again and again, hoping to see or hear something that pointed her toward her coven. But with the wind roaring down her ears and bits of grit pelting her eyeballs, she was far too disoriented.
Wynter tensed as something mostly transparent shimmered in the hazy air. The force clashed with the winds. Pure power, she sensed. Old and very potent power.
Her pulse jumped. One or more of the Ancients had appeared.
The gusts gradually calmed and . . . it was weird, but it was like something was sucking the grains of sand upwards. She felt them leaving her hair, skin, clothes, nose, ears, everything. The grit went up and up and up, high above all the buildings, leaving the air clear once again.
Then all that grit turned to a fast-moving funnel that soon began to hum with the buzzing and droning of insects. Cain had clearly done what appeared to be his favorite thing and twisted the elemental power in a fuck you to the Aeons.
She turned to look at the manor. Several of the Ancients stood on the roof, including him. She couldn’t see his expression properly from so far away, but she knew his gaze was locked on her. Felt it drumming into her skin.
“Well, that went to hell fast,” a familiar voice croaked.
Wynter spun to see Hattie cupping her neck while coughing like a chain smoker. The rest of her coven were spread out a little, so they too had clearly gotten tossed everywhere by the storm.
As they all made their way to each other, Wynter coughed and blinked hard. Her eyes stung like a bitch.
She took a moment to glance around. Thanks to Cain, there was no blanket of dust over the town. Hell, there wasn’t even a faint haze of it lingering in the air. Every tiny little bit of grit was gone. Hence why she could quite easily see that, fuck, the storm had left some serious damage in its wake.
Everywhere she looked, things were flipped, torn, broken, and crushed. One of the power lines was down. A sapling tree lay in the middle of the road. Debris was scattered all around, along with tree branches, flower pots, and business signs.
Worse than all of that, bodies were sprawled on the ground further up the street. At least five. Please just be unconscious.
Anabel stretched out her tongue. “Ugh, I can feel little bits of grit in my mouth.”
Xavier pulled a face. “Pretty sure I’ve got some stuck between my teeth.”
“Fucking Adam needs to die,” said Delilah between coughs.
“I couldn’t agree more.” Wynter took a long, ragged breath. She doubted the Aeons responsible for the almighty storm had stuck around long. They never did when sent to do Adam’s dirty work. Which was a shame, because capturing one would be fantastic.
Glancing toward the manor, Anabel rubbed at her arm. “I have to be honest, knowing just how powerful the Ancients are makes me nervous.”
Delilah snickered. “What doesn’t?”
Anabel shot her a narrow-eyed look.
Wynter quickly cut in, “I say we go back to the cottage and down some tea that’ll ease the pain in our throats.”
“Cain will want to see you,” said Xavier.
“He can see me,” Wynter pointed out. “He knows I’m fine. Besides, he and the Ancients will be busy ordering their aides to fix the damage.” They’d also probably have a little meeting about the storm, even if only to moan about Adam—it was what they usually did after his stunts.
Xavier gave her a ‘fair enough’ look and waved a hand toward the manor. “Then let’s go.”
*
Standing under the hot spray, Wynter looked down at the dust sliding toward the drain. Yeah, it turned out that not all the sand had been plucked from her hair. Washing it away was proving to be a bitch. It clung to her worse than any beach sand. She’d had to shampoo her hair three times and condition it twice before she could be sure it was free of grit.
At least the grains were no longer in her mouth or eyes. Also, her throat felt better, thanks to the herbal tea Delilah had made the moment they returned home. It tasted like ass, but it also did its job well.
Once out of the shower, Wynter dried herself off, pulled on some clothes, and then tackled the wet mop on her head with a brush and hairdryer. Done, she headed down to the kitchen.