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)
“Drama,” Delilah finished. “Tone it down. We’re fine. There’s no need to be nervous.”
“Does nothing scare you?”
The Latina pursed her lips. “Nah, not really.”
“That’s not actually something to be proud of, you know. It’s a sign of low intelligence.”
“It’s also a lie.” Xavier pointed an accusatory finger at Delilah. “You’re scared of Wynter’s monster.”
“So are you,” Delilah sassed.
Wynter sighed. “Sometimes, so am I.”
The entity was presently deep in slumber, its interest not whatsoever piqued by the current goings-on. Tonight’s celebration was to be a culmination of things, mostly contests. Dance groups would “battle”. Daredevils would perform stunts. Comedians would entertain. Vocal artists would sing. And then there was the annual zombie gauntlet, which residents had to sign up for in advance.
Everyone was dressed in costumes—apparently the best would earn its wearer a prize.
Hattie was a scary nun tonight. Anabel had gone for the Egyptian Goddess look. Delilah had chosen a voodoo doll outfit. Xavier was dressed as a rather hunky-looking devil, but without the face paint. Wynter had picked a Miss Hatter costume that wasn’t exactly skimpy but definitely had a sultry vibe.
Hattie sniffed. “This shindig had better be good.”
Xavier smiled at her. “You’re not still sulking that you had to come away from your book, are you?”
“I was at a pivotal part,” Hattie snottily claimed.
“You mean a sex scene,” he said.
“How is that not pivotal?”
Delilah gave her a playful nudge. “So tell us, is the hero good in the sack?”
Hattie’s face lit up. “Oh yes. He’s a rigger.”
“A what?” asked Anabel.
“He likes rope bondage,” Hattie elaborated. “He ties women up in all these fancy, artistic knots. The heroine in my book likes it just fine.” She smoothed a hand down her nun’s habit. “I’m partial to a little bondage myself.”
A grin curved Delilah’s lips. “Getting tied up can make things a lot more interesting.”
“I never tried it,” said Anabel. “I prefer having my hands free.”
The Latina exhaled heavily. “Let me guess, you didn’t trust that any of your partners wouldn’t try to kill you while you were helpless.” She rolled her eyes.
Anabel bristled. “One, I am never completely helpless—I resent that you would imply differently. Two, killers do like to tie up their victims.”
“Victims they usually kidnap, not date. I assume you were dating these guys who wanted to pull out some rope.”
“Most wanted to use handcuffs. And yes, I was dating them.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have been so inclined to believe that they wanted you dead.”
“Just because someone’s your partner doesn’t mean that you’re completely safe with them. Just ask Hattie.”
The old woman frowned. “Ask me what?”
“We’re here,” announced Xavier.
Wynter looked up at the huge open-air arena that made her think of Rome’s Colosseum. It was currently adorned with garlands and strings of ghost lights. Inside, the song “Thriller” played in the background, not overriding the large cacophony of muffled voices.
Ushers were guiding people to spectator rows. In the past, Wynter and her coven sat apart from the Ancients. But as Wynter was now officially Cain’s consort, he’d insisted that she and her coven sit with him. She had no issue with that, so she hadn’t argued. As such, they turned toward the VIP area.
Wynter spotted him instantly. She usually did, no matter where they were. It was as if he was her own personal homing beacon.
Maybe he felt the weight of her stare, because he turned his head, slamming his gaze on hers. His lips curved into a sexy as shit smile that made her body perk up.
“Damn,” breathed Delilah, leaning into her. “I don’t know how your hormones cope with having that much raw sexuality aimed right at you.”
Wynter smiled. “You know, sometimes, neither do I.”
Reaching the VIP level, Wynter and her coven headed along one of the rows toward Cain. All the Ancients were seated, dressed in normal clothing.
Eve, Rima, and Noah were also there. The three Aeons seemed tense and uncomfortable. But then, they hadn’t been properly accepted by all the residents yet. It wasn’t simply because they were Aeons. It made it worse that Eve was once Adam’s consort, just as it exacerbated things that the twins were his grandchildren. No one trusted them as far as they could throw them.
The spot between Wynter’s shoulder blades itched and heated. Someone was glaring at her hard. And she didn’t need to look to know that it was Ishtar. The female Ancient might have ceased playing mind games with her, but Wynter wasn’t taking that as a sign of acceptance.
As she reached Cain, his gaze dropped down her body and darkened. “Should I assume you want to get fucked right here and now in front of all these people?” he asked, his voice low. “Because that’s exactly what I’m tempted to do.”
Wynter smiled. “You’re easy that way. No Halloween outfit? Lame.” But she got it. A huge reason the Ancients wielded so much personal control over Devil’s Cradle was that people feared them; found them so very other and unrelatable. That worked for the Ancients, and so they never tried to come across as fun or personable.