Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
That didn’t explain anything for Cain. He didn’t see how someone who wasn’t a born hybrid could be so different from an average witch.
“Now it’s your turn,” she said. “Yes, I know my response didn’t whatsoever satisfy you, but I did as you asked and answered your question. Now you need to live up to your end of the bargain.”
Heaving a sigh, Cain sank into the armchair and patted his thighs. “Sit.”
She straddled him and rested her hands on his shoulders.
He smoothed one hand up her back. “What do you know about the war that went on between the Ancients and the Aeons?”
She pursed her lips. “Not much. The Aeons were pretty vague about it. They just said a war broke out, your side lost, and they ‘mercifully’ let seven of you leave and make a home elsewhere.”
The word ‘mercifully’ made his creature growl. “They lied. They didn’t allow the survivors to live out of mercy, Wynter. It was supposed to be a punishment. A cruel one at that. We didn’t settle here to make a new home. They put us here. We cannot leave the boundaries. It’s essentially a cage.”
Her jaw went slack. “Wow. I just thought you all preferred to stick to your little corner of the world.”
“We probably would—the Earth as a whole doesn’t hold much interest for us. We may be stuck in Devil’s Cradle, but we have ways of peeking at the outside world and we’re not impressed by what we’ve seen of it. Plus, we’re not roamers, and we prefer to live in groups. But we still don’t wish to be trapped.” He ghosted his fingertips over her nape. “The Aeons believed we’d lose our minds and kill each other. They underestimated us. They’ve continued to do that for a long time.” And more fool them.
“Your only way to get revenge is to make them step on your land … except there was never a reason for them to come here,” she mused.
Cain nodded. “Until now.”
Wynter stared at him, biting her lip. Damn, this explained so much—how easily he’d promised to keep her safe, how unbothered he’d been by the prospect of the Aeons coming for her, how eager he and the other Ancients were for war.
He toyed with her hair. “Four Aeons were responsible for caging us. Only their deaths will open that cage.”
“What four?”
“The ruling Aeons. Adam, Abel, Lailah, and Lailah’s brother Saul.”
“So they’re more powerful than you and the other Ancients combined?” She wouldn’t have thought so.
“No. We can’t dismantle the cage ourselves, because they used our blood to enforce the power they used to construct the prison—essentially making us our own captors.”
“Blood magick works a little like that. If you fuel the spell with the victim’s blood, the victim can’t undo it. They might as well have put the spell on themselves.”
Cain swept a fingertip over her lower lip. “Lailah wronged you when she essentially sentenced you to death, just as Abel wronged your mother when he did the same to her. It is only natural that you would crave vengeance. But not even you can argue that my craving for vengeance runs far deeper than yours.”
Hell no, she couldn’t. Which was mega frustrating. She’d always known there was bad blood between the Ancients and the Aeons, but she hadn’t expected his beef with them to be so profound. “I can’t argue that, no,” she admitted. “I won’t try to. But I still intend to be part of the battle, Cain.” She braced herself for an outburst, but he steadily stared back at her.
Finally, he shrugged. “If you’re so determined, fine.”
Oh, now that was way too easy. “I don’t like how cooperative you’re suddenly being. It’s weird.” She couldn’t help but get the feeling that he’d come to some decision in his head that he didn’t care to share. “If you’re thinking of locking me in a room on the day of the battle, don’t.”
His brows lifted, and he pursed his lips in thought. “That’s not a bad idea. You probably shouldn’t have put it in my head.”
“I mean it, Cain.”
“I see that.” He deftly flicked open the catch at the front of her bra. “Now tell me more about the incident in the woods.”
“Hoping to distract me now, are you?”
“The conversation is getting us nowhere. It seems better to simply move on.” He slid the cups of her bra aside and filled his hands with her breasts. “Or better yet … we can forget talking.” Warm and firm, his palms squeezed and plumped.
Maybe she should have insisted that they remain on topic, but what was the point? They weren’t going to agree on the matter. And, well, this was way more fun. So she gave into the moment—arching into his touch, digging her nails into his shoulders, moaning as he nipped and licked at her mouth but didn’t kiss her. Asshole.