Wynter subtly exchanged an amused look with Delilah. God, Hattie was an absolute hoot.
There did come a point where Cain managed to break away from the conversation, but Xavier quickly distracted him with a childhood story that was most likely pure bullshit.
Azazel … well, he didn’t really require distractions. He was too focused on Anabel, undoubtedly wondering how someone so clearly nervous of the world around her could have performed so ruthlessly in the gauntlet.
They’d kept that whole thing about her supposedly being the reincarnation of Bloody Mary to themselves—Anabel rarely shared that little titbit with others.
Finally, they arrived at the manor. Her crew continued waving their crazy flag as they strolled through the building, took a downward ride in the elevator, and headed for their cottage. But when Wynter went to turn down the street that led to her home, Cain’s hand slipped around her upper arm.
“Come,” he said, trying to lead her toward the Keep.
“I need to shower and change.”
“You can do that at my home,” he said, a determined set to his jaw that told Wynter her time to evade his questions was over.
“I have no clothes there.”
His eyes heated. “You won’t need any.”
He couldn’t possibly be thinking about sex right now. She was a godawful mess. But then, Cain was turned on by the strangest shit.
“Anabel can pack a bag of your things for me to drop off at the Keep,” said Azazel. “Can’t you, Anabel?”
The blonde slid him a wide-eyed look. “Why are you talking to me? I don’t like it.”
His lips hitched up. “Now you’re just hurting my feelings. That’s mean. It’s all right, though. I like mean.”
“Then Delilah is your girl.”
Delilah frowned. “Hey.”
“Well, it’s true, karma potion extraordinaire.” Anabel pivoted on her heel and made a beeline for the cottage. The others followed, including Azazel.
Resigned, Wynter inwardly sighed as Cain guided her to the Keep.
Standing at the entrance, Maxim gave her an odd look as he took her in her appearance. “I’m hoping none of that blood is yours, Priestess.”
“Not mine,” she confirmed. “And seriously, call me Wynter.”
He grunted. “It’s good to see that you’re back and well.”
“Thank you,” she said.
Soon, she and Cain arrived at his chamber. He pulled her straight into the attached bathroom and, carefully peeling her tee from her body, asked, “What exactly happened tonight? Don’t think I didn’t notice that your coven—”
“Crew,” she corrected, kicking off her sneakers.
He sighed. “It’s a coven, Wynter. Call it what it is.”
“We’re not having this conversation.”
“That’s fine, since we need to talk about the mages anyway.” He unclipped her bra and dropped it on the floor near her tee. “Yourcovendid their best to keep me distracted so I wouldn’t question you. I’m guessing they were worried you’d lose your emotional cool if you had to recount everything and so, knowing you wouldn’t want to get upset in public, they bought you some time.”
Wynter felt bad letting him believe that, but telling him the full truth wasn’t an option. Still, she’d give him as much detail of what occurred as she could. She didn’t want to lie to him any more than she absolutely had to.
“The event wasn’t that traumatic,” she said, shoving down her jeans and panties. “I was at the ethnic restaurant. A mage dragged me out of the bathroom, into the side alley, and then shoved me into a van.” She peeled off her socks. “I was a little dazed because he’d hit me with somerealdirty magick, so I didn’t get a chance to fight.”
Naked, she paused as Cain stripped off his own clothes because, yeah, that body could scatter anyone’s thoughts. “The only other person in the vehicle was the driver. They both must have stupidly been convinced that I wasn’t strong enough to overcome their magick, because the chattiest of the two was cocky as hell. I pretended I was as weak and helpless as they thought. Bided my time. As soon as an opportunity came, I made my move.” More specifically, she’d freed her monster.