“We’re very much a coven, no matter what you say,” Xavier cut in before taking a bite of a sandwich.
Wynter frowned. “What are you making? That brown stuff looks like shit.”
“It’s a Snickers sandwich,” said Xavier.
She slanted her head. “A, what?”
“You’ve never had one?” Xavier lifted a hand. “Oh, it will change your life. Put chocolate spread on one slice of bread, lather peanut butter spread on the other slice, and then slap them both together.”
“Is there anything you won’t put on a sandwich?”
“Not really. Now stop stalling and drink the tea. I know those mixes taste awful, but they work.”
“I will, I will, just give me a sec.”
As a yawn cracked her jaw, Cain swept her hair away from her face. “If you’re too tired to traipse all the way to the Keep, we can stay here tonight, if you’d like.”
There was a loud bang, and then a cloud of thick green smoke burst out of Anabel’s bowl. “Motherfucker,” the blonde cursed, waving her hand.
Wynter’s eyelid twitched. “Your place works,” she said to Cain. “I just need to throw some of my stuff in a bag.”
“I’ll come with you,” he told her. “I want to see your room.”
Her brow pinched. “Why?”
“Because.”
She shrugged and then knocked back some of the tea. Tea she almost promptly spat out. “Jesus, it tastes like cat food.”
“You’ve eaten cat food?”
“I’m not good at turning down dares.”
He gave her a wolfish smile. “I’ll bear that in mind.”
She forcibly chugged down her tea, grimacing and shuddering. Finally done, she led Cain upstairs and into her bedroom. The space might not have an altar or pentagrams, but the décor clearly stated ‘a witch lives here.’
“A lot of the stuff was given to us in trade,” Wynter told him, noticing he was scanning the space. “The room was pretty basic originally.” She put the back of her hand to her mouth as another yawn escaped her.
“I don’t like that you seem so exhausted.”
She blinked, her mouth curved. “Well, then maybe you shouldn’t have fucked me in the middle of the night. Don’t worry, the tea will kick in fast. Then it’ll be like I’ve been downing energy drinks.”
He watched as she pulled underwear out of her drawer. Another time, he might have rifled through her collection just to tease her. But his mood … it wasn’t good. What Ishtar had said kept playing on his mind. Mortalswereso very fragile. Itwouldbe all too easy for him to lose Wynter. And if he didn’t manage to convince her to give up her mortality in order to stay with him, he’d lose her eventually. Maybe to death, or maybe even to a man who could give her what he couldn’t—a family, normality, the promise of safety.
His creature would likely only give her up if she outright rejected it—the monster would be too pissed at her to want to keep her. But Cain couldn’t tell her it even existed, which meant there’d be no rejection. And so the creature would continue to view her as belonging to it.
If another man touched her, it would want him dead. It would insist that Cain killed him, and Cain knew he was cruel enough to do it. He’d done much worse things over the years, and he’d tortured people for far less.
There was only one way he could grant her immortality—she’d have to agree to sell him her soul in return. He’d have to convince her to do it somehow. He just wasn’t sure how yet.
“I spoke with Ishtar about the little visit she paid you,” he said as Wynter packed her bag. “She won’t be back here.”
“Okay, good.”
He narrowed his eyes at the skepticism in her tone. “You think I’m wrong?”
She hesitated, as if choosing her words carefully. “I think some people are a law unto themselves.”