Page 3 of The Monsters We Are (Devil’s Cradle #3)

Walking into his bedchamber shortly after the meeting, Cain saw that the crimson drapes had been drawn, and the candles around the room were all lit. Just as she often did, his little witch had curled up on the armchair with a paperback in hand, completely relaxed . . . as if the last ruling Aeon hadn’t just put a price on her head. Typical. Much like her coven members, nothing daunted her for long—if at all.

The tension slipped from his shoulders as he drank her in. His woman. So beautiful. Deadly. Confident. Powerful. Fierce. It was a devastating combination that delighted both him and his monster. She was their own personal catnip.

Some people around the town were put-off by her magick being dark. For Cain, it was a draw. Darkness was familiar to him. Comforting. Even enthralling.

In any case, he would never be repelled by anything about Wynter, but he understood why the tone of her magick would make some people nervous. Not everyone could handle darkness. They tended to shy away from it.

Luckily for him, Wynter wasn’t one of those people or she’d have attempted to leave him by now. Since he had no intention of allowing that, it was truly a good thing she hadn’t tried. The scene wouldn’t have played out well.

Her thickly lashed quicksilver eyes lifted to Cain, and she studied him carefully. “You’re not feeling any calmer, huh?”

He raised a brow. “Did you think I would?”

She set her book down on the armrest, and then her slender form uncurled from the chair. “A girl can hope.”

Wearing only one of his tees—and possibly her panties, he couldn’t quite tell—she strode toward him, so feline and stealthy and fluid. Wynter never took tentative steps. She was always sure of herself, of her movements, of where she needed to be.

Reaching him, she looped her arms around his waist and pressed a kiss to his throat. Cain slid his own arms around her shoulders and nuzzled her neck, breathing her in. That staggeringly feminine scent that was all Wynter rushed into his system, along with the addictive smell of her magick. Jasmine and black pepper.

“I can feel how worked up you are,”

she said. “I don’t like it. I don’t want Adam to have any hold over your emotions like this.”

What did she expect? Lifting his head, he met her gaze. “In case you’ve forgotten, he put a bounty on you.”

“And on you.”

Fury flared in her eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want me to kill him for you? Because it’d be my total fucking pleasure.”

Cain’s chest squeezed. For you, she’d said. It wasn’t the price on her head that most angered her. No, it was the bounty on his. She was as protective of him as he was of her.

And she loved him.

It was something he savored even as the surprise of it left him feeling off-balance. He didn’t know how she could possibly feel that depth of emotional devotion for him; how she couldn’t be repulsed by the reality of what he was, what he could do, and how he came to be born.

But then, Wynter knew what it was to be different, to be unnatural, and to have to hide parts of yourself from everyone around you. She was more accepting than anyone he’d ever met.

He wanted to be able to claim he loved her in return—she deserved to have those words from him. But he didn’t believe he’d felt the emotion since he was a child. He couldn’t recall how it felt. The ability to experience it as an adult eluded Cain somehow. He resented that, even though Wynter gave no indication that it mattered much to her.

“Obliterating the bastard would be my pleasure as well,”

he told her. “But I promised my monster that it could finish Adam. It’s holding me to that promise.”

She let out a petulant grunt, like a child being deprived of its favorite form of downtime—which, for Wynter, was wreaking vengeance. She looked so fucking cute right then, all sullen and dour, that he couldn’t help but nip the juicy swell of her heavy lower lip.

Generally, Cain didn’t find people “cute”. But he supposed it would be fair to say that he didn’t notice others on the same level that he did Wynter. He wasn’t “moved”

by them as he was her—only she had that influence on him.

He didn’t know how to describe what he felt for her. It wasn’t soft. Wasn’t sweet. Wasn’t fluffy. It was more like a dark storm that raged inside him.

She was so much more than the addiction she’d once been. She was no longer a simple obsession. She was . . . everything. There would never be any walking away from her. She might not have official rights to his soul the way he did hers, but she owned him just the same. And he point-blank refused to lose her.

“From here on out, you need to be exceedingly careful, Wynter. Some people will be tempted by Adam’s offer. A million dollars is a lot of money.”

Cain cuffed her arm with his hand and looked down at the seal on her wrist that branded her his consort. “I’m not sure if even this symbolic reminder that you are not to be touched will be enough to keep you safe from any residents who think to cash in on the bounty.”

She sighed. “I know. Especially since Adam made out like he only wanted me to undo the widespread decay. There’ll be people who tell themselves, hey, it wouldn’t be so bad if we did it because it’s not like the Aeon means her any harm.”

“Which is why I plan to give a speech to the residents tomorrow. I’ll make it clear that Adam means us all harm.”

She gave a sharp nod. “Good idea.”

“You should know that I intend to put guards on you.”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.”

He felt his face tighten. “Wynter—”

“No, hear me out,”

she said, raising her hand. “If I was up against an Aeon here in Devil’s Cradle, I’d agree to it, just as I did when Saul wanted to get to me. But this is different. Adam is nowhere near me. And putting guards on me would send the wrong message.”

“It would send the message that you’re under my protection. How is that ‘wrong’?”

Wynter shot him a look. Her Ancient was not dumb. In fact, he was ace at strategy. So either he was purposely being obtuse here, or his overprotectiveness was clouding his judgment. “Because it would communicate that you don’t trust in my ability to protect myself. That would only embolden anyone thinking of accepting Adam’s offer.”

Cain clamped his lips shut. He clearly wanted to argue. Badly.

Before he had time to formulate a bullshit protest, she continued, “It would also make people wonder if just maybe those who doubt I’m a revenant are actually right to have such doubts. I can’t prove that I am a revenant without showing everyone my monster. That’s not something I can do as it would attempt to kill the nearest people just because it can. So I need to send the message that I don’t need protection from them.”

“It might not be enough.”

“No, it mightn’t,”

she reluctantly conceded. “Someone might still make a try for me. They’d dramatically fail. And then I’d send a whole other message.”

He gave her a look that said, “I’m listening”.

“Revenants are something to fear. Fear is what will encourage people to leave me be. Not guards. Not threats. The best way to ensure that no one fucks with me is to let others see what happens when people do.”

Cursing beneath his breath, he tipped his head back.

She couldn’t blame him for wanting to do things his way. He’d never had anyone in his life who it would severely pain him to lose. He didn’t always handle that well; it sometimes skewed his thought processes.

If having guards would truly help her, Wynter would agree to it even if only to give him piece of mind. She didn’t like it when he was all knotted up inside. But she genuinely didn’t believe that his approach to the situation was the answer, so she wasn’t going to back down simply to make him feel better. It would come back to bite them both on the ass.

She hugged him a little tighter for a brief moment. “Besides, would you truly trust that any guards you appointed wouldn’t think to try to take me to Adam?”

Cain let out a long breath. “No,”

he admitted after a few moments, his gaze once more locking with hers. “The only person I wholeheartedly trust is you.”

She felt her expression soften. “Then trust me on this. You know I’m right. It’s not like you’ll appoint yourself guards, is it?”

“I’m an Ancient.”

“But not invincible. I could end you.”

His lips canted. “I know. I like it.”

“God, you’re so disturbed.”

“Probably.”

He didn’t seem all that concerned about it.

She rolled her eyes. “On a whole other note, how did your meeting with the other Ancients go?”

He absently played with her hair as he gave her a brief rundown of the conversation.

Her interest seriously piqued, she asked, “Do you think you really have a chance of piercing the cage?”

“If we have Abaddon’s help, yes. Without him? Not so much.”

“How difficult will it be to wake him?”

“If he’s the one who keeps leading you to the garden while you’re sleeping, perhaps not so difficult.”

She bit the inside of her cheek. It was still strange to think that the male voice she’d heard in her dreams could have been not only real but his uncle. “When are you going to try?”

“Tomorrow evening.”

“Alone, or with the other Ancients?”

“All seven of us will try as a unit. It may take several attempts to pull him completely out of sleep. It may even be something that takes days or weeks. On the other hand, it might not work at all, but I don’t wish to dwell on that.”

She hummed as he nuzzled her neck again, his nose brushing her skin, his lips grazing her pulse. “Seth’s idea to try punching a hole through the cage on All Hallows’ Eve is a good one. Especially since there’ll be a blood moon then. I’m totally up for meeting Eve and the twins. I think the other Ancients are right, it would help smooth things over.”

And she was interested in observing them, in making her own judgments about them. “I agree with Seth, I think Eve will definitely want to help puncture your cage.”

“Maybe. But I’m not so sure that either Noah or Rima will.”

Cain captured her gaze. “Never let your guard down around Eve or the twins, no matter how innocent you believe them to be.”

“I wasn’t planning to. So, when am I supposed to meet them?”

“We will all have dinner together at Seth’s Keep tomorrow evening. Why are you pulling that face?”

“I get the feeling it’ll be a fancy affair. I’m not fancy. I don’t know dinner etiquette. I can wave a sword around and impale people and all that jazz. But sit up straight, put a napkin on my lap, and make sure not to pick up the wrong fork? I just get uncomfortable.”

His consort was so competent and self-assured that there were times Cain forgot that, like everyone else, she occasionally felt out of her element. “Seth is old-fashioned in many ways, so he’ll likely aim for ‘tasteful.’ But that doesn’t mean you won’t fit in that environment. And fuck etiquette. No one will care what you do with your napkin, what fork you use, or if you slouch in your seat.”

“I know, but I’ll still feel out of place among all that elegance and shit.”

“You have your own grace—it’s predatory in nature, and it makes my dick hard.”

She snorted, humor lighting her eyes.

Cain caught her face in his hands. “You won’t be out of place. Your place is with me. And trust me, there is nowhere you could go where you wouldn’t fit; where you’d appear to ‘lack’ compared to others—you’re perfect as you are.”

He stroked her prominent cheekbones with his thumbs. He loved to look at her. Loved knowing that this stunning face would never physically alter; that she was frozen on a cellular level and he wouldn’t lose her to the aging process. Watching her age and wither away . . . no, he couldn’t have handled that.

Immortality had changed her. She was stronger, faster, more durable, boasted better reflexes, and healed faster—it was all part of the package. But she’d changed in other ways too. Power sometimes thickened her voice, which never failed to make his inner creature stir in delight. The hum of dark, chaotic magick surrounding her now held a static quality, as if amped up and eager to be released. And her predatory air was so much more apparent, more threatening.

He doubted she could ever again pose as harmless and submissive the way she had when they first met. He hadn’t bought her act. His gut had warned him that there was much more to this witch, and it had been correct. Wynter had been hiding plenty from him but, bit by bit, she’d revealed many of her secrets.

There were few secrets left between them now. She’d had to withhold some things at Kali’s insistence. He didn’t blame Wynter for that, but he didn’t like it much. More, he didn’t like that he had no idea what the deity wanted with or from her.

In creating a revenant that could age, live as a normal person, and return from the dead over and over, Kali had gone far off-script. She’d essentially shaped Wynter into a weapon, an instrument of vengeance, and his gut twisted each time he found himself wondering just what Kali would one day ask of his witch.

Cain slid his hands from Wynter’s face into her hair. Black as a crow’s wing, it was soft and long and shiny. A pleasure to fist while he moved in and out of her. “When are you going to move your things here?”

She blinked, seemingly taken off-guard by the abrupt change of subject. “Some of my things are here.”

“Only the bits and pieces you’ll need for staying overnight on a regular basis. I want you to officially move in with me. You said you would. We held off for a while to give you and your coven enough time to properly settle here. Well, they’re settled. So are you.”

“I know. And I’ll move into the Keep soon, I swear.”

“So you’ve repeatedly said. But you’re procrastinating.”

Wynter opened her mouth to object but it would have been a lie. Generally, she wasn’t one to procrastinate. Once she made a decision, she forged on ahead and made shit happen. But in this instance, she felt so torn. She wanted to move in with Cain, but . . . “My coven is still so new. The thought of moving out and leaving them alone like that still makes me feel like I’ll be neglecting them.”

“Most covens don’t live together in one house,”

he patiently pointed out. Well, of course he was patient; he probably had no doubts that he wouldn’t get his way eventually.

“I dread what they’ll get up to without my supervision.”

The four of them were mentally unstable in one way or another. Correction, in several ways. Sometimes, she was honestly wowed that they’d lived this long.

“You moving in here wouldn’t mean they’d be without your direct supervision. You’d see them as much as you do now, since you’ll still need to go to the cottage every day to work. Things won’t really be any different for you or for them than they are at the moment, except that you’ll hopefully agree to have dinner here more often rather than always eating with your coven at the cottage. I’d offer for them to move into the Keep so you’d have them close, but I doubt they’d accept.”

“They’d appreciate the offer, but they wouldn’t accept. They love that cottage. But thank you for being prepared to make the offer.”

She dabbed a soft kiss on Cain’s decadently carnal—and it had to be said, highly skilled—mouth. “I’ll move my possessions here a little at a time, okay? The slow transition will make it easier.”

Releasing her hair, he dropped his hands to her hips and gave them a little squeeze. “For you or for them?”

he teased, his mouth hitching up. “Is separation anxiety kicking in?”

She narrowed her eyes and poked his shoulder. “Hey, you try being responsible for four highly unhinged people and then tell me how simple it is to leave them unsupervised for long periods. I’m genuinely surprised that they haven’t gotten themselves executed yet.”

His smile widened. “I must admit, I share in that surprise.”

He slipped his hands beneath the long tee she wore to cup her ass, his fingertips tracing the lacy edge of her black panties.

“Oh, and when I do fully move in here, you can’t complain about all the witchy stuff like crystals and plants that will be set around this ever so masculine room.”

It wouldn’t look so masculine, then.

“Why would I complain about being surrounded by things that represent who and what you are?”

He sobered. “Be honest. Are you reluctant to take this step? To live with me?”

She felt her brows snap together. “No, of course not. I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel that way. I’m not leery of taking any step with you. Surely the seal on my wrist proves that.”

He only twisted his mouth.

She fisted his shirt, giving him a severe stare. “I’m one hundred percent committed to you. To what we have.”

“I know that.”

She tilted her head. “You don’t look all that pleased about it.”

“I’m far more than pleased, I assure you.”

“Then why did you frown?”

He sighed. “Because my monster is jealous.”

She double-blinked, confused. “I’m sorry?”

“It wants you to be just as committed to it as you are to me. That sounds petulant, I suppose, but my creature is very attached to you.”

Wynter figured she should probably find that disconcerting, given how very nightmarish his creature was. Instead, she was kind of touched. Well, she was weird like that.

She bit her lip. “Okay. Well. I don’t want it to feel left out. Or jealous. But I don’t see what I can do to make it feel better.”

He let out a low hum. “There is something you could do.”

Something about his tone made her skin prickle. “What?”

“My creature wants to bind itself to you.”

Wynter felt her nose wrinkle. “That sounds very . . . permanent.”

A memory tickled her. “You mentioned something about this before. You said it would be a way to stop me from aging but that it would be too dangerous for me.”

“A mortal wouldn’t have survived my creature’s bite. That doesn’t apply to you anymore.”

His gaze sharpened. “And the binding would be permanent. Everything about us is permanent.”

She rolled her eyes at the note of warning in his voice. “Like I didn’t already know and, what’s more, agree to that.”

Meaning to fold her arms, she went to take a step back, but the hands on her ass held her tight to him. “Now, what would it mean for me to bind myself to your creature?”

“It would mean that your life-forces would be tied.”

“Tied? But wouldn’t that make your creature vulnerable? It would die if I died, right? You would die.”

Her stomach lurched at the thought.

“It doesn’t quite work that way. A soul is the core of a person. Their life-force is the energy that the soul generates. When a person’s body dies, their soul moves on, along with their life-force. The latter doesn’t die. As the soul remolds parts of itself for rebirth—like in the netherworld, where it’s beaten down to be purified—its life-force also transmutes right along with it, until it becomes a different energy.”

“Okay,” she said.

“As such, if you died, your life-force and that of my monster would remain intertwined. The break would only occur if your soul and life-force altered for rebirth. Which wouldn’t happen, since Kali would only send you back.”

“But what if She didn’t? What if, for some reason, I didn’t come back and then my life-force altered? Then what?”

An intensity gathered behind his eyes. “Then I’d fucking find a way to rain fresh hell on Her.”

Wynter barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes again. “Don’t get all snarly, I’m not saying She wouldn’t send me back.”

Though there was always a chance it could happen. Deities were unpredictable, to say the least. “I’m speaking of a hypothetical situation here. What would happen to your monster if I died for real?”

“It would feel immense physical pain. I would, in turn, be weakened by the severance of its link with you. But I wouldn’t die. My creature and I would survive, and we would free your soul so that you could be reborn just as I promised you.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Just how much would it weaken you?”

He hesitated. “I would likely have to Rest for a decade or so. But that would be for the best in any case.”

“Why?”

“If I didn’t, I would eventually begin to . . . mentally deteriorate.”

“Go insane, you mean?”

He slowly dipped his head. “Wynter, both my monster and I would lose our sanity if we lost you irrespective of whether you were bound to my creature in some way or not. We need you. The only thing that would keep us going would be the knowledge that you were out there somewhere for us to find.”

Which was sweet and all, but it didn’t erase her concerns. “Would there be other consequences to your creature’s life-force being tied to mine?”

Cain shook his head.

“Then I don’t really get why your monster would be so keen on this. I mean, it gains nothing from it.”

He tapped her nose gently. “Wrong. It will have the satisfaction of knowing you’re committed to it. And . . .”

“And, what?”

“And you will carry its venom inside you. As you already know, my creature wants that. It resisted before now because if you had died you’d have returned fully healed and so its venom would no longer flow in your veins—the whole thing would have been for nothing. But now that you’re immortal, you’d survive the bite. The venom would then live in your blood.”

“So it’s the venom that forms the binding?”

Cain dipped his chin. “Once it has been absorbed into your bloodstream three times, you and my monster would be forever tied.”

“And how would you feel about that?”

His brows inched up. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I asked. You have very few vulnerabilities. Letting your creature entangle its life-force with mine would make it and, by extension, you vulnerable to an extent.”

She didn’t like that part at all. “I don’t want to ever be a weakness to you.”

He pinned her gaze with his own. “You could never be anything but my greatest strength. As for how I’d feel about all this . . . I wouldn’t have a single issue with it. I want you bound to me in as many ways as possible. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel that I own enough of you; that you’re as tied to me as I need you to be.”

She frowned. “You own my damn soul. Need I remind you of that?”

“Oh, pretty witch, it’s not at all necessary to remind me of that—it’s not something I would ever forget or take for granted. I treasure it, much as I treasure that you trust I’d never abuse that hold I have over your soul.”

No one else had ever had that level of faith in Cain; none had ever expected “good”

things from him until Wynter.

“But?”

“There’s no ‘but’.”

Cain dropped a kiss onto the tip of her nose. “I just mean that, despite owning your soul, I very much like the thought of also being preternaturally tied to you.”

Wynter always felt slightly out of his reach due to her partly belonging to a deity. Which was another reason why owning her soul satisfied him so thoroughly—his claim to her now ran deeper than Kali’s ever could.

Also, it gave him a sense of security that he didn’t like admitting he needed. But when you were the son of Satan, it surely wouldn’t be so surprising that you didn’t have complete faith in your ability to keep the people who mattered to you close.

“So you really want this, then?”

she asked.

“I do.”

He wanted to know she accepted him to such an extent that she also wholeheartedly accepted his monster. She’d assured him that she did, and he wholeheartedly believed her. But her agreement on this would prove and cement it, and Cain found that he needed that.

Her brow flicked up. “And how much of that is because you’d then feel I was officially trapped in this relationship?”

Cain licked the inside of his lower lip. “I don’t want you to ever feel ‘trapped’ with me but, as I said before, I want you bound to me in as many ways as possible.”

“You think I might one day leave you?”

“Haven’t we been over this before? You might try, but you’d only find yourself chained to my bed.”

She gave him a droll look. “Ah, yes, I did forget that.”

Pausing, she twisted her mouth. “Was Lilith’s consort bound to her creature before he died?”

“Yes. It would have allowed nothing less.”

When it came to Wynter, neither would Cain’s own creature. And, not viewing itself as a monster, it didn’t see why Wynter wouldn’t agree to make such a commitment to it. But Cain did, so he added, “You don’t need to make a decision now. Give it some thought. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, I can do that.”

“Good.”

He gave her a quick kiss. “Now let’s shove aside all serious discussions so we can enjoy the rest of our evening.”

“I’m absolutely up for that.”

“Thought you might be.”

He let his gaze drop down her body. She might only be dressed in a t-shirt and panties, but . . . “You’re wearing far too many clothes.”

“You know, I was just gonna say the same to you.”

“Hmm, well, I think we should both do something about this little situation.”

She smiled. “You know what? Sometimes, it’s like one mind.”

“Strip for me. Slowly.”

He took a step back and folded his arms, expectant. “I want to take a good, long look at what’s mine before I ravish you.”

“Ravish, huh? Awesome. Because you’re rather good at it.”

“Why, thank you. Now strip.”

He narrowed his eyes when she swiftly whipped off the tee. “I said slowly.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot.”

“Did you? Did you really?”

“No. No, not really.”

A slow grin curved her mouth. “Why, you gonna punish me?”

“I’m going to fucking defile you.”

A delicious wariness flickered in her eyes, calling to the predator in him.

“Define ‘defile’,” she said.

He smiled. “I’d rather just show you.”