Page 99 of The Monsters We Are

“Take all the time you need.” She had no issues with what he was about to do. Especially when she knew he couldn’t afford to be lenient in such a situation.

Cain’s gaze sliced to her coven. “Do not leave her side.”

Xavier saluted him. “Oh, we don’t intend to.”

Cain gave Wynter one last look and then stalked off with Azazel.

Anabel blew out a breath. “Damn, Wyn, your man isscary.”

Delilah nodded. “Utterly terrifying.”

Not something Wynter could or would deny. She sighed, feeling all icky and tired of drowning in the smell of blood. “I need to go shower and stuff.”

As they began to walk to the cottage, Hattie patted her arm. “I suggest a bath. Some hot tea. Maybe even a cupcake or two.”

Sounded good. “So long as they’re not your ‘special cakes.’ I’m not feeling in the mood to get high.”

Hattie’s nose wrinkled. “Not a sentiment I’ll ever understand, dear, but all right.”

Back in the cottage, Wynter trumped up the stairs and went straight to her en-suite bathroom. As much as the idea of a hot bath held a lot of appeal, she didn’t want to soak in the blood and gunk that currently covered her. So after she’d peeled off her gross clothes and plucked any fleshy bits from her body that might clog the drain, she stepped into the shower stall and began to scrub herself clean.

Really, this happened far too often these days.

Stood under the hot spray as gore-stained soap bubbles slid down her body, Wynter tipped back her head and closed her eyes. Only then did she let herself feel the anger she’d boxed away in order to not fuel Cain’s; only then did she let it heat her blood, tighten her jaw, and clench her gut.

She wasn’t sure who she was most pissed at—those fucking fey for attempting to kidnap her, Adam for putting a damn bounty on her head, or herself for getting caught up in the snare so easily.

None too gently lathering her hair in shampoo, Wynter took in a long breath. Intellectually, she knew it was stupid to be mad at herself. After all, fey were experts at not only creating illusions but trapping peopleinsidethem. They simply made suggestive comments, and their victim’s imagination filled in the details.

A witch from her old coven had once told Wynter how she’d been snared by a fey illusion as a child. It had apparently gone on fordays. Cilla hadn’t eaten or slept within that period, but she’dthoughtshe had. If someone hadn’t come along and helped Cilla snap out of it, she would have died.

Really, Wynter should probably be appeased by the fact that she hadn’t been caught up in it for long. With a few slaps and shoves from Kali and her monster, she’d seen through the illusion and found her way back to reality. But stupid or not, it nonetheless bugged Wynter in a mega way that she’d played a part in her own snare.

The fey had introduced themselves as Cain and Seth, so she’dseenCain and Seth.

The fey had told her they were heading to the Keep, so she’dseenthe Keep.

Ugh.

Wynter rinsed off the shampoo and watched as pinkish foam slid down the drain. She had to give it to the two fey who came for her, they’d been ballsy as hell to risk Cain’s wrath after the fate Shelia met. Well, an offer of two million dollars could make people do stupid things, couldn’t it?

After another round of shampoo followed by conditioner, Wynter soaped her entire body one last time and—satisfied she was clean—switched off the spray. Once she’d wrapped a plush towel around her body and curled a smaller one around her rope of wet hair, she exited the bathroom . . . only to find a mug of steaming tea and three large cupcakes waiting on her nightstand.

The backs of her eyes stung. Those crazy bastards downstairs looked after her. They really did. And she adored them for it.

Between sips of tea, she made short work of the cupcakes. Only then did she dry herself off and pull on some clothes. She’d no sooner blow-dried her hair than Cain came stalking into the room. And if the menacing look he wore was anything to go by, the time he’d spent torturing the three fey had made him no less livid.

“Did they cry?” she asked him, setting both her brush and hairdryer on the surface of her dresser. “Please tell me they cried.”

“Cried. Screamed. Begged. Mewled like fucking kittens.” Cain rolled back his shoulders and cricked his neck. “I’m so pissed right now I’m tempted to eradicate every member of their court irrespective of those members’ innocence.”

Uh-oh. “Yeah, it’s best you don’t do that.”

His brow flicked up. “Why not?”

It was an honest question. And she didn’t think that telling him “Well, it’s wrong” would really make much of an impact while he was in this mood.

“People more easily risk their own lives than they do those they care for,” he pointed out as he crossed to her. “If it’s made clear that betraying me would lead to not only their own demise but that of their loved ones, just maybe they’ll fucking think twice about doing it. My monster agrees it would be a terrific idea.”

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