The Wicked In Me

Cain snapped awake, his creature urgently shoving at his consciousness. He splayed a hand on the mattress beside him, finding only empty space.

Wynter was gone again.

Lifting his head, he looked toward the adjoined bathroom and called out her name. No response. Fuck.

Cain swiftly yanked on a pair of sweatpants and rushed out of the chamber. He’d locked the gates to his garden in case she did any more sleepwalking, so at least he didn’t need to worry that she’d go traipsing through it again. On the off-chance that she’d headed there, he made his way to the first floor of the Keep and strode out of the rear doors. He exhaled heavily as he spotted her near the gates dressed in only his shirt. She was swaying slightly toward them, gently touching the iron bars with her forehead.

He moved to her side and looked at her face. She was staring straight ahead, her gaze unfocused.

Taking her arm, he gently turned her to face him, but she tried turning back to the gates. He had no idea why she kept coming here whenever she went sleepwalking, but he didn’t like it. It made him feel far too uneasy.

She dug in her heels when he tried leading her away. The move was weak but determined.

He gripped her chin. “Wynter? Wynter?”

She blinked rapidly, and then the vacant glint faded from her eyes. She glanced around, her brows dipping. “What am I … shit, I did it again?”

He nodded, slipping his arm around her shoulders. “Come on.” He guided her back into the Keep and up to his chamber. Flicking the lock, he asked, “Were you dreaming about anything in particular?”

“Not that I can recall.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “Did I say or do anything?”

He shook his head, walking toward her. “You just kept rocking back and forth on your heels, nudging the gates with your forehead. If they weren’t secured shut with a padlock, you probably would have wandered through the garden again.” And on this occasion, she might have been hurt. Sure, the snakes hadn’t bothered her last time, but that could have been a one-off. “Sleepwalking isn’t normal for you?”

She shook her head. “Listen, I can stop staying over if this is weirding you out too much.”

Stood between her legs, Cain leaned over her, silently urging her to lay back. He placed a hand either side of her head and nuzzled her neck. “I like having you here.”

“Does it make that much of a difference, considering we’re both asleep?”

He straightened and smoothed his hands up her thighs, shoving up the shirt he’d put on her, baring her pussy to his view. Dancing his fingertips over her folds, he said, “I don’t want you sleeping anywhere else.”

She raised herself onto her elbows, her expression blank. “You don’t trust me not to spend my nights with other men?”

Pausing in stroking her folds, he arched a brow. “Did I say that?”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“Do I believe you’d let another man touch you, let alone sleep in your bed? No.”

Placated, Wynter relaxed and glanced down at his hand. “Then do continue.” Because things had been moving in a direction she very much liked.

The corner of his mouth kicked up. “I’d rather do this.”

A hot lash of pain-edged bliss struck her soul like a flogger, making her jump with a gasp. “Fuck.” He did it again. And again. And again. Until every part of her felt so charged it was like static flames skipped along her over-sensitized skin.

“Yes, take it for me,” he said, flicking open the buttons on the shirt she wore.

Her back bowed as she was hit by yet another sharp lash to her soul. It was like being whipped by pleasure/pain. Sometimes the strikes were heavy and held a real bite. Others were more like the slap of a hand and left a stinging sensation in their wake.

He started off slow, but the tempo soon began to build, ramping up the tension coiling in her muscles. Jesus, her heart was pounding. Her breaths—so quick and shallow—repeatedly caught in her throat as lash after lash of darkly decadent sensation thrashed her very being.

Parting her now unbuttoned shirt, he said, “I think I’ll leave this on you. I like fucking you while you’re wearing my shirt.”

A groan mixed with a sob as his hands closed over her breasts. She arched into his touch, her nipples so tight they hurt. Her pussy felt even more sensitive. Her clit pulsed, and her inner muscles contracted almost painfully. “Fuck me.”

Dark eyes blazed into hers. “Not yet. I want you out of your mind with need.”

She would have told him she was already there, but her thoughts scattered as soon as the ‘whipping’ recommenced.

More lashes, more pain, more pleasure.

Drowning in sensation, she felt … floaty. Weightless. Adrift. It was only his hands on her body that kept her aware of the physical world.

Her body gave up any pretense of belonging to her. In that moment, Cain truly owned it. Ruled it. Manipulated it to his liking. But then … didn’t he always? It was impossible to hold some part of herself back when she felt him literally everywhere.

“No one else could ever make you feel this good,” he said, swiping the head of his dick through her folds and rubbing at her clit. “No one.”

A hot, quivering bundle of sexual frustration, she stared up at him, wishing she could brand him cocky. But it wasn’t arrogance; it was pure fact. “And you like that, don’t you?” He was just enough of an asshole to find satisfaction in knowing that any man who might come after him would fail to measure up.

“Yes, I very much do,” he easily admitted, his tone as dark as his gaze.

She lifted her hips to meet the broad tip of his cock, but he didn’t push it inside her. “Fuck me.” Another electric lash to her soul had her all but bucking off the bed. “Cain, seriously.” Her voice broke. Dammit, she was close to crying.

Draping himself over her once more, he licked at the corner of her mouth. “You’re so desperate for my cock you’d do anything I asked right now, wouldn’t you?” The question was rhetorical.

She couldn’t even claim he was wrong, which would have been mortifying if there was any room in her system for anything but raw need. Her breath caught as he began to slowly sink inside her pussy, stretching her, stroking over hypersensitive nerve-endings.

He put his mouth to her ear. “I’m going to use you now. Brutally. Coldly. Like you’re nothing but a toy. My favorite toy, but still just a thing that’s here for my convenience. A thing that’s sole purpose is to make me feel good. And you know what, baby? You’re gonna get off on it.”

Then he was moving inside her. No, pounding. Fucking in and out of her pussy as pitilessly as he’d promised, focused only on chasing his own orgasm.

He was so detached, so distant, so coolly remote … like she truly had no purpose in his mind other than to make him come. At the same time, though, he once more thrashed her soul with lashes of darkly carnal sensations. So even as she felt utterly used and objectified, she knew he wasn’t really so uncaring of her own pleasure.

“Do not come. I get to come first. Then you. Hmm, your pussy just rippled around my cock. You like it when I give you orders.”

It was impossible to fight a blush right then. “No, I don’t.”

“Such a little liar.” He thrust his hand into her hair and fisted it tight enough to make her scalp sting. “Little liars get punished.”

She expected a spank of pain to her soul. Instead, it was a series of soft, velvety flicks of sensation. Exquisite sensation. But too featherlight to be anything but a tease. She shook her head, too desperate to come to bear more of that.

“Let’s try this again.”

“I liked it, okay! Now stop acting as if you even care that I lied. You’re just being cruel because you can.”

“Of course I am. I like fucking with your head.” He kept callously ramming his cock deep, animalistic in the primitive, dispassionate way he sought his own release. “Such a pretty toy.”

Another hot lash to her soul, quickly followed by another and another. She couldn’t take anymore. She truly couldn’t. “Cain,” she whimpered, tears pooling in her eyes.

He groaned, slamming into her even harder, fisting her hair even tighter. His cock swelled as he said, “You come when I’m done.” He pounded once, twice, three times. Then exploded. He kept on thrusting through his orgasm, filling her with one hot splash after another. “Now you.”

A supernova wave of pure bliss swept over her soul … and she shattered. Screaming, shaking, scratching his back. The orgasm tore her to shreds, violent and blinding.

Finally, she sagged.

Fighting to catch his breath, Cain looked down at the trembling pile of pure sated woman beneath him. He thumbed away her tears and pressed a kiss to her jaw.

“Why do you like it when I cry?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

“One, I’m a sadistic bastard. Two, I like knowing you were so wrecked by pleasure that you simply couldn’t take it.”

His monster relished that they had that power over her; that they could reduce her to this. Relished that, strong though she may be in so many ways, she was vulnerable to them.

“I’m not keen on the way you’re looking at me right now.”

He slanted his head. “How am I looking at you?”

“Like … like a predator who’s just taken down prey and feeling very pleased with itself. I’m no one’s prey.”

He bit back a smile. “I’ll bear that in mind.” To beings as powerful as him, everything and everyone was potential prey.

She sniffed. “Yeah, you do that.”

Cain felt his mouth quirk. He still couldn’t say what it was about her that had him so fucking obsessed with her. He couldn’t understand why she brought out so many primitive instincts in him. He wasn’t sure anyone had ever held his attention the way she did.

With other women, he’d gotten bored fast. Especially in bed. It wasn’t a slight to them, he was simply so fucking jaded that everything—including sex—held a mundane edge.

With Wynter, it was different. Instead of tiring of the feel, scent, and taste of her, he only wanted more. He liked learning more and more about what got her off. Liked introducing her to new things and sensations. Liked the thought of eventually knowing her body better than anyone else ever had.

Realizing she’d fallen asleep, Cain smiled. She didn’t once stir as he moved them further up the mattress and pulled the coverlet over them. His creature settled in, prepared to stay awake and watch over her, so Cain let himself drift off.

It felt like no more than an hour later when he woke to a gentle knock on the door. Light had crept around the edges of the curtains, so he knew it was morning.

As he’d expected, Maxim was on the other side of the door. The aide passed Cain a tray filled with food for both him and Wynter, as per usual. Maxim also relayed a surprising piece of news that made Cain lift his brows. His little witch had failed to pass on that herself.

He thanked the aide and then closed the door. Once he’d set the tray on the table, he turned to the bed to see that Wynter was beginning to wake.

She groaned. “No, it can’t be morning.” She tried dragging the coverlet over her head, but the move was too lazy to work.

“It’s morning. And I have a question for you.”

She opened one eye. “Is it sex related?”

“No.”

“Then it can wait.” Her eyelid fell closed.

His lips twitched. “Maxim told me a little something just now.” All he got in response was a disinterested hum. “I have to say, I’m confused as to why I had to hear this from him instead of you. Is there something you want to tell me?”

“Yes, but it’s sex related, so it has nothing to do with your question and you won’t want to hear about it.”

Actually, he did want to hear about it and … Little minx. He yanked the coverlet off her and spanked her ass. “That’s for trying to distract me.”

Yelping, she pouted at him. “It’s not like it worked. You didn’t need to slap me that hard.”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

She muttered something, but he only made out the word ‘sadistic.’

He folded his arms. “Apparently, one of Ishtar’s aides was seen standing in your front yard yesterday.”

Wynter’s eyes slid to the side. She sighed. “She did in fact grace me with her presence, as you’ve no doubt guessed.”

Annoyance tightened his muscles. “And you hadn’t planned to tell me?”

“I didn’t want to cause trouble between you and the other Ancients. You all need to be on the same page right now, not fighting amongst yourselves. Plus, she didn’t do anything major. She didn’t threaten me, she wasn’t rude, she wasn’t even remotely unfriendly.”

“What did she do? I noticed her watching us last night with an odd look on her face. Like she was struggling to understand what she was seeing. What kind of game did she attempt to play with you?”

“A game where she insisted you’re the one playing a game with me.” Wynter sat up in bed, his shirt parting slightly to reveal a strip of her front. “In short, she encouraged me not to trust you. She said you’re keeping me close only because I might be of use to you, and that you’d give me up to the Aeons if they offered the right incentive. She also encouraged me to go to Seth for sanctuary.”

Son of a bitch. “What did you say?”

“I pretended to believe her and said I’d think about going to your brother. Look, I don’t fully trust you. I can’t, just as you can’t possibly fully trust me—we know too little about each other. But I don’t believe you’re playing me. If it turns out I’m wrong, well, I’m wrong. Then I’ll hurt you.”

“You’re not wrong. And no, we can’t invest true trust in each other when we have so many secrets between us. But you can trust that I won’t betray you. Nor would I hand you over to the Aeons.” Even if he was willing, his monster would never stand for it. “I will, however, deal with Ishtar.”

“Don’t do it on my account. I really can’t take what she said personally when she doesn’t even know me. She has it in her head that I’m this silly, naïve little girl who’s totally taken in by you.”

Cain felt his eyes narrow. “You like that she’s put you in a box and believes she has you all figured out, because it means she won’t look closer. You don’t like people to look too close, do you, Wynter?”

“Neither do you.”

That was something he couldn’t argue with.

“What would have happened if I’d run to Seth?” she asked, tipping her head to one side. “I couldn’t quite understand why Ishtar was encouraging me to do it.”

Cain reached out and dragged Wynter close so that she knelt in front of him, her front pressed to his. “For me, it would have been a little like history repeating itself. When I lived at Aeon, there was a woman I briefly dated, though we termed it courting back then. Abel had a ‘thing’ for her, though he didn’t seem much interested in acting on it until I began courting her.”

“I’ve only met him a couple of times, but I have to say, I really don’t like him. Especially since he exiled my mother.”

Cain gave her a comforting squeeze. “He’s an asshole that way. You’re not alone in so thoroughly disliking him.”

Wynter settled her palms on the twin columns of his back. “So, what happened with you and the woman?”

“After she and I had an argument during which she declared we were done, she ran straight to Abel for comfort. I’m sure he expected me to confront him and demand he hand her over. After all, she and I had argued many times but reconciled. It wasn’t a stretch to think that I might wish to reconcile with her yet again. But I didn’t confront him, which I suspect is why he initially took her as his consort; he’d hoped to provoke me.”

“Consort,” she echoed. “Do you mean Lailah?”

“Yes, it was her. As you know, I’m a jealous bastard. But I felt none in that situation for two reasons. One, I’d tired of her dramatics. Two, I’m very unforgiving. The fact that she’d hoped to play me off against a brother I had no love for was something I could never have overlooked, so I didn’t care where she was, what she was doing, or who she was doing it with.

“I can very easily cut someone out of my life if they wrong or betray me. It’s like they were never part of it to begin with. Ishtar no doubt remembers the incident. She remembers how easily I turned away from Lailah and how I refused to later reconcile with her.”

Realization flashed on Wynter’s face. “So by telling me to run to Seth, she was hoping you’d then turn away from me in much the same way as you turned away from Lailah.”

That would be Cain’s guess. It wouldn’t have worked, though. He’d have headed to Seth’s Keep and dragged Wynter back to his own. And Seth, being nothing like Abel, would have helped Cain in easing Wynter’s concerns rather than attempt to keep them apart.

“Sneaky, isn’t she?”

“It’s one of her many traits,” said Cain.

“Well, thank you for telling me that story. You didn’t have to. And just so you know, I’d never play one brother off against the other like that.”

“I know. You are nothing like Lailah. In fact, you are unlike any woman I’ve ever met. You’re a singular creature, Wynter. And very much all mine.” Cain slipped one hand between them to possessively cup her breast. “It’s a shame you can’t wear my shirt to work.”

She snorted. “Counting the amount of times you’ve touched me in public, I’d say it’s already pretty clear to the people here that you consider me off-limits to anyone but you.”

That didn’t feel like enough, though. Nothing did. Maybe because so many things had been taken from him that his hold on her always felt precarious. Like she could slip through his fingers at any moment. There was really only one way to guarantee he could always keep her with him, but she’d never go for it.

His monster didn’t believe that, though. It didn’t see why she’d object to staying with them forever. Or why Cain would worry that she’d leave them if she learned the truth. Again, it was that lack of self-awareness at work.

“You’re frowning all of a sudden,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

What was wrong? Nothing. Except that she’d so wholly and unknowingly snagged the interest of a creature that would absolutely terrify her.

Sometimes, Cain felt that Wynter nonetheless could truly accept him and the truth of what he was. Other times … other times he remembered he wasn’t that fucking fortunate.

He could very easily turn his back on someone who rejected him, but he wasn’t sure he could so effortlessly do that with Wynter. And that left him only one choice—never let her learn just what she shared a bed with.