Devil’s Cradle Series by Suzanne Wright – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Devil’s Cradle Series by Suzanne Wright – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com Sun, 02 Feb 2025 19:15:27 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.0 http://www.ilovenovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Devil’s Cradle Series by Suzanne Wright – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com 32 32 The Monsters We Are (Devil’s Cradle #3) Read Online Suzanne Wright http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-monsters-we-are-devils-cradle-3-read-online-suzanne-wright Sun, 02 Feb 2025 19:15:27 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-monsters-we-are-devils-cradle-3-read-online-suzanne-wright Genre: Alpha Male, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Witches Authors: Suzanne Wright Series: Devil's Cradle Series by Suzanne Wright
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Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 125179 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)

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The Ancients and the Aeons. Two groups of powerful immortals on the brink of destruction, and at the heart of it all stands Wynter Dellavale.

Wynter is a witch who once sought sanctuary for herself and her coven in Devil's Cradle. Better known as 'the Home of Monsters', it was a place for outcasts and fugitives. She now wears the brand of Cain, the infamous Ancient, who has claimed her soul for all of eternity and doesn't plan on ever letting go.

Together, Wynter and Cain have prevailed over many powerful enemies, but now they face their final - and most terrifying - battle. As the last Aeon left standing, the all-powerful Adam is out for revenge. His terms: Cain and Wynter in exchange for peace. If Devil's Cradle won't deliver them, the full force of Adam's devastating rage will fall upon them all. As the stakes are raised, Cain and Wynter will do whatever it takes to defeat Adam and keep each other safe, even if it means unleashing the monsters that live within them .

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter One

“Ew, I just licked at the cotton candy sticking to my upper lip and got a taste of my face paint.” Anabel shuddered, sticking out her tongue. “Tastes like chalk.”

“Why did you choose to have your face painted in that stereotypical green witch style anyway?” Wynter Dellavale asked, eyeing her coven member curiously.

“Well, this is an ‘It’s almost Halloween’ party.”

“And you’re dressed in a blood-stained cheerleader’s outfit. The face paint doesn’t go with the look.”

“Yes, but everyone will now assume that the boils and hairy warts on my face are fake.”

Wynter felt her brow crease. “No, they still look real.” They wouldn’t be there at all if the blonde didn’t use herself as a trial subject when she created new potions. Some caused all kinds of aftereffects. Rashes. Hallucinations. Bad guts. Perhaps even the belief that you were the reincarnation of Bloody Mary . . . unless Anabel’s claim to be exactly that was in fact true. Her soul did have the ability to retain all her memories from her past lives, to be fair.

Wynter sighed. “If you’d just stop experimenting—”

“I know, I know,” said Anabel with a flap of her hand.

“And yet, you keep doing it.”

The blonde’s back straightened. “Excuse me, I’m not the only person here who has bad habits.”

Xavier’s brow knitted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Anabel sniffed at him. “It means you lie all the time for no real reason. Hattie is always asking random people embarrassing questions about sex. Delilah keeps cooking up self-proclaimed karma potions that will one day get her shanked. And Wynter keeps coming back to life every time she dies—part of being a revenant, yeah, but it’s still freaky. So, you know, I don’t think any of you should be throwing stones at my glass house.”

“I’m sensing you’re expecting us to be fair,” said Xavier. “Why?”

Anabel plucked at her skirt. “I guess I thought it would be a nice change.”

“You reached too high,” he told her, scratching at his head with a grimace. “Christ, could no one have warned me that the hair chalk makes your scalp itch like a mother?” His usual tousled brown hair had been slicked back and colored lime green to go with his outfit.

“You think chalk is bad, try wearing a veil,” grumbled Hattie. “I forgot how uncomfortable they are.”

“One would think, after the amount of times you’ve been a bride, that you would have remembered,” Delilah said to her. “But then, one would also think that you’d have chosen divorce over murder, even if you do insist on the first being a sin while the latter is somehow excusable.”

Hattie shrugged. “Divorce is too lengthy a process. It was quicker to just . . . help them pass on.”

Snorting, Wynter shook her head. The woman spoke like she’d arranged for her ex-husbands to die peacefully in their sleep but, yeah, it hadn’t quite played out that way. Which was why it was weirding Wynter and the others out that Hattie was dressed like a bride right now.

Wynter and her group hadn’t been a coven for very long, having only met for the first time when they’d been kidnapped by bounty hunters who she later killed. Well, to be more exact, it was the monster that lived inside her who was responsible for the deaths.

The position of Priestess hadn’t been something Wynter ever coveted. She’d resisted for a while, just as she’d resisted officially proclaiming them a coven—one that Delilah had named the Bloodrose Coven. But it had been a pointless resistance. Still, they were more of a family. A family with rather dysfunctional dynamics and a streak of crazy that couldn’t be tamed.

Hearing squeals, Wynter looked to see a mechanical hand zooming across the floor, scaring the dancers. She fingered her renaissance-style gothic gown as she glanced around. She had no idea whose idea it was to temporarily convert the warehouse into a cemetery-themed bar, but she saluted them. The dim lighting and dry ice machine made the place feel dark, chilly, and unwelcoming. Fake tombstones, dead flowers, hanging cobwebs, and open standing caskets revealing rubber skeletons added to the creepy factor.

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The Nightmare in Him (Devil’s Cradle #2) Read Online Suzanne Wright http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-nightmare-in-him-devils-cradle-2-read-online-suzanne-wright Thu, 08 Feb 2024 08:24:41 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/the-nightmare-in-him-devils-cradle-2-read-online-suzanne-wright Genre: Alpha Male, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Magic, Paranormal, Vampires Authors: Suzanne Wright Series: Devil's Cradle Series by Suzanne Wright
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Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 121324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)

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The Ancients and the Aeons. Two groups of powerful immortals that have not seen eye to eye for millennia. And right now, at the heart of their conflict, stands Wynter Dellavale.

Wynter is a witch who sought safe haven for herself and her coven in Devil's Cradle. Founded by seven Ancient beings, the Home of Monsters provides protection, shelter, and will never give you up to outsiders . . . providing you pay the Ancients' substantial fee. Wynter already wears the brand of Cain - the mark that she is in his service and that her soul partly belongs to him. But as their relationship deepens, Wynter has to make a choice from which there's no turning back.

Cain cannot reveal the nightmare which lives inside him, the beast that could tear apart the woman who means more to him than he ever thought possible. But with his brother Abel out for revenge, and the suspicious reappearance of his parents Adam and Eve, Cain sees that Devil's Cradle is on the verge of war. As the stakes are raised, Cain knows he needs more than anything to keep Wynter safe and by his side - forever.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Walking along the plaza’s cobbled path, Wynter Dellavale cast a sideways glance at the pretty blonde beside her. “Relax, nothing bad is going to happen.”

“Famous last words,” Anabel muttered, tense as a bow. “I don’t know why you and Delilah couldn’t have made the shopping trip for me. You know how much I hate being up here on the surface.” Rubbing at her shoulder, she nervously glanced around as if someone might leap out of the evening shadows at any given moment. Just about everything made Anabel anxious. Even herself.

“It’s not good for you to never step foot out of the cottage,” said Wynter. “We’ve been over this already.”

“But I’m safe at home.”

“You’re safe out here, too.”

Anabel’s brows snapped together. “Where death lurks around every corner? Puhlease.”

Wynter rolled her eyes. The problem with Anabel was that her soul remembered each of her past lives and, therefore, each of her past deaths—all of which were allegedly violent. The blonde had never lived past the age of thirty and didn’t expect to do so in this lifetime either. Hence the paranoia.

If left to her own devices, Anabel would remain in either her bedroom or their kitchen while brewing potions. She would also use herself as a test subject while creating new concoctions if unsupervised. That tended to have after-effects, both short-term and long-term . . . which might or might not account for why the woman believed she was the reincarnation of Bloody Mary. Wynter couldn’t be sure.

“You know—and this is just a suggestion—maybe you don’t have to be so insistent that death has our coven in its sights,” said Wynter.

Anabel gave her wide eyes. “I’m telling you, its ice-cold breath is fanning my neck as we speak. Don’t give me that look. People try to kill us, like, all the time.”

“Fugitives generally have that problem,” Wynter pointed out.

She and Anabel had first met after being kidnapped by the same bounty hunters that also snatched the rest of their coven. Wynter hadn’t expected the captives to stay with her after she helped them escape. Nor had she thought that they’d propose they form a coven—one Delilah had named the Bloodrose Coven. They had elected Wynter as their Priestess, ignoring her objections, and she’d eventually decided to just go with it.

Anabel snorted. “The prices on our heads are the least of our problems now that we’re caught in the middle of a long-standing war between the Ancients and the Aeons.”

That was true. There was a lot of beef between the two camps of immortals. Millennia-old beef, in fact. All part of the first civilization, they’d once resided together in the town of Aeon. A war broke out back then, and seven survivors of the losing side were permitted to live but dumped here. Which sounded merciful, but there was far more to it than that. And it wasn’t good.

“But hey, of course you’re not worried for your life,” said Anabel with a little huff. “Why would you be? You can’t die. Me, though? I can.”

Wynter felt a frown tug at her brow. “I die. I just . . . come back.”

Few things could permanently kill a revenant—something she’d become when a deity had come to a dying ten-year-old Wynter and offered to send a monster after the boys who’d attacked her.

Kali occasionally made such offers if She felt that a witch’s death was an injustice. When She made Her offer to Wynter, the deity hadn’t specified that Wynter would return to life and be a vessel for that monster. One that wreaked vengeance like a master.

“Well, the rest of us don’t come back,” said Anabel. “And I’d appreciate it if you remember that the next time you think of putting me in the path of danger like this.”

Wynter crossed her eyes. “Enough of the dramatics. You’re fine. I’m fine.”

“For now. That can change in an instant, my friend.”

Wynter metaphorically threw up her arms. Really, she knew better than to waste her time trying to get Anabel to think past her mistrust of the world. It was too ingrained in her at this point.

In truth, Wynter didn’t have a whole lot of room to judge. She might not be a ball of paranoia, but she was just as hypervigilant—hence why she once more scanned their surroundings.

Smack bang in the middle of nowhere, Devil’s Cradle was framed by lakes, woods, and steep mountains. Taking in the many houses of varying colors, shapes, and sizes, she was again struck by how the town somehow resembled both a coastal village and a military compound. There were bars, restaurants, and plenty of stores within and around the plaza. Pastureland, warehouses, and utility structures lay beyond.

Wynter had grown very fond of the primal, untamed landscape that surrounded them. She liked looking at the hills and crooks and tall, multi-colored rock spires. The badlands possessed a haunting beauty that outweighed the lush, colorful, picture-perfect land of Aeon. She’d spent most of her years there along with her old coven. Until they’d gone and ostracized her, the pricks.

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The Wicked in Me (Devil’s Cradle #1) Read Online Suzanne Wright http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-wicked-in-me-devils-cradle-1-read-online-suzanne-wright Sun, 15 Jan 2023 19:18:33 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/the-wicked-in-me-devils-cradle-1-read-online-suzanne-wright Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Magic, Paranormal, Romance, Witches Authors: Suzanne Wright Series: Devil's Cradle Series by Suzanne Wright
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Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)

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No one really knows what they are. Only that they're the first civilization. Aeons, they call themselves. They're immortal. Powerful. Secretive.

And they'll come for her.

Witch Wynter Dellavale knows that for certain. Because in unfairly trying to execute her, they started a chain of events they're struggling to stop.

Needing safety, she flees to Devil's Cradle, the home of monsters. A place for the outcasts, the fugitives, the crazies. A place ruled by the Ancients, seven beings who were once banished by the Aeons. Among the Ancients is the infamous Cain, brother of Abel and embodiment of jealousy — who, on another note, wants her in his bed.

There’s a heavy price for the safety the Ancients offer, but Wynter will have to pay it. She can't take on the Aeons alone. And she has no intention of dying — been there, done that.

Not that she'll be the easy prey the Aeons are expecting. They have no knowledge of the ... thing that lives inside her. You see, when witches are brought back from the afterlife, they don't always come back the same.

And they don't always come back alone.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

For J, thank you for listening to all my ramblings when I’m

having my mind-mapping buzz sessions out loud

Adopting a stone-cold poker face, Wynter Dellavale struggled to process the disbelief that crawled over her skin. When she’d opened the door to find her Priestess on the doorstep while their coven lingered at the front gate, she’d thought maybe Esther was calling on her to join them all for a late-night ritual or something. But this … no, it couldn’t actually be happening. Nu-uh.

Planting her feet, Wynter folded her arms. “This is some kind of messed-up joke, right? Like, you know, humor but sort of … not?”

“This isn’t something I would ever joke about.” Esther clasped her hands in front of her, the image of elegance. “We have no choice. A new coven will be selected by one of the ruling Aeons in three days’ time. There is no chance of it being us if we have a weak link. For us, you are that.”

Anger bubbled up, hot and sharp. Wynter felt a cold smile slowly curve one side of her mouth.

The Priestess tensed. Well, Wynter wasn’t exactly known for being a placid, sweet, touchy-feely person. More of a bitey-scratchy girl, really. Her mother used to joke that Wynter came out of the womb flipping the finger and snarling at anyone who dared cuddle her.

“I can be described as a lot of things, but not weak,” said Wynter.

“In terms of power, no. But having a witch whose magick has been tainted … that is a weakness in the coven.”

Tainted. She hated that word. People had been tossing it at her for most of her life. “Wasn’t it you who always told me to rise above my limitations and make them work for me? That they’d only be an obstacle if I allowed it?” The woman’s advice had often carried a condescending note, but still.

“Yes, I believe in not permitting obstacles to block our path. And that is what you are, Wynter. An obstacle to this coven’s future prospects. You would have been forced to leave when you turned sixteen if our prior Priestess had not been your grandmother. Agnes could never bring herself to cast you out, but I must. When we moved to this town eighteen years ago, we did it for one reason only—we hoped to eventually serve the Aeons directly. If that means snipping off any weaknesses, so be it.”

The pitiless words were as sharp and cutting as any scalpel. Personally, Wynter didn’t see what would be so amazing about living among the primordial beings in the underground utopia beneath the picturesque town of Aeon. Oh sure, you’d be privy to their secrets and, given they were the first civilization—yeah, as in Adam and Eve—they no doubt had a whole lot of interesting knowledge to pass on. It was considered an honor to serve them, just as it was considered an honor to be chosen to descend to their subterranean city.

There were a few things Wynter wasn’t so comfortable with, though. Like how only the residents of said city were able to go down there and weren’t allowed to speak of it to those who lived in the town. Like how the Aeons demanded the respect and devotion that was worthy of deities.

Though they possessed a godly arrogance, they weren’t deities at all. They also weren’t human. Referred to as Aeons merely due to being long-term natives of this place, they were incredibly secretive immortals who wielded impressive power.

“This is not merely my wish,” Esther added. “I speak for the majority.”

Wynter scanned the swarm of coven members near the gate. Rafe, the mentor she had to thank for all the training she’d received over the years, was notably absent. As for the others … many averted their eyes or shifted uncomfortably. Others raised their chin or sniffed. And it was clear that none were going to speak up for her.

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