I sit up, forcing Kane back so he’s kneeling, my legs still draped around him.
Then I remove my arms, one by one, from the stretchy material of my dress to let it pool at my waist.
Those wolfish eyes look hungry as he takes me in. I feel decidedly self-conscious in my tattered nude bra, but whatever, it’s not going to be on for long.
My magic stirs, tugging at my heart and skimming over my skin as I reach for Kane’s shirt. I feel my power slip past the shifter, reaching for something across my room and out my window.
My attention is drawn back to Kane when he grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it off, then tosses it aside.
Shirtless Kane is a sight to behold. He’s all taut, packed muscle.
His nostrils flare as I take him in, as though he’s breathing in my desire.
Crap, he probably is. Lycanthropes can smell everything.
Before I can react, he leans into me, cupping my face as his lips find mine once more.
We fall back onto my bed, wrapped up in each other. I’m running my hands up his sides when I feel what I swear is Memnon’s magic back against my skin, stroking, stroking…
I gasp at the feel of it, my body electrified by its touch. It creeps up my arms, drawing out my gooseflesh.
I look for the magic, and this time, I do see the indigo plumes of it moving over my flesh—plumes Kane can’t see and probably can’t much sense either.
It hits me then—beyond the booze and the haze of desire—that the sorcerer who has been in my head this evening, has also been using his magic to draw out my desire.
One of those strands of magic now curls in on itself against my upper arm while Kane kisses my neck. It looks so innocuous, and beneath it, my flesh puckers. As I watch, that magic thickens.
If Memnon’s power is here, then…then he must be close by.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
I push against Kane’s chest, forcing the shifter to sit up as Memnon’s magic grows around us.
“What is it?” Kane says, his gaze hooded with desire.
“You need to go,” I say, giving him another push to get him moving.
The shifter stays stubbornly where he is. “Did I do something wrong?”
The indigo magic now floods the room, and my intuition—intuition I steadfastly ignored all evening—is screaming forewarnings at me.
“I have more issues than just my memory,” I tell him, scrambling to get up and forcing my arms back into my dress sleeves. The power around me has changed, no longer sensual but agitated, violent.
“You need to go,” I insist. “Now.”
At the direct order, I see Kane’s eyes flash, and I feel his own dominance rise at the challenge. “I’m not—”
BOOM!
The entire house rocks, and my window shatters. Something slams into Kane, and a split-second later, his body hits the wall, the plaster buckling under the force.
I hear a wolfish yelp at the impact, and as Kane crumples to the floor, a massive man looms over the shifter. I don’t need to see the sleeve of tattoos running down his arm to know who it is.
“Memnon!” I cry, my stomach bottoming out as the sorcerer drags Kane back to his feet. “Stop!”
Memnon somehow manages to make Kane look small and boyish as he lifts the lycan by the throat.
To my horror, Kane’s eyes have shifted, and his teeth have sharpened.
“You dare to touch what is mine, wolf?” Memnon roars, his eyes beginning to glow.
His magic is mounting, and I feel the vicious intent of it as it swirls around us.
“Memnon, stop!” I shout as I swing myself off the bed.
Beneath the sorcerer’s hand, a partially shifted Kane now returns to his human form. Only…he’s not the one doing the shifting; Memnon seems to be, his power so dense, I taste it on my tongue. Kane growls and yelps the entire time as though every second of it is agonizing. Once he’s fully human, he’s drenched in sweat and breathing heavily.
“I will castrate you and feed you your own godsdamned dick for what you have done!” the sorcerer bellows.
There aren’t words for the terror coursing through my veins. But beneath it brews my anger.
I lift my hand, my rage channeling down my arm.
“Release him!” The words come out in another language, and with it, my power sweeps over the room, the sherbet-orange hue of my magic overtaking the dark blue plumes of his own.
I feel it the moment my spell catches hold.
Memnon must as well because for the first time since he broke in, he turns to me.
“Release him?” he says. He eyes the lycanthrope. “Fine.”
Rather than simply let Kane go, Memnon hurls the shifter out my broken window.
I cry out, horrified as I hear Kane’s body snap branches and rustle leaves as it falls.
My power flows out of me then, racing after Kane. There’s no spell or any intricate design to go along with it, just intent—save Kane.
Unfortunately, my power is too slow.
I rush over to the window in time to hear the dull thump of Kane hitting the ground, no magic there to soften the impact.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
My magic recoils into me an instant later, and I feel that insidious tug inside my head, the one that indicates I lost another memory from using my power.
It doesn’t matter. Not when Kane may be out there dying.
I swing my leg out the gaping hole that was my window, but Memnon scoops me up from behind.
“First you trap me in a tomb and fuck me over for two millennia, and now you dare to break our unbreakable vows and touch another?” Memnon growls against my ear. The lilt of the ancient language curls around me like one long, unbroken memory.
Has this man forgotten our entire last conversation?
“I—am not—Roxilana!” I kick at him.
Memnon ignores the strikes and, clutching me close, he steps onto the broken windowsill, then leaps off.
For a moment, I’m weightless. Then we land, and my entire body jolts from the impact, my teeth clicking together.
I catch sight of Kane’s slumped form, and I let out a horrified scream.
There’s a pool of blood around him, and he’s lying there, unmoving.
I struggle in the sorcerer’s grip all over again, but Memnon holds me fast. And then, he begins to carry me away, just like those captive fae brides Sybil warned me about.
Oh, hell no.
“Let go of me!” The command comes out in Sarmatian, though I barely notice. I’m spitting mad and consumed with worry for Kane.
Memnon ignores my shrieks and my struggles, continuing to stride onward, into the darkened woods.
In the distance I sense my familiar, but when I slip into his mind, all I see is forest.
Come now! I call to him, though I don’t know if Nero heard or felt compelled by the command.
Moving back into my own mind is confusing because the scenery is nearly the same—more darkened trees.
Once I get my bearings, I strike out with my power. The sorcerer laughs. Laughs.
The fucking gall.
“Don’t insult me, Empress. You know you’ll have to do much more than that if you wish to harm me.”
“You psycho! Let me go!” I twist in his arms, my magic flaring out of me with my panic and anger. It doesn’t so much as loosen his hold.