I turn my attention back to my planner. There are other things written in it, like the Samhain Witches’ Ball, which is two weeks from now, that I’ve literally never heard of. And then there’s a paper due on Wednesday on the use of fresh versus dried ingredients in spellwork. Sounds boring as shit, and maybe that’s why I have no recollection of the thing.
I flip to the previous week, and I read off everything I scheduled. To my horror, I can only remember a couple of events, like the lycanthrope party I attended with Sybil. But even that memory is mostly gone; only the end of the evening stands out, when Memnon attacked Kane. The dozen or so other events I wrote in might as well be for someone else; I recognize none of them.
I make a small noise. Has the memory loss ever been this bad?
“What’s the matter?” Memnon’s voice is right behind me. I jolt at the sound of it. I don’t know how he managed to sneak up on me.
I turn and get an eyeful of his chest.
“Selene?”
I glance up at him. Gone is the vicious man I’ve come to know. He looks genuinely concerned.
“My memories over the past week,” I say softly. “Most of them are gone.”
My hands shake, and my eyes well with tears.Damn it, I’m not going to cry. I saved a girl’s life last night. What are a few memories compared to that?
This is why I have my system in place. I’ll figure it out.
I let out a pathetic sniffle, one that Memnon had to hear.
“Ugh,” I say, swallowing. “I’m sor—”
Memnon gathers me to him, pulling me into a hug. “Don’t finish that sentence, little witch. You don’t ever need to apologize to me—not for this.”
My face is pressed against his massive chest, his body enveloping mine. I don’t let myself overthink the moment; instead, I wrap my arms around his torso and hold him close. It feels so good to be held.
“Thank you,” I say softly. “For your magic—and bringing me back here.”
Only now is it really registering that he stayed at my side the entire night. And hell must’ve frozen over because all I feel right now is relief that this terrifying human kept me safe.
He squeezes me tighter.
Unlike the past week, the events of last night are still very vivid, and the longer I’m in his arms, the more my mind drifts to them. I have a fuzzy memory of a shifter taking the girl—Cara—from me, but where is she now? Is she okay?
I’m not sure how to even go about finding out.
Then there was that monster. I can’t even begin to fathom what it actually was or how it was sentient. Only that the priestess seemed to control it.
I don’t even know if I actually destroyed it; the priestess managed to repair it once. Perhaps it could be repaired again.
Then I remember the witches who confronted me in the forest and in that odd grimoire room.
Then the rest of the night’s carnage comes back.
Nero tore chunks out of several of them. Those he didn’t, the lamassu attacked.
I can still see the witches’ slumped forms lying in the woods.
“My attackers…” I begin.
One of Memnon’s hands moves to my chin, and he tilts my face up to his.
“You don’t have to worry about that. They’re being dealt with.”
I go still. “What do you mean ‘they’re being dealt with’?” My breath is coming in shallower and shallower pants.
There’s a calculating gleam in his eyes. “I told you last night to mark your enemies. The ones you did mark, I found. What I do with them now…you don’t need to concern yourself with that.”
His words, which I think were supposed to be placating, only serve to spike my anxiety.
“Who are you?” My gaze searches his.
He smiles at me again, and there’s a vicious edge to it, despite the softness in his eyes. “You already know who I am. You may be the only person who truly knows, est amage.” My queen.
I push away from him then and run my hands through my hair. “I need to speak with the Politia, and I need a shower and to change—and breakfast would be nice.”
Memnon stares down at me, and the affectionate look in his eyes is unsettling. I sense that last night changed things between us for him as well.
“My spell took away your pain, but you need to rest, Selene.” Already, he’s trying to turn me around and steer me back to my bed. “I will bring you breakfast. The Politia can wait.”
Crap. You let an ancient supernatural king stay with you for one night and lend you his power, and suddenly, he gets all bossy and presumptuous.
Going to need to nip this in the bud.
“Um”—I put a hand on Memnon’s chest, my insides squealing at his warm skin and hard muscles—“no.”
That sparkle in Memnon’s eyes is still there, but he definitely looks irritated. “What, exactly, are you disagreeing with?”
I huff out a breath. “Listen, I don’t know how they did things back when they were busy inventing the wheel, but you don’t get to tell me what to do. Also—” I give his chest a gentle shove. He doesn’t so much as budge. “Last night and this morning were nice, but now you have to go.”
Maybe if I hustle him out fast enough, we won’t have to discuss the fact I’m seriously in his debt for all the magic he lent me.
Memnon narrows his eyes at me, though the corner of his mouth curls upward. He parts his lips to speak.
“Uh-uh.” I shake my head. “You don’t get to say whatever evil little thought gave you that look. Just”—another little push that gets me nowhere—“scoot.”
Memnon catches my hands, trapping them against his chest. Very deliberately, he steps into my space, and I am suddenly very aware of his naked torso and my skimpy lingerie.
“I will leave you on one condition, mate.”
I grind my teeth. I didn’t realize getting a sorcerer out of my room required conditions.
“You must vow to keep yourself safe.”
That’s…I guess I can do that. “I swear I’ll keep myself safe,” I say. Then I force a big fake smile. “Good?”
Memnon’s gaze drops to my lips, and those eyes narrow again. But after a moment, he nods at my words. And now he’s giving me that affectionate look again. It makes my skin heat and my core clench.
He releases my hands, but just as soon as they’ve left, his mouth finds mine, kissing me with all the command of the warlord king he claims to be.
I melt against those lips, the taste of him intoxicating. My hands fall to his waist, and I draw my fingers over his tattoos.
This man is one big walking Bad Idea, and I’m learning from last night that I have a weakness for them.
Memnon pulls away. He drags the pad of his thumb over my lower lip. “Keep your vow, little witch,” he says.
With one final soft look, the sorcerer leaves me.
CHAPTER 31
“What were you doing out in the Everwoods on the night of October tenth?” Officer Howahkan asks, staring at me across the white table, his long dark hair pulled back in a braid.
The interrogation room is small, plain—it looks like every other bland, ominous interrogation room I’ve seen on TV. The only difference is that the walls of this one are lined with spells. They shimmer and jiggle a little when I focus on them.
I’ve only been in the Politia’s interrogation room for five minutes, but I already feel the magic on those four walls closing in on me.
“I can’t remember,” I say.