I glare at him over my shoulder before pushing his arm away. “I’m not your mate,” I whisper under my breath. “And don’t bite my ear.”
Memnon’s eyes twinkle. “At least you’re not in denial about being possessive,” he says, those sensual lips curving into a smirk. “We can agree on that.”
I’m about to argue with him on that, but then we pass another witch who gives Memnon a moonstruck look, and I turn my glare at her.
I hear soft prideful laughter at my back.
“Shut up.”
I may be a little possessive.
CHAPTER 33
When we get to the Ritual Room, I let Memnon in first, holding the door open before following him inside.
His boots echo against the floor as he peers around, taking in the dark walls and the rows of chairs.
I head over to the back of the room, the hairs along my arms rising as the previous night comes back to me.
“We went through this wall,” I say, touching the solid surface that glimmers faintly as the spells running along it catch the light. For a moment, I marvel that magic can make doorways appear and disappear at will.
Memnon comes over to me before stopping so close that his shoulder brushes mine.
My breath escapes me in a rush, and I feel a fevered urge to reach for him and taste him all over again. I’ve only kissed him, but I’ve dreamed of more. How would the real thing hold up against my imagination?
Memnon glances over at me, arching an eyebrow.
“What?” I say defensively.
Did he hear those thoughts?
He shakes his head and returns his attention to the wall. He runs a hand over it, and I get to appreciate the golden ring he wears and his scarred forearms—
Stop getting distracted by the pretty man, Selene.
Dropping his hand, Memnon turns, looking as though he’s going to walk away. All at once he spins back around and slams his fist into the wall.
His indigo magic explodes outward at the impact, and there’s a sound like hard candy crushing beneath a boot.
A split second later, I realize that’s the sound of the ward shattering. As soon as it’s gone, the wall disappears, revealing the opening once more.
I stare, aghast, first at the opening, then at Memnon.
“I’ve never seen someone use their power like that,” I say.
The sorcerer catches me by the chin and flashes me a soft, playful smile. “Yes, you have little witch. Long ago.”
Before I can argue with him, Memnon drops his hand from my chin and turns his attention back to the archway.
He clucks his tongue. “Someone’s been naughty, hiding a back entrance into your house.” Despite the light tone of his words, I see his eyes harden and his features grow sharp.
He crosses the threshold, heading toward the staircase.
I hesitate, fear souring the back of my throat. I don’t want to go back there.
It feels as though those witches are still lurking at the bottom of that staircase, waiting for another chance to nab me.
Memnon, on the other hand, looks as though he’d enjoy nothing more than a nice confrontation. He begins to descend, not bothering to coax me along.
Without thinking, I reach for Memnon’s magic, just as I did last night, needing the reassurance of his power.
It’s there, just as endless as it was last night. I don’t know how a single body can house so much magic or how much of his conscience he offered up for it all.
“I can feel myself inside you, soul mate,” Memnon calls up the bottom of the stairway, a smile in his voice. “You can draw me into you whenever you like.”
My core clenches at the offer, and my face heats. “I’m not your— That’s not why—” I draw in a deep breath, frustrated that he has me flustered. “I’m just nervous about coming back to this place.”
His footfalls pause.
“Come to me, Selene,” he says gently, his words soft and enticing.
Despite how much his orders annoy me, and despite my fear, I move toward those stairs, then down them, not stopping until I get to Memnon, who stands to the side of the staircase.
He places a hand on my cheek. “Do I terrify you, little witch?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation.
“And how fearsome would my equal have to be?” he asks.
I shake my head, not sure how to answer. “They’d have to be very powerful and frightening to be your equal,” I finally say.
Memnon strokes my skin with his thumb. “I’m staring at her now.”
“I’m not—”
“You are,” he insists.
I part my mouth to protest further, but he says, “I know you are afraid, but you are underestimating your own strength, est amage. I have seen that strength many times, and you saw it yourself last night, when you were one against many. You are the frightening thing.”
He pulls me in closer. “But you can always draw on my power if it pleases you. As I said, I like being in you.”
His words should fluster me, but whatever is going on between the two of us, it leaves no room for embarrassment.
I stare into Memnon’s luminous brown eyes. “Why are you being so nice to me?” I whisper.
His eyes are soulful. “If there is one answer that should be obvious to you, it’s that one.”
I sneak a glance at his wicked mouth. As I stare, it spreads into a smile.
“Does my queen wish to kiss me?”
“Maybe,” I say honestly.
Memnon leans in close, that mouth no more than an inch from mine. “Have I told you how much I like the taste of your lips?” he says softly. “Like honeyed wine. It makes me eager to taste other parts of you. I bet they are even sweeter…”
Heat rushes to my cheeks. “God damn it, Memnon, you need to stop—” I haven’t even finished the sentence when he grabs me around my waist and lifts me into his arms.
I give a little yelp as he carries me across the room and into the adjoining hallway.
“You’re so godsdamned pretty when you’re flustered. Does my dirty talk embarrass you?” he asks, staring up at me.
Yes. “You’re still a stranger to me,” I say, as the candles around us flare to life.
“I’m not,” Memnon insists, leading us down the curving hallway. “You know I’m not. I’m your mate, and I’ve waited a very, very long time to reunite with you.”
He lowers me just enough to put my ear close to his mouth.
“I really can’t wait to taste you again, Empress,” he confesses. “I want to know if even after two thousand years, you make the same sounds when you come against my tongue. Or if you can still ride my cock better than I ride my steed.”
Maiden, Mother, and Crone.
“I am not talking about this with you.” I wiggle, trying to get out of his arms.
With a low, husky laugh, he sets me down. I back away from him, feeling all sorts of hot and bothered. But already, his eyes have moved from me to the rest of the room.
And that’s about when I realize we’re in the room where it all happened. He managed to distract me for the entire walk here, and I have no idea whether he did it deliberately to ease my fear or if he simply wanted to taunt me.
Now, as I watch Memnon, I can see his good mood drain away and the cold, merciless king he once was seep through.