“You’re Memnon, aren’t you?” she says. “I knew I’d be able to pick you out of the crowd.”
She said something earlier about this, hadn’t she? Something that made me laugh, but I can’t quite grasp it now…
“Go back to the dance.” Memnon gives the words a magical push, and Sybil backs up.
“If you’re sure you’re okay,” she says, her brows drawing together. She’s fighting Memnon’s magic, her eyes lingering on me.
“I am,” I rasp out, the lie tasting bitter as it leaves my lips.
She hesitates a few more seconds before finally turning around and rejoining a larger group of witches, as though nothing were amiss.
Almost everyone else is regaining their bearings.
“What the hell was in that witch’s brew?”
“What just happened?”
“Did I miss something?”
“Was that supposed to be part of the evening?”
There’s a smattering of laughter, and though I notice a few supernaturals look suspicious—I mean, we are witches, so we know a thing or two about magical interference. But overall, people are eager to get back to enjoying themselves.
“What did you do to them?” I ask, staring at the crowd.
“I wiped their memories of the past ten minutes.”
He fought me, restrained and suffocated a room full of supernaturals, then partially removed their memories, and he still looks primed for battle.
The sheer quantity of power at this man’s disposal is terrifying.
“You can’t keep compelling people to do what you want,” I say, my voice weak with my fatigue.
“You keep forgetting, est amage. I hold the power, which means I get to do what I want,” Memnon says back, his eyes drinking me in.
My stomach dips at the look he gives me, and if I had more energy, I would snarl and rage that my own reaction to him hasn’t been blunted by his recent actions.
“Where are we going?” I ask as the sorcerer carries me out the main doors and into the night.
“Back to your room, where you and I will lift the curse. We do also have a wedding to plan.”
Oh, how I loathe this fucker.
I narrow my eyes. “Gloating isn’t a good look on you.”
“That’s not what you said two thousand years ago—but then, you wouldn’t remember that, would you?”
I loathe him, loathe him, loathe him.
That doesn’t stop me from leaning my heavy head against his chest, my body spent.
The sorcerer pulls me in closer, and I can’t decide if the action rankles me—he’s the reason behind my exhaustion after all—or if it softens my angry heart.
My gaze moves to the tree line, and I sense Nero lingering in the shadows there.
“She’s all right, Nero,” Memnon calls. “No need to slice me to ribbons. I’m not interested in hurting her.”
“At the moment,” I add.
He glances down at me. “Anymore,” he corrects. His eyes are steady. “No more vengeance, est amage. I set my trap and sprung it. Once you uphold your end of the agreement, I will bury the past and look to the future. I have a bride to charm after all.” At this last part, his expression shifts, turning almost mirthful.
If I had more energy, I’d lunge at him and scratch the look off his smug-ass face. Bury the past. If he had any interest in that, he wouldn’t be trying to resurrect long-lost memories.
My familiar slinks from the tree line, so stealthy and quiet that even under the light of a full moon, he’s hard to notice. When he gets to us, his ears are back and a low growl rumbles in his chest. He hisses at Memnon, flashing his fangs.
What a good kitty. I take back every rude thought I’ve ever directed Nero’s way.
“I’m not putting her down, Nero, not even for—”
Nero lunges, slashing at Memnon with his claws.
My body dips a little as the sorcerer reacts, hissing at the pain.
“Fuck, Nero. I know you love her. I do too—she’s safe with me.”
My familiar is still growling in warning, plainly pissed off. Just hearing the menace pouring off Nero, I’m sure my panther will attack Memnon again—he’s just waiting for the right moment to do so.
“It’s all right, Nero,” I say softly, reaching my hand down.
The big cat’s growls die away, and a moment later, I feel his head brush against my palm.
I pet him gently. “You are the best familiar I could ask for,” I coo, even though I’m sure Nero hates that voice. “And I am all right, I promise. Let’s plan a better time to attack Memnon, deal?” I feel the sorcerer give me a look, though I don’t bother to glance at him and see what the expression is. “For now, we can leave the bastard alone.” Enough harm has already been done this evening.
“How merciful of you, Empress,” Memnon says, and I can hear the amusement in his voice.
At the sound of the sorcerer’s voice, Nero growls once more, but it eventually peters out, and when Memnon begins moving again, Nero falls into step next to him.
“Just be happy I didn’t ask him to castrate you—I think he was ready to.”
“Selene, you and I both know you are far too curious about my cock to let that ever happen.”
I glare at him. “I’m sure, like the rest of you, it’ll be a disappointment.”
If I expected Memnon to be offended by that, I thought wrong. The sorcerer lets out a surprised laugh.
“I don’t see how that’s funny.”
“Come now, Empress, you’re amusing, even when your humor is at my expense. Also, I appreciate the confirmation that you will be seeing my cock at some point in time.”
“I did not confirm…”
Crap, I did though, didn’t I? I made it sound like I would be seeing him naked in the future.
Memnon wears that same smug expression.
“Castration is still not off the table,” I insist.
“Neither is fucking, apparently,” he responds, his eyes glinting playfully.
I narrow my eyes at him.
“Though we can do it on the table as well,” he adds. “Really, anywhere that pleases you, est amage. I live to serve only you.”
My cheeks heat at his words. It doesn’t help that Memnon is holding me so close, I can feel the beat of his heart against my cheek.
I exhale, the fight still gone from me. My inside of my skull throbs from all the spent magic and the memories tithed. I lean more deeply into Memnon’s chest, uncaring that he’s taking every one of these actions as another victory. He may as well enjoy it because tonight I really did lose.
And I’m only just starting to process that.
Memnon leads us around to the front of my house, climbing up the path to the front door. We pass the stone lamassu, and though they’re threshold guardians, they don’t try to defend me against Memnon.
Except for Nero, I’m well and truly on my own.
Memnon steps up to the front door, and my heart nearly skips a beat when the Medusa door knocker moves, the snakes in her hair writhing.
“We don’t allow wicked men with dubious—”
Memnon’s blue magic slips out from him and blows into the metal Medusa’s face.
The knocker coughs as its eyes flutter shut, and the door swings open.
“That was just rude.”