Chapter 12
I wake to the sensation of my body rising.
You owe us…forgotten queen… the Hungering Ones hiss.
I blink up at Memnon, who cradles me in his arms. His eyes still glow, his hair still billows around him and his power swarms us.
“She owes you nothing,” Memnon proclaims in that unearthly tone. “You have the blood you insisted she give you. Feast on it and consider yourselves paid.”
The many voices hiss as one. …That was not the agreement…
I’m waking up rapidly. There is no sign of Maelverynox—not that I can see much in the dim light.
“You asked for blood,” Memnon responds. “You didn’t specify whose.”
I didn’t tell Memnon that, which means he either overheard my thoughts when I made the deal or he rifled through my mind.
The earth quiets at that.
I run my palm along his cheek. “Thank you for coming for me,” I say softly. “You kept me safe, est xsaya.”
His body trembles, and he shakes his head. “Not yet. You are not safe yet.”
With that, he carries me to his fancy sports car and, using his magic to open the passenger door, sets me inside. Nero hops in after me, draping his body over mine.
I run my hands over my panther’s fur as Memnon gets in. The sorcerer’s magic still grips him fast.
The car’s engine roars to life, and I jolt at the sound.
The sorcerer’s hand falls to the back of my neck, and when I glance at him I see that his illuminated eyes are fixed on me. It takes me another moment to realize he’s concerned for me.
I nod, maybe a bit too quickly. “I’m fine. I was just startled for a second.”
He watches me for another several seconds, before returning his attention back to the road, though his hand remains on my neck, softly massaging the skin there.
My eyes scour him as he pulls out onto the road. I don’t see any torn clothes, nor do I see any black blood spatter from the demon. In fact, he looks almost too clean, as though a spell scrubbed away any and all traces of violence.
My eyes crawl up to his tense jawline.
It’s quiet in the car for a long moment.
“So, Maelverynox …?”
“He’s been dealt with,” Memnon says grimly.
Meaning the dude lost his head. This is like the Headless Horseman’s origin story.
I nod. There are more words, more things to say and go over, but Memnon’s eyes are still glowing, and his hair is still rippling, and a healthy amount of his magic is leaking from his hands only to twist around my body before sinking into my skin. I don’t think he’s in a state to chat.
Minutes tick by, and still his magic doesn’t resettle.
I eye my husband again, unsure.
It’s only once we turn off the main road that my attention draws away from him.
My brows come together at the unfamiliar scenery. “Are we going to the address you wrote down for me?”
He gives the back of my neck a gentle squeeze. “Yes.”
He doesn’t say anything beyond that, leaving me to gaze at our surroundings for some clues. We’re still deep in the wooded hills north of San Francisco, the trees looming large ahead of us.
A short distance later he turns left, onto a narrow street. On either side of it are what look like gas lamps, a warm glow emanating from them. The sight is both eerie and a little enchanting. Whatever this place is, I think I might already like it.
“Did you get a new house?” I ask curiously, intuition creeping up my spine.
“We did.”
My breath hitches at the emphasis he placed on that pronoun. Spoken when still in the grip of his magic, it takes an even more possessive note.
There’s a bend in the road, and suddenly, the space opens up, revealing a sprawling three-story stone mansion with arched windows, stone balustrades, and a heavy iron and wood front door. All of it is lit by more well-placed lamps, the glow illuminating the stonework.
I shiver pleasantly at the sight. The place is as close to a real-life castle in the woods as a girl in California can get.
Unfortunately, right now, Memnon could give fuck all about the house. As soon as he pulls to a stop in front of it, his attention becomes entirely focused on me.
He’s barely stopped the car when he makes his way around to my side and opens my door.
Nero jumps out, and I barely have time to unbuckle my seat belt before Memnon pulls me into his arms. His mouth finds mine, and he kisses me with panicked fervor.
His hands are in my hair as my own grip his shoulders, then twine around his neck.
He begins to move, his magic encircling us like another demon might suddenly leap out of the darkness and pick up where Maelverynox left off.
I pull away from his kiss. “You know I can walk.”
No.
Memnon’s magic drags my lips back to his, and he takes, takes, takes.
I bite his lower lip, just because the feminist in me resents his bossiness. Then I suck on that lower lip because the deviant in me is a little turned on anyway.
At my back, I hear the massive front door swing open and the click of Nero’s claws as he enters ahead of us. The warmth of the house washes over us as Memnon carries me in.
The door thunks shut behind us, and Memnon’s magic moves to my clothing. The fabric parts and the clothes seem to melt right off me, my sheathed daggers clattering to the ground with them. Within moments I’m left bare in the sorcerer’s arms.
He pauses, pulling away from the kiss as his glowing eyes fall to my neckline. There nestled against my skin is the gold and carnelian necklace he gave me. The contraceptive necklace is also there, but I don’t think he gives a flying fuck about that one.
His strange eyes rise to my ears, and he brushes away my hair to peer at the matching earrings.
“You wore them.”
“And my daggers.” I had left Henbane wearing all of it, knowing he’d discover them at some point in the evening. I hadn’t, however, anticipated it’d be quite like this. “I like them.”
He’s still staring at me with those illuminated eyes, and I cannot tell what he’s thinking, not the way I usually can. I reach down our bond, peering into his thoughts as best I can.
Selene, Selene, Selene. Safe. Mine. My wife. Selene.
My attention drags away from the connection and moves to his chest—his bare chest, I realize. While he’d been undressing me, he must’ve also been undressing himself.
Heat rises to my cheeks, especially when his own gaze roves over my exposed flesh before returning to my face.
Normally, I’d be overeager at this point. However, Memnon’s deadly magic, which drives his most destructive powers, is still riding him.
I’m a little uneasy—
You have nothing to fear from me, soul mate. Ever. But even his voice is unnerving, bringing goose bumps to my skin.
With a guiding hand, he gently pulls my face back to his and resumes the kiss. This time it’s unbearably soft. Coaxing. Reassuring. He might be a threat to the multitudes, but for me he can be gentle.
I return the kiss, but my heart is now pattering away, desire warring with my skittishness.
He carries me through a maze of rooms and corridors. I can only imagine he’s taking me to the house’s main bedroom.
I break off the kiss, pressing my forehead to his.
“Wait,” I breathe.
He pauses, those glowing eyes searing me. His grip on my body tightens. I know what he wants. I can feel it pressing against me. And, honestly, it’s winding me tighter and tighter. But still. I’m unnerved.
Despite his state, Memnon remains still, letting me have my moment.
I lick my lips. “I want a shower.”
He brushes his nose against mine and briefly takes my lips again. I don’t know what his own murky thoughts are, but he does resume walking, crossing the expanse of what does, in fact, appear to be a large bedroom and entering a spacious bathroom.
I catch a glimpse of milky pale marble and copper fixtures.
Memnon’s magic billows out of him, and I hear a shower faucet turn on. He carries me over to a glass-encased shower, his magic opening the door. He steps in, and I yelp as cold water hits me.
Immediately, Memnon pivots, letting his own back take the brunt of the chilly spray.
I begin to laugh at the absurdity of this whole situation. Being carried like a broken bird to the shower only to have terrifying Memnon, who is not wholly himself, defending me against unheated water.
The tension of the moment breaks like a dam, and my sorcerer, with those strange, uncanny eyes, drinks in my laughter.
Then, all at once, his mouth crashes against mine.
This kiss is different from the others. Fierce, fervent, devouring.
Each punishing stroke of his lips demand that mine part, until they do.
I moan as his tongue meets mine, and I feel his cock jump at the sound. Everything is sensitive, so sensitive.
The water slipping down the drain beneath us is tinted a murky red, and most—if not all—of the blood and grit is mine. More of Memnon’s magic presses against me. I can sense it flowing through my veins, and if I were unwell, I’m sure it would be healing me at this very moment.
You are the most precious thing to me, Selene. The only thing that matters. Need to feel you.
I don’t know what possesses me in this moment—maybe it’s his disarming gentleness or the fact that I feel safe with him even now; maybe it’s my own inner deviance—but I pry myself from his arms, backing up until I bump against the far wall of the shower.
Then I reach out and grab Memnon’s hand, dragging him to me, until his chest is pressed flush against mine.
Even overtaken by his own magic as he is, he’s still Memnon. My Memnon.
I drag his hand to my folds, and when his fingers move softly there, I gasp, arching into him.
His glowing eyes devour my expression. He does the movement again, this time more deliberately, pulling another embarrassing noise from my throat.
The corner of his mouth curves up, like he enjoys that.