Sybil rubs my back. “So you’re bonded to a fucking loser. If he wants to be enemies, let’s make him pay.”
I lift my head from my hands, my magic rising.
Yes.
“Listen,” she says, seeing my interest, “this bastard is your soul mate. He may be the dirtiest rim job out there, but he is fated to you, which means the guy is basically walking around with a hard-on every time he sees you.
“So you and I are going to find some killer dresses, we’re going to go to the ball, and you’re going to enjoy the fuck out of yourself in front of that bastard. Bonus points for flirting and dancing with every mage who’s up for it.
“He’ll see what he’s missing, and it will be him who comes groveling back to you.”
I stare at her.
And then I smile.
CHAPTER 40
Let’s make him pay.
That thought sticks to me like a barb through the weekend and into the following week.
It’s there when I forget I have a coffee date with one of the witches in my wards class, and it’s there when I miss turning in an assignment for spellcasting. I cling to the promise of vengeance every time I see Politia officers on campus, interviewing witches or examining cordoned-off sections of the woods. I reassure myself of it after each weird look a coven sister casts my way, and I bask in the thought of it when Sybil and I go shopping for dresses in San Francisco.
The problem is, the longer I muse on Sybil’s plan, the more I realize…it’s not settling my demons.
Not by half.
I think of all the burned books—years of life and work meticulously documented—and how the sorcerer relished destroying them. Then I think of how he attacked Kane in my room and how he’s repeatedly threatened me.
Despite Memnon’s wicked tongue and the budding thing we had between us, he has made it clear since the beginning that we are enemies. And what have I done to stop him?
Nothing.
And now my revenge is supposed to be wearing a sexy dress and giving other men attention in some bid to make Memnon jealous? It’s laughably pathetic, and I’m far too bloodthirsty to settle for that.
I need to make the man truly pay. But how?
Wednesday evening, I sit sprawled out in one of the wingback chairs in my house’s library, Nero at my feet, as I rub my lower lip and muse over my situation.
Right over my heart, I can sense my devilish bond thrum with life. Unfortunately, I’ve been noticing this bond more and more since I accepted that I’m Memnon’s soul mate. Just giving it this small amount of attention is enough for me to feel the sorcerer on the other side of it.
Whatever he’s doing, he’s some combination of pleased and impatient.
Smug bastard.
Little witch, are you poking around my mind? Memnon’s voice is soft like velvet in my head.
Crap, I forgot that he can sense me too.
I ignore him and the way his words stroke me from the inside out.
I can taste your frustration, he says. Are you desperate yet?
Screw you. I shove the words down our bond.
Is that a legitimate offer? Because if it is, I’ll have to think about it.
Goddess, but I hate him.
I feel his amusement as his presence retreats from our bond, and I’m alone once more—or as alone as I can be now that I’m connected to another.
That’s the heart of the issue—being bonded to him.
Being bonded…
Can…soul mate bonds be broken?
The thought makes my breath catch.
Has anyone ever tried?
Before another thought has fully formed, I’m rising from my chair, then giving my familiar an idle pet as I leave my spot and head for the back of the library.
Nero is up and at my heels as though he weren’t busy sleeping a minute ago.
This early in the evening, the library is filled with several witches doing homework or reading various tomes. A few of them glance up at me, including one witch I think is friends with the still-missing Kasey, whose disappearance is now being investigated by the Politia. Kasey’s friend grimaces at me, then goes back to reading her book.
One nasty look isn’t nearly enough to distract myself from the fierce purpose riding me.
I haven’t visited the grimoire room since my first night here, but I’ll need them now for what I have in mind.
I pass the ornate stone fireplace and reach the door to the sealed room. When I open it, I wince at the clashing magic that fills the air, and Nero’s ears go back.
It’s only then that I hesitate.
What am I doing?
This idea that’s gripped me, it fills all the dangerous, wrathful spaces in my soul, but is it what I really want? Every source I’ve read on soul mates speaks of the deliberate nature of them. They’re each other’s perfect other half.