I yelp as he picks me up and sets me on the island behind me.
He puts a finger up to my face. “Stay,” he growls, his magic coiling around me.
“Don’t talk to me like I’m a dog,” I snap back at him.
I try to hop off the counter, but damn it, he spelled my ass—literally. I can’t get up.
I watch on helplessly as Memnon stalks toward my cauldron and grabs it with his bare hands.
“Memnon, no—”
Before I can even finish my plea, he overturns the thing, dumping its contents out onto the open fire beneath it, dousing the flame and ruining my concoction.
I make a horrified sound and stare aghast at the ruins of my spell.
Memnon turns back to me, his chest heaving and his palms blistered from where he held the cauldron. “You were trying to break our bond!” he roars.
Upstairs, I hear someone yell, “Shut up!”
“Goddess above, lower your voice,” I whisper. “You’re going to wake up the whole coven.” I’m skating on thin enough ice as it is.
“Even after enduring your betrayal and your desertion, est amage, I would never dare to break what is ours and ours alone!” His voice rises until he is bellowing the words.
“Maybe if you had spent the past several weeks trying to be my friend instead of making my life miserable, I wouldn’t be attempting to break our bond.”
His expression flickers, like he may feel regret or shame, but I’m not done.
“I swear to the goddess,” I continue, “the moment you leave my sight, I will start the process all over again.”
It seems like Memnon grows taller, wider. He steps between my legs, looking menacing, lethal.
“No,” he says softly, “you won’t.” The sorcerer places his hands on either side of my head, his eyes flinty.
I jerk against his touch. “Let me go.”
“Your mind isn’t the only one that can steal memories,” he says, those smoky eyes piercing.
I go still at what he’s hinting at. “You wouldn’t,” I breathe.
He smiles. “Of course I would. I already have.”
“You’ve taken my memories?” My voice is unnaturally quiet as I speak. Dark, roiling fury builds beneath my veins.
“Your heart isn’t the only thing I own.” It’s as much a confession as anything else.
I don’t think—I launch myself at him. Memnon’s magic still holds my legs fast to the table, but I manage to claw at his eyes and tear that self-satisfied smirk from his face.
“Fuck,” he curses in Sarmatian, staggering out of my reach. Then he laughs. Laughs!
“Ah, est amage, I’ve missed your fiery side,” he says, stepping back into my space and catching one of my wrists.
“I will gut you for taking my memories, you asshole!” I manage to drag my nails down the other side of Memnon’s face before he’s able to capture my other wrist.
He grins wickedly. “I thought you didn’t mind losing them? You fought for your curse so passionately a week ago.”
“You had no right to take them,” I say vehemently.
Memnon ignores my words, his gaze moving to the open grimoire next to me. “Ah, is this the hateful spell?” He moves my wrists into one of his hands so he can place his palm on the book.
Beneath his hand, the page curls and blackens, and a wisp of smoke rises from the book.
I jerk fruitlessly against his grip, my mood darkening with every passing second. This spell was supposed to placate my rage, not enflame it. But it’s as though I’m reliving the book burning in my room all over again.
“You think you can break our bond and dispose of me as you did two thousand years ago?”
I sense his own rage rising, and his eyes illuminate with his power. I’m reminded all over again that a sorcerer’s magic draws from their conscience; as they grow stronger, their empathy grows weaker. I’m sensing that Memnon lost most of his back in antiquity.
“You will never be free of me, little witch. Never.”
I stare at the magic sparking in his eyes. I’m coming to find that there is nothing nearly so dangerous as a wronged sorcerer.
Memnon’s hand comes up, wrapping around my throat in the most featherlight grip. But between his spell nailing me to the table, his body pinning me in, and now his hand on my neck, I am completely immobilized.
“But you are right, I have given you more misery than passion. Perhaps it is time I reminded you of what it means to be with me.”
My eyebrows shoot up. Wait, what?