“And sometimes,” he continues, “if I had particularly good control of my power that day, I would save the ruler’s death for last. I’d let him survey the ruins of his army. I’d let it sink in that he should’ve surrendered to me when he first had the chance.”
It’s obviously a warning, one that leaves me shaking. Distantly, I can hear the music playing and people laughing, and my phone vibrating between my cleavage as someone tries to call me, but it feels a world away.
Through my fear, however, my anger rises, along with my magic. This is my moment—my opening for true revenge.
My power gathers in my palms.
Memnon glances down at my hands. “Are you going to strike me, little witch?” He sounds amused. “I like the thought of that. It may even tickle.”
My magic burgeons in response to the insult, building and building. I can feel the chaotic movements of it within me.
He nods to my chest. “Your phone’s been ringing. I imagine it’s urgent,” he says, backing away. “Why don’t you answer it?”
I glance down at my chest for just a moment, but when I look back up, Memnon’s gone.
Damn it.
I stride after him, my power already receding into me now that I’ve lost sight of the sorcerer. My heels click as I wind through the aisles, searching for Memnon. But he’s vanished entirely.
I stop, peering around at one empty row of trees and shrubs and another where a couple is making out against the trunk of a palm tree.
Bzzzz…bzzzz…
I glance down at my cleavage again. Memnon’s right, my phone has been ringing.
I blow out a breath, then fish the phone out.
I give the caller ID a passing glance, assuming it’s Sybil.
It’s not.
Kane Halloway, my phone reads instead.
Why is Kane of all people calling me? I haven’t heard from him since our disastrous evening together. To be honest, I hadn’t even realized I had his number.
I answer the call anyway, putting the phone to my ear as I walk down a row of plants.
“Hey, Kane,” I say, bringing the phone to my ear. My eyes snag on a door to a back courtyard. “Now’s not—”
“Listen, Selene, I have a lot to say, and I don’t have much time to say it.” The man who speaks doesn’t sound like the lycanthrope I remember. His voice is far too low and gravelly. He hardly sounds human at all.
I pause. “Kane, is that you?” I ask softly.
“Full moon. I’m fighting a shift.”
My mouth forms an O. To be honest, I didn’t know it was possible for lycans to hold off a shift during the full moon for any amount of time.
I head for that door outside, wanting some fresh air and a little privacy to handle wherever this call is going.
“My pack knows it was you who saved Cara,” he rushes to say. “I confirmed your scent myself.”
The shifter girl I saved—that’s what he’s talking about.
“Okay…” I’m not sure where he’s going with this.
I slip out the door to a massive courtyard enclosed on three sides by the glass walls of the conservatory. There’s a stone patio, but it gives way to a garden full of overgrown plants. The foliage has mostly overtaken the marble statues and fountains scattered throughout the space, and it’s all but engulfed the few lampposts out here.
“I don’t know how much about pack dynamics you know, but after what you did, you’re now considered a friend of the pack.”
The silence that follows that admission is heavy, like what he’s saying is a big deal.
“Being a friend of the pack means we extend our protection to you for as long as you hold the title,” he adds.
Protection. He’s offering me protection. Not just any protection either, but the protection of an entire pack. My breath leaves me all at once. That is a damn big deal—and a formidable offer.
I glance at the few other revelers out here, who are sipping drinks or slipping into the shadows of the night while his words sink in.
“We meant to arrange a formal meeting and to tell you all this in person, but I’m afraid there’s no longer time for that,” Kane says, his voice still inhumanly low.
I frown as I watch a few witches flying on broomsticks now land and make their way toward the back doors of the conservatory.
“What do you mean there’s no longer time for that?” I say, not following.
Kane seems to pick his words carefully. “One of my pack mates works with the Politia.”
As soon as I hear that, my stomach twists on itself.