“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.”
Memnon’s mouth curves slightly. “I care for manners about as much as I do the law.”
He crosses the foyer and heads straight for the stairs, Nero at his feet. The place is as quiet as it ever gets. If there’s anyone still in the house, they’re sequestered away.
The floorboards creak as Memnon makes his way up the stairs and down the hall, and it may be my imagination, but I swear I can almost taste the sorcerer’s excitement.
The thought makes my pulse spike. I’ve been trying very hard not to think about what’s going to happen once we get to my room, but now that said room is in sight, I can’t fully suppress my rising nerves.
Memnon stops at my door, and using his magic, he again swings the door open before carrying me inside. After Nero slinks through, the sorcerer kicks the door shut.
He sets me down on the edge of my bed with surprising gentleness, then grabs the chair next to my bed before dragging it over to me.
I narrow my eyes at him as he sits in the chair, resting his forearms on his thighs, one of which is bloody from where Nero sliced him open.
The familiar in question comes to my side, my big cat leaning his body against my leg. I reach down to pet him, and though I’m weak from exertion and I’m sitting on my twin bed and not a throne, here in my revenge dress, with my panther at my side, I feel like a wicked queen. I hold that image close to me because there’s strength in it, strength I badly need.
“Are you ready to begin?” Memnon says. His face is placid, but his eyes have a feverish glint to them. I can see desire and excitement simmering beneath the surface.
I assume he means to lift the curse. Which, fuck no, I’m not. But then my thoughts turn to the other stipulation he had.
Marry me.
I envision this man’s skin pressed against mine, his body bearing down…
My heart thunders at the visual, and my mouth goes dry.
It’s all too vivid.
The longer I dwell on it, the more my blood heats.
I wet my lips. “When would you want to get married?”
Cannot believe I’m even asking this.
Memnon leans forward and takes my hand, clasping it between his. He is perversely beautiful, and I hate that I notice it, even now.
“Immediately,” he says.
My breath leaves me all at once. “No.”
“Yes,” he insists. “We are already bonded—your magic claimed mine the moment it manifested in you, soul mate. And though you cannot remember it, we have been married for a long, long time.”
I release a shuddering breath. “Then why bother marrying me again?” I say, throwing in one last-ditch effort to steer him away from this terrifying idea of legally binding ourselves together.
Memnon lifts a hand and strokes my cheek, the action disarmingly sweet. “Our magic has always been committed to us, but I want your deliberate commitment as well, Selene. I want to hold your hands under this sky before our old gods and your new ones, and I want us to pledge our vows.