Memnon pauses, narrowing his eyes. “That is your threat, Roxilana? To scream loudly? What game are you playing?” he says.
He keeps asking this same question, and Goddess, but the only thing worse than a vengeful sorcerer is a vengeful, confused one.
“I will tell you what I know,” I whisper, “if you stop coming closer.”
Memnon must want answers desperately because he does halt in his tracks.
My gaze sweeps over him. He wears a formfitting white shirt, revealing his inked forearms. It’s partially tucked into loose black fatigues, which are then tucked into heavy leather combat boots. Gone is the ancient warrior I woke. He looks every inch like some modern special ops soldier.
His power ripples off him like steam from boiling water, and it strikes me all over again that this man is a sorcerer of all things; he doesn’t seem correctly cast for the role. He’s not supposed to have muscles and power. That’s, like, cheating.
Shit, maybe that’s why he’s cursed. Something has to even out the playing field with this man.
Memnon’s expression heats at my perusal, but I can still sense his blistering wrath. “I’m waiting.”
“Yes, well, give me a moment—you make a girl want to wet herself.”
Shit.
Did that just come out of my mouth?
Did that just come out of my mouth?
Memnon’s eyebrows rise; then a self-satisfied look spreads across his face.
My cheeks heat. “Because y-you’re scary, and I’m t-trying not to pee my pants,” I stammer.
Honestly, just bury me now and save me from myself.
He begins to close the distance between us again.
I put a hand out. “Stay back!” I warn him.
Memnon knocks my hand away as though it’s nothing more than a nuisance, and he steps into my space.
“Roxilana,” he growls, gazing down at me. My skin pebbles at the guttural sound of that name on this man’s lips. It’s not even my name, yet it’s affecting me. How twisted is that?
“What game are you playing?” he demands again, biting out each word.
I lift my jaw obstinately and glare at him. “You need to back up. Now.” Belatedly, I realize that I once again switched languages. Only, this time, I spoke in Latin.
He smiles at me, and it’s so godsdamned wicked. “You think threats will work on me?” he responds in Latin. A moment later, his hand comes to my neck, and it grips me softly. “I make the threats now, wife,” he says, squeezing my throat just a little so his meaning is clear. “Answer my question.”
“This isn’t some game to me,” I say, reverting back to that other, unnamable language, the words rolling off my tongue. “This is my life.”
“Your life,” he echoes bitterly. “And have you been enjoying our time apart? All twenty centuries of it?” The more he speaks, the more his grip tightens on my throat.
“Have you eaten bad bread?” I say, which is apparently the old-school way of saying, What are you smoking? “Listen, my name is Selene, I’m twenty years old, and the first time I ever laid eyes on you was when I opened your tomb. I’m not your wife, and I didn’t betray you.”
As I speak, Memnon’s fury morphs into something colder and more resolute.
He stares at me for several seconds.
“So you’re determined to lie to me,” he finally says.
I want to scream. Did he hear nothing of what I just said?
He continues. “It’s been some time since you were around me, my queen, so perhaps you have forgotten just how I inspired fear into enemies’ hearts.”
All over again, I remember Kate, the murdered witch. The hand around my throat suddenly feels a whole lot more menacing than I’ve been treating it.
My eyes dart to my familiar. Nero is curled up on the kitchen rug, his eyes closed.
Why is he sleeping right now?
“Nero,” I gasp out, trying to get his attention. His ears flick and his tail twitches, but his eyes remain closed.
“Nero?” Memnon repeats. The venom in his voice has my attention snapping back to him. “What does that swine have to do with anything? Did you betray me for him? Even after what he tried to do to you?”
What the fuck is he talking about?
“My familiar.” I wheeze. “His name…is Nero.”
Memnon’s frown deepens. “No, it’s not.”
Wow. The goddess-damned audacity of this man.
“Nero,” I snap, ready to slip into the panther’s mind to wake him.
Before I can, my big cat gets up, stretching his limbs a little, then saunters over.