Bewitched

CHAPTER 33

When we get to the Ritual Room, I let Memnon in first, holding the door open before following him inside.

His boots echo against the floor as he peers around, taking in the dark walls and the rows of chairs.

I head over to the back of the room, the hairs along my arms rising as the previous night comes back to me.

“We went through this wall,” I say, touching the solid surface that glimmers faintly as the spells ru

Memnon comes over to me before stopping so close that his shoulder brushes mine.

My breath escapes me in a rush, and I feel a fevered urge to reach for him and taste him all over again. I’ve only kissed him, but I’ve dreamed of more. How would the real thing hold up against my imagination?

Memnon glances over at me, arching an eyebrow.

“What?” I say defensively.

Did he hear those thoughts?

He shakes his head and returns his attention to the wall. He runs a hand over it, and I get to appreciate the golden ring he wears and his scarred forearms—

Stop getting distracted by the pretty man, Selene.

Dropping his hand, Memnon turns, looking as though he’s going to walk away. All at once he spins back around and slams his fist into the wall.

His indigo magic explodes outward at the impact, and there’s a sound like hard candy crushing beneath a boot.

A split second later, I realize that’s the sound of the ward shattering. As soon as it’s gone, the wall disappears, revealing the opening once more.

I stare, aghast, first at the opening, then at Memnon.

“I’ve never seen someone use their power like that,” I say.

The sorcerer catches me by the chin and flashes me a soft, playful smile. “Yes, you have little witch. Long ago.”

Before I can argue with him, Memnon drops his hand from my chin and turns his attention back to the archway.

He clucks his tongue. “Someone’s been naughty, hiding a back entrance into your house.” Despite the light tone of his words, I see his eyes harden and his features grow sharp.

He crosses the threshold, heading toward the staircase.

I hesitate, fear souring the back of my throat. I don’t want to go back there.

It feels as though those witches are still lurking at the bottom of that staircase, waiting for another chance to nab me.

Memnon, on the other hand, looks as though he’d enjoy nothing more than a nice confrontation. He begins to descend, not bothering to coax me along.

Without thinking, I reach for Memnon’s magic, just as I did last night, needing the reassurance of his power.

It’s there, just as endless as it was last night. I don’t know how a single body can house so much magic or how much of his conscience he offered up for it all.

“I can feel myself inside you, soul mate,” Memnon calls up the bottom of the stairway, a smile in his voice. “You can draw me into you whenever you like.”

My core clenches at the offer, and my face heats. “I’m not your— That’s not why—” I draw in a deep breath, frustrated that he has me flustered. “I’m just nervous about coming back to this place.”

His footfalls pause.

“Come to me, Selene,” he says gently, his words soft and enticing.

Despite how much his orders a

He places a hand on my cheek. “Do I terrify you, little witch?”

“Yes,” I say without hesitation.

“And how fearsome would my equal have to be?” he asks.

I shake my head, not sure how to answer. “They’d have to be very powerful and frightening to be your equal,” I finally say.

Memnon strokes my skin with his thumb. “I’m staring at her now.”

“I’m not—”

“You are,” he insists.

I part my mouth to protest further, but he says, “I know you are afraid, but you are underestimating your own strength, est amage. I have seen that strength many times, and you saw it yourself last night, when you were one against many. You are the frightening thing.”

He pulls me in closer. “But you can always draw on my power if it pleases you. As I said, I like being in you.”

His words should fluster me, but whatever is going on between the two of us, it leaves no room for embarrassment.

I stare into Memnon’s luminous brown eyes. “Why are you being so nice to me?” I whisper.

His eyes are soulful. “If there is one answer that should be obvious to you, it’s that one.”

I sneak a glance at his wicked mouth. As I stare, it spreads into a smile.

“Does my queen wish to kiss me?”

“Maybe,” I say honestly.

Memnon leans in close, that mouth no more than an inch from mine. “Have I told you how much I like the taste of your lips?” he says softly. “Like honeyed wine. It makes me eager to taste other parts of you. I bet they are even sweeter…”

Heat rushes to my cheeks. “God damn it, Memnon, you need to stop—” I haven’t even finished the sentence when he grabs me around my waist and lifts me into his arms.

I give a little yelp as he carries me across the room and into the adjoining hallway.

“You’re so godsdamned pretty when you’re flustered. Does my dirty talk embarrass you?” he asks, staring up at me.

Yes. “You’re still a stranger to me,” I say, as the candles around us flare to life.

“I’m not,” Memnon insists, leading us down the curving hallway. “You know I’m not. I’m your mate, and I’ve waited a very, very long time to reunite with you.”

He lowers me just enough to put my ear close to his mouth.

“I really can’t wait to taste you again, Empress,” he confesses. “I want to know if even after two thousand years, you make the same sounds when you come against my tongue. Or if you can still ride my cock better than I ride my steed.”

Maiden, Mother, and Crone.

“I am not talking about this with you.” I wiggle, trying to get out of his arms.

With a low, husky laugh, he sets me down. I back away from him, feeling all sorts of hot and bothered. But already, his eyes have moved from me to the rest of the room.

And that’s about when I realize we’re in the room where it all happened. He managed to distract me for the entire walk here, and I have no idea whether he did it deliberately to ease my fear or if he simply wanted to taunt me.

Now, as I watch Memnon, I can see his good mood drain away and the cold, merciless king he once was seep through.

He paces around the room, studying the space.

I glance around myself, my pulse climbing. The first thing I notice is that the shoes I wore are gone. First I feel a

Witches can use a person’s belongings for all sorts of things—curses and hexes among them.

“What is it?” Memnon says, turning to me. “I can tell you’re nervous.”

I want to be indignant, but instead, curiosity gets the better of me. “How can you tell that?” I ask.

“Bonds go both ways, est amage.” Memnon flashes me a challenging look, daring me to defy his words.

I’m tired of arguing this with him, so I simply say, “I left shoes down here. They’re gone now. That’s why I’m nervous.”

He gives me a careful nod, even as tension coils in him. Turning back around, he continues to inspect the room. There’s nothing here. The room is bare of every single item the witches down here came with. There are no bloodstains left behind from the priestess, and there’s no debris from the magical explosion I set off.

“This place has been scrubbed,” Memnon says, echoing my thoughts.

He glances down one of the hallways that branch from the room. I think he’s going to do more exploring, and I ca

The sorcerer turns instead and comes back to me.

“I’ve seen enough,” he says quietly. “We can go back up, Empress.”

After letting out a relieved breath, I try not to hustle too quickly back to the stairs, even though I’m not fooling either of us.

“Why did you want to come down here?” I ask as I head up the spiral staircase.

“Your enemies are my own,” Memnon replies. “Some have been dealt with”—that is a terrifying thing to hear—“and some have not. Those are the ones I want to understand.”

I take a deep breath. “You keep saying I have enemies, but I’ve never done anything bad in my life.” Besides waking you up…

“Tell me, est amage, how did you learn of this spell circle?” he asks at my back.

This…this is another frightening detail I haven’t spent much time focusing on. “A coven sister let me know about it.”

“How did she let you know of it?”

I try to focus on that, and the memory feels as though it’s just within grasp, but then—

“I can’t remember. All I know is that her name is Kasey, and she lives in my house.”

“Kasey.” He tests her name on his lips. “She lives in this house?”

I swallow. “Yeah.”

There’s a long ominous silence following that. I don’t really want to know what Memnon’s thinking.

“She brought you to the spell circle?” he asks as I step off the stairs.

“Yeah,” I say again, heading back over to the Ritual Room. It looks especially dark from this angle.

“Did she bring anyone else along?” Memnon asks at my back.

I turn to him. “No.”

“So you were singled out,” he says, his expression severe. “Someone wanted you and specifically you to be at that circle last night. That means you do have enemies, Selene. You just don’t know who they are—yet. But they are clearly aware of you.”

Goose bumps burst to life along my skin.

Memnon crosses into the Ritual Room and stops at my side. “You have worried enough on this for now, little witch. Stay guarded, but let me shoulder the burden.”

That sounds…really nice.

There’s that word again. Nice. Memnon is not nice. It’s not in his nature. Especially not to me, regardless of his pretty words about being mates.

“I will find who thought to hurt you,” he continues, “and they will suffer for it.”

“Please don’t hurt anyone,” I say.

He flashes me an amused look. “Have the years softened you, my queen?”

“I’m not your queen,” I say.

He gives me another look like I’m precious, then turns his attention to the archway. “Someone thought to control who can sneak u