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Manacles.

I raise an eyebrow and look at Memnon. “What are those for?” I ask.

His mouth curves into a wicked smile from where he watches me on the edge of the bed. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to,est amage.”

“Have you been using them on people?” I ask, moving over to the bag and picking the manacles up.

Memnon rises from the mattress and moves to my side. “Would you like to chat about that right now, Empress? I can promise you the evening will go in a much different direction.”

Memnon is standing far too close.

I don’t know what possesses me, but I glance at his wrist, then clamp one of the cuffs over it. With a heavy click, it snaps into place.

Memnon raises an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”

With a clink, I cuff his other wrist. Memnon doesn’t even bother fighting me.

“You wanted me to lead. Don’t regret it now.” I get a perverse thrill out of seeing this man’s wrists chained together.

Memnon glances down at his bound arms. “Then I am your prisoner.” When his eyes meet mine, there’s so much goddess-damned intensity in them. Intensity…andchallenge. As though he doesn’t believe I’ll do anything with the power I have over him.

I grab the chain and use it to drag his upper body downward.

Once he’s close enough, I stand on my tippy-toes and brush a kiss along his lips.

I hear his deep, supremely satisfied exhale.

“You’re slippery,” I whisper against his mouth.

“Then you better keep your eyes on me,” he says.

As soon as the kiss ends, I tug on the manacles and lead the sorcerer back to his bed.

Memnon follows, playing the part of obedient prisoner. I give him a careful look, one that he returns innocently enough. I don’t buy it. Not for an instant. However, having this dangerous man cuffed before me and at my mercy emboldens me.

“Lie on the bed.”

The sorcerer gives me a long look—one I can’t quite meet—as he climbs onto the mattress. Between his searing stare and hisbound hands, Memnon’s movements should be clumsy. But he moves with the same feline grace Nero does.

His bed has a beautifully carved headboard depicting flowers and animals not so different from the Sarmatian art I was used to seeing when I lived with Memnon long ago. There are open spaces between each carved animal and flower, and it sparks an idea.

I slip away to Memnon’s closet, the orbs of light trailing behind me. Inside it, I step up to his inset dresser and pull open several drawers until I find what I’m looking for. Nestled in neat rows are several rolled-up leather belts. I grab one of them and return to the bed, the soft light following after me.

Memnon waits for me, curiosity brimming in his eyes as he lounges back against his mattress. I don’t think he knows what I’m about to do.

I move over to him and straddle his torso. He barely has time to react to my sudden presence when I grasp his manacles and force his arms to lift over his head. Pressing the chain against the headboard, I slide the belt through both the metal restraints and the holes in the wooden bedframe. With a little help from my magic, I buckle the leather strap.

“You’re being awfully quiet while I work,” I say, glancing down at him.

I’d rather wait to see what you have in store for me before I start begging,he whispers in my mind.

“Begging sounds nice.”

Memnon stares at me for several beats until a slow smile spreads across his features.

“Please, don’t hurt me. I have money.” He rattles his chains a little for effect.

Is he being…playful?