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“Look at me,” he says.

I raise my face to take him in. His eyes are eager, and his expression is resolute.

“We have gone to battle before,est amage.” He gives my shoulders a squeeze. “We have faced worse foes. Wewillsave her. Ivowthis to you.”

CHAPTER 45

That evening,I stare out at the twinkling city lights of the bay from the window in Memnon’s bedroom. Somewhere amid all that glitter and glare, my best friend is being held by a murderous, violent family.

Nero is at my side, staring into the dark expanse as though he might be able to see her as well.

My mind is on fire, and my heart is screaming. I’m supposed to be composed, and maybe outwardly I am, but I have lost my focus.

This isn’t what I wished for when I offered up my life two thousand years ago. I hadn’t wanted more of what plagued my past.

I sense Memnon leave the en suite bathroom, where he’s been getting ready, and enter the bedroom. He’s as silent as my panther as he crosses over to me.

The sorcerer wraps a hand around my midsection, his body heat warming my back. “Are you ready?”

I turn in his arms and study him. The sharp cut of his jaw, his curving lips. Those glittering, calculating eyes and the thick, dark hair that frames his face. Memnon’s wearing a tux, and he’s just as viciously beautiful in it as he was at the Samhain Ball.

“No,” I admit, though he must already know that. I haven’t tried to poke through his closet yet to see if there’s something suitable for a midnight auction slash rescue mission.

Despite the pressing need to find my friend, a different sort of terror is gripping me at the moment.

I feel like I’m only just beginning to rediscover my mate. And tonight…tonight it feels as though it could all be taken away.

Memnon leans down. A hair’s breadth from my lips, he whispers, “It will be okay.”

He closes the last of the space between us and brushes his lips against mine. It’s a love note of a kiss, and I hate it. It’s too sentimental, too wistful. It makes my fears scream louder and my courage grow quiet.

“Harder.” I breathe out the demand against his lips. “Kiss me harder.”

And Memnon does. He stillmust. Whatever I feel for him, it is soft and pliant and deepening, but it’s not quite love.

Not yet.

For a few moments, there are no murders and no dangerous battle plans. There’s nothing but the crisp press of my mate’s suit against my chest and his demanding mouth against my own.

But once he pulls away it all comes roaring back.

The Equinox. The auction. Sybil.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Settle your fears,est amage,” he says. “They will only sabotage you in battle.”

I draw in a steadying breath and nod.

Memnon touches my cheek. “I got you something.”

Before I have a chance to react, he retreats to his closet. When he returns, it’s with a long, crimson silk dress and a pair of matching heels. The dress itself has slits up the sidesand a choker-like collar. Gold detailing runs along its edges. It’s beautiful, and the color and detailing are very, very Sarmatian.

“They are,” Memnon agrees, hearing the stray thought. “It’s fitting to remember our origins on a night like tonight,” he says. “We have toppled armies and slain enemies for each other. We are bold, wicked creatures,est amage.”

Only weeks ago, I would’ve scoffed at the sentiment, but Memnon is right. We are bold. We are wicked.