Page 54

I was wrong earlier,I say down our bond. Even my internal voice sounds breathy, wanton. At least I’m thinking a little more clearly.I’m not fine. I need… I want…

Fuck, I’m having trouble saying it. I want him, but I don’t want to beg. Not when he’s supposed to be the penitent one.

Are you all right?

No, I nearly moan as a wave of desire rolls through me.

The other end of our connection is disturbingly quiet. Then?—

Gods, little witch. What was that?His tone is all wrong. Deeper and—and surprised.

Another wave crashes into me, and I press my thighs together, but that movement is too much. My pussy seems to have a pulse point of its own, and I can feel it with each beat of my heart.

Around me, the group of witches is splintering apart. Sybil’s hand clasps mine, and she tugs me along with her as I drown in my own desire. As soon as I begin to walk, I let out a soft gasp. Even that small movement is heightening the throb at the juncture of my thighs.

I nearly weep. Going to hex whoever made the brew tonight for being so cruel. I wanted to get smashed, not to smash someone.

Memnon!I call out again. Where did he go?

I’m here, est amage,he reassures me.

Thank the Goddess.

What do you need?he asks.

Can he not tell?

You. I nearly weep the word out. Cursed brew.

He’s quiet for several agonizing seconds.

If you need me, little witch,he finally says,then command it of me.

Command it of him? What in the actual fuck?

The growing ache in my core overwhelms the last of my sense and my pride. Shoving away my embarrassment, I straighten my back and steel my resolve.

Come to me, Memnon.I sound less like Selene and more like fierce, strong-willed Roxilana.

I feel the sorcerer’s mood shift, warmth spreading out from his end of the bond.As you will it, Empress. For you, I will always come.

I pinch my eyes shut. Fuck, he’s being noble—about a booty call no less. I start to laugh but end up moaning.

“Babe, you going to make it?” Sybil asks.

I glance over at my friend, who is pulling me along. Next to her are Mai and Olga. My gaze moves to the trees and the darkened forest around us. I’d been so singularly focused on speaking with Memnon that I tuned out what was happening with my friends.

“Where are we going?” I ask. I can’t tell exactly where we are in the Everwoods, only that a fae rider might be somewhere out here, and at this point, I’m likelier to climb him like a tree than I am to fight him off.

“To get laid!” Mai says, lifting her glass of witch’s brew into the air like she’s making a toast.

Absently, I glance at my own hand, noticing that I too am still carrying my booze. As is Sybil. And Olga, who has now lost her dress and is clad in only a corset and a sheer skirt. Her hair hangs mostly unbound.

“Whoo!” Sybil cheers, raising her glass.

Olga joins in, and all right, guess we are toasting. I lift my own cup and clink it with the others, our brew sloshing about. I hesitate only a moment before I take another drink of it.

Is this irresponsible? Yes.