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Kane’s gaze searches mine. “Selene…”

I hear the hurt in his voice, and it guts me.

I didn’t intend for any of this. Not the confrontation, not the meeting with Kane, not even the arousal. It’s still my fault, but I hadn’t wanted it all to play out so messily.

The shifter’s attention moves to my soul mate, and his pain transforms into anger. “How does it feel to be forced to do another’s bidding?” Kane calls out.

Memnon gets to my side and turns around to face the lycanthrope. Though the shifter is deliberately baiting him, there’s no longer any rage in Memnon’s eyes. Instead, he flashes the shifter an amused look.

“Like foreplay, pup.”

CHAPTER 18

We walkfor several minutes in silence, the only noises the crunch of our feet over leaves and the harsh sound of my breath.

Behind us, a howl goes up, the sound mournful. I rub my eyes, a sob stuck in my throat.

Never meant to hurt him. Love sucks. Witch’s brew sucks. This situation sucks.

I’m still drunk and so, so aroused, and it makes everything that much worse.

“How much of that with me and Kane did you see?” I ask.

I feel Memnon glance over at me, his bourbon eyes flicking to my mouth. “Enough.”

I run my hand over my face. Goddess, but this evening has gone tits up.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Memnon admits.

“Do what?” I say, my fingers finding their way to the low neckline of my dress. I’m absently starting to tug on it.

“Fight for the right to be yours.”

I glance over at him just as he looks up toward the shrouded sky, and my eyes trace the line of his jaw.

“Before, when you were Roxi, you were mine and mine alone. I never needed to prove my worth to you.” He stops and facesme. “And now that I must, I feel my own inadequacies rising to the surface. I can fight and kill for you, but I cannot be whatever that man is.” He gestures in the direction we last saw Kane.

Even in the darkness, I can see there’s still a bit of swelling on Memnon’s face. Neither of our powers fully healed him.

I step up to my mate and place a hand against his cheek, letting my magic sink into his skin. I don’t utter a spell, but my power understands my intention, and it goes about healing his remaining wounds.

“I’m still so angry at you,” I admit. “So angry it’s hard to breathe through it.” If I had spoken these words days ago, they would’ve rang true. Right now, however, the heat of my hate has banked. “But tonight, I called out for you.I wanted you.”

I still want you.

Another wave of desire punctuates my confession, and under the force of it, I close the last of the space between us. For once this evening, my desire doesn’t feel like the enemy, like something working against me. It feels…if not natural then at least magical. Wondrous. Something to be celebrated.

My hand slips from Memnon’s cheek and moves to his chest, my fingers digging in at the solid feel of him beneath my palm. I want more. Need more.

“I am yours to command, my queen,” he says in Sarmatian. “So if you want me to please you,command it.”

The two of us stare at each other, the moment taut with tension.

I drop my gaze to his chest and deliberately place both my hands on his pecs. My pulse is pounding between my ears, my blood is roaring in my veins, and an evening’s worth of want is gathered up in me.

I push him gently. Memnon is as immovable as a mountain, but he lets me force him back, back, back until he bumps against a tree trunk.

My eyes rise to his throat, where I can just make out the panther tattoo that peeks out from the collar of his shirt.