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“One of them told me that Lia was looking for me.”

The sorcerer’s expression darkens, growing cold and determined.

“I think these witches might’ve been working for her, but I don’t know,” I finish.

It’s quiet for several seconds.

“Do you know the names of these witches?” Memnon finally asks. A chilling ruthlessness has entered his voice.

I hesitate.

“I only know one of their names, and only her first name—Yasmin.”

Memnon’s features smooth, turning placid. That expression is more terrifying than his anger. It’s the face he wears as a warlord.

“Memnon, I don’t want you to hurt her,” I say.

His eyes begin to glow a little as his magic wells. “She sought to kill your familiar. She hurt you. It’s too late for her,est amage. She is borrowing air at this point.”

“She’s a coven sister, and she might be involved in something against her will,” I say.

“I don’t care.” It’s truly that simple for him too. Yasmin hurt me, so now she must die.

“You won’t hurt her,” I order.

The sorcerer’s jaw tightens, and his eyes glow brighter. “Fine.” He bites the word out, and to give him credit, he uses it exactly as I have been using it—to cover an obvious lie.

I reach out and turn off the water, thoroughly worn out by the evening. Memnon uses his magic to call a towel to him. He wraps it around me as another floats over and fits itself around his waist.

The tension in the room once again is thick enough to slice into, only now it’s fueled by frustration, not chemistry. Memnon isn’t used to truly being hemmed in. It seems the bond he forged with me is finally getting to him.

I’ve barely finished drying when the sorcerer’s magic whisks away our towels. He scoops me up then and carries me into the bed, setting me gently on the mattress and tucking me in.

“Do you want something to sleep in?” he asks.

My eyes are already closing. I’m beyond caring. “This is fine.” It’s not like he hasn’t already seen everything.

Memnon moves away from the bed, toward his closet, stalking around the room like a caged panther. It barely registers until he exits the room altogether.

Memnon, I call tiredly down our bond.

Yes, little witch?

Where did you go?I ask.

I’m letting you sleep.

Oh.

Several seconds go by, and I think I drift a little, only to wake feeling agitated.

Memnon?

Yes?

I can’t be sure, but he sounds a little amused.

Will you…come back?