Page 133

Story: Bewitched

I stare into Memnon’s luminous brown eyes. “Why are you being so nice to me?” I whisper.

His eyes are soulful. “If there is one answer that should be obvious to you, it’s that one.”

I sneak a glance at his wicked mouth. As I stare, it spreads into a smile.

“Does my queen wish to kiss me?”

“Maybe,” I say honestly.

Memnon leans in close, that mouth no more than an inch from mine. “Have I told you how much I like the taste of your lips?” he says softly. “Like honeyed wine. It makes me eager to taste other parts of you. I bet they are even sweeter…”

Heat rushes to my cheeks. “God damn it, Memnon, you need to stop—” I haven’t even finished the sentence when he grabs me around my waist and lifts me into his arms.

I give a little yelp as he carries me across the room and into the adjoining hallway.

“You’re so godsdamned pretty when you’re flustered. Does my dirty talk embarrass you?” he asks, staring up at me.

Yes.“You’re still a stranger to me,” I say, as the candles around us flare to life.

“I’m not,” Memnon insists, leading us down the curving hallway. “You know I’m not. I’m your mate, and I’ve waited a very, very long time to reunite with you.”

He lowers me just enough to put my ear close to his mouth.

“I really can’t wait to taste you again, Empress,” he confesses. “I want to know if even after two thousand years, you make the same sounds when you come against my tongue. Or if you can still ride my cock better than I ride my steed.”

Maiden, Mother, and Crone.

“I amnottalking about this with you.” I wiggle, trying to get out of his arms.

With a low, husky laugh, he sets me down. I back away from him, feeling all sorts of hot and bothered. But already, his eyes have moved from me to the rest of the room.

And that’s about when I realize we’re inthe room where it all happened. He managed to distract me for the entire walk here, and I have no idea whether he did it deliberately to ease my fear or if he simply wanted to taunt me.

Now, as I watch Memnon, I can see his good mood drain away and the cold, merciless king he once was seep through.

He paces around the room, studying the space.

I glance around myself, my pulse climbing. The first thing I notice is that the shoes I wore are gone. First I feel annoyance—I only had a few pairs to begin with, and I have no money to replace them now—but then dread pools low in my stomach.

Witches can use a person’s belongings for all sorts of things—curses and hexes among them.

“What is it?” Memnon says, turning to me. “I can tell you’re nervous.”

I want to be indignant, but instead, curiosity gets the better of me. “How can you tell that?” I ask.

“Bonds go both ways,est amage.” Memnon flashes me a challenging look, daring me to defy his words.

I’m tired of arguing this with him, so I simply say, “I left shoes down here. They’re gone now. That’s why I’m nervous.”

He gives me a careful nod, even as tension coils in him. Turning back around, he continues to inspect the room. There’s nothing here. The room is bare of every single item the witches down here came with. There are no bloodstains left behind from the priestess, and there’s no debris from the magical explosion I set off.

“This place has been scrubbed,” Memnon says, echoing my thoughts.

He glances down one of the hallways that branch from the room. I think he’s going to do more exploring, and I cannot help the dread I feel at moving through those tunnels all over again.

The sorcerer turns instead and comes back to me.

“I’ve seen enough,” he says quietly. “We can go back up, Empress.”

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