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Nothing.

And now my revenge is supposed to be wearing a sexy dress and giving other men attention in some bid to make Memnon jealous? It’s laughably pathetic, and I’m far too bloodthirsty to settle for that.

I need to make the mantrulypay. But how?

Wednesday evening, I sit sprawled out in one of the wingback chairs in my house’s library, Nero at my feet, as I rub my lower lip and muse over my situation.

Right over my heart, I can sense my devilish bond thrum with life. Unfortunately, I’ve been noticing this bond more and more since I accepted that I’m Memnon’s soul mate. Just giving it this small amount of attention is enough for me to feel the sorcerer on the other side of it.

Whatever he’s doing, he’s some combination of pleased and impatient.

Smug bastard.

Little witch, are you poking around my mind?Memnon’s voice is soft like velvet in my head.

Crap, I forgot that he can sense me too.

I ignore him and the way his words stroke me from the inside out.

I can taste your frustration, he says.Are you desperate yet?

Screw you.I shove the words down our bond.

Is that a legitimate offer? Because if it is, I’ll have to think about it.

Goddess, but I hate him.

I feel his amusement as his presence retreats from our bond, and I’m alone once more—or as alone as I can be now that I’m connected to another.

That’s the heart of the issue—being bonded to him.

Being bonded…

Can…soul mate bonds be broken?

The thought makes my breath catch.

Has anyone ever tried?

Before another thought has fully formed, I’m rising from my chair, then giving my familiar an idle pet as I leave my spot and head for the back of the library.

Nero is up and at my heels as though he weren’t busy sleeping a minute ago.

This early in the evening, the library is filled with several witches doing homework or reading various tomes. A few of them glance up at me, including one witch I think is friends with the still-missing Kasey, whose disappearance is now being investigated by the Politia. Kasey’s friend grimaces at me, then goes back to reading her book.

One nasty look isn’t nearly enough to distract myself from the fierce purpose riding me.

I haven’t visited the grimoire room since my first night here, but I’ll need them now for what I have in mind.

I pass the ornate stone fireplace and reach the door to the sealed room. When I open it, I wince at the clashing magic that fills the air, and Nero’s ears go back.

It’s only then that I hesitate.

What am I doing?

This idea that’s gripped me, it fills all the dangerous, wrathful spaces in my soul, but is it what I really want? Every source I’ve read on soul mates speaks of the deliberate nature of them. They’re each other’s perfect other half.

I don’t know what it means that Memnon and Idon’tfeel perfect. We feel like two misaligned puzzle pieces being forced together.