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Once Sybil leaves my sight, I prowl the aisles of plants, making my way around whispering couples. I pass them, threading through the conservatory until I reach a lonely corner of it that is clear of all guests.

The notes of some tragic song drifting in the air and the distant murmuring of voices are the only clues that a party is in full swing at the moment.

Where are you?I call to Memnon down our bond.

My hands fist a little, and already, my thirst for revenge is mounting. I’m vividly imagining getting a good swing at the sorcerer or maybe kneeing him in the balls. Magic is leaking from my hands at the prospect.

Around me, the air stirs; then a broad chest brushes against my back.

“Right here, little witch,” he breathes against my ear.

My pulse spikes at his voice and his nearness, and I spin to face him.

Now is my opening. If ever I wanted to get a move in while he’s unsuspecting, now would be it.

Instead, I hesitate, my vengeance taking a back seat to this breathless excitement I feel at the sight of him. A sobering thought comes to me then: no matter how much I rage against Memnon, he will always be the man my eyes search for in a room, and his features are the ones I’ll crave. The crush I had on Kane is nothing—absolutely nothing—compared to this.

Memnon’s own eyes drink me in. “You have never needed magic,est amage,” he murmurs, his roughened voice drawing out goose bumps on my arms. “You are entirely bewitching even without it.”

I lift my chin a little. “Were you hoping I’d be a mess tonight now that you burned my notebooks? That I’d bebeggingyou to return my memories back to me?”

“Mmm…” The noise he makes sounds more like a growl than anything else. “Idolike the idea of you begging,est amage. You always made such…convincingarguments.”

I don’t know if it’s a memory or my imagination, but for a split second, I have an image of myself on my knees before him, his cock in my mouth—

It disappears as quickly as it came, but it leaves me breathless and flushed.

Memnon’s eyes drop to one of my reddened cheeks, and he strokes the skin there. “Beautiful, intoxicating witch,” he breathes.

He leans in, almost as though he can’t help it, those tempting lips skimming my skin, daring me to push him away.

I don’t know what spell he’s using, but right in this moment, our insurmountable issues seem to dissolve into nothing. When Memnon is this close to me, it all becomes very simple.

He’s mine.

His lips skim down my jaw. “Something I discovered after I first met you is that if I kiss you right here—” He brushes his lips against the side of my neck, right under my pulse point, and a shiver wracks my body. He smiles against my throat. “You do just that.”

I tilt my head back even as I lean into the kiss, one of my hands moving to his hair. I thread my fingers through his dark locks, wanting to keep him against me. I crave more than his mouth on my throat and our bodies pressed together like this.

I want to push him down and yank open his starched white shirt. I want to hear buttons popping. I want his skin against mine.

I want him to flash me that pirate smile of his while I have my way with him and put an end to this fire he’s lit in me.

He burned your notebooks—your memories. Do not climb the man like a tree. Make him pay.

I nearly gasp at the sobering thought. My fingers loosen from his hair, and I stiffen in his arms—when did his arms snake their way around me?

Fuck, this is exactly what I wasn’t supposed to do tonight.

It takes a ridiculous amount of self-possession, but I manage to bring my palms up to his chest, admiring for a moment that his pecs feel so good. Isn’t that silly, that pecs can feel—?

Fuck,concentrate, Selene.

Roughly, I push Memnon away, adding a little magic into the action to move his massive body.

The sorcerer staggers back, his expression lust drunk as his eyes move to my lips.

“You destroyed my journals and theyearsof memories in them,” I remind us both.