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What in the ever-loving hell?

A naked and newly resurrected man iskissingme.

That thought has barely registered when his lips part mine like I’m a lock and he’s the key. And then I taste him.

Heshouldtaste like cobwebs and rotting corpses—but if anything, I swear I taste heavy, decadent wine on his tongue.

My hands move from his wrists to his pecs, my touch knocking away a few more pieces of scale armor. I have every intention of pushing him away, but his tongue strokes mine in the most carnal way, and my fingers decide to dig into his skin instead.

He groans at the pressure, stepping in closer, his naked thigh brushing my clothed one.

And…unwittingly, I kiss him back.

He makes another sexy-as-sin noise and pulls me flush against him, kissing me like he’ll die if he stops.

One of his hands has dropped to my waist, and now he’s toying with the edge of my shirt, and I know exactly where this will go if don’t stop it now.

It takes a whole lot of willpower to break off the kiss, and even then, my feet don’t want to move away from him.

Memnon’s still cupping my face with one of his hands, his dark eyes searching mine.

“I called to you, Roxi. For so long I called to you, but you never answered. My power grew weak, and then it slumbered, only rousing when…” He blinks, looking down at himself, then at my attire for the first time. “Am I dead?” he asks, his gaze rising to mine once more. “Are you here to lead my soul to the afterlife?”

The afterlife?

“What are you talking about?” I say. I step back, out of his embrace. “My name isSelene, not Roxi.”

His brows pull together, his mouth twisting into a frown.

This man is obviously confused. He thinks I’m someone else and that we’re somewhere else, and I don’t know enough about this entire situation to figure out how to handle it well.

His gaze moves to the writing scrawled on the walls. He narrows his eyes as he takes in the inscriptions.

I follow his gaze.

…Memnon the Cursed will sleep the sleep of gods…

…bound to this room…

…powers muted…

…memory cast from the minds of the living…

…forced to sleep…

…never aging, never dying…

I clear my throat. “I…take it you were cursed?”

When Memnon’s face returns to me, his expression has changed, hardened, that scar of his looking stark against his skin.

It takes effort not to piss myself at how frightening he appears.

“It wastrue, wasn’t it? It was all true. I didn’t believe Eislyn, but she was right.” He catches me by the chin and tugs me to him. “My queen,what have you done?”

“Whoever you are,” I say slowly, “you need to let go of me. Now.” Only after the words are out do I realize I spoke in English.

“What has addled your tongue?” he demands, tightening his grip. His scowl deepens. “Or is this some new language you’ve learned to curse me in?”