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All around us, I see his magic thickening the air.

“Whatever it is you have done to me, wife,” he says, pulling me in close. “I vow to you that it will not happen again.” Despite his nearness, there’s no warmth to his touch. Only a punishing sort of possessiveness.

His power closes in on me, and I sense he’s readying some awful spell.

Shit, shit, shit.

I push at him, but this time, Memnon doesn’t release me.

“Let me the fuck go!” Apparently, I can curse in this language.

Cool beans, I guess.

He laughs low, the sound raising the hairs on my arms. “Let you go? Oh no, no, little witch, you’re not goinganywhere.”

The man says something too low for me to hear, but I feel his magic rise.

“Not now that I’ve caught you. You thought to curse me?” He shakes his head, though I see betrayal blazing in his eyes.“I will make you pay for what you have done for the rest of our days.”

He steps in close and presses his mouth to mine. I fight against the kiss, but it’s not actually a kiss at all.

Memnon’s power swarms around us. I feel it slipping down my throat and coiling in my lungs.

“Sleep,” he murmurs against my lips.

And the world goes dark.

CHAPTER8

I blink my eyes once,twice, three times.

Above me is the rough surface of an earthen ceiling. I’m lying on my back, and my cheek is wet. I reach a hand to my face just as a big abrasive tongue licks it.

My familiar. Nero.

“Hey,” I say softly, sitting up.

I rub my eyes. There’s a foggy feeling in my mind, one that often accompanies missing sections of time.

I do, however, remember Nero.

My familiar butts his head against my chin, purring a little as he steps in close.

“I’m okay,” I say softly, my voice a little hoarse. “I think.”

He pushes himself to his paws, gives me another brief lick on my cheek, then walks away. Pretty sure that was panther forthere, there, now get the fuck up.

Shakily, I stand, glancing around me. I remember this room, with its strange writing and even stranger carvings. I remember tromping through the rainforest to get here.

My eyes fall on the open sarcophagus, its lid broken on the floor beside it. Nearby I see the shredded remains of the scale-mail armor.

And I remember Memnon, with his bourbon eyes and fantastical tattoos and terrifying scar.

I will make you pay for what you have done.

I have that big bad feeling inside of me. Something isn’t right. Something isdeeplynot right.

“Memnon?” It comes out as a whisper. I’m not even sure I want the man’s attention. Not after he veered from passionate desire to enraged betrayal.