Page 64

Of course it bothers me. He made himself my enemy.

He also might have murdered two witches.

And once again, I’m trapped in a small room with him.

“Last time I saw you, I banished you,” I state.

Memnon drops his hands from behind his head to the chair’s armrests. “Yes, well, your magic likes me too much to keep me out for long.”

I frown at him, remembering how his spells melted away once my magic touched them. The thought that our powers like each other is perhaps the most unsettling thing I’ve heard all day.

“You need to leave,” I say.

“I’ll go when I’m ready.”

I want to scream. “I swear to the goddess I will banish you again if you don’t leave.”

He grins again, and maybe it’s the way it tugs at his scar, or maybe it’s how it displays his sharp canines, but I shiver at how nefarious that smile is. Nefarious and absurdly sexy.

I get hot and flustered at the sight of it.

Memnon lifts his chin. “Try it, little witch.”

I stare at him for a long moment. There’s a wild look in his eyes; he’s watching me like a snake about to strike.

A banishment spell might be a very, very bad idea.

I’ll need to get him out some other way. But first—

My eyes flick to my social media page, where the picture of me and Sybil is still taking up most of the screen.

I cross over to my desk before leaning over Memnon so I can exit out of the page.

Memnon bends forward, skimming his lips against my hair.

I freeze at the contact.

“You came and woke me”—he almost purrs it, his voice is so soft—“and now you continue just existing as though nothing has changed.”

I swallow, trying to control the way my body trembles at his nearness. My dreams come back to me then, and I vividly remember how it felt to have him close.

I shut my laptop screen and back away from the desk.

Memnon catches my wrist. “Roxilana, tell me why,” he beseeches.

For once, this terrifying supernatural is unguarded, and there’s something in his eyes when he looks at me, something beyond heat and anger.

“My name isSelene,” I remind him.

“You can lie to everyone else, but not to me,” he says.

He really thinks this is some elaborate charade this woman, Roxilana, has been keeping up.

No wonder he’s confused.

“I’mnother,” I insist.

He stands slowly from his seat, and I’m reminded all over again of just how large this man is. I have to tilt my head back to look at him. It doesn’t help that every inch of him seems to be made of heavy corded muscle.