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Lying naked here before Memnon, who still wears his crown and all his armored regalia, it doesn’t feel like the right moment to voice this. But he’s waiting and seemingly willing to hear what I have to say, so I answer, softly, “I want you to stop attacking Rome.”

My stomach twists at the admission. It feels like I’m abandoning my slain family and throwing Nero’s mocking letter in Memnon’s face by saying this, but the truth is that I’m tired of the violence. There might never be an end to the endless fighting, but I want an end to this needless escalation, escalation that Eislyn continuously encourages.

Memnon’s expression grows a touch remorseful. “It is too late to stop,” he says. “Even if we did, Rome would not back down. They will not stop until we are dead or they are defeated.”

I know this about Rome. This is how their empire works. But Memnon is bigger than Rome and their machinations.

I pause stroking his face, laying my palm flat against his cheek. “You are not just a sorcerer,” I say to him. “You are Memnon the Indomitable, King of the Sarmatians, Unifier of the Steppe Nations. You can alter minds and dismantle entire armies. You can doanythingyou wish. So wish for something better than death and destruction.”

Memnon stares at me a long moment, and his throat works. His emotions are a mix of reticence and maybe even disappointment, but those are far overshadowed by his devotion.

He nods slowly. “Maybe,” he finally whispers.

Surprise rushes through me. He’s considering it? Truly?

I smile, my joy spreading through me. I shouldn’t hope, not when hope can be a fickle god. But I cannot seem to help myself.

Memnon’s eyes drop to my lips, and his expression morphs into something calculated and hungry.

“Enough strategizing. I have missed you, my queen. Now open your thighs, so I can apologize properly for that look in your eyes.”

The two of us stare at one another as I spread my legs.

“Wider,” Memnon commands.

Memnon moves away from me long enough to gaze at my core. Already, I can feel him hard and thick, his cock trapped beneath his pants.

His magic undresses him as he moves down my body, his kurta, tunic, trousers, and boots peeling off his body as he lowers himself, his gaze moving to the juncture between my thighs.

Once he’s just as naked as I am, Memnon leans in and his mouth finds my folds. I gasp at the first bright burst of pleasure his lips coax out, my hands threading through his hair.

“You are going to come on my mouth,” he says against me, “then twice again when I’m inside you.”

One would think that after an entire day of ruling people, he’d be sick of giving orders.

“You’re awfully bossy for a penitent man.”

I feel his wicked grin against my skin. “Giving you multiple orgasmsismy apology.”

I have to stop myself from laughing. Thisapologyis merely a ruse for whatever intimacies Memnon had already fixed his mind on.

“So long, of course, as my obedient wife cooperates.”

My fingers tighten in his hair. He knows exactly what phrases will rile me up. “And if I don’t?” I say.

He nips that small, sensitive knot of skin above my opening, and a choked cry falls from my lips. “Then I will bring you to theedge of release.” He presses a kiss to my tender flesh. “Only to deny you of ituntilyou obey me.”

“Memnon,” I warn him.

His only reaction is to laugh against my skin, the sound raising the hairs along my arms. “I like that tone you get. I hope you challenge me. I would enjoy holding your pleasure hostage.”

Before I can respond, he resumes kissing and licking my pussy, and wave after wave of sensation rapidly builds in me. I’m going to come fast.

His mouth returns to that particularly sensitive fold, and I gasp, my hips bucking against him.

I can feel his mirth across our bond.That’s it, grind yourself against my face. I don’t need air when I can simply breathe you in.

I’m sweaty, panting, and Memnon’s words only serve to draw me tauter than a bowstring.