And you are still my king. I almost say it, but I bite back the sentiment.
“I do have a family,” I say instead.
That was one of my deepest agonies in my past life—losing them. And it is something I took for granted up until my memories returned to me.
Memnon’s face lights with interest. “Your family,” he says, as though it’s only now clicking. “They were in your photo albums.” Despite seeing their pictures, it seems as though he’s only now putting together what that actually means to me. “I haven’t met them,” he says, and there’s true regret in his voice.
I nearly laugh. Of course he hasn’t met them.
“You’ve been too busy making yourself my enemy to get the chance to meet your future in-laws.”
I realize my mistake immediately.
Unfortunately, so does Memnon.
“My future in-laws?” His voice is dripping with delight.
I cannot even explain the slip of tongue.
“I can,” Memnon says, listening in to my thoughts. “You rode me better than I ride horses. Of course you want more.”
Goddess above. I cover his mouth. “You are never to speak another lewd comment that involves me and horses.”
“Forever?” he asks solemnly, his response muffled by my hand.
“Forever and ever and ever,” I say, feeling a perplexing combination of relief and disappointment that the command seems to take.
“Aw, damn, soul mate,” he says, dragging my hand away. “Now you’ve just given me a challenge too good to pass up.”
He moves down my body.
“What is the challenge? And what are you doing?”
The sorcerer keeps lowering himself, the tips of his hair brushing against my skin. It’s not until he’s settled himself between my thighs and spread them apart that I become aware of what he intends to do.
“It’s dirty down there!” I say, attempting to close my legs.
He easily catches them and moves them one by one over his shoulders.
“Take the order back, and I won’t horrify your delicate senses.”
“I take it back! You can say lewd things all you want.”
“Thank you, mate.”
And then he leans in and kisses my pussy anyway.
I’m about to screech like an owl when he pulls away, laughing. “All right, fine, keep me away from your pussy.” He rests his head on my pubic bone. “But I do want to meet my future wife’s parents.”
I groan and cover my eyes with my hand. “Please never again bring my parents up when you’re about to eat me out.”
Down our bond, I can feel his pleasure, and I’m pretty sure it’s because I didn’t fight him on the issue of marriage.
He knows you’re crumbling.
“Does this mean I get to feast on you after all?” he says.
“Memnon,” I groan.
“Never mind.” He moves up my body, draping himself over me. “When do I get to meet them?” he asks, brushing my hair away from my face.
I’m too distracted by the new yet familiar feel of his weight on me to answer. Despite our size difference, we fit together like puzzle pieces.
He brushes a finger over my lower lip, then leans in and kisses me. “When?” he presses.
My parents. Right. “They’re away at the moment, playing tourist around Europe, but once they return home, maybe…” I trail off, unsure what exactly I want to say—unsure of exactly what I want.
“Yes,” Memnon says, and I hear the eagerness in his response. “I would like that.”
Warmth blossoms at his response. I feel incandescent with it.
The sorcerer shifts against me, and I feel his hardening length brush against my leg.
Where in the Goddess’s name do you get this stamina?
Magic and two millennia of yearning, he says.
He begins kissing my upper arm and shoulder, his hand moving to cup my sex. “Now open those thighs, my pretty mate. We have a long night ahead of us.”
He doesn’t give me much peace.
If his cock isn’t in me, then it’s his mouth or his fingers, and none of my earlier squeamishness does much to change that. The only breaks are when he uses his magic to float our dinner into the room and feed it to me or the brief spurts of sleep we have between rounds.
When we had sex on Samhain, I assumed our fervor was driven by the witch’s brew. But there’s a feverishness in us both that drives us to come together again and again throughout the night.
At some point before dawn, I feel Memnon’s fingers trail over my cheek, and then the soft brush of his lips.
“My heart is filled to bursting,” he murmurs.
I reach for him, though I am tired and sore. Rather than letting me reel him in, he takes my hand and kisses my knuckles.
“I have to go, but I will be back as soon as possible. Be well and sleep deeply, my queen.”
His hand slides from mine, and then he’s gone.
I wake some time later, the sun low in the sky. There’s a warm body pressed against my back.
Immediately, my heart begins to hammer, and I flip over, excited and nervous to see Memnon. But it’s not Memnon taking up space on the bed. It’s Nero.
The moment I shift, my massive familiar leans his head back toward me, silently asking for pets.
I rub under his chin. “Look at you,” I say fondly. “Sneaking onto the bed at the first opportunity.”
The big cat looks mighty pleased with himself.
I pet him a little longer, then attack his face with kisses until, affronted by the gross display of affection, my panther rolls away.
Oh, to be a cat.
I slip out of Memnon’s bed, my body satisfyingly sore. I’m also stark naked, I smell like sex and sweat, and I need another birth-control potion.
Fuck, if I’m doing this regularly, I’ll need to stockpile the stuff or else get a human prescription.
I shower, then change. Memnon still hasn’t returned by the time I’m fully dressed, and I have thirty minutes until my first class of the day begins.
I’m not missing it.
I’m about to call a car when I wander into the foyer and my eyes land on a side table. A set of car keys rest there.
What do you want? Memnon had asked me last night.
Well, sir, today I want the car.
CHAPTER 29
When Nero and I arrive on Henbane campus, we’re greeted with the sound of anguished howls.
Stepping away from Memnon’s car, I stare out across the grassy lawn, toward the tree line behind Morgana Hall and Cauldron Hall. Nero comes to my side, his ears perked.
Something is obviously happening.
The baleful howls continue as I head to Cauldron Hall, its stone façade looking particularly ominous against the overcast sky. My skin prickles. I haven’t checked on the wolves since Nero was attacked. Perhaps I should’ve.
A witch with warm brown skin and curly black hair passes me, and I stop her.
“Do you know what’s going on?” I ask, nodding toward the tree line beyond the campus buildings.
The witch pauses, her hooded brown eyes flittering over me and Nero.
“You haven’t heard?” she asks. “A lycanthrope has been killed.”