I jerk a little. Did he just hear my thoughts?
But then he follows with, “I will go faster—if you command it.”
My heart is now pounding hard for an entirely different reason. I tense, accidentally clenching around his cock.
Memnon hisses out a breath, then laughs, his thrusts still languishingly slow. “You grip me so well, little witch.” He bows his head to take one of my breasts in his mouth, teasing my nipple between his teeth. He releases it to lave the other. I never thought my breasts were particularly sensitive, but this man has me seeing the goddess with his tongue.
I moan, grinding myself a little harder against him.
“I love you,” he breathes against my skin. “I love you, I love you, I love you. A thousand lives wouldn’t be enough with you, but I have to content myself with just this one.”
He pulls away from my breasts to gaze down at me. And once again, we’re back to staring at each other.
“Command me, my queen. I am yours,” he says as he thrusts into me.
I stroke his cheek. “You are mine, est xsaya, but I won’t command you.” Not right now at least.
He smiles at me, the expression softening his entire face but most especially his eyes.
Fine, do not command me. I shall simply anticipate your desires.
He leans in and kisses me, his strokes quickening, the exquisite friction setting my whole body on fire.
I gasp, my fingers moving to his back, where they dig in.
He’s pumping into me, all his massive muscles rippling and bunching with the action.
I writhe beneath him, caught in his relentless pace. If before he was able to keep his strokes slow and shallow enough to tantalize me, now his pace is almost too much. He’s too much.
I am going to give you the world, Empress, he vows, his voice lethally soft in my mind. It’s already begun.
I don’t know if Memnon meant for me to hear those words, so I ignore them as my hips meet his, my body hurtling toward an orgasm.
My gaze drifts down to where I can see the lower part of his thick shaft sliding in and out—
“Eyes on me.”
My gaze snaps to his.
There’s no magic in this moment save for the deeper, richer power that links the two of us together.
I stare at him. My past, my present.
My future.
His eyes blaze.
I think he heard that.
Rather than being mortified at the thought, it along with his rough, merciless thrusts send me right over the edge.
My lips part as my orgasm shatters through me.
Memnon’s pupils blow wide. “Gods, I feel you…” His fingers dig into my hair, then he’s spilling into me, his gaze pinned to mine.
His climax echoes down our bond, stretching out my own. And still, the two of us continue gazing at each other, as though we truly haven’t seen each other for two thousand years.
We only break eye contact once Memnon slips out of me and gathers me in his arms. Tonight, even this feels sacred. I don’t know what’s happening to my heart, but I’m not nearly as terrified as I should be.
Memnon’s hand drifts to my stomach, his fingers idly stroking the skin there. For some reason, this touch—his hand on my stomach—will forever harken back to the child we briefly had, then lost with everything else.
“I am sorry,” he begins.
“What?” I say, bewildered.
“I will never stop apologizing to you. My faith in you faltered when I woke in that tomb, and my faithlessness drove me to hurt you in ways I cannot take back. So I will apologize to you, my soul mate—my dearest and best friend. Again and again and again. Until you are sick of it. Because even once this bond between us breaks, my debt to you will not be paid. It won’t be until I draw my last breath and you and I meet the gods who made us.”
I place my hand on his cheek and lift my head to take him in. From the bond, I feel his yearning. I think I know what he wants.
“Are you wondering if the forged bond is still there?”
After a moment’s hesitation, he nods.
Only one way to find out.
“Tell me another secret you don’t want me to know.”
“I picked out a ring,” Memnon admits. He blinks, then— “Fuck, I really wasn’t planning on sharing that.”
He has an engagement ring. My heart is beating loudly. Memnon really is ready to marry me at the first opportunity.
I see a flash of dismay cross his features.
“You are mine,” I whisper, grasping his hand and threading my fingers through his.
He closes his eyes as a shiver courses through him. When he opens them again, they briefly glow with his magic.
“You are mine,” I repeat. “You are mine. My eternal mate.” It is not a declaration of love, but it doesn’t matter.
He smiles then, so big it threatens to split his face in two.
I grin back at him, feeling light, giddy. This damn giddiness.
Memnon’s emotions are pouring down our bond. I’ve made the man incandescently happy.
Memnon leans forward and kisses me. Against my lips, he whispers, “I am yours, forever.”
CHAPTER 44
I assumed that spending my days holed up with Memnon would make the time move at an unnervingly slow rate, but between strategizing and reacquainting myself with Memnon, the days fall away one by one.
I continue sending my parents daily texts letting them know I’m alive, I fill Sybil in on my absence at Henbane, and I let myself actually enjoy a period of time when no one is actively trying to harm me or my familiar.
Well, perhaps they are actively trying, but Memnon has successfully warded this place against our enemies.
The news still focuses heavily on the killings in San Francisco and the mass murderer on the loose, and there is precious little about the Fortuna empire, aside from a brief mention of a donation the Fortunas made to the Bay Area Politia.
Whatever whistleblowing might be happening by the supernaturals freed from Juliana’s influence, none of it is being broadcast. There’s also no mention of Juliana herself or her untimely death—there isn’t even a simple obituary. It’s as though her death never happened.
I cannot know the Fortunas’ reasons for such secrecy, but it’s clear that whatever they are, they place them in higher regard than publicizing their grief.
Halfway through the week, Kane sends me a series of texts:
Fourteen shifters have forced bonds. They’ve been quarantined away from the pack.
From what we know, the Politia has gathered a few testimonies from supernaturals who were bonded to Juliana, but they don’t have enough evidence to make arrests, nor do they have enough probable cause to involve themselves in the upcoming auction.
I hadn’t been holding out for the Politia’s help, but it’s still a punch to the gut to hear how they’ll do nothing. The two final texts from Kane, however, make up for it.
The rest of my pack voted, and the decision was unanimous.
We’ll be there.
Relief floods my system. Memnon and I will have help. I don’t focus too much on the fact that Kane doesn’t suggest we meet up and exchange notes, nor do he or his pack seem interested in joint strategizing. Their help will be entirely separate from us.
It’s better than nothing.
During the week, I resume using my notebooks, and it’s like reacquainting myself with an old friend. Though I no longer need my journals to assist my memory, I now fill the pages with notes and pictures of the Equinox Building, the murdered victims, the auction event, and finally, the Fortuna family themselves.