“How do you even know about online banking?” I ask him suspiciously. “And modern currency for that matter?”
My gaze flicks over his shirt and jeans and down to his leather boots. Now I do wonder how the sorcerer is getting by.
“Do you really want to have that talk right now, est amage? I’m not sure you’d like my answers.”
I stare up at him warily. I know he can riffle through a person’s mind—I remember him doing it to my own—so I know he has ways of seeing the modern world through others’ eyes. I don’t know why that would worry me…
Before I can help it, I rub my face. “It’s fine. Everything will be fine.” It’s less an answer and more a pep talk.
Memnon doesn’t say anything to that, and somehow, his silence makes my money situation feel all the more hopeless.
“The people last night—they were going to pay me,” I say. It’s a decent enough place to start. “It was some magical gig I agreed to so I could help pay for Nero’s food.”
Memnon frowns, his attention moving to my panther, who is sprawled out on my bed. “It costs a lot to feed him,” the sorcerer agrees, approaching the bed to pet the big cat. “I remember.”
Nero leans his head into the touch, eating up Memnon’s attention.
“It’s fine,” I repeat, though my voice cracks.
It’s not fine, and I’m trying not to think about the very real possibility of being unable to feed Nero.
Memnon glances over at me, and he has a look in his eye like he’s scheming.
He moves away from my familiar. “Tell me the rest of what happened last night,” he demands. “Leave nothing out.”
It doesn’t take long to tell Memnon the whole story. He leans against one of my walls, arms folded, as he listens to the entire thing, a menacing look on his face.
“…And that’s where you found me,” I finish.
It feels good to share this with him. I haven’t had a chance to tell Sybil, nor have I dared to write the event down—not when there are incriminating details and the Politia is interested in my notebooks.
A muscle in Memnon’s jaw keeps jumping.
“The spell circle,” he finally says. “It took place in this house?”
I nod. The mention of it has my pulse speeding. I remember all over again how there’s a direct tunnel into our house, one those masked witches can easily use even now.
I’m not going to think about the fact they may even be fellow coven sisters. That thought is downright chilling. As it is, I have to live with the fact Kasey was one of them.
Kasey, whom I haven’t heard from since last night.
“Take me to where the spell circle happened,” Memnon commands.
I should be bristling at the order. Instead, the sorcerer feels like a rudder keeping me on course.
I leave my room and lead Memnon through the house. Several witches see us pass, and one by one, they fall silent as they take in the man at my back. He’s huge and ferociously beautiful, and I’m sure they can sense the danger rolling off him.
I catch sight of their expressions, and while some look a little nervous, they also seem…interested?
Immediately, my hackles rise, and a little bit of my magic sifts out of me, thickening in the air.
Shit, Selene, are you getting jealous over your wicked stalker?
An arm wraps around my chest, and I’m drawn back against Memnon.
A moment later his lips are at my ear. “Possessiveness looks good on you, mate,” he says, nipping my ear.
I glare at him over my shoulder before pushing his arm away. “I’m not your mate,” I whisper under my breath. “And don’t bite my ear.”
Memnon’s eyes twinkle. “At least you’re not in denial about being possessive,” he says, those sensual lips curving into a smirk. “We can agree on that.”
I’m about to argue with him on that, but then we pass another witch who gives Memnon a moonstruck look, and I turn my glare at her.
I hear soft prideful laughter at my back.
“Shut up.”
I may be a little possessive.
CHAPTER 33
When we get to the Ritual Room, I let Memnon in first, holding the door open before following him inside.
His boots echo against the floor as he peers around, taking in the dark walls and the rows of chairs.
I head over to the back of the room, the hairs along my arms rising as the previous night comes back to me.
“We went through this wall,” I say, touching the solid surface that glimmers faintly as the spells running along it catch the light. For a moment, I marvel that magic can make doorways appear and disappear at will.
Memnon comes over to me before stopping so close that his shoulder brushes mine.
My breath escapes me in a rush, and I feel a fevered urge to reach for him and taste him all over again. I’ve only kissed him, but I’ve dreamed of more. How would the real thing hold up against my imagination?
Memnon glances over at me, arching an eyebrow.
“What?” I say defensively.
Did he hear those thoughts?
He shakes his head and returns his attention to the wall. He runs a hand over it, and I get to appreciate the golden ring he wears and his scarred forearms—
Stop getting distracted by the pretty man, Selene.
Dropping his hand, Memnon turns, looking as though he’s going to walk away. All at once he spins back around and slams his fist into the wall.
His indigo magic explodes outward at the impact, and there’s a sound like hard candy crushing beneath a boot.
A split second later, I realize that’s the sound of the ward shattering. As soon as it’s gone, the wall disappears, revealing the opening once more.
I stare, aghast, first at the opening, then at Memnon.
“I’ve never seen someone use their power like that,” I say.
The sorcerer catches me by the chin and flashes me a soft, playful smile. “Yes, you have little witch. Long ago.”
Before I can argue with him, Memnon drops his hand from my chin and turns his attention back to the archway.
He clucks his tongue. “Someone’s been naughty, hiding a back entrance into your house.” Despite the light tone of his words, I see his eyes harden and his features grow sharp.
He crosses the threshold, heading toward the staircase.
I hesitate, fear souring the back of my throat. I don’t want to go back there.
It feels as though those witches are still lurking at the bottom of that staircase, waiting for another chance to nab me.
Memnon, on the other hand, looks as though he’d enjoy nothing more than a nice confrontation. He begins to descend, not bothering to coax me along.
Without thinking, I reach for Memnon’s magic, just as I did last night, needing the reassurance of his power.
It’s there, just as endless as it was last night. I don’t know how a single body can house so much magic or how much of his conscience he offered up for it all.
“I can feel myself inside you, soul mate,” Memnon calls up the bottom of the stairway, a smile in his voice. “You can draw me into you whenever you like.”
My core clenches at the offer, and my face heats. “I’m not your— That’s not why—” I draw in a deep breath, frustrated that he has me flustered. “I’m just nervous about coming back to this place.”
His footfalls pause.
“Come to me, Selene,” he says gently, his words soft and enticing.