It takes a whole lot of willpower to break off the kiss, and even then, my feet don’t want to move away from him.

Memnon’s still cupping my face with one of his hands, his dark eyes searching mine.

“I called to you, Roxi. For so long I called to you, but you never answered. My power grew weak, and then it slumbered, only rousing when…” He blinks, looking down at himself, then at my attire for the first time. “Am I dead?” he asks, his gaze rising to mine once more. “Are you here to lead my soul to the afterlife?”

The afterlife?

“What are you talking about?” I say. I step back, out of his embrace. “My name is Selene, not Roxi.”

His brows pull together, his mouth twisting into a frown.

This man is obviously confused. He thinks I’m someone else and that we’re somewhere else, and I don’t know enough about this entire situation to figure out how to handle it well.

His gaze moves to the writing scrawled on the walls. He narrows his eyes as he takes in the inscriptions.

I follow his gaze.

…Memnon the Cursed will sleep the sleep of gods…

…bound to this room…

…powers muted…

…memory cast from the minds of the living…

…forced to sleep…

…never aging, never dying…

I clear my throat. “I…take it you were cursed?”

When Memnon’s face returns to me, his expression has changed, hardened, that scar of his looking stark against his skin.

It takes effort not to piss myself at how frightening he appears.

“It was true, wasn’t it? It was all true. I didn’t believe Eislyn, but she was right.” He catches me by the chin and tugs me to him. “My queen, what have you done?”

“Whoever you are,” I say slowly, “you need to let go of me. Now.” Only after the words are out do I realize I spoke in English.

“What has addled your tongue?” he demands, tightening his grip. His scowl deepens. “Or is this some new language you’ve learned to curse me in?”

All around us, I see his magic thickening the air.

“Whatever it is you have done to me, wife,” he says, pulling me in close. “I vow to you that it will not happen again.” Despite his nearness, there’s no warmth to his touch. Only a punishing sort of possessiveness.

His power closes in on me, and I sense he’s readying some awful spell.

Shit, shit, shit.

I push at him, but this time, Memnon doesn’t release me.

“Let me the fuck go!” Apparently, I can curse in this language.

Cool beans, I guess.

He laughs low, the sound raising the hairs on my arms. “Let you go? Oh no, no, little witch, you’re not going anywhere.”

The man says something too low for me to hear, but I feel his magic rise.

“Not now that I’ve caught you. You thought to curse me?” He shakes his head, though I see betrayal blazing in his eyes. “I will make you pay for what you have done for the rest of our days.”

He steps in close and presses his mouth to mine. I fight against the kiss, but it’s not actually a kiss at all.

Memnon’s power swarms around us. I feel it slipping down my throat and coiling in my lungs.

“Sleep,” he murmurs against my lips.

And the world goes dark.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER 8

I blink my eyes once, twice, three times.

Above me is the rough surface of an earthen ceiling. I’m lying on my back, and my cheek is wet. I reach a hand to my face just as a big abrasive tongue licks it.

My familiar. Nero.

“Hey,” I say softly, sitting up.

I rub my eyes. There’s a foggy feeling in my mind, one that often accompanies missing sections of time.

I do, however, remember Nero.

My familiar butts his head against my chin, purring a little as he steps in close.

“I’m okay,” I say softly, my voice a little hoarse. “I think.”

He pushes himself to his paws, gives me another brief lick on my cheek, then walks away. Pretty sure that was panther for there, there, now get the fuck up.

Shakily, I stand, glancing around me. I remember this room, with its strange writing and even stranger carvings. I remember tromping through the rainforest to get here.

My eyes fall on the open sarcophagus, its lid broken on the floor beside it. Nearby I see the shredded remains of the scale-mail armor.

And I remember Memnon, with his bourbon eyes and fantastical tattoos and terrifying scar.

I will make you pay for what you have done.

I have that big bad feeling inside of me. Something isn’t right. Something is deeply not right.

“Memnon?” It comes out as a whisper. I’m not even sure I want the man’s attention. Not after he veered from passionate desire to enraged betrayal.

Save for the soft hiss of the torches, the chamber is quiet. Quiet and gloomy.

I think he’s gone.

I look at the walls and the text that runs rampant across them. This was a place filled with spells meant to seal “Memnon the Cursed” in. And it had done a damn good job of it until I came along.

My gaze returns to the broken sarcophagus lid. I can still see the warning scrawled across it.

For the love of your gods, beware of me.

I press my palms into my eyes.

Oh no. Oh, no, no, no.

I released something better left buried. And now I have no idea where he is or why he thinks I’m…his.

My queen… A love like ours defies everything… I am yours forever…

I rub my temples.

That alone would be problematic, but no, he’s also convinced I fucked him over.

Ugh.

All at once I have the pressing, claustrophobic need to flee this place. I stumble across the room, then down the long hallway. The magic that filled this space is mostly gone; I feel the hollow throb of its absence. All that’s left are the few tattered remains of spells. They may be enough to ward off people who venture close by, but it’s not nearly enough to put Memnon back in that box.

At least he’s not here.

Halfway down that curving hallway, I stop. Nero already rests at the foot of the staircase. But the sunlight that should be shining on the steps above him is gone.

Shit, shit, shit.

Is it nighttime already?

I rush over to the stairs, the decorated walls mocking me with one name that stands out over and over.

Memnon.

Memnon.

Memnon.

Goddess, but this guy sucks big time. I trip up the stairs, Nero following me. It’s only as I near the top that I notice it’s not actually nighttime at all. Or maybe it is—there’s no way of knowing for sure because our exit is now covered by a stone slab. In the dim light, I can just make out the spell that covers it, the magical threads a familiar midnight-blue color.

Just by the way the power coats the slab and oozes around its seams, I can tell it’s a containment spell.

“Fuck.”

I glance back at Nero. “Got any ideas on how to lift this thing?”

He gazes back at me, his tail twitching. I swear the big cat is giving me a look that says, You’re a fucking witch. Spellcraft that shit. But you know, I’m probably just reading into my cat’s expressions too much.

Regardless, I admit, “I’m afraid that if I use more magic, it’ll cost me too many memories.”

Nero stares at me for several long seconds, then turns around, descends the stairs, and flops down in the hallway, as though he expects to just…remain locked in here.

“Nice show of faith in me!” I call after him. To myself, I mutter, “You show a cat one ounce of vulnerability, and they assume you’re a chickenshit.”

Which, full disclosure, I am. Still, I don’t need judgment like that from my familiar.

I turn back to the stone slab above me. Doing nothing isn’t really an option. Nero and I are lucky to have been left here unharmed, but what if the monster comes back?