Memnon catches my eye and flashes me a grin that promises sin. He bends down, looking like he’s about to bow. Instead, he places one of my legs over one of his shoulders, then the other.

His mouth is inches from my pussy. Only now do I put together his earlier words.

You want a kiss on your lips.

I feel his exhale against my sensitive folds. Hell’s spells…

A shiver works its way through me.

“You are the only goddess I pray to,” Memnon murmurs, pressing a kiss to my inner thigh. “You’re a fucking vengeful one too.”

One of his hands strokes the outside of my leg, and he leans in, pressing a carnal kiss to my folds. Another shiver wracks my body.

Memnon must feel it because his hand stops stroking my leg so he can grip me tighter.

A moment later, his tongue slides up my seam. My hips buck at the action, and a breathless cry slips from my mouth.

I’m intoxicated on the sensation he’s stirring up within me.

Memnon, voice rough from desire, says, “Let me show you how I pray to you, my wrathful goddess.”

With that, he leans forward, and he…prays.

I cry out as his mouth moves over my sensitive flesh. His fingers soon find my clit, and he rubs it in circles as his tongue slips between my folds and delves into my core.

I lie there, panting, as Memnon wrecks me touch by touch. One moment I’m desperate to get away from the overstimulation, but then the next, I’m desperate to get closer. It’s too much—it’s not enough. I need less of his tongue and fingers and more of the rest of him.

I reach for the sorcerer, no longer satisfied with just his hands and mouth working my flesh. I want to feel him in me.

At my insistent tug, Memnon stops his ministrations and lets me lead him up my body.

He resettles himself over me, his cock trapped between us.

The sorcerer’s eyes glint as he takes me in. “You think I’m going to give you this?” He rocks his hips against mine, and I suck in a sharp breath when his cock slides through my folds.

He laughs, drinking in my expression. “Oh no. You misunderstand, Selene.” He kisses my cheek, then presses his lips to my ears. “I will make you ache and ache, est amage. You see, I can be wrathful too.”

I wake with a gasp. My hand is once again between my legs, and my near orgasm is retreating. My skin is sweaty and heated. I was edged within an inch of my life by a freaking dream. Again.

I blow out a frustrated breath, staring up at my ceiling. Clearly, my subconsciousness thinks I need to get laid. And unfortunately for me, it’s set its sights on the worst man for the job.

Even as I think it, a small part of me feels sad that I may not see Memnon again. It’s the illogical, masochistic part of me, but it’s still there.

But there’s also the question of whether Memnon truly is gone. I banished him once, and that basically did nothing. I think I’m being optimistic to assume he left for good.

A sound from outside my open window distracts me from my thoughts. The oak tree rustles; then Nero takes shape from the darkness, hopping from the branch to my windowsill, his claws gouging the wood frame.

“Nero.” I smile, happy to see my familiar. He was gone for most of the day, and though I know I can always slip into his mind to be close to him and to make sure he’s safe, it’s not the same as having him right in front of me.

My panther’s shadowy form hops down from the windowsill and prowls over to my bed. Without much preamble, he leaps onto my mattress, then immediately begins kneading the blankets.

He’s just a cuddly little murder machine.

I reach a hand out and pet his face. Even in the darkness, I can see his eyes closing happily from the scratches.

“You’re such a good familiar,” I coo, and for once, Nero lets me coddle him.

I run my hand down his neck and flank, pausing when I touch something wet and sticky.

Foreboding washes over me. Pulling my hand away, I rub my fingers together, then bring them to my nose. Almost immediately, I notice the cloying, gamey smell coming from them.

“Illuminate this room,” I say, drawing hard and fast on my magic. My power lashes out of me, swirling itself into an orb of light.

As soon as my magic brightens the space, I gasp.

My fingers are coated in bright red blood. But it’s not just on my fingers; it’s all over—

“Nero.”

I’m in his head so fast, I get momentarily confused at the sight of my own human face staring back at me.

I can feel wetness against my—I mean his—flank and on his legs and paws. But there are no obvious aches or pains.

Not Nero’s blood.

I’m back in my own head a moment later. My familiar sprawls out on his side, and now I can see the blood smears across my checkered comforter.

“What happened?” I ask Nero, even though I know he can’t respond. “Is this blood from one of your kills?”

No reaction from him.

“Did you hurt the creature whose blood this is?”

Another nonreaction, except now Nero’s tail flicks with irritation.

I’m not asking the right questions.

My mind moves to darker, more terrifying places.

“Was it a human?”

Slowly, Nero’s head dips and rises, the action looking unnatural on him. But it was a nod.

“Are they alive?” I ask.

Nothing.

Fuck.

That’s a no.

“Can you take me to them?”

Nero gets off the bed and prowls toward the window once more. After grabbing my phone and sweatshirt and shoving my feet into a pair of running shoes, I follow him.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER 21

I move like a woman possessed, jogging behind my familiar, my awareness straddled between him and myself.

It only strikes me that this may be a bad idea when we hit the tree line edging the campus.

Oh, we’re going in there.

My heart pounds loudly.

You are a powerful witch with a badass familiar. No one is going to fuck with you.

Ahead of me, Nero slows.

Before I see anything at all, I sense the slick, tainted magic that hangs in the air.

Dark magic.

“Illuminet hunc locum.” Illuminate this place.

The Latin words flow smoothly out of me, coming from the same shrouded part of me where my stolen memories go. It’s a shock to hear them, mostly because lately, it’s that other language, the one Memnon speaks, that my mind reaches for. It’s like seeing an old friend again, hearing this bit of ancient language fall from my lips.

My magic spins itself into several orbs of amber light, each one levitating into the air above me and Nero. They settle between the bows of trees, glowing softly.

Now that my surroundings are lit, I can see the insidious power ahead of us. It chokes the air and smears the ground. It takes me a moment to realize those smears are blood—tainted magical blood.

Next to me, a growl rises from my familiar’s throat as he stares straight ahead.

I follow his gaze. No more than twenty feet in front of us lies a body, its limbs twisted, its clothes and skin covered in black-tinged blood. Long hair obscures the individual’s face, but it does nothing to hide the open cavity in their chest where their organs should rest.

The meaty smell, the oily magic that glistens and clings to the body—it’s overwhelming. I turn and retch.

I figured I would find a body; Nero indicated as much. Yet I find I’m still shocked at the discovery. Shocked and disturbed.

Need to call the Politia. Now.

With a shaky hand, I pull out my phone. It takes me several tries to search for their phone number, my fingers not working as they should.

Finally, I hit the number, and it rings through.