I blow out an agitated breath. I’m being edged by a fucking monster who knows exactly what he’s doing to my body.

Say it. Now it’s him who’s pleading with me.

Apparently, promised orgasms make me weak because I silently say to him, It won’t mean anything.

Perhaps not to you, he responds. But it will mean something to him.

He begins working me again, and I let out another annoyed sound because it feels so terribly, exquisitely good, but I know it’s going to stop the moment I get close to climaxing.

I could just say it.

It’s only a single word. What’s a bit more role-playing? It really won’t mean anything.

Decision made, I draw a fortifying breath.

“Make me come…soul mate,” I say.

Memnon smiles against me.

And then he does.

He sucks on my clit for mere seconds before the wave of my orgasm crashes through me.

“Memnon!” I cry, digging my heels into him as the pleasure stretches on and on. And still Memnon teases me with his hand and his lips, only letting up once the vestiges of my climax have ebbed away.

I’m left breathless, staring at the ceiling as Memnon’s fingers slip out of me. He props himself up on his forearms in front of my pussy, then licks those fingers clean, making a satisfied noise, as though I taste like candy and not, you know, a woman.

“I missed the way you taste,” he admits. “I fantasized about it many, many times over the centuries. My mind is a mighty thing, but even it forgot just how sweet your pussy really is.”

“Memnon.” I press a hand to my temple. “You shouldn’t talk like that.”

He presses a kiss to one of my inner thighs. “Why not?” he says, moving to give the other thigh equal treatment. “It is the truth, whether you believe it or not.”

I decide to let the whole thing go. Memnon gave me the most explosive orgasm, and I want the rest of this day with him to be easy, fun.

I reach for him, and he seems all too eager to pull himself up my body and into my arms. I can feel his cock straining against his pants, but he pays it no mind. Instead, his hands come to cradle my face.

“Est amage,” he murmurs, stroking my skin with his thumb. “Est amage, est amage, est amage.” My queen, my queen, my queen. His gaze searches my face, a pleased smile curving the corners of his lips. “You make me excited about the future.”

“Est xsaya,” I say, just to see the way Memnon’s eyes spark at the term, “has anyone told you that you are really fucking intense?”

He laughs then, gazing down at me like I’m the most endearing thing he’s ever seen. “You have. Many times.”

Okay, I walked myself into that one.

I wind a leg around his and move my hands to the top button of his pants. The sorcerer is still wearing clothes, and that’s a problem because now I want to be the one tasting him.

At my touch, Memnon tenses.

“Relax,” I tease, using his earlier words against him as I undo the button. “I’m going to take care of you.”

But the sorcerer’s hand lands on mine, stilling my movements. “Not today, little witch,” he says.

My brows draw together. “Why not?”

“I’m afraid if I let you wrap that pretty mouth or pussy around my cock, that will be the end of us both.”

I give him a perplexed look, because seriously, why does he have to be so intense about this?

But already he’s extricating himself from me.

“So godsdamned pretty,” he says, almost to himself as he gets off the bed, his eyes lingering on me. “Two thousand years, and I still burn for you.”

He looks like he wants to say something else, but he bites it back at the last moment. Instead, Memnon grabs his discarded shirt, and I don’t like that.

“You’re leaving?” I say, sitting up. I don’t bother covering myself; he’s already seen everything.

Memnon must hear the rejected note of my voice because he says, “I have no intention of staying away. But yes, I do have to leave.”

I frown, and the action causes him to cross back over to the bed.

He grabs my jaw and presses a kiss to my lips. “I will see you again soon, little witch,” he promises, releasing my face and heading for the door once more. “Until then—sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams?”

Hasn’t he said that before? Why on earth…?

I suck in a breath. “Are you sending me those dreams?”

Immediately, I regret asking the question—if Memnon isn’t responsible for them, then I’m going to have to lie through my teeth that I meant something innocent and not, you know, the vivid sexual encounters I’ve been having with this man in my sleep.

Memnon’s mouth curves wickedly. “Have you enjoyed them, est amage?”

He has been responsible for the dreams!

I’m so shocked that I barely have time for my irritation to rise.

“Stop sending them to me,” I demand.

His expression only turns more conniving. “Now that I know they’re getting under your skin? Unlikely.”

And with that parting line, he leaves.

Late that evening, my phone pings. When I grab it, I see a notification from one of my banking apps.

You received money.

What?

I click on the notification and the app opens.

I put a hand over my mouth when I see the latest deposit to my account: $5,000.

Beneath the transaction is a note.

For Nero and you, soul mate.

-Memnon

I cry then, in earnest, the hot tears dripping down my cheeks and over my hands. I won’t go into debt or have to take on any shady gigs to feed Nero this month.

I glance at the amount again, and a choked laugh slips out. The thought that this ancient dude has any money at all is absurd—let alone five thousand dollars to throw my way.

But he did throw it my way, all because he caught a glimpse of my bank account and my worry. And I’m not going to question the hows and whys of his financial situation right now.

I wipe away my tears and take a deep breath. Once again, Memnon is being nice to me. That’s on top of giving me the best orgasm I’ve had…maybe ever. Great sex aside, I know better than to believe he’s being kind for the sake of kindness.

All this will come back to haunt me sooner or later.

But you know what?

Tonight, I don’t really give a shit.

Tonight, I’m simply grateful.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER 35

I haven’t seen Kasey. Not for days.

At first, it’s a relief. Not seeing her means not having to deal with the fallout from the spell circle. But the longer I don’t see or hear from her, the more nervous I grow.

It’s not until I’m sitting out on the back patio on Thursday afternoon, drinking mint mojitos and painting my nails with Sybil that my peace is shattered.

“Evanora hasn’t heard from Kasey either,” a nearby coven sister says to her friend. “Not since Saturday.”

I glance over at the woman who spoke, startled to hear Kasey’s name on her lips. She wears her snake familiar draped around her neck like a necklace, while her friend is enchanting a broom to make it hover.

Her friend catches her broom by the handle and whispers an incantation into the wood that makes it lower itself to the ground.

She turns to the other witch. “Do you think…?”

Do you think she was murdered? I’m sure that’s what she intended to say.

My heart pounds harder, and I can hear my pulse between my ears.

Was Kasey mortally wounded that night? Or did Memnon go after her? I mentioned to him that I was worried about her.

“I don’t know,” says the witch with the serpent familiar. “I mean, it seems possible, right?”

Sybil nudges me with her shoulder. “Are you okay, Selene?” she asks, watching my face, then glancing at the witches.