Future wife.

I make a face at that, then wince when my head throbs harder. Fucking hate unbreakable oaths and this farce of an engagement.

Next to the door out, the officer on duty lays sprawled on the ground, his eyes closed and his chest steadily rising and falling. Memnon pauses a moment to crouch next to him and, balancing me in one of his arms, he uses his other to touch the man’s forehead.

“You drank too much tonight and fell asleep while on duty,” he murmurs. “You’re embarrassed and will tell no one of this.”

Memnon rises, cradling me in his arms once more. If I felt better, I would’ve had some acidic commentary about what he just did. But honestly I’m too tired and in pain to care.

“Where do you hurt most?” Memnon asks as we exit the cellblock, as though he read my thoughts.

“My head.” What point is there in lying? It feels like someone is trying to jackhammer their way out of my skull.

No sooner have I spoken than Memnon readjusts the arm wrapped around my back so that his hand cups my forehead.

“Ease the pain,” he murmurs in Sarmatian.

His magic sifts out of him, some of it slipping up through my nostrils and some of it sinking directly into my skin.

Immediately, the migraine fades, each pulse of pain less intense than the last, until it’s gone completely.

I sigh, settling deeper into Memnon’s arms for a momen⁠—

Wait. No, he’s still the enemy. I’m not going to enjoy being carried when he just ruined my life.

“I can walk,” I insist as Memnon carries me down the Politia’s lonely hallway.

Not actually sure about this one, but fuck it if I’m going to let Memnon continue to haul me around like I’m helpless.

“All right then, little witch,” he says, almost indulgently, like I’m being cute and ridiculous.

Goddess but I’d love nothing more than to stab this man with a spork.

He bends, letting my feet touch the linoleum floor and holding me stable as I stand. I’m still wearing the heels I borrowed from Sybil earlier this evening for the Samhain Ball, and as soon as Memnon lets me go, my legs wobble like I’m a colt. For a second, I’m positive I’m going to eat shit, but then I find my balance.

Memnon moves around to my front and kneels at my feet.

My brows pull together. “What are you⁠—?”

He reaches for one of my legs and lifts it, setting my foot on his thigh. I hop around for a moment before resting my arms on his shoulders and leaning my weight against him.

I consider kicking the man in the teeth when he pulls Sybil’s stiletto from my foot.

I frown down at him. “What are you doing?” I demand.

“Removing these ridiculous shoes so you can walk,” he says, massaging the pad of my foot.

My frown deepens.

The sorcerer presses a kiss to my ankle, then sets my foot down.

My heart flutters, and oh no, I do not like this.

Right now, I have Memnon slotted into a tidy category I like to call Evil-Ass Monsters. It’s a good category, an accurate category.

If he starts being nice, my bond and my past life memories might team up to recatalog him into some other category much less suited to him.

Memnon removes my other shoe, then collects both heels. He rises, forcing my hands to slide off his shoulders. Suddenly, all six something feet of him looms over me.

“Better?” he asks.

“I didn’t need your help taking my own shoes off.” I glare at him to drive the point home.

The man smirks a little, his eyes twinkling. He’s not put off by my anger in the least.

Should’ve kicked him when I had the chance.

“Come, little witch,” he says, placing a proprietary hand on my back. “Let’s finish getting you discharged and leave this place.”

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER 2

I step out into the chilly night air, the door to the Politia station hissing shut behind me. My hair feels limp, my skin is sticky with sweat and blood, and my black gown is torn in a couple places.

I am the picture of defeat.

Memnon steps up next to me, his hand moving to the small of my back. If I am defeat, then he is pure, unadulterated victory.

“So what are your plans for me now?” I ask.

There are, undoubtedly, plans. This is, after all, his night. I’m just along for the ride.

A wisp of blue smoke curls around my midsection like a phantom embrace, and I hear his voice inside me, cruelly intimate.

You and I are going home.

I would wager all the money I have to my name that he doesn’t mean my home. Which means…I get to see his place.

A shiver courses through me. I don’t want to go there, but I’m also perversely curious to see where he’s been living.

“As long as there’s a bed”—I gesture in front of me—“lead the way.”

I’ll rally some sort of revenge plot tomorrow. Right now, however, this is a full-fledged surrender.

Gritty asphalt digs into the pads of my feet as Memnon guides me across the parking lot toward a sports car.

“That’s your car?” Disbelief coats my voice. I knew the man had acquired some money, but not this much. “Just how many heads have you rifled through?” He must be extorting money from people like it’s no one’s business.

His fingers press into my back. “Feisty mate, always believing the worst of me.”

“You’re less disappointing that way.” Well, almost. The bar is constantly lowering itself.

I expect to sense the heat of Memnon’s anger through our bond. Instead, he lets out a loud, amused laugh.

“Est amage, the world can turn and the times can change, but thank the gods, some things remain the same.”

I scowl at him. Not going to address that.

I eye the car. “Do you even know how to drive?”

There’s a conspiratorial gleam in his eyes. “I speak your language and wear your modern clothing. I own a car and a home, and I have a bank account full of money. What do you think, Empress?”

“I think you stole this car along with a memory or two on how to drive it.”

“Those who hold the power make the rules,” he reminds me, ever the ruthless warlord.

This is what made Memnon move through the ancient world with such ease. Not only was he smart, strong, and unscrupulous, his ability to glean knowledge from others allowed him to assimilate fast.

I just never appreciated how fast until now.

He opens the car door for me. Inside the vehicle, a shadow moves, its amber-green eyes glinting in the darkness.

“Nero.” I all but fling myself onto my familiar, my body draped over the leather bucket seat so I can reach the panther better. We’ve only been apart for a few hours, but I’d been anxious about my furry dude.

He must’ve been anxious about me too because he nuzzles against me awfully intensely for a panther who prides himself on being aloof.

While I’m snuggling my familiar, Memnon neatly tucks my legs into the car and closes my door.

When the sorcerer opens his own door, he inhales sharply.

“Nero,” he growls.

I pull away from my panther, and only now do I notice what my soul mate already has.

Nero has torn apart the inside of this car. The rear seats are in shreds, the foam interior littering what’s left of them. He’s clawed up the back side of the front seats, the leather hanging in ribbons. Even the center console I’m leaning on has been gouged at.

I don’t know how much my panther understands about the situation between me and Memnon, but this feels like a feline fuck you, and I am here for it.

“You are such a good familiar,” I say softly, stroking Nero down his flank while he rubs his head against me. “I’m sorry for leaving you like I did,” I whisper, referring both to this evening and to another, fateful evening long ago, when my familiar and I were forced to part ways.