When Memnon glances over his shoulder at me, the corner of his mouth curving up, I can tell my order doesn’t matter. He has something else up his sleeve.

“I’m guessing Selene hasn’t told you about our past?” The sorcerer faces Kane again. “Our love stretches back two thousand years. My soul mate and I have endured horrors you cannot imagine to get to this moment. You wish to compete with that, wolf?”

“I think I have a helluva lot more chance than a tool like you,” Kane says.

Memnon steps in close, his form towering over the shifter’s. “Is that right? Because I thought I heard her say fuck no to your offer—but maybe my ears are just ba⁠—”

Kane’s fist swings out, hitting Memnon square in the cheek, and the sorcerer’s head snaps to the side.

Aw fuck.

Memnon stays in that position for an extra moment. When he straightens, a little line of blood drips down from the corner of his mouth. The sorcerer smiles, the expression tugging on his scar and making him look malevolent.

“Foolish little pup. Thinking of stealing people’s mates.”

Kane hits him again.

Memnon groans, stumbling back. The shifter lunges for him, taking the sorcerer to the ground. Kane’s fist slams into the sorcerer’s face again and again. And Memnon just takes it, not even bothering to protect himself from the hits.

“Kane, stop!”

Kane lifts his head and growls in response, the alpha in him chafing against my order. He does, however, lower his fist, his chest rising and falling with his exertion.

Beneath him, Memnon’s face is a bloody mess. The sight of it causes a bolt of sheer terror to course through me.

I’m all right, little witch, he says. Healing it already.

“Why isn’t he fighting back?” Kane says, his eyes focused on Memnon. “I know this motherfucker loves to.”

I really do, Memnon says down our bond. My soul mate sounds more than a little self-satisfied, despite the fact that he just had the crap beaten out of him.

Tentatively, I move toward the two. Arousal is still soaking my panties, and honestly, the fighting did nothing but deepen the ache.

“Because I told him not to,” I say to the shifter. Of its own accord, my magic slips ahead and presses itself against Memnon’s wounds. It ignores Kane’s bloody knuckles entirely. “But if you keep hitting him, I’ll let him have at you, and, Kane,” I say softly, “you don’t want that.”

The lycan looks between us. “So he listens to you now?” he asks me, getting off Memnon.

The sorcerer sits up and wipes away what blood my magic hasn’t already cleaned from his face, then rests his arm on a bended knee.

Memnon leans back a little, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Are you going to tell him or should I?” he asks me, oddly gleeful for a man who just took several hits to the face.

“Memnon,” I caution. Why must this entire conversation happen while I am blazingly drunk and in desperate need of an orgasm?

“What is he talking about, Selene?” Kane asks. I can see his wolf staring at me from the backs of his eyes.

Hell’s spells.

My stomach churns as I admit, “Memnon is bound to me.”

Uncertainty flickers in his eyes. “You mean through your…bond?”

“The soul mate bond doesn’t compel me to do anything,” Memnon says. “The one we made a few nights ago, however…”

It finally registers. “You bound him?” Kane says to me, horrified.

My stomach twists. I became a friend of the pack in the first place because I stopped a binding spell from happening. To suddenly now have one myself doesn’t look good.

Kane stares at me like he’s never seen me before. Like maybe I am the bad guy.

Memnon stands up, stepping in front of me. “Don’t look at her like that,” he says, menace back in his voice.

“Why would you do such a thing?” Kane says, ignoring Memnon entirely.

Memnon answers anyway. “I asked it of her. I am earning back the trust I broke.”

Kane looks from Memnon to me, aghast. I cannot tell what is running through the lycan’s mind, but Goddess, I am too drunk to adequately address it anyway.

Another wave of desire washes though me, and a soft moan slips out.

Ugh. And horny. Crone’s cane, but I’m far, far too horny to be having this conversation.

Kane’s nostril’s flare, and his eyes fully shift, and Memnon glances back at me with an arched eyebrow, and fuck, everybody is very aware that I’m one throbbing erogenous zone.

“Well,” I say, inclining my head a little. “It has been lovely, Kane. We will chat again soon. Memnon and I are leaving right now,” I say, directing this last bit to the sorcerer.

Memnon immediately moves toward me with a possessive glint in his eye.

Kane’s gaze searches mine. “Selene…”

I hear the hurt in his voice, and it guts me.

I didn’t intend for any of this. Not the confrontation, not the meeting with Kane, not even the arousal. It’s still my fault, but I hadn’t wanted it all to play out so messily.

The shifter’s attention moves to my soul mate, and his pain transforms into anger. “How does it feel to be forced to do another’s bidding?” Kane calls out.

Memnon gets to my side and turns around to face the lycanthrope. Though the shifter is deliberately baiting him, there’s no longer any rage in Memnon’s eyes. Instead, he flashes the shifter an amused look.

“Like foreplay, pup.”

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER 18

We walk for several minutes in silence, the only noises the crunch of our feet over leaves and the harsh sound of my breath.

Behind us, a howl goes up, the sound mournful. I rub my eyes, a sob stuck in my throat.

Never meant to hurt him. Love sucks. Witch’s brew sucks. This situation sucks.

I’m still drunk and so, so aroused, and it makes everything that much worse.

“How much of that with me and Kane did you see?” I ask.

I feel Memnon glance over at me, his bourbon eyes flicking to my mouth. “Enough.”

I run my hand over my face. Goddess, but this evening has gone tits up.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Memnon admits.

“Do what?” I say, my fingers finding their way to the low neckline of my dress. I’m absently starting to tug on it.

“Fight for the right to be yours.”

I glance over at him just as he looks up toward the shrouded sky, and my eyes trace the line of his jaw.

“Before, when you were Roxi, you were mine and mine alone. I never needed to prove my worth to you.” He stops and faces me. “And now that I must, I feel my own inadequacies rising to the surface. I can fight and kill for you, but I cannot be whatever that man is.” He gestures in the direction we last saw Kane.

Even in the darkness, I can see there’s still a bit of swelling on Memnon’s face. Neither of our powers fully healed him.

I step up to my mate and place a hand against his cheek, letting my magic sink into his skin. I don’t utter a spell, but my power understands my intention, and it goes about healing his remaining wounds.

“I’m still so angry at you,” I admit. “So angry it’s hard to breathe through it.” If I had spoken these words days ago, they would’ve rang true. Right now, however, the heat of my hate has banked. “But tonight, I called out for you. I wanted you.”

I still want you.

Another wave of desire punctuates my confession, and under the force of it, I close the last of the space between us. For once this evening, my desire doesn’t feel like the enemy, like something working against me. It feels…if not natural then at least magical. Wondrous. Something to be celebrated.

My hand slips from Memnon’s cheek and moves to his chest, my fingers digging in at the solid feel of him beneath my palm. I want more. Need more.

“I am yours to command, my queen,” he says in Sarmatian. “So if you want me to please you, command it.”