Fuck.

“Please, ward yourself and get back to the pack, immediately.”

“I will,” she promises. “But I wanted to let you know that you might not see me for a while. Between this and learning how to shift…I don’t know how long it will be,” she confesses. “I’m going to have to tell Sawyer everything—” Her voice breaks off, and I can sense my best friend’s emotions crumbling. “I’m so sorry for being an absent friend lately,” she says hoarsely. “And a shitty one. There are so many things I tried to shield you from before now. Just please know I tried my b⁠—”

BOOM!

My friend screams over the line.

“Sybil!” I shriek.

What is going on? Memnon says down our bond, his expression concerned.

I’m openly weeping now. My best friend put herself in danger to protect me.

“Sybil!” I cry out again. “Please answer me.”

I can hear voices and scuffling.

“Did you really think you could hide from me?” a woman says.

In the background, Sybil screams.

“And look who it is.” The voice grows louder. “Hello, Selene. Sybil has told me a lot about you.”

Fear seizes up my windpipes.

I’ve been so preoccupied with the possibility that the bad guys were coming for me that it didn’t cross my mind that they might instead come for Sybil.

Memnon, the Fortunas have my best friend. My horror is drowning out every other thought.

I put the phone on speaker and lay it on the bed while Memnon comes closer.

“Sophia?”

“Listen, I’m going to be direct:” Sophia, presumably, says, “Sybil is going to die tonight.”

In the background, I hear Sybil scream again.

My magic rushes out of me, uselessly spreading across the room.

“Unless, of course, you come retrieve her,” she says.

“What do you⁠—”

“Come to the lobby of the Equinox at ten till midnight,” she interjects. “Not earlier, not later.”

I can hear the staccato beat of my heart. “Promise you won’t harm her.”

“Hmm…no. See you at midnight.”

Click.

The line goes dead.

An angry scream forces its way up my throat. Before I can release it, Memnon is there.

He settles his hands on my shoulders. His indigo magic surrounds us on all sides.

“Look at me,” he says.

I raise my face to take him in. His eyes are eager, and his expression is resolute.

“We have gone to battle before, est amage.” He gives my shoulders a squeeze. “We have faced worse foes. We will save her. I vow this to you.”

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CHAPTER 45

That evening, I stare out at the twinkling city lights of the bay from the window in Memnon’s bedroom. Somewhere amid all that glitter and glare, my best friend is being held by a murderous, violent family.

Nero is at my side, staring into the dark expanse as though he might be able to see her as well.

My mind is on fire, and my heart is screaming. I’m supposed to be composed, and maybe outwardly I am, but I have lost my focus.

This isn’t what I wished for when I offered up my life two thousand years ago. I hadn’t wanted more of what plagued my past.

I sense Memnon leave the en suite bathroom, where he’s been getting ready, and enter the bedroom. He’s as silent as my panther as he crosses over to me.

The sorcerer wraps a hand around my midsection, his body heat warming my back. “Are you ready?”

I turn in his arms and study him. The sharp cut of his jaw, his curving lips. Those glittering, calculating eyes and the thick, dark hair that frames his face. Memnon’s wearing a tux, and he’s just as viciously beautiful in it as he was at the Samhain Ball.

“No,” I admit, though he must already know that. I haven’t tried to poke through his closet yet to see if there’s something suitable for a midnight auction slash rescue mission.

Despite the pressing need to find my friend, a different sort of terror is gripping me at the moment.

I feel like I’m only just beginning to rediscover my mate. And tonight…tonight it feels as though it could all be taken away.

Memnon leans down. A hair’s breadth from my lips, he whispers, “It will be okay.”

He closes the last of the space between us and brushes his lips against mine. It’s a love note of a kiss, and I hate it. It’s too sentimental, too wistful. It makes my fears scream louder and my courage grow quiet.

“Harder.” I breathe out the demand against his lips. “Kiss me harder.”

And Memnon does. He still must. Whatever I feel for him, it is soft and pliant and deepening, but it’s not quite love.

Not yet.

For a few moments, there are no murders and no dangerous battle plans. There’s nothing but the crisp press of my mate’s suit against my chest and his demanding mouth against my own.

But once he pulls away it all comes roaring back.

The Equinox. The auction. Sybil.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Settle your fears, est amage,” he says. “They will only sabotage you in battle.”

I draw in a steadying breath and nod.

Memnon touches my cheek. “I got you something.”

Before I have a chance to react, he retreats to his closet. When he returns, it’s with a long, crimson silk dress and a pair of matching heels. The dress itself has slits up the sides and a choker-like collar. Gold detailing runs along its edges. It’s beautiful, and the color and detailing are very, very Sarmatian.

“They are,” Memnon agrees, hearing the stray thought. “It’s fitting to remember our origins on a night like tonight,” he says. “We have toppled armies and slain enemies for each other. We are bold, wicked creatures, est amage.”

Only weeks ago, I would’ve scoffed at the sentiment, but Memnon is right. We are bold. We are wicked.

Hesitantly, I reach out, rubbing the fabric of the evening gown between my fingers.

“Thank you,” I say softly. “These are … perfect.” And the gift itself is thoughtful. He’s thoughtful.

Taking the items from Memnon, I disappear into the bathroom and dress. Once I’ve donned the outfit, I lean against the counter, letting my magic drift out to style my hair before I touch my makeup bag. Normally I would do this with Sybil. She was the one who always insisted on getting dressed up. Going through the motions now without her only serves to remind me that she’s in a bad situation, that she has been all day.

I drag on red lipstick, and I make myself think of it as war paint. We’ll get you out, Sybil.

When I leave the bathroom, Memnon is sitting on the edge of the bed, a black bag open at his feet. He glances up, and his entire expression shifts at the sight of me.

“Selene.” His eyes move to mine. “You are so godsdamned lovely.”

A pang of nostalgia seeps into me from the bond, along with an emotion that feels like wish fulfillment.

I smooth a hand over the silk self-consciously.

Memnon rises from the bed and comes to me then and kisses me like I might slip through his fingers.

He pulls away. “I got you something else as well.”

I raise my eyebrows. “There’s more?”

He gives me a conspiratorial look as he backs away. “Don’t you remember, Empress? There’s always more when it comes to you.”

The sorcerer retreats to that open duffel bag, and I follow him over, watching curiously as he pulls out two sheathed daggers, Velcro straps wrapped around them.

My eyebrows hike all the way up. “You got me a pair of daggers?”

“My wrathful queen needs a good set of blades when facing down enemies.” Returning to me, Memnon kneels at my feet. “May I?” he says, gesturing to my legs.

I nod, and he unravels one of the Velcro straps. Lifting a heeled foot, he slips one of the thigh sheaths up my leg, settling it right at the apex of my limb. He tightens and adjusts it until it’s sitting comfortably against me and the weapon lies smoothly against my skin.