I sense the moment Memnon sees her. He’s nearly upon Sophia when he halts. For several seconds, he stands there, completely still, his head turned in Eislyn’s direction.

Then, all at once, Memnon’s power consumes him. His hair almost violently rises, and sparks crackle in the plumes of his magic.

This is the woman who killed his sister, his mother, his loyal brothers in arms. She’s the one who whispered into his traitorous friend’s ear and brokered a sinister agreement with Rome. She is the one who cursed Memnon to a hundred years of sleep so she might entrap him. And she is the one who set a Roman legion on me and all but killed me that fateful evening.

Memnon detonates.

His power rips across the room, flinging tables and chairs and people across the space. Only my soul mate and I remain standing.

Memnon strides forward toward the fallen figure of Eislyn, more rays of his power lashing out around his form. His magic looks like a thunderstorm that’s descended on the room. The billowing power catches supernaturals in its grip and lifts them into the air.

They scream and thrash, but only for a few moments. Then something sweeps through the roiling mass of magic, and the supernaturals caught up in it grow docile.

I stare at their glazed eyes as they hang from Memnon’s smoky power.

“Eislyn, what are you doing here?” he bellows, his magic wrapping around her torso. “Were you too wicked to be accepted into hell?”

I can feel his hate and anger filling him like poison. This is more than just regular power usage. This is the kind that eats away at the conscience, and Memnon already has so little of it left.

“Neither you nor I believe in hell, old king.” Eislyn’s voice is as soft as the wind and as melodic as birdsong.

My mate slowly prowls toward the fairy, who’s caught in the matrix of Memnon’s magic. Unlike the other supernaturals in the room, Eislyn’s eyes are wide and a touch frightened, but they’re not glazed over. If anything, they’re sharp with focus. She stares at him like she’s hanging on to his every word.

“Two thousand years, I was forced to sleep, all to escape your curse,” Memnon continues. “I didn’t expect to see you alive. How I burn, knowing you walked under the sun and lived while I rotted away. But then again, if you hadn’t lived, you wouldn’t be here in my clutches.”

Snap.

A bone breaks somewhere in the room, then the lifeless body of Sophia Fortuna falls to the ground, her corpse smacking into a table on its way down, her neck bent at an odd angle. Hours ago, she was next to untouchable. Now, she’s dead, killed in an instant.

“Did you know I would be here, or was it merely a happy coincidence?” Memnon demands.

Eislyn’s lips part. “I thought I imagined you,” she says softly.

Snap.

Snap. Snap. Snap. One by one, men and women in suits and gowns fall to the ground, dead.

What had he told me about a sorcerer’s power the night of the Samhain Ball?

The stronger the magic we cast, the less we can control who that magic touches.

Memnon can’t control his power. Not when it consumes him like this.

Eislyn watches him wondrously. “You are just as vicious as I remember,” she says.

She blinks, then after a moment, she raises her hand to Memnon’s magic, which holds her like a vise.

She murmurs something to the indigo magic, and to my shock, it loosens its hold on her. A set of wings unfurl at her back.

“I don’t think so, Eislyn,” Memnon says, using his power to barricade the exits.

She turns in midair. “We will speak again, warlord. But not tonight.” She flicks her wrist, dropping her arm down, and it’s as though she dragged the light down with her. The room fills with darkness.

“Eislyn!” Memnon bellows.

Snap, snap, snap.

Fuck. There are definitely enemies in Memnon’s clutches, but there are plenty of shifters trapped in the plumes of his power as well. As the bodies hit the floor, I force my power out, beating back the darkness.

Slowly it lifts, revealing a room full of bespelled supernaturals and an angry sorcerer but no Eislyn.

Memnon roars at her absence, and through our bond, I can feel more of the sorcerer’s bloodthirsty power slip its leash.

Now it’s swirling around the supernaturals above us. To my horror, I make out Kane, his face expressionless as he hangs there in Memnon’s magic. My eyes move over the trapped supernaturals until I see Irene, the Marin Pack beta, floating in the air. I even see Cara, sweet Cara, who must’ve felt compelled to come and save other shifters from a fate she escaped.

I’m the only one at this point besides Memnon himself who hasn’t been swept up in his power. And given how much magic the sorcerer is drawing on, that could change at any moment.

“Memnon!” I shout. “Please, release the captives!”

He doesn’t release them. He doesn’t even register that he’s heard me.

Snap, snap.

Two more supernaturals fall, these two old men in suits.

“Memnon!” I cry out desperately.

When he turns to me, his eyes burn like embers, and his hair has lifted up and around his face. He takes me in, though his eyes appear unseeing.

For you, mate, he says. All this is for you.

It’s not for me. You’re hurting our allies, my friends!

He stares back at me.

Snap.

Another body falls, this one a middle-aged woman in a magenta dress. So far the deaths have all been auction guests, but it’s only a matter of time before my mate kills someone truly innocent.

You wanted to stop these terrible people, he says. We are stopping them.

Memnon, please. A tear slips down my cheek as I start toward him. I’m begging you!

They cannot hurt you, my queen. I will not let them. No one will hurt you ever again. Our fates will not be repeated. He turns away from me.

Snap, snap, snap, snap⁠—

“Est xsaya!” The ancient words rip from my throat. “Stop!” I shriek. “For me. For us. Stop before I must use my magic and stop you myself.”

My soul mate falters. Slowly, he rotates to face me.

His eyes are still glowing, and they still appear unseeing.

He studies me for a long moment.

“It didn’t work,” he finally says, taking me in. “Your command didn’t work.”

I halt in my tracks, and the two of us stare at each other across the auction hall. Above us, his magic begins to lower its hostages to the ground.

“You love me,” Memnon breathes.

I blink, and another tear rolls down my cheek. His glowing eyes flicker as he watches that tear. His gaze returns to mine, and he begins to stride across the room, his expression growing purposeful. The sorcerer’s magic pushes aside chairs and tables as he goes.

Memnon’s power finally releases the supernaturals, and the indigo magic leaves them to swirl around us like a vortex, hiding me and the sorcerer from the rest of the room.

“You love me,” Memnon repeats, daring me to deny it. His gaze still burns with his power.

Another tear slips out.

“I do.” I give him a shaky smile. “I love you.” I always have. I just managed to bury it for a while. He’s my friend, my monster, my one-time enemy and lover.

There’s no more tightly wielded control. I’m free-falling.

Memnon closes the last of the distance, his eyes dimming to their normal smoky amber, and his hair lowers to the nape of his neck. But though his magic has waned, the intensity of his expression has not.

He brushes his knuckles over my cheekbone. “Te amo in aeternum,” he says softly in Latin. His eyes search my face as though trying to commit this moment to memory.

Memnon leans in and kisses me, the stroke of his lips desperate. I reach for him, my hands cupping his face. I feel a tear drip onto my hand, and I realize he’s shaking, his whole body trembling.