Page 119 of Bedeviled

There’s so much I want to say, though it’ll have to wait. When Memnon is consumed by his power like this, he’s less of a let’s-process-our-emotions and more of a burn-it-all-down type.

I pull away from him, though I keep my arms draped over his shoulders as I take him in. His writhing hair, his glowing eyes, the scar that cuts across his face are all absolutely terrifying, but thank the stars for his power—without it more witches would’ve died and more demons would be running loose.

Maybe it’s that truth, or maybe it’s simply surviving a night when I should’ve died three times over, but a rush of affection washes over me.

“I love you,” I say in a breathy rush.

Memnon’s grip has wandered back down to my torso, and he tightens his hold there, then drags me close.

His gaze moves over my face, searching for something. “This is the worst part of me,” he confesses. It’s a surprising amount of self-reflection, considering how consumed he is by his power at the moment.

I lean in close, trying not to sway with my lightheadedness. When my mouth is a mere hairsbreadth from his, I ask, “What makes you think I don’t love even the worst parts of you?”

He stares at me with those illuminated eyes for a moment longer, and I cannot know what he’s thinking, not even through our connection.

Gently, he takes my chin then and kisses me. I can feel something beneath the pressure of his lips, or maybe I’m sensing it in the bond between us.

Up until now, Memnon has been trying to win me over by showing the best parts of himself. But he hasn’t been able to hide this power-riddled version of him, and it’s arguably the scariest side of him yet. But though he can be wildly violent and unpredictable in this state, he has only ever been doting and protective of me.

Memnon pulls away, and I stare up at him, breathless as the darkness at the edges of my vision closes in. My legs give out, but I’m already in the sorcerer’s arms, and it’s easy enough for him to catch me.

Abruptly, Memnon turns off the faucet, and with his magic he beckons forth a towel. The shower door swings open, and he catches the cloth.

Wrapping it around me, he leads me out, his own towel sliding off the rack and wrapping itself around his waist.

He ushers me out of the bathroom and into our bedroom. Nero lifts his head from his plush pet bed, watching us pass by.

Memnon doesn’t leave my side until we approach the closet. Even once we’re there, he reaches in and nabs one of his shirts, tugging it over my head. I feel like a kid both because of his help and because his shirt seems to swallow me up.

“You’re coddling me,” I say over my shoulder to him. “You didn’t used to do this.”

Memnon takes my body in before his glowing eyes rise back to meet mine. “Before, I felt I was too powerful to lose what I loved most. I know better now.”

Before he can manhandle me again, I duck under his arm and head to the bed, sliding in. My heart races when I realize that despite the newness of this house, being in this room with Memnon feels more like home than the coven does. A small part of me wants to panic, but a larger part gets a perverse thrill out of it all.

He gets in, that enigmatic gaze of his crawling all over me. There’s no hesitation when he reaches for me and drags me to him.

I love it far more than I should.

I lay my head on his shoulder and lightly trace the tattoos on his chest, watching as his flesh pebbles beneath my touch. I could get high on the hold I have over this man.

Safe…safe…safe… The word echoes across our bond like a chant, and I drift off to the comforting sound of it. When I stir what must be only minutes later, Memnon’s hand is stroking my damp hair. My eyes flutter open, and I notice that finally, finally his eyes have dimmed.

“I love you, Selene,” he says softly.

It is such a simple sentiment, yet the words make me feel like there are butterflies taking flight in my stomach. “I love you too,” I murmur.

He shakes his head. “No, I love you.”

I rouse a little more from sleep, and my brows draw together. I don’t understand the distinction he’s making, not until he elaborates.

“Long ago I told you that every part of me loves you,” he says. There’s an intensity in his eyes, like he needs to get this point across. “I hope you also know that I love every version of you.”

His hand slides from my hair and strokes my cheek.

“You were once Roxi, but you are not her anymore,” he says, searching my features. “And I love you, Selene. I love you because you are Selene. My vengeful spirit, my fierce queen, my radiant soul mate. I love your humor, your optimism, your loyalty to your friends and your coven. I love how fully you’ve embraced your powers and how setbacks don’t deter you. I love how much you challenge me and how viciously you once fought me. And I love your ceaseless inner strength.”

My pulse is racing at his words. No one speaks about me the way Memnon does. It makes me want to cry and laugh and press myself as close to him as I can get.