Page 152 of Bedeviled

I reach out and tuck the hair behind his ear. His bourbon eyes rise to mine slowly, and he looks like he’s going to devour me, like he won’t stop until every bit of me has touched every bit of him.

My breath catches at the look.

“So godsdamned lovely,” he whispers. His voice grows. “More than the way sunlight hits the water or the sight of fresh snow along the steppe.” He passes me the glass of champagne and takes my other hand in his. “Come sit with me under the stars, est amage. I want to see the way the firelight dances in your eyes again.”

I have no defense against Memnon when he’s like this, so I let him lead me out of our house and onto the back porch, where a firepit rests, encircled by a set of chairs and couches.

Out here, the air is biting and damp, and my breath mists as it exits my nose. Memnon sets his wineglass and the accompanying bottle down and reaches for me, his magic gathering in his palm.

I know he means to place a warming spell on me, one that might not even work.

I shake my head. “I want to feel the night around me.” Maybe it’s the witch in me, or maybe it’s the memory of all those far-off nights when the wind blew cold and the fire blazed hot. It’s a deep, almost instinctual memory, and I want to feel it again now.

“Besides,” I add. “I have this,” I say, lifting my glass of champagne.

“And you have me,” he adds, releasing a bit of his magic to start the fire.

I don’t know if I set my glass down or Memnon does, just that it’s out of my hand right as Memnon is stepping into my arms, the fire backlighting him.

He cups my jaw and tilts my face, his gaze tracking my features as, I imagine, the firelight plays along it. Just like he wanted..

“My lovely queen,” he murmurs, “who first called out to me when we were kingdoms apart.” His attention never strays from me. “You who saved me, died for me. Waited eons for me so we could exist in this moment,” His thumb indolently strokes my cheek. “You are every hope, every joy, my deepest truth and sharpest yearning. Every breath I breathe is yours. I am yours. Forever.”

My palms slide up his scarred forearms, bits of ink curving around them. Even without the gold adornments he’s so fond of, Memnon could never be mistaken for a modern man. He has a striking, sharp-edged look that belongs solely to the wilds of the ancient world.

I swallow. I’m done shying away from these moments. “And you are mine,” I breathe. “Forever.”

He has been mine since before I knew who he was. We had an epic love story, one that was cut short. One I gave my life to resume. And here it is before me. Messy and imperfect but still ours.

“Te amo in aeternum,” I say. “You are mine forever.”

CHAPTER 38

Memnon leans forward then and kisses me like we’ve only just been reunited. Like we could lose one another again at any moment.

Even though I cannot hear his thoughts or sense his emotions, the same franticness moves through me.

I need to feel him. On me, in me. His weight bearing down on me.

Memnon picks me up then, his arms wrapping my legs around his waist, and he must’ve heard my thoughts.

He extinguishes the fire and carries me back into the house, our drinks forgotten.

I move against him, the action causing Memnon to groan, and I swear his legs nearly buckle.

“You do that again, and I won’t make it to our bed.”

“I don’t care,” I say, my hips rolling against him again.

“Fuck,” he curses.

The dining room is to our left, and Memnon veers sharply for it. His indigo power pours off of him, the ribbons of it shoving aside chairs.

He puts me down and folds me over the dining room table. I am a woman possessed, arching back into him.

Memnon’s power frantically rips at the fastening of my jeans, and then drags them down.

Cool air hits my backside and⁠—