Page 156 of Bedeviled

“I want to teach them horseback riding and archery. And to cook. I want you to teach them spells I’ll definitely spank you for later.

“But most of all, I want you, Selene Bowers. For breakfast and dinner. Dragging your nails down my skin and teasing me in that way you do. I want to worry that you might burn the house down if I push you too hard, and I want to see our cupboards filled with the most godsdamned appalling foods I’ve ever heard of⁠—”

I guffaw.

“I want to see your magic floating in the air and your spells dripping from the walls. And I want you however you come to me—even if you never ever want kids.”

He says that like I didn’t just willingly allow him to come in me without protection.

Memnon continues. “You are and have always been enough, and I should’ve seen that long before now.”

My throat works, and Goddess, why do my eyes burn?

“What have you done with my bloodthirsty Memnon?” I whisper. Heartless Memnon is plenty sexy, but this version of my soul mate is leveling me.

Memnon leans his hands on the table behind me, bracketing me in. He dips his head and nips my lower lip. “Oh, he’s still here. And when we find Eislyn, I have every intention of doing to her what I’ve done to all my most hated enemies,” Memnon says. “I’ll make a chalice of her skull—and then I’ll give it to you.” The look he gives me is downright sinister. “Consider it a final wedding gift.”

CHAPTER 39

It’s amazing what a difference a day can make.

Yesterday, when I left Henbane, the place was ablaze with activity, traumatic though it was. But now when I drive up to coven property, it has a derelict, condemned look to it. No chimney smoke rises from the Witchery, the on-campus café, no colored magic hangs like a haze in the air, and the lamps, which would be lit on a dreary day like this, remain off.

And just as I imagined, the front gates are closed and padlocked.

I exhale, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel as a light drizzle patters against my car.

Do I force my way in or⁠—?

I glance over at Nero, who sits perched on the front passenger seat. He looks over at me and blinks, and I’d like to say we share a look, but I’m pretty sure the big cat cares more about the dirt under his claws than our current situation.

It turns out, however, that it doesn’t matter.

That’s because while I’m contemplating my next move, the padlock falls open, and the chain holding it together unwinds itself from the wrought-iron bars.

Slowly the gates swing inward, and the newly closed school is open once more.

I roll the car in, and out of habit, I park near my residence hall.

I pull my jacket tight around myself as Nero hops out of the car, the drizzle dappling us. I cast a wayward glance at Ravensmeade. The building is definitely more solemn and gloomy now that there isn’t an influx of women coming and going from it.

There are still signs that witches were recently here—there’s a broom still leaning against the house, and a nearby lamppost is covered in a striped pole warmer one of my coven sisters must’ve knitted for it.

But there’s no remaining evidence that only last night, dozens of witches nearly bled out inside the house.

My throat constricts at the memory, along with the grim reality that I might not see them ever again.

Blowing out a breath, I head out across the grassy lawn, Nero at my side. My skin grows cold as the rain soaks into my layers, and I place a warming spell first on Nero, then on myself to keep us toasty in spite of the drizzly weather.

Together, the two of us make our way behind Morgana and Cauldron Hall, past Beldame Library before we cut toward the Everwoods.

It’s only after we’ve skirted around Last Rites Cemetery that, in the distance, I finally spot the high priestess’s house.

It’s just as enchanting as I last remember, with climbing roses and boughs of wisteria clinging to the pale stone walls of the great house.

Nero and I follow the path leading up to the front door, and I’m not at all surprised this time when it swings open of its own accord.

Inside, the high priestess’s home is much like I remember it—minimal, save for the primeval goddess figurine resting in a nearby alcove.