Page 20 of Bedeviled

Do you remember the final line of the vows? Memnon says.

I shake my head. Those memories are so old and tattered the specifics of many of them are lost to me.

Memnon whispers it across our bond, the words drawing out goose bumps.

We say it together, he adds.

I grip his hand tighter, giving a nod. He gives my clasped hand a squeeze, and we speak as one.

“For good, for ill, and for always, my life is bound with yours.”

The instant the words are out of our mouths, our magic seems to ignite.

The blood between us hisses and steams, and a current runs between our flesh where our wounds press to one another. Our magic streams from it as well as our clasped hands, twisting together until orange blends with blue and it looks closer to a bruised purple color.

I bite my lip as our power burns its way up our arms, sizzling our blood and sinking into our flesh even as it heals our wounds. I can feel Memnon’s magic and mine mingling within me, traveling through my veins before it finally settles beneath my sternum.

The Sarmatian vows were laced with a spell.

My betrayed gaze flicks to Memnon, even as his grip tightens on me.

You lied, I tell him. This does bind us more tightly together.

He had said there was no ploy.

But the sorcerer shakes his head. “I had forgotten…truly.”

Memnon the strategist, who is always scheming. I don’t know that I believe him, no matter how earnestly he speaks and how truthful his emotions feel.

And now, despite how dulled my memories of my first life are, I do remember Memnon’s words the first time this happened.

Our flesh and our souls are fully joined to one another. Where one goes, the other must follow.

We were connected then, and it dragged us both into early graves.

And now, for better or for worse, our lives are once more bound.

CHAPTER 5

I commit to drinking the entire bottle of champagne. Then I drag Memnon back to the small glass honeymoon suite where I retrieve the second bottle of champagne and the cake before we head back out to our spot. I fully intend to gorge myself on both before the day is done.

Maybe with enough sugar and booze, I’ll forget just how deeply I bound myself to the sorcerer.

Memnon partakes in both a little as well, but mostly, I feel his watchful eyes on me as we sit outside and watch the sun set.

I lie on my stomach, my heels kicked up and crossed at the ankles, fork in hand, the cake set out before me.

“Why take over the Fortunas’ business?” I finally ask the question that’s been plaguing me. Everything about that family and what they did has the stain of dark magic shrouding it. Who would want that?

“This is who I am, Selene,” Memnon says, sitting back on the blanket, his arm draped over a bent knee. “I was raised to ride horses, fight my enemies, take over lands, and rule it all. The horses are gone, the bloody battlefields are gone, conquering is what is left to me.”

I let his words settle between us.

“Besides,” he adds, “there is a need in me to provide for you.”

The bite of cake I just swallowed seems to lodge itself in my throat. It was that same desire that set off the chain of events that eventually entombed Memnon.

I lower my fork. “Don’t do this for me.”