Page 57 of Bedeviled

I nod, maybe a bit too quickly. “I’m fine. I was just startled for a second.”

He watches me for another several seconds, before returning his attention back to the road, though his hand remains on my neck, softly massaging the skin there.

My eyes scour him as he pulls out onto the road. I don’t see any torn clothes, nor do I see any black blood spatter from the demon. In fact, he looks almost too clean, as though a spell scrubbed away any and all traces of violence.

My eyes crawl up to his tense jawline.

It’s quiet in the car for a long moment.

“So, Maelverynox …?”

“He’s been dealt with,” Memnon says grimly.

Meaning the dude lost his head. This is like the Headless Horseman’s origin story.

I nod. There are more words, more things to say and go over, but Memnon’s eyes are still glowing, and his hair is still rippling, and a healthy amount of his magic is leaking from his hands only to twist around my body before sinking into my skin. I don’t think he’s in a state to chat.

Minutes tick by, and still his magic doesn’t resettle.

I eye my husband again, unsure.

It’s only once we turn off the main road that my attention draws away from him.

My brows come together at the unfamiliar scenery. “Are we going to the address you wrote down for me?”

He gives the back of my neck a gentle squeeze. “Yes.”

He doesn’t say anything beyond that, leaving me to gaze at our surroundings for some clues. We’re still deep in the wooded hills north of San Francisco, the trees looming large ahead of us.

A short distance later he turns left, onto a narrow street. On either side of it are what look like gas lamps, a warm glow emanating from them. The sight is both eerie and a little enchanting. Whatever this place is, I think I might already like it.

“Did you get a new house?” I ask curiously, intuition creeping up my spine.

“We did.”

My breath hitches at the emphasis he placed on that pronoun. Spoken when still in the grip of his magic, it takes an even more possessive note.

There’s a bend in the road, and suddenly, the space opens up, revealing a sprawling three-story stone mansion with arched windows, stone balustrades, and a heavy iron and wood front door. All of it is lit by more well-placed lamps, the glow illuminating the stonework.

I shiver pleasantly at the sight. The place is as close to a real-life castle in the woods as a girl in California can get.

Unfortunately, right now, Memnon could give fuck all about the house. As soon as he pulls to a stop in front of it, his attention becomes entirely focused on me.

He’s barely stopped the car when he makes his way around to my side and opens my door. Nero jumps out, and I barely have time to unbuckle my seat belt before Memnon pulls me into his arms. His mouth finds mine, and he kisses me with panicked fervor. His hands are in my hair as my own grip his shoulders, then twine around his neck.

He begins to move, his magic encircling us like another demon might suddenly leap out of the darkness and pick up where Maelverynox left off.

I pull away from his kiss. “You know I can walk.”

No.

Memnon’s magic drags my lips back to his, and he takes, takes, takes.

I bite his lower lip, just because the feminist in me resents his bossiness. Then I suck on that lower lip because the deviant in me is a little turned on anyway.

At my back, I hear the massive front door swing open and the click of Nero’s claws as he enters ahead of us. The warmth of the house washes over us as Memnon carries me in.

The door thunks shut behind us, and Memnon’s magic moves to my clothing. The fabric parts and the clothes seem to melt right off me, my sheathed daggers clattering to the ground with them. Within moments I’m left bare in the sorcerer’s arms.