Page 185 of Bedeviled

His voice cuts through the silence. “I…never…” He presses his lips together, like he’s trying desperately hard to stop them from speaking. Still, more words escape him. “Never…wanted…”

Memnon shakes his head. Blood wells along the seam of his lips, and I realize with alarm that he’s literally biting back the words and wounding himself in the process.

“You.”

My chest seems to collapse on itself at the admission, and I’m choking on my own air.

My gaze flicks back to Memnon’s bloody mouth. To the way my steady, self-possessed mate now trembles. And the way his eyes flicker. Or the fact that he’s not touching me.

He always touches me.

My heart hammers as I stare up at him. “I don’t believe you,” I say. Not that it stops me from tearing up a little. But I tell myself that’s just the pain as my wounds finish healing.

His jaw flexes. Again and again.

He leans forward, wrapping his hand around my throat. He’s not cutting off my airflow, but it’s also not a casual hold. It’s clear that letting myself be vulnerable with him even for this short span of time has cost me.

I can feel his power thrumming beneath his palm, I sense some of it coiling around my neck in a way I have not sensed in days.

“Memnon,” I whisper. “What are you doing?” Disbelief laces my words.

“You should’ve run,” he repeats, his eyes shining with unspent tears. Again his irises brighten. Again they dim. “And now,” he says, “you will fight back⁠—”

He presses deep emphasis on those last two words.

Before I can even contemplate hurting him, a dark shape darts from between the trees.

I see a flash of bright fangs and a pair of familiar amber-green eyes just as my panther leaps onto Memnon. His jaw closes over Memnon’s neck. Nero could so easily rip out his throat or asphyxiate him. Instead, he growls a very clear warning: release my witch or die.

I don’t have many heroes in life, but my familiar might be one of them.

“You will stay out of this Nero,” Memnon commands. “I mean you no harm.” Power rides his voice, and his magic ripples out of him, forcing my panther to release his hold, and then it pushes him back, back, back.

I can hear my familiar’s growls in the distance, but Memnon’s power keeps him at bay.

I struggle against Memnon’s grip on my throat. “Let me go.”

“That’s one thing I cannot do, I’m afraid.”

His other hand falls to my chest, right over my heart. His magic cascades over my torso, slithering up the column of my neck and into my nose and mouth. I sense it moving to my heart.

Realization alights.

Oh my fucking Goddess.

Memnon means to stop my heart, just as he has many other supernaturals. And for the first time in days, Memnon’s magic is working on me.

He seems to sense it too.

“No,” he says, abject horror written on his face as his eyes frantically search mine. “NO!” he roars. But his hands don’t release me and his magic doesn’t taper off.

I sense my heart stutter as more of Memnon’s magic moves through me. It snakes around and around my heart, then tightens its hold.

I didn’t think soul mates were capable of killing each other, but as my heart begins to lose its rhythm, I think that maybe I was wrong. Or maybe that wine Eislyn gave me broke my connection to Memnon just enough to allow this.

The sorcerer’s expression is horrified, panicked.

“Fight back,” he commands, his hand at my throat squeezing insistently. “Damnit, est amage, FIGHT ME!”