Page 139 of Bedeviled

“You will not leave me,” he commands against my lips, backing us up until I bump into a tree. “Not to the likes of Eislyn or the Hungering Ones or anyone else,” he says, slipping into Sarmatian. “Or else I will chain you to our bed and leave you there to deal with my anger until it is satiated—and, my queen, my anger is never satiated.”

I shiver at the dark threat, yet the chill sliding through me has nothing to do with fear.

I kiss Memnon harder, twining my arms around his neck. He lifts one of my legs, wrapping it around his waist, then the other, and I think that maybe he’s planning on recreating our forest tryst from Samhain night.

Instead, he turns and begins carrying me back to the house.

“Where are we going?” I breathe against him.

Memnon’s power has retreated, turning his eyes back to their normal smoky amber hue.

“Oh, don’t worry, little witch,” he responds against my lips, “I still intend to punish you. But not while your nose and feet are cold.”

I nearly laugh at the sentiment. Back in Sarmatia, a night like this was hardly cold—he and I both know that.

“You’ve become a big softy,” I tease, playing with his hair.

“Say that again when my cock is buried inside you,” he dares me, but he’s smiling fondly down at me.

I laugh against him, tightening my hold on his neck and waist.

The sound makes his grin grow larger, and I catch a glimpse of his wolfish canines. And I kiss him again because staring at him makes me feel like I can fly.

“This is the sweetness that I killed armies for,” he whispers against my lips, his breath misting around us. His expression turns pleading as he pulls away. “I cannot lose you, little witch. You are my everything.”

I stroke his face. “I’m not going anywhere. I swear it.”

“Good,” he says. His happy expression falls away. “I wasn’t just coming out here to find you. I also have important news.”

I raise my eyebrows. “What is it?”

“I found Eislyn in the Fortuna’s ledger,” Memnon says grimly, “and her involvement in the trafficking ring is worse than we suspected.”

CHAPTER 33

I see just how bad Eislyn’s involvement is the next day.

Watery morning light shines in through the glass panes of Memnon’s penthouse office as I sit perched on the edge his desk. Memnon looms over his workspace, his chair kicked away, the Fortunas’ terrible ledger open.

Memnon leafs through it, page after page of names flashing by, many of them crossed out. I try not to wince when I remember just what Memnon has been doing to break the forced bonds listed in this book.

“Here she is.” He stops at a particular page, placing his finger on a single row, and I read the name of this Fortuna client.

Willow Westward.

Another pseudonym.

I glance up at Memnon. “You’re sure it’s her?”

He nods. “Look her up.”

I pull out my phone and search for her name on the Internet. And there, buried in the search result images is Eislyn, clad in a black business suit, a pair of glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, a benign smile on her face.

Next to the image it says, “Willow Westward, CEO and Chairman of Sygil Technologies.”

Hell’s spells.

My attention returns to the ledger, where her bonds are listed. There is just one. Adan Quintana.