Page 163 of Bedeviled

In the dim moonlight, I see the shine of his eyes as he gazes down at me.

“It’s alright,” he says softly. “I’ve got you.”

“I had a bad dream,” I whisper.

I think I did at least. I cannot actually remember the details of it, but the fear…the fear was so powerful that I feel the echo of it even now, it’s clawed grip still sunk into my sternum.

But Memnon, at least, feels real, solid. And ever so slowly my galloping heart settles, even if the fear isn’t fully gone.

Strange, how it lingers.

The sorcerer pets my hair back fondly. “I’ve got you,” he says again. “Go back to sleep, my love. You’re safe.”

They’re silly little words, and yet I relax at them. It should be impossible to fall asleep, given the dread still holding fast to me, but in Memnon’s arms, even that is drowned out by the all-encompassing security I feel being right here, at his side.

And with that final thought, I drift off.

MEMNON

It wasn’t a dream.

If I were a halfway decent man, I might’ve admitted that to Selene up front.

But I’m not a halfway decent man. Not even a slightly decent one. I’m a wretched monster with a soul mate.

It’s an ethical dilemma.

I watch Selene fall asleep, stroking her hair idly as I hold her against me. Once I’m sure she’s out, my gaze rises to the windows.

Outside, at the edge of the back lawn, a legion of demons gather, waiting. They’ve gotten through my outermost wards and enchantments, and though they haven’t broken through the rings of spells that wrap more tightly around the house, it’s clear that if they’ve gotten this far, they can and likely will break through the rest of them, though they’re not battering at the wards yet.

Instead, the demons stand unnaturally still, their slitted pupils focused on this bedroom. I’ve laid specific enough enchantments to know they cannot see Selene and me even if we were to stand right at the glass window, but I’m sure they can sense us. Smell our blood. Perhaps even hear the rush of our pulses.

They are what stoked Selene’s fear when she woke, as well as my own, and I’m certain they’re here for her.

Gently, I slide my wife off my chest and settle her next to me. Selene’s not deeply asleep, and for a moment she stirs.

I release my magic, letting it settle over her. It does not work on her the same way it used to, but the mere brush of it against her skin seems to be enough to soothe her back to sleep.

I listen to her soft exhalations. I should feel little—so much of me has deadened as my power has grown—but with my soul mate, my queen, the intensity of my feelings is still hard to breathe around. I live in terror that one day my power might claim that, too.

Quietly, I slip out of bed and pull on a shirt and pants. My fear still lingers, but a rush of battle-bred euphoria eclipses it.

If these creatures knew how much I craved slicing into their skin, they might not have dared to come as near as they have.

Anger burns in my chest. That is the most worrisome emotion of all. If I cannot control my feelings, then I cannot control my increasingly erratic power. And if I lose control of that, I cannot always hold on to my mind.

Shoes go on next. Then silently I move to the closet, releasing the smallest spark of magic to illuminate the space. Tucked away on one of the back shelves is my weaponry.

I grab my sheathed daggers and the belt rolled up around them, and I fit them to my waist. Set farther back on the shelf is a leather harness and the sword that’s secured neatly into it. I strap that around my chest, my sword hilt peeking from above a shoulder blade. The heavy, familiar weight of it steadies me.

I exhale, then head out, pausing only briefly to reach out and trail my fingers over my wife’s hair, afraid if I touch anything else, she’ll stir.

I love you, my queen. I’ll be right back. You won’t even miss me. I know she cannot hear me, and yet I still press the words across our connection.

When I go to leave the room, Nero lifts his head from his bed.

“Stay,” I say softly raising a placating hand. “Selene should have you here with her.”