Текст книги "Bespelled"

Автор книги: Laura Thalassa

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Текущая страница: 27 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

CHAPTER 52

The next morning, I wake to hands on my thighs. Those fingers dig into my skin.

Good morning, fiancée.

Memnon punctuates the words with a searing kiss to my clit, and I wake with a gasp. I nearly rise off the bed.

Memnon smiles against my sensitive flesh.

“I’ve decided, est amage, that as your husband, I’m going to make you come on my tongue at least once a day—maybe twice.”

“What?” I say dazedly. Last night returns to me then, but Memnon’s touch quickly eclipses the memories.

I begin to sit up, but the sorcerer pushes my torso back down, hauling my hips up closer to him.

“And since you can no longer command me,” he continues, “I’m going to control the pace of your orgasms, starting right now.”

Before I can respond or even come to grips with the fact that Memnon is holding my legs and ass like it’s his favorite teddy bear, the sorcerer kisses my clit again.

I cry out, my hands threading into his hair.

Memnon single-mindedly sucks on my clit, his tongue stroking the overly sensitive knot of flesh again and again.

The feeling is overwhelming.

Sensation is rising in me, and my core clenches uselessly.

“Memnon!” I sob out.

Est xsaya, he corrects. Say it, and you’ll get something besides just my mouth on your clit.

“Est xsaya,” I gasp out, hoping for a brief respite from the almost unbearable amount of stimulation coming from that nerve bundle between my thighs.

“Good woman.”

Again, I feel him smile against me, and his mouth moves down from my clit. If I thought, however, I’d get a break from the immense sensation, I assumed wrong. Memnon’s magic merely replaces his tongue, and it’s just as cunning, the blue power circling that knot of nerves again and again.

The sorcerer’s tongue circles my core before dipping inside.

He groans. “Missed the taste of your pussy.”

I’m writhing beneath him. I throw my head back. “Need you inside me.” It’s less a demand and more a plea.

“No,” he breathes against my skin. “Next time I come, you’ll be wearing white and I’ll be your husband.”

My breath hitches. Our unbreakable oath to marry—now that I’ve fallen for Memnon, it’s been enacted once more.

“But right now,” he continues, “you’ll come for me against my face like the good little witch you are.”

Maybe it’s Memnon’s confidence, or maybe I’m quite suggestable, or maybe I’m finally overwhelmed by sensation, but all it takes is another searing kiss of his and my orgasm shatters through me.

I cry out as I come, my fingers tightening in Memnon’s hair. I feel his grin as he greedily continues to eat me out through the aftershocks of my climax…and then beyond.

“Why aren’t you stopping?” I nearly weep the words out when it becomes clear he won’t.

There’s one more thing we’re going to do every day, he says down our bond as he feasts on me. I’m going to tell you I love you more than life itself, and you’re going to tell me those three magic words as well, starting today. And if you don’t, he continues, then I’ll simply eat you out until you do.

You are such a bastard.

He laughs against my pussy, causing me to cry out.

Yes, he agrees wholeheartedly. I am.

I gaze down the line of my body toward Memnon’s bowed head. “Look at me,” I command.

There’s no power behind the order, but still, my mate lifts his head, and his eyes meet mine.

“I love you, Memnon. I love you so much. And you don’t need to hold any part of me hostage to get me to say it. I love you.”

His bourbon eyes glitter as he bathes in my words. Finally, he releases my hips, and they drop limply down to the bed.

As I stare at him, I feel a tightness in my chest. I rub my sternum, but the pressure doesn’t go away.

Memnon notices.

“The magic from our unbreakable oath is taking root again,” he says softly. The sorcerer moves up my body. “I feel it too.” He dips his head and presses a kiss against my sternum. “Do you remember what that means?” he asks.

It feels like my heart has lodged itself in my throat. “It means,” I say softly, “we’re getting married today.”

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CHAPTER 53

Memnon leaves the room to make us coffee and tea and—judging by the sound of the gas burner igniting to life—a surprise breakfast. I feel like the emotions in me are too light and expansive to be contained beneath my skin.

So this is love.

I let out a happy little laugh that probably sounds like I’ve lost it just as Nero prowls into the room then unceremoniously hops onto the bed.

I take his furry face into my hands. “Can you believe I’m getting married?” My stomach flutters at the thought. Flutters!

Nero gives me a look that says, Yeah, no shit lady, no one’s surprised.

But I am caught off-guard in the best way possible. This oath was loathsome to me when I first made it, but now…now I feel oddly thrilled. I was married to Memnon once. He was an incredible husband then.

He will be an incredible husband again.

My phone buzzes from the nightstand, dragging me from my thoughts. I release Nero, who immediately proceeds to clean his face where I touched him, and I grab the phone. On the screen is a text from Kane.

Suddenly, all of last night slams back into me. The demon, the auction, the fight, Eislyn.

Selene, we need to talk in person.

Another text follows the first.

Now.

I sit up in bed, gathering the sheets to me.

It’s about Memnon.

My heart drops. I text back, my pulse beginning to rise.

Why?

I wait impatiently for him to respond.

You asked me to stick my neck out for you a week ago. I’m asking you to give me your time.

I reply:

Fine

Come to my place in thirty minutes.

I glance past Nero to where the sorcerer disappeared down the hallway. I can hear him humming some old Sarmatian song beneath his breath.

Memnon, I reach out down our bond. I have to go to my residence hall to grab a few things for…later today.

Rather than answering, Memnon pads back down the hallway, leaning against the doorframe to his bedroom. He wears only a pair of low-slung joggers, and the sight of his muscular, inked torso makes my knees go weak. A corner of his mouth is curled up into a soft smile.

His smoky amber eyes glitter as he takes me in. He’s looking at me with so much longing it makes my chest ache.

“Don’t be gone long, little witch,” he says. “I have a surprise for you before we say our vows.”

My heart beats a little harder.

This better be fucking good, Kane.

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CHAPTER 54

Though I haven’t been to my residence hall in a week, it’s as though nothing at all has changed—with the exception, perhaps, of the solitude. The house is much quieter and emptier than before. At first I simply assume that’s because the two beings that made this place feel full—Sybil and Nero—are not currently here, but then I realize there’s no cawing, screeching sounds from the various familiars that live here, nor are there any loud cackles from coven sisters. The murmured conversations I do hear are subdued. The house still smells, however, like comfort food. Today, it’s cinnamon rolls.

I drop my things off in my room and head downstairs to grab one when someone bangs the ever-loving shit out of our front door.

One guess who that might be.

I retrace my steps to the foyer and open the door. Standing on the other side of it is Kane.

“What are you doing trying to knock down my door like you’re the Big Bad Wolf?” I say.

He gives me a look. “That’s not funny.”

It’s a little funny, but I keep that to myself. Last night obviously made everybody lose their sense of humor.

Despite the chill in the air, Kane wears only a tank top, jogging shorts, and tennis shoes. His sandy blond hair looks windblown.

“Did you run here?” I ask, holding the door open for him to come in.

The lycanthrope steps inside, his body rolling like a wolf on the prowl.

“Did you know?” he demands.

My heart beats loudly. There are a number of sensitive topics I know about that I likely shouldn’t.

“Know what?” I say innocently enough. A moment later, I hold up a hand. “Wait. I’m not ready to have this conversation until I get some breakfast in me.” Namely coffee.

“Selene,” Kane protests, an impatient growl rumbling in his throat.

I give him an amused look. “That growl might’ve worked on me before I met a demon.” I grab his hand. “Come on.”

I feel his surprise at the touch, then his own grip tightens on mine. I can’t see his face, but the alpha who bristles under others’ orders now lets me lead him into my house’s dining hall.

“You met a demon?” Kane echoes.

“Just for a little bit,” I say evasively. That’s an entire separate conversation, one that will likely ruin my appetite.

In my house’s dining hall, fresh fruit sits out next to a tray of glistening cinnamon rolls, the frosting still dripping down them.

I release the shifter’s hand to grab two plates. Ignoring the fruit altogether, I dish out a cinnamon roll for each of us, then hand Kane the plates.

“Go sit down,” I say, nodding to one of the tables in the empty room behind us. “Also, do you like coffee or tea?”

“Christ, Selene, I just want to talk.”

My sternum throbs, constricting a little tighter. The unbreakable oath I made to Memnon is starting to become uncomfortable.

“Listen, Kane, last night was rough, and I need some semblance of normal at the moment, so please go sit the fuck down while I brew you something.”

He growls at the order.

“Go.” I give him a push.

He growls again but reluctantly heads to one of the wooden tables.

I grab two colorful mugs stacked next to a coffee maker and fill each of them up with steaming coffee. On a whim, I add cream to both. No clue if Kane even likes coffee or cream, but I’m beyond caring.

Coffees in hand, I head over to the table where Kane waits, looking very much like a caged wolf. His leg bounces impatiently.

“Goddess, you are so loud with your emotions,” I say. I hand him a mug and settle myself down. “Now, what was so important that you had to meet me in person to tell me?”

Kane stares at me for a long time as though he’s sizing me up.

“What?” I say, shifting in my seat a little.

“Did you know?” he says again.

“Know what?” I ask, taking a sip of coffee.

“About Luca Fortuna’s estate?”

My throat tightens at the name of the sorcerer. “What are you talking about?” I say, searching his eyes. “Why would I care about that bastard’s estate?”

Again, that long, assessing stare. His nostrils flare.

“Are you scenting me?” I ask, raising my eyebrows. “What’s going on?”

“He named a business successor.”

“Okay…?” I say uncertainly.

Kane leans forward. “Luca Fortuna was the sole owner of Ensanguine Enterprises, the multimillion-dollar conglomerate. Besides his three now deceased children, he had a wife and two mistresses. And that is not even taking into consideration his extended family or the half-dozen close confidantes he was grooming for future roles in the company.”

Clearly Kane has done his homework on the family since we’ve been apart.

The shifter levels a look at me, one that desperately makes me want to look away. “Guess who Luca named to inherit his empire?”

Some sick emotion wells up in me. “You told me this was about Memnon.”

“It is.”

Kane reaches into the pocket of his running shorts and pulls out his phone. He taps on the screen, then slides the device over to me. I stare down at an image of a document titled “Ensanguine Enterprises Board of Directors Meeting Minutes.”

“Look right there,” Kane says, reaching across the table to point to a section of the page titled Succession Plan. “Read what it says.”

My eyes scan the text.

In the case of Luca Fortuna’s death, the leadership of Ensanguine Enterprises passes to Leonard Fortuna, Sophia Fortuna, Juliana Fortuna, and Memnon Uvagukis.

I can’t breathe for a second.

“Luca Fortuna named your mate as the heir to his company,” Kane says. “Along with, of course, his three legal children, who are all now conveniently dead.”

Horror trickles down my spine.

Kane studies me, his nostrils flared. “You really didn’t know,” he finally says, like he only now believes it.

“Where did you get this?” I ask.

“Ensanguine Enterprises is a publicly traded company. The succession plan was made public a few hours ago, and one of my pack mates brought it to our alpha’s attention.”

I press a hand to the tightness in my chest and shake my head. “I don’t…understand.”

Only, I do. I understand the killing, the claiming. That was all a part of the Sarmatian ethos two thousand years ago. A king didn’t just defeat an enemy; he moved in and acquired his land and wealth.

Kane sighs, his whole body relaxing. He runs his hands through his tousled hair.

“Memnon didn’t destroy the Fortunas’ empire last night. He took it over.”

The unbreakable oath’s magic cinches tighter around my windpipe. It now feels uncomfortably like a noose.

Est amage, Memnon calls down our bond, breaking through my thoughts, I hope you’re ready. It’s time to get married.

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COMING SOON

Keep a lookout for the third and final book in the Bewitched series!

Bewitched #3

Coming 2025

Be sure to check out

The Curse that Binds (Bewitched #2.5)

where Memnon and Selene’s story first begins.

Coming Soon

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THANK YOU FOR READING!

As always, I am so grateful to share my worlds and characters with you.

If you enjoyed this book or any of my others, you can sign up for my newsletter here to get notifications on future releases as well as bonus content and more.

I always appreciate ratings and reviews, so thank you in advance if you decide to give this book one.

Much love and happy reading!

XO,

Laura

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ALSO BY LAURA THALASSA

The Four Horsemen

Pestilence

War

Famine

Death

The Bargainer

Rhapsodic

A Strange Hymn

The Emperor of Evening Stars

The Fallen World

The Queen of All that Dies

The Queen of Traitors

The Queen of All that Lives

The Unearthly

The Unearthly

The Coveted

The Cursed

The Forsaken

The Damned

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

If I could describe my feelings about Bespelled in a single sound bite, I would say this book was pure indulgence. It is full of scenes that made me thrill and seethe and tense and swoon. While there was a satisfying flow to the book, it wasn’t necessarily easy to write. I have a book’s worth of removed lines and scenes, bits and pieces of Bespelled that weren’t quite right so I had to cast them aside.

The one person who listened to me through the entire life of Bespelled—from its inception to its conclusion—is my husband, Daniel. It’s strange to give thanks to what has become such a fundamental part of our relationship, like thanking a friend for having the same interests as you. But I want to thank you anyway, because I am eternally grateful for the weekly—if not daily—chats about stories and writing and all the beautiful places it takes us. I’m thankful to always, always have your support, for this book and all the others, and for the fact that you celebrate my wins as though they were your own. I love you—may it be forever.

To my agent Kimberly, I don’t know what good deed I did to get to work with you, but I am beyond fortunate and so grateful for all the love and support you pour into my books. Thank you to Aimee, who lost sleep over this book so she could give me feedback.

Christa Désir, you are incredible at what you do, and you’re an absolute delight to work with. Thank you for the wicked good feedback. Your excitement and belief in my stories is so, so humbling.

Sabrina Baskey, thank you for making this book sing! I appreciated each one of your comments and revisions. You truly added the polish to Bespelled.

Naomi, you were the first official reader to get Bespelled, and you not only managed to bring the book together with your feedback, your genuine excitement for Bespelled and your bookish updates while reading it have stayed with me since you read it.

A huge shout-out goes to my mom, who stayed with me during the end of my edits simply so that I could get them done in time. I’m going to try not to get weepy about this, but the truth is that it meant a lot to me. I love you, Mama. Thank you.

A big, heartfelt thank you goes to my dad, whose brain I picked about succession plans. And a secondary thank you goes once again to my husband, who reassured me a retrofitted skyscraper in San Francisco would remain standing even after a portal to hell ripped through part of its foundations. I’m sure your architecture professors back at Berkeley are super proud you could use your knowledge for such important and sobering matters.

I want to thank my family as a whole for supporting me in so many ways during this book’s journey. There were so many shared posts and so much love showered on me, and I’m honestly still moved by it.

To my lovely kiddos, though you both in the most literal sense did not help with the book, you helped quiet the mess of my mind and gave me your laughter and your curiosity and sweet mischief.

To Janett, Kel, Patricia, Lacey, and so many others—thank you for loving this series and believing in me and reaching out to me even though I’m a writing gremlin who is terrible at communication. I deeply appreciate all the love and excitement you’ve shown.

Lastly, thank you, dear reader, for taking a chance on my books and my characters. I will forever be grateful for the opportunity to share my stories with you.

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