Lord of Embers(The Demon Queen Trials #2)(9)

A thorny silence stretched out between us. “If you truly believe you are not Mortana, it is because you have erased your own memory. You once told me about the very spell that could make it happen. You offered it to me.”

. Frustration ignited. “No. I remember my life as a child. I F u ck

remember sitting in my mom’s lap and having a stuffed lion named Leroy.”

“How adorable. Too bad those memories are not real.”

The world tilted beneath my feet. “No. That’s not possible.” The idea that my whole life had been false was too disturbing for me to dwell on for longer than a moment. “Look, I don’t know who exactly I am, but that’s why I’m here in this house. I’m looking for answers. Maybe I’m Mortana’s sister, but several hundred years younger.”

“Hmm.” He was as still as stone, and dark heat radiated from his body. He pressed his finger against his lips, his eyebrows knitted. “I suppose you also think you are both Lightbringers with the same mark from Lucifer, both with fire magic. Identical. Interesting theory. Except that’s not how sisters work, is it?”

“I’m not her!” My voice rose.

“And if you were an identical twin,” he went on, ignoring me, “you’d also be four hundred years old. But you say that you’re not. Nor are you a mortal doppelg?nger, clearly.” He stepped closer, and I felt his sinister power thrum over my skin. “Sorry, love. I don’t believe you, and I’m afraid the oath compels me to end your life.”

My mind spun. I was back to square one with Orion. Now he was sure I was the one who’d tortured him and killed his family.

And—okay. He was right. Sisters didn’t look identical. But my memories were so real, so specific. The nights I needed Mom to lie in bed and rub my back when I had nightmares. The time I’d pissed myself at Nina McCarthy’s birthday and had to go home early. The time I’d chewed on the back of a pen in class, and it had exploded in my mouth. A messy kiss sophomore year with a boy named Jeff who played the bassoon.

It couldn’t be magic—what the fuck kind of magical spell would make all that up?

I swallowed hard, my emotions churning like waves in a hurricane.

“There are two of us with Lucifer’s mark,” I said desperately. “Why couldn’t there be three? Something strange has happened, hasn’t it?

There should only be one destined monarch at a time. Otherwise, it makes no sense.”

No reaction to that line of reasoning, just a step closer from the Lord of Chaos.

Darkness slid through my bones, and I could hear my own heartbeat.

I was going to have to fight back against this pure wall of muscle, or I’d be dead. I had to tap into that predatory side, like I had before with the demon hunters.

Apart from my slow and steady breath, my body went completely still. A breeze rushed through the cracks in the window, toying with my hair. “I can see that there’s nothing I can say to convince you.”

My gaze swept over his brutal snake tattoo, the tail formed into a noose. Its dark, sinuous lines curved over his muscles. Shadows seemed to billow from him as he loomed over me. Intimidation was his kink.

“Why don’t you confess?” he purred. “Let it all out, Mortana.”

My heart was pounding so hard I felt like it was making the walls vibrate. His intense gaze penetrated me like he was trying to memorize each curve of my features.

“Well, well, well,” he said, his voice silky, “I see it in your eyes. Even you are not convinced. I can read the doubt there. You wonder if you’re evil. You wonder if you’re Mortana, and you simply cannot remember.”

My fingers tightened into fists. “You’re really starting to annoy me, do you know that? Always so confident that you’re right.”

Another slow step closer. “But do you know what I love?” he murmured.

“Let me guess,” I shot back. “Yourself? Reading smut. Being a big scary incubus with snake tattoos?”

He was at my throat before I could finish the next sentence, and he swiveled me around, pressing my back against the wall. Somehow, he’d done all this without hurting me. His fingers laced around my throat, but they didn’t squeeze.

His knee slid between my thighs, pinning me in place. His body was as heavy and solid as the wall behind me.

“Snake tattoos… ” He let out a low chuckle, but I saw no amusement in his eyes. “Ah, lovely Mortana. You are easier to pin down than you once would have been. Fragile, almost. Breakable, slow, and weak. You’ve lost that fighting spirit. But it seems you remember something from the past. Let’s go over why I got that snake tattoo, shall we?”

What the fuck was he talking about? Remember ?

w h at

I pulled at his wrist, trying to move his hand away from my throat.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I can see the tattoo for myself —that’s why I mentioned it. You like to intimidate, don’t you? Big, scary demon boy.”

His knee slid further between my thighs, and he stroked his thumb over the pulse in my throat, a languid, sultry movement that sent a strange, forbidden shiver through my body. What the hell?

His pale eyes were half-lidded, and he looked like he was in a trance as he gazed down at me.

Lowering his mouth to my ear, he whispered, “Confess, love. Let it all out. Have you been faking your memory loss? Do you remember everything? Do you remember the snakes?” He pulled back again to study my face, intently trying to read my expression. His eyes flickered, dark and heated.