I’d only said that to get across the villa’s threshold to spring my trap! I hadn’t truly intended to talk to him. It was pointless. I couldn’t tell him the truth, and he was too damn clever for me to get away with lying to him.
My need to stall caused me to do what I never allowed myself to do: fall back into memories of what the Parthenon had looked like when it was new, its columns whole and gleaming under the bright Grecian sun instead of highlighted by artificial lights in its ruined state.
Then I rewound to centuries before that and the smaller, far less impressive temple that pre-dated it. I rewound to several millenniums before that, when this mount was empty and the city was nothing more than some sparsely populated wooden huts.
When I blinked, the sight of the Parthenon’s long-standing ruins caused all my years to crash back into me. As I struggled between then and now, my sire’s oft-repeated warning rang in my head. You must never allow yourself to be consumed by the ancient past. Countless aged among our kind have lost themselves to madness that way. Always focus on the present. Speak the modern language. Wear modern clothing. Think with modern thoughts. That is the only way you’ll survive, Veritas . . .
I’d heeded Tenoch’s advice in all ways but one. I couldn’t let my many tortures and executions stay buried in the sands of what was now modern-day Iraq. Instead, I’d sworn that one day, Dagon would pay for all the people he’d tortured and murdered, myself included. More than four thousand years later, I was still dealing with the repercussions of that promise.
Now, so was Ian.
“There’s nothing crueler than time,” I murmured. “It stretches when you’re in pain, flies away if you’re happy, and crushes you when you remember all the years that are now gone.”
Ian seemed surprised by the change of subject. Then, his gaze became hooded. “True. And every so often, time can also be stolen from you. It was from me, and I won’t stop until I’ve recovered every bit of it.”
I let out a short laugh. “Then those ‘migraines’ you’re so dismissive of will be the least of your problems. You don’t want to know everything you’ve forgotten, but I will tell you this—Dagon has no claim on your soul any longer. It’s yours again.”
His brows rose. “Demon deals are unbreakable unless the demon dies. Are you saying that Dagon is dead?”
“I wish,” I said with feeling. Then I retreated into my icy Law Guardian persona. “Dagon’s deal with you has been nullified. The details are unimportant. What is important is that you’re free, so take your freedom and go.”
His gaze gleamed with green highlights. “There are many words I’d use to describe marriage. ‘Free’ isn’t one of them.”
“Whose fault is that?” I snapped, before composing myself again. “I have no intention of asserting my rights over you. I’m sure you feel the same way about me. That makes our marriage nothing more than an unfortunate technicality.”
He tapped his chin. “Not sure I agree. I wanted to rip Xun Guan’s head off over how she incessantly eye-humped you. The more the merrier, I usually say with lovers, but I seem to be jealous and possessive over you.”
I covered my shock at that with more chilly deflection. “What makes you think we were lovers?”
His grin was everything that made Ian unforgettable. “Oh, I have many of those memories.” Then his voice deepened. “Though sometimes, I wonder if they’re real.”
“Why?” I shouldn’t have asked. Why had I? Maybe Mencheres’s truth spell on me from earlier hadn’t worn off yet.
He came nearer, brushing my arms with the lightest of strokes, which still caused shivers to race over me. “Because nothing that good could possibly be real,” he murmured, and bent his head.
I turned away before his mouth touched mine. Then I pushed him back. Doing both took all of my strength.
“Your memories are wrong,” I said, proving Mencheres’s spell was no longer affecting me as that was a lie. So was what I said next. “During our brief alliance, yes, we had sex to break up the monotony of laying out our trap for Dagon, but it was nothing exceptional. Once we’d both gotten what we wanted from Dagon, we were glad to part ways with each other.”
Ian’s brows had risen at the start of my heartless rendition. By the end of it, they were almost in his hairline.