The Warlord

by Gena Showalter

  When she pivoted to face him, he kicked the door shut, sealing the two of them inside.

  “Okay, Mr. Drama Queen.” Was she supposed to cower now that they were alone? Why not test his reflexes? After all, he hadn’t even bothered to discard her weapons.

  She strolled closer, grateful she’d taken Neeka’s advice and trained at the hands of a sensual master. Voice throaty, she asked, “Whatever do you plan to do with me?”

  “Whatever I want.” He stalked closer, as well...only to bypass her without ever making contact.

  Jerk! “I’m assuming the whatever I want goes both ways?”

  He snorted. A starting bell. Taliyah didn’t bother pondering the best attack. She simply grabbed a dagger and slammed the blade into his brain stem. Except, he twisted and latched on to her wrist, stopping her before she made contact.

  Their gazes connected, her breath hitching.

  “There’s something you should know,” he told her, utterly calm and casual. “I sense the slightest thrum of aggression.”

  “Are you saying I inadvertently broadcasted my intentions?”

  Nod.

  “Something to work on, then.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Drop the dagger.”

  “No, thanks.” She gripped the hilt tighter.

  “Drop it.”

  “No. Obviously, I have a point to prove.” Nothing would stop her. Not now, not ever.

  He squeezed her wrist, and it hurt. Tomorrow she’d wear his bruises. Still she held on with all her might.

  “This bedroom is our neutral zone. Attacks aren’t allowed in here.” He punctuated every word. “I’m not angered by your actions—yet. You didn’t know. Now you do. Next time... Do not let there be a next time.” His tone sharpened into an audible blade. “Drop the dagger, Taliyah. Now.”

  Not angered by her actions yet? Liar, liar. The man seethed. “Sorry,” she quipped, “but this is a therapy dagger. The law says I get to take it everywhere, no questions asked.”

  He stepped closer, entering her personal space until the blade rested against his collarbone. Teeth clenched, he told her, “Listen well, harpy. From this moment on, my law is your law. If I must remove your hand to oversee your cooperation, I will.”

  The most delicious warmth radiated from him, threatening to weaken her resolve. As a phantom and snake, she existed in a state of total cold, regardless of the situation. She didn’t like it, but what could she do? How did this man continue to heat her up, something Hades, a king of Hell, had never managed?

  “Does anyone ever disobey you?” she asked conversationally.

  “Never more than once.”

  Arrogant male. Sexy. Too bad, so sad. I will make him concede.

  Her sexuality worked before. Why mess with perfection? “Are you saying...” She flattened her other palm on his pectoral. “...that you don’t want me to touch you?”

  The muscle jerked, drawing her gaze. Down she looked. Along the way, a moving tattoo snagged her attention.

  Dizziness invaded, and she groaned. Not this again.

  She tried to tear her gaze away. Too late. A new memory claimed center stage...

  A trembling banshee stands before a massive black altar. A savage wind gusts, dancing locks of red hair before her face as the hem of her ivory gown billows. Tears well in her beautiful eyes. She bows her head, defeated, and climbs atop the altar, where she stretches out. A sob leaves her.

  Behind the altar is a silent crowd. The black-robed man occupies the center, set apart from the others. The same two females stand at his sides. Erebus is feet away, seething with fury, an army of phantoms fanned out behind him. Each embodied female wears a somber black gown.

  Alaroc approaches the banshee and places a hand just over her heart. “You have served me well, female. Worry not. Your death will be painless.” Apologetic words, monotone voice.

  The banshee sniffles and croaks, “Please, don’t do this.”

  “You were dead the moment you wed me. You knew this. I made no secret of it.”

  In the distance, a bell tolls the midnight hour. Ding.

  He maintains his stance, his hand pressed against her, and the banshee whimpers. Then... Black lines spread through her pale skin. Ding.

  She goes quiet. Her eyes close, and her head lolls to the side. Ding.

  A strange blue glow shoots from Alaroc. A near-blinding pulse that blasts from his being. Ding.

  The light fades, revealing—

  Taliyah gasped. The banshee had turned to stone. That stone crumbled into ash. Handfuls of it floated up and twirled away.

  As the memory dulled, a final ding sounding, she tightened her grip on the dagger. Did Alaroc plan to ash Taliyah at month’s end? She knew she’d recover from the loss of any limb or internal organ; she’d survived a myriad of poisons, starvation and any number of other horrors. But stoning and ashing? Could she recover from something like that?

  Yes, yes. Of course. She’d even survived a beheading!

  Reveal nothing. Batting her lashes, she asked, “Do the Astra Planeta ash all their wives, or did I luck out and marry the best one?”

  “Release. The. Blade.”

  “Why do you stone and ash your wives?” she asked, resting her free hand over the other. A double hold. Take that!

  He scowled. “Stone and ash prevent anyone from coming along and reviving the body or spirit, undoing the sacrifice.”

  She gulped. “How do you kill non-wives?”

  “With a three-blade. A weapon made of trinite. Most of my enemies are phantoms.”

  Trinite? The special weapon, most likely. She could guess the trio involved. Fireiron, demonglass and cursedwood. “And what does trinite do to phantoms? Because I’ve never heard of it, and I’m something of a weapon aficionado.”

  “Trinite bestows the final death to phantoms, causing their bodies to evaporate into nothing.” Without a pause, he added, “Release the blade.”

  The fingers curled in, a defensive action to guard her enchanted ring. Alaroc could never learn she was a phantom.

  Had she come back from the dead after tangling with the toxic trio? Yes. The first time. Would she revive a second time? Her mother didn’t think so.

  Dude. “So how long have you been getting your little Rocs off by murdering brides?”

  A flicker in his irises. “My brides died for a purpose, with honor.”

  Had she struck a nerve? “Dying with honor cannot trump living with it. Soon, I’ll prove it to you.”

  Another flicker in those golden eyes. “Each death saved countless lives. Without the Astra, phantoms would roam the worlds unchecked, feasting on everyone they encounter.”

  “So the sacrifice to your god and your survival are connected. Good to know.”

  Oh, he didn’t like that he’d revealed more than he’d intended, she could tell. Once again, he tightened his grip. “My patience wears thin, harpy.”

  Ripples of pain shot up her arm, each stronger than the last. Inhale. Exhale. “Why do you hate phantoms so much? Word is, they’re just mindless spooks controlled by a master.”

  Malice contorted his features. “Phantoms are parasites. Being fed on...” His lips curled in disgust. “Pray you never experience such a horror. There’s no worse sensation.” He squeezed with more force. “Although, losing a hand might come close.”

  Ouch—in more ways than one. He hated phantoms beyond reason. So much he might kill a phantom bride before her time was up...

  She had to go at him with her biggest guns, then. Her own phantom abilities.

  Astra hunting season kicked off today. Duration: thirty days. Method: any available weaponry. No daily bag limit.

  A game plan formed. Tonight, she would feed on Alaroc. Mindless phantoms couldn’t hide their feeding. Taliyah could. She could drain him to death while he sl
ept, unaware of his impending doom. Or try to drain him to death. He was a big guy with a lot of power, and her body had a threshold. She could only contain what she had room to contain. If she failed to drain him to death, she’d have to settle for weakening him. Let him fade slowly without ever understanding why.

  “That’s it?” Ignore the pain. By strength of will alone, she maintained an uncaring expression. “That’s your big beef with phantoms? They sucked your soul a little too hard? Wow. Sensitive much?”

  He ran his tongue over straight pearly whites. “Phantoms are an extension of their master, a god who has overseen the Astra’s suffering for more than twenty thousand years. We’ve endured ambushes, losses, abuses and untold agonies.” He bent down, putting the tip of his nose against hers. “I’m done answering your questions. I’ll tell you about myself instead, for you should know the beast you provoke. I’ll put myself and my men first in all ways, at all times. If that means burning a world and everyone in it to the ground, so be it. I’ve never been a hero. I’ve never wanted to be. I make a better villain. To me, women are receptacles, one the same as another. Sometimes a female isn’t even as good as my hand.”

  Unfazed, she told him, “I’m certain bad lovers everywhere agree with you. No wonder you have to pay for it.”

  He huffed a breath. “You’ll find it difficult to push me to my limit, but woe to you if ever you near it. I can cause you pain in any way imaginable. I won’t constrain myself to your punishment, either. I’ll visit your crimes upon your loved ones. So, now that you know me better, do explain why you continue to hold a dagger on neutral ground.”

  “Because I can.” If he wanted the dagger out of her hand, he’d have to break her wrist and pry it out. And even then he’d have a fight.

  “Taliyah—”

  “I’d rather die,” she snapped.

  With an animalistic snarl, he released her.

  Pressure on her bones released all at once, sharper pains rushing up her arm, but Taliyah practically floated on clouds. She’d won a third round with the Commander.

  I’ve got this. I’m unstoppable!

  He stalked into the closet. In no way, shape or form did he look remotely civilized. No, he looked... Oh, man. She hated to say it, but he looked good. Very, very good. She’d never had a thing for beards but...

  I might have a new fetish.

  Okay, so maybe Taliyah was high from victory. Which was strange. Usually, her dissatisfaction returned in seconds.

  He emerged from the closet with a small crystal in hand. “Anytime you wish to see the harpies in the duplicate realm, hold this.” In the center of the spacious bedroom, he stopped and extended his arm, offering the crystal.

  She glanced from the crystal to the calculated smile-not-smile playing at the corners of his lips. His entire being screamed, Come and get it.

  Oh, that burned. He knew he held something she wanted, and he was forcing her to close the distance in a willing act of submission. The warlord had her, and they both knew it.

  Left with no other choice, she sheathed her dagger and marched across the distance. No use putting off the inevitable. He smirked when she snatched the crystal.

  Heavier than she’d expected. She shook it, frowned and shook it again. Uh... “What do I do with it?”

  “You must only peer into it.”

  Really? Suspicious, she held the crystal to her eye and—Oh, wow! Okay. Taliyah gazed into a whole new world. Forty harpies in different stages of healing slept on cots in a large room. Wait. This room? She seemed to be standing in the middle of a body.

  With a yelp, she hopped to the side. Her movement changed the crystal’s angle, blurring the other world and real life together. They were so different, yet exactly the same.

  Were they the same? Was she seeing into the duplicate realm from where she stood? Did it matter? A duplicate realm was still just a realm. Anyone with a key possessed the means to enter.

  Taliyah tweaked her mission objective. Find a key to save harpykind, kill Alaroc.

  Through the crystal, she watched as an Astra strode through her new husband’s body. A warlord she hadn’t seen before. So far, she’d clocked six of the nine her mother had mentioned.

  The new guy gently lifted a sleeper and carried her out of the bedroom.

  “Hey!” Taliyah shouted, ready to give chase. “What are you doing with her? Put her down!”

  “He can’t hear you. I’m sure he’s merely taking her to a healer to speed up her recovery. My men are under strict orders. None will disobey.”

  That she kind of believed. Taliyah searched the faces of the remaining harpies, on the hunt for Blythe or Isla. No luck. “Everyone is resting so soundly, despite their injuries.”

  “They’re in hibernation.”

  “Hibernation?” She seriously needed a better understanding of the man she’d just agreed to battle to the death. “Explain.”

  Alaroc turned, silent, presenting her with his back, making it clear he’d meant what he’d said; the guy didn’t fear her in the slightest. Worse, he all but dared her to attack him in the no-go zone.

  Was this a test?

  He unsheathed and tossed several daggers upon the bed. Oh, yeah. Definitely a test.

  “If you’re planning to put me into hibernation for the month—”

  “I’ll take your life, harpy, but I won’t take your right to choose your end. Surrender or fight me. You decide.”

  Never in a million years would she admit this aloud, but he’d just made her heart leap. His ferocity convinced her he’d meant what he’d said. He was offering her a fair fight.

  The best warrior would win.

  Okay, so, that was kind of burn-the-house-down sexy. Peering at him, considering the challenge and the victory, she felt every pulse in her body, blood rushing through her veins as if a dam had burst wide open. Not a hint of dissatisfaction.

  Leaving his weapons on the bed, he headed for the door, grating, “I’ll be eating in the dining room in an hour. If you’d like to join me, you may. If you’d prefer to avoid me, you may. As with everything, the choice is yours. What you won’t do is surprise me. I’m prepared, whatever you decide.” He exited, shutting the door behind him.

  Where was he going and why? She would find out.

  While she yearned to scour the palace for Blythe and Isla, she had to seize any opportunity to learn more about her opponent.

  A pre-General had to make tough calls, putting the good of the people above everything, even family. Besides, if Alaroc had told the truth, Nissa was the sole casualty. Which meant Blythe and Isla were resting. Healing, even.

  Maybe she’d luck out and Alaroc would reveal a key to the duplicate realm. What if he revealed a weakness or vice? Or lied? He might be on his way to his concubine even now.

  I must know.

  This phantom was going to risk big and spy in a palace filled with phantom assassins...

  6

  Roc could’ve flashed to the throne room, appearing in an instant, but he opted to walk and ponder the mystery of Taliyah Skyhawk. The harpy might prove a tad more tempting than his other brides. The languid way she moved. The inherent rasp in her voice. The permanent glint of wickedness in those ocean-water eyes. She possessed a core of iron, and he found himself more intrigued than before. A strange state he didn’t like... because he liked it.

  He was a male who had reduced war to a series of chores and checklists, winning hundreds of worlds without a problem or hardship. Yet a harpy dared to hold on to a dagger, forcing him to break her wrist or retreat, and he developed a permanent hard-on?

  The look she’d given him as he’d squeezed her wrist had shocked him. Taliyah the Terror of All Lands had very clearly preferred to lose a hand than a battle.

  He should have followed through. He’d warned her; empty threats would only make things worse for him. But..
. What right did he have to punish such bravery?

  Now, however, she’d earned gloating rights. She’d forced an Astra to retreat. The Commander, no less. On day one. During hour one. Twice! As her frostberry scent had invaded his nose, she’d left him trembling like a lad. He’d reveled as a flush spread over her skin, his heat chasing away her cold.

  Where was his titanium core?

  From now on, he needed to be stern with Taliyah. No more touching her. No more kissing, no matter how badly he craved her sweetness. The woman schemed to oversee his murder, nothing more. Who wouldn’t want to save their people and lead the Astra? He fully expected an ambush before the end of the day. Perhaps even an impressive ambush.

  What would she do?

  Steps suddenly lighter, Roc entered the throne room. The place was empty, as expected. Ian had the unique ability to flash entire armies at once. An ability he used each time Roc shepherded a new bride away. The soldiers were transported beyond the trinite wall, allowing the rest of his men to deposit the rejected harpies into a cell in the dungeon.

  The wall acted as a first line of defense against Erebus and his phantoms. When combined in such large quantities, fireiron, demonglass and cursedwood emitted waves of energy, creating a dome-like sphere of protection impossible for the living dead to bypass.

  —Ian.—Roc projected. Astra often spoke into each other’s minds, either collectively or individually. Sender’s choice.

  —Yes, Commander. You desire your report, I’m sure.—His brother’s tone carried bite today.

  Understandable. Once the first Commander, now the least ranked. Though eons had passed, he’d never forgotten the taste of power. Who could? The weddings served as a reminder of what Ian had lost.

  His brother told him, —Halo now patrols the wall. No sign of soulsuckers yet. Silver is working on your personal project, and Roux guards the harpies in the dungeon. I’m working on palace fortifications.—

  Halo Phaninon, the Ringed One, was a disciplined warrior and master strategist. With an array of mystical objects, he kept watch over the entire realm, both inside and outside the palace.