The Warlord

by Gena Showalter

  As he’d peered down at her in the belt, he’d felt invincible. A heady sensation. He’d only craved more.

  Fighting with her was exhilarating. She possessed incredible skill, speed and a cruel streak. His balls ached from repeated contact with her knee. Yet undeniable pleasure had consumed him every time he’d touched her. Her lush femininity had beguiled him.

  When he’d pinned her, ribbons of silver-white hair had spilled over the pillows. Beneath the dress, her nipples had puckered, the ridge of the piercing daring him to pinch and suck hard. As his body had burned a flush into her skin, his resistance had crumbled.

  The temptress made him crave more, more, more.

  He’d yearned to kiss her a second time. Had longed to thrust his fingers deep and bring her to a swift climax. Just one. Her last. As her husband, he owned that climax.

  Possessive again? He cursed. Already she worked her wiles on him. The true danger of a snakeshifter. They schemed and maneuvered and lured. You never realized you’d crossed your own boundaries until it was too late.

  Had Solar felt torn apart like this?

  Roc stomped to the closet—non-dramatically—to armor up. No more thoughts of Taliyah. Tonight, he guarded the wall. Phantoms usually showed up the day after his wedding.

  As he selected the night’s arsenal, he blasted a command to all of his men.

  —Report.—

  Halo spoke first, his right as second-in-command. —I have returned to the wall. No sign of phantoms.—He paused. —This bride is...feisty. Is that the word for lightning in a body?—

  Roux’s rumbly voice filled his head next. —The harpies revolted when they heard your battle with your bride. I reminded them you won’t be murdering her for thirty days, but my reassurances failed to calm them. I’m assuming mass execution remains off the table?—

  Silver told him, —I have the armies split into groups, dispersed throughout the realm and in formation, ready for anything.—

  Excellent.

  —I’ve resumed palace fortifications,—Ian said. —Oh, and I should probably inform you the soldiers are gossiping like old ladies. Word about your humiliating interaction with the harpy has spread. Thanks to me. Jokes are being crafted. You’re going to love to hate them.—

  Roc flicked his tongue over an incisor as he reached for a three-blade. —Laugh it up. I look forward to the day I return the favor.—

  As he exited the closet, he glanced at the door dividing his and Taliyah’s bedrooms. Was she inside, attempting to remove the belt?

  Still hard, he cursed. He cursed again as he marched to the exit. Before he clasped the knob, searing heat blistered his nape. The exact spot Chaos had branded a symbol into his flesh.

  An official summons.

  Roc didn’t resist as an unseen hand reached out to yank him through different realms. He might be a Commander used to complete control, but he served Chaos by choice.

  Around him, scenery blurred, walls replaced by trees...water...buildings. Faster and faster, the objects blurred together. The deeper he traveled, the more his brand cooled.

  When he stopped, he hovered in the midst of an endless night sky—a private room within the god’s home. No sign of his sisters.

  He stemmed his disappointment. Suspended nearby was the enigmatic god known to many as Ocean of the Dark.

  “Roc.”

  “My lord,” he said, bowing his head in a show of respect.

  Chaos possessed rich black skin, his eyes a perfect match. When the sun rose, those eyes lightened, tinted with hues of pink, yellow and blue. By midday, his irises turned a blue so pure they rivaled the purest body of water. Then the process began all over again. A cloud of white smoke encompassed his hair. He wore a black robe, the ends covered in frost.

  Roc’s curiosity magnified, but he said nothing more. The highest-ranked warrior should start a conversation. Something Taliyah had yet to learn.

  He stabbed his hands through his hair, as if he could scrub her from his mind. No thoughts of the harpy.

  Finally, the god began. “You are wed again.” Chaos’s voice boomed, a lightning storm contained in every word.

  “I am, yes.” He offered no more. With Chaos, silence proved wiser than chatter. The god often used your own declarations to teach you a painful lesson.

  “My son remains determined to break you.”

  “I’m sure.” Roc didn’t understand why Chaos loved the male, after everything Erebus had done to the Astra, to others. On the other hand, Roc admired his mentor for loving his son the way Roc’s own parents should have loved him and his siblings.

  “You chose Taliyah the Terror of All Lands. The Cold-Hearted.” The god never asked questions, even when he asked questions. He stated, his unwavering gaze boring into Roc’s soul, sifting through his innermost thoughts. “She draws you as no other ever has, yet you will slay her. Other warlords might have wed another and kept the Terror for themselves.”

  Seemed he’d be thinking about the harpy after all. Careful. Admit as little as possible. “The harpy-snake makes the better sacrifice.”

  “I’m told the preferred term for a harpy-snake is snarpy.”

  Taliyah...a snarpy. Yes, he liked the label very much.

  “If given a chance to start over, to choose another female, my Roc of the Ages will change nothing.”

  Another question without being a question. “You are correct.” Anything less than the best was an insult to the male who’d saved his sisters and spent centuries overseeing Roc’s advancement. Repay greatness with garbage? Never.

  Roc desired Taliyah, yes. In a few short hours, she’d excited him in ways no other female ever had. A part of him eagerly anticipated their next sparring match. But that anticipation wouldn’t save her. Nothing could.

  “You will waver in your duty.” The statement chilled him. “The only facet of this I don’t know is whether you’ll refuse to kill her.”

  Waver? No. “I’ll do my duty without delay or excuse. I will kill her.” He must.

  The god floated closer, gliding around him. A trail of frost glittered in his wake, the frigid temperature sizzling over Roc’s skin. “You will kill her...even if Taliyah the Terror of All Lands is your gravita.”

  Horror stirred within him, quickly conquered by disbelief. His gravita? The bride he could never replace. No, absolutely not. “An Astra produces stardust for his gravita. I’ve produced none.”

  “No, you haven’t. Yet.”

  The final word hovered between them, a black hole of destruction.

  Heat and aggression filled Roc, his muscles expanding. Taliyah...his gravita... Was it possible? It explained the intensity of his attraction to her. Not to mention his unwillingness to harm her as they’d sparred. The way he hungered for her, even now. “I... No. She isn’t, and she won’t be.”

  “Or she is, and she will always be.”

  No. He would prove it. “I won’t change my mind about her or my duty.” He wasn’t like Solar. He wouldn’t put a bride’s life before his men, heaping a curse upon their heads.

  “I suspect you lie to us both.” In front of Roc once again, Chaos smiled, revealing razor-sharp teeth. “Perhaps, with her death, you’ll finally ascend.”

  His greatest desire. Will do anything.

  “We shall learn the truth together.” A wave of Chaos’s hand, nothing more, yet Roc tumbled into the next realm and the next, hurling to Harpina before he fully processed the god’s words.

  His momentum barely tapered by the time he accessed his bedroom. He stumbled about, slamming into a wall and cracking the stone. His brain rattled against his skull. Dust plumed the air and tickled his throat.

  When he stilled, he cast his gaze to the door that separated his bedroom from Taliyah’s.

  The urge to close the distance nearly overpowered him, but he resisted. Taliyah wasn’t
his gravita. No need to contemplate or debate the notion. He hadn’t lied to his god. Duty came first, no matter the consequences. For his men, for the blessing—for the downfall of Erebus—Roc performed his duty always.

  Would he ascend, as Chaos predicted?

  The possibility of achieving his goal at long last...didn’t thrill him as it should have. He scowled, his default expression since meeting the snarpy. Why couldn’t he rejoice at the thought of surpassing Erebus’s level of power? Of annihilating every phantom in existence? Of making his parents regret their actions toward him and his siblings? Of escaping the endless cycle of wedding and killing?

  Although, if he murdered his gravita, he might find himself embroiled in a far worse curse.

  10

  Stupid chastity belt! Taliyah stomped through the palace, crystal in hand, on the hunt for Blythe, Isla or a key. With every step, the metal plate rubbed a very sensitive spot, keeping her on edge. No doubt the designer hoped to torment as much as guard her precious virginity.

  She’d tried to remove the belt with a blade, but she’d only sliced herself. Didn’t help that the weakness she’d experienced during the battle with Roc lingered, gaining new ground. And yes, she called him Roc now. No need to make a big deal out of it. The shorter pronunciation saved time, that was all.

  Anyway. As soon as Roc fell asleep, she’d rid herself of the weakness. Feeding and feeding and feeding. All would be well.

  Her wings rippled with anticipation. If everything went according to plan, her widowhood kicked off before sunrise. If she merely managed to fatigue him, so be it. She had plenty of time to ensure her win.

  Snaking around a corner, she entered a hallway with six doors. Three on the left, three on the right. No sign of her sister or niece among the sleepers but... Hmm, that’s new.

  At the other end of the hall, someone had framed the windows with... What was that? Some kind of stone? She glided closer to the arching pane of stained glass.

  She reached out, the hairs on her nape standing at attention. The substance, whatever it was, was gunmetal gray and jagged, pulsing with energy. Upon contact, a thousand invisible bugs crawled over her skin, biting and stinging. A sensation she recognized.

  Taliyah faltered, her stomach roiling. The Astra had bordered the window with a combination of fireiron, demonglass and cursedwood. Trinite, Roc had called it. My kryptonite.

  Well, after she finished her search, she’d just have to even the playing field.

  Determined, Taliyah headed for the last room on tonight’s list. The library, an enormous, three-tiered room filled with countless books about harpies and the many different species they warred with. Among other things. The first floor gleamed like a lake of fire, the second like a layer of ice, the third a combination of the two. Flanking the heart were statues of past Generals.

  With the crystal in hand, she discovered row after row of cots lined the library in the duplicate realm. Harpies slept here, there, everywhere. Still no sign of Blythe, Isla or a key.

  Disappointed but more determined, she switched her efforts to Roc’s destruction. Taliyah rigged a chandelier to fall within the next twenty-four hours, messed with electrical wires to fry whoever flipped the switches and loosened select balcony rails.

  As she finished up, a short, dark-skinned brunette and a tall, fair-skinned blonde with curlers in her hair rounded a bookshelf.

  Concubines.

  Taliyah paused. Dressed in bathrobes, the pair perused the vast array of tomes while drinking canned soda from a straw and whispering between themselves.

  Could they be used for intel?

  Approaching, she tried for a friendly greeting. “Hey, guys. It’s me, your Commander’s new bride or whatever. How about a chat?”

  In unison, they drew up short. Neither projected fear. Fools. She’d changed out of her dress and into battle regalia. Roc’s discarded weapons were strapped all over her body.

  Yeah, she’d sneaked into the neutral zone before beginning her hunt. He’d been long gone.

  “You are Taliyah, yes?” the brunette asked.

  “Yep. The one and only.” How loyal were they to the Astra? Could they be bought? “What’re your names?”

  The brunette introduced herself first. “I’m Teriella. Teri.”

  The blonde—the one who resembled Taliyah—took a sip of soda and belched into her hand. “I’m Kindred.”

  Up close, Taliyah clocked their differences. Kindred was a couple of inches shorter, with pointy ears. Her rosy skin resembled polished pearls. An elf, then. She smelled like a lilac garden.

  “We thought we’d grab some books,” Kindred said, “but we’ll leave you to your...whatever you’re planning.”

  “Stay. I can help you find the best books. Is there a particular subject you’re interested in? We have a couple shelves devoted to romance novels, if that’s your thing.”

  “Lookit, I don’t want to be rude or anything, but you aren’t winning us over to your side.” Teri edged away. “We won’t help you escape, and we won’t harm our men on your behalf.”

  “As if I need help.” She kept her focus on Kindred. “You are in love with Roc?”

  The elf laughed. “Lady, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m living my dream life. Fierce protectors, good sex and great friends. I’m not giving it up for a dead harpy walking.”

  Taliyah shrugged. “Go ahead, bet on the wrong horse. This year’s participation trophy is the Astra’s head.”

  Teri tugged on the other girl’s arm. “Let’s go. We shouldn’t be talking to her.”

  Well, good riddance. She had better things to do.

  As Taliyah set traps for the Astra in other rooms, her empty stomach folded into itself. More strength drained. Soon, the sun would rise. Surely Roc had returned. Surely he slept.

  Her mouth watered. So hungry. Before she got busy with the Astra, she might as well collect the gun every General stashed in the library. Everyone needed a plan B.

  She rushed back and scanned the area. Alone. Excellent. Taliyah approached a life-size portrait of Nissa that hung at eye level. In it, the former General crossed her arms over her chest, a semiautomatic resting against a shoulder.

  Can already smell the gunpowder. Another scan of the area. She reached out, her hand ghosting through the image. Not because she had misted; she hadn’t. Harpies often traded mercenary work for magic. Any harpy could do this. When her fingers curled around cold, hard steel, she grinned.

  Bullets might not kill Roc, but they’d definitely slow him down. Pair the gun with the crossbow and daggers he’d left on his bed and she could do major damage.

  Once she’d sheathed the gun, she sneaked into the proper hallway as quietly as possible. The guards posted at the master’s door earlier were long gone.

  Because her room offered a private entrance, she didn’t have to pass through Roc’s. Taliyah set the gun on the nightstand, alongside the other weapons she’d pilfered from him. Had he even noticed their loss? In the small time she’d known him, he’d treated his arsenal as disposable. The exact wrong thing to do, according to Tabitha Skyhawk’s school of successful warring.

  Her mother used to tell her, “When your strength fails, your weapons excel.”

  Roc’s strength was about to fail him.

  He’s gonna taste so good. Trembling with a mix of hunger and excitement, she settled on the bed, boots and all, preparing to do a little soulsucking.

  Soulsucking, a term often used with great derision, interchangeable with feeding. It occurred physically or mystically, diner’s choice. Most days, Taliyah preferred live and in person, body to body. When dealing with an Astra, exceptions had to be made.

  Let’s do this. Inhale. She pushed her spirit from her body, bit by bit. A painful process, every time. Like amputating a limb. Deeper cold washed over her as bone, muscle and flesh separated from spirit. A
lmost there...

  Every immortal possessed a spirit, soul and body. The body acted as the house. The soul contained the mind, will and emotions—the power—while the spirit acted as a vessel for the soul, linking it to the body. A spirit could function outside the body, but a body couldn’t function without the spirit.

  She hated leaving any part of her behind and vulnerable and wished she could mist to feed. Alas. She must ensure a part of her spirit connected with Roc’s, no barriers between them.

  As soon as the creepy process completed, she glided across the room and slipped through the wall. And there he lay, the Commander of the Astra. He was asleep, tossing and turning.

  Almost giddy, Taliyah glided closer to the bed. Bon appétit.

  When he shifted in her direction, a beam of cerulean moonlight bathed him and she froze. Had he sensed her?

  His eyes remained closed, his long lashes casting spiky shadows over his cheeks. If not for the lines of strain around his mouth, he would have looked boyish.

  “No,” he barked. He kicked at the covers and whipped his head.

  Bad dreams? How very...normal. And kind of cute. It humanized him a bit.

  She licked her lips as she completed her approach and eased upon the side of the bed.

  He thrashed his head again, and an urge to comfort him caught her unaware. What troubled a warlord as fierce as this one? What bothered a killer who proudly wore his worst crimes on his skin?

  Are you...softening? Recalling his purpose for her, she had no trouble hardening her heart. Comfort the man planning to kill her? No. Right now, she lived for his torment.

  Taliyah leaned into him, letting her mouth hover over his. Her eyelids sank low. Mmm. She already scented his soul, all that spiced rum and melted sugar. Was she drooling? She might be drooling.

  Had she brought a cell phone, she might have snapped a picture of her meal and posted it on her social-media platforms.

  The caption would read About to dive into an all-you-can-eat buffet of 100% Grade-A Astra beef.

  For a moment, Taliyah merely savored him. When hunger eclipsed everything else, she cupped his jaw, shocked by the fervency of her tremors. Tremors that worsened as she pressed her lips against his and extracted...nothing.