The Warlord

by Gena Showalter

  She frowned. Had she done something wrong? Tightening her grip, making sure her spirit brushed against his, she refit her mouth over his, extracting...nothing. She sucked with more force. Nothing. She sucked with so much force her cheeks hollowed, then sucked even harder. The only thing she received? A dance with dizziness.

  Flabbergasted, she dissolved contact by small degrees. Somehow, this big, beautiful slab of power had blocked her. While sleeping!

  He deserved... She was going to... Argh!

  Fuming, she returned to her bedroom and reentered her body. As the different parts of her reconnected, limbs tingled and chilled. Mind racing, she eased into an upright position.

  Okay. All right. Forget feeding. With so little time before sunrise, she couldn’t hunt his army to consume a soldier. She’d have to go another day without a meal. Perfectly doable. Tomorrow night, she’d visit the army first thing.

  Today, she’d settle for striking at Roc in other ways. She had the gun and crossbow. Why not set a trap? At the very least, she’d learn how he reacted to bullets and arrows and how quickly he healed.

  Decision made, an idea already taking shape. Taliyah got busy arranging a very bad morning for her husband.

  Once she’d figured out all the kinks, she grinned. He wasn’t going to like this at all...

  11

  As soon as sunlight streamed through the bedroom windows, Roc rose from bed. He’d gotten no sleep. First, he’d stalked the streets of Harpina, on the hunt for phantoms. From there, he’d tossed and turned, plagued by dreams of his sisters, reliving the day his parents sold the girls to the highest bidder. The helplessness of fighting and failing to save them...the sheer terror etched into their little faces... Ian’s tears as the two were carried away...

  At some point, Roc had lost himself in a vision of Taliyah. A memory of her flawless body splayed across a bed, flushed and panting, daring him to do whatever he desired as he slid the chastity belt up her legs.

  From there, he’d battled a raging hard-on.

  Roc glared down at his hands. As expected, no evidence of stardust glittered there. “She isn’t my gravita.”

  Chaos sought to teach him a lesson, that was all.

  And what would that lesson be, eh? How to obsess over a woman?

  Sullen, he grabbed a dagger and stomped into the bathroom. Needful of a distraction, he sent a command to Ian, rather than the other warlords.

  —Report.—

  Only seconds passed before his brother obliged. —The bride used the crystal for most of the night. I lost track of her multiple times as I framed windows, but I know she had a run-in with the concubines. I don’t know what was said.—

  No telling what the unpredictable Taliyah would do to the women in an attempt to hurt him. —Move the concubines to Halo’s quarters near the wall.—A pause. —Anything else?—

  —Why? Do you want there to be something else, brother?—

  —Never mind. Forget it.—Conversation was a bad idea.

  Roc stripped out of his underwear and entered the shower stall with the dagger clutched tight. Cold water sprayed from the overhead spout, quickly warming. Steam filled the enclosure and coated the glass.

  As warmth rained over him, he glared at the spot just over his heart. The alevala had regrown, his most hated memory on display. How he wished he could remove the mark permanently. The best he could do was forget for a little while.

  Eager, Roc pushed the dagger into the image, into muscle, and slowly rotated the blade in a wide circle. His lips pulled tight over his teeth. Rivers of crimson trickled down, down, joining the stream of water and whirling into the drain. Inhale. Exhale. Good. Some of his tension drained. He’d done this every day for centuries, the pain now a welcome part of his day.

  What would Taliyah think, if ever she spotted—

  He shut down the thought before it fully formed, the answer moot. She’d never view this particular memory, and that was that.

  When a bloody, fist-size flap of flesh plopped to the floor, Roc sighed with relief. Better. Within minutes, he grew new skin unstained by alevala.

  He tossed the dagger to the side, the metal clinking against another dagger. With quick efficiency, he washed up and exited.

  His gaze strayed to the door to Taliyah’s room. What was she doing in there?

  He scowled. He had a thousand things to do today, and none of them involved seeing the snarpy.

  “Not my gravita,” he snarled. After dressing in a plain black T-shirt, leather pants and spiked combat boots, he collected his favorite set of chisels. Perfectly constructed altars didn’t grow on trees. He had twenty-nine days to create a masterpiece worthy of his god—and the sacrifice herself.

  What was she doing? Didn’t he have a right to know? He was her husband. Her master. Depriving himself of the information only helped her cause. Since she hadn’t ambushed him yesterday, he assumed she’d do so today.

  Why not get their next clash over with?

  Roc flashed into her bedroom, not bothering to knock and announce his intentions.

  The bed was made, nothing out of place.

  His hands balled into fists. “Tali—”

  A tendril of aggression brushed his skin, his body burning in seconds. He braced for a strike. A split second lasted an eternity as he noticed his crossbow anchored to the wall, a cord wrapped around its trigger. Taliyah braced herself in a corner of the opposite wall, a set of claws embedded in plaster, an arm extended. She’d tied the opposite end of the cord to the trigger of a semiautomatic, the barrel aimed at him.

  She grinned, a temptress without equal, transfixing his gaze.

  He held himself motionless—barely. “Impressive.”

  “I know.” Boom!

  Whoosh. A bullet ripped through his heart at the same instant an arrow cut through his shoulder. He had no time to process what she’d done before she launched her next strike.

  Boom, boom, boom! Whoosh, whoosh. Three new bullets and two new arrows battered him. He stumbled forward, then back, toppling over something he hadn’t noticed before. Trip wire? He crashed into the floor, falling like a cannonball.

  He thought he might admire her the tiniest bit.

  “My motto?” She dropped from the corner, landing with spectacular grace. Walking toward him, she swayed her hips, lifted the gun and fired off another round. “Why wait to kill your enemy tomorrow when you can kill him today?”

  Only admire her the tiniest bit, Roc?

  He remained on the floor, ignoring the pain. “There are few ways to kill an Astra, wife, and this isn’t on the list.”

  “I figured. So I brought a sword.” The gun thudded to the floor. A whistle of metal sounded. She reached his strike zone and swung.

  He didn’t attempt to dodge. He caught the sword in his hands. The blade sliced skin and muscle, hitting bone with a clink.

  Her lips parted, and her breaths quickened. “I’m fighting a robot? Dude. You have no idea how much sense this makes.”

  He frowned. She considered him emotionless? “I promise you, I’m all man. My threshold for pain is unsurpassed, my ability to heal unmatched.” Blood poured from the wound, but the newest flare of pain barely registered. “Are you done with this ambush, or do you have more planned? I have duties.”

  His feigned boredom provoked the desired response. Fury exploded inside those ocean-water eyes, some of the ice melting. The loveliest color bloomed in her cheeks.

  “You’re going to pay for that,” she grated.

  She. Was. Magnificent. He hardened. He throbbed.

  Intense waves of heat emanated from him, the urge to yank her closer nearly irresistible. To hold her, if only for a moment. To kiss her again. The last time. To touch. To...protect?

  He rejected the notion without taking time to analyze it.

  Her gaze slid over his bod
y, a virtual caress, and she licked her lips.

  His shaft throbbed harder.

  “Do you know what I’m going to do to you, Roc?” She met his gaze.

  He couldn’t stop his next words. “Tell me.”

  “Absolutely nothing.” Hips swishing gracefully, she stepped out of range. The sultry way she moved... “My work here is done.”

  She must have rendered him stupid, because he struggled to understand. “What do you mean?” What work?

  A grin of delight bloomed. “You crave me. Even now, you ache for me. Do you know how much I crave you? Zero point zero.”

  A lie. “I make you wet, and we both know it.”

  She tsked. “Are you sure it was you? Or my thoughts of Hades?”

  Jealousy shattered what little remained of his calm. Disgusted with her, with himself, Roc snapped, “You are not my gravita,” and flashed away.

  12

  Gravita? What did that even mean?

  Taliyah made her way to the dungeon, tumbling the question through her mind. You are not my...downfall? You are not my...friend? You are not my...good girl?

  The answer remained at bay.

  When Roc first appeared in her bedroom, she’d sensed his irritation and assumed he’d stumbled upon some of her traps. But as they’d peered at each other across the sword’s blade, something had changed. For a moment, he’d observed her as if she were the answer to his prayers. Then, of course, he’d turned into a snarling beast.

  Whatever. His opinion hardly mattered. Like him, she had duties. Namely, coming up with a new game plan. It was nonoptional now.

  Plan A, feeding, had failed. Plan B, shooting and beheading Roc, had also failed. So far, plan C eluded her. That was why she wanted to talk with the harpies below. She’d scope out the other prisoners, too. Maybe she’d come upon the perfect snack. Hunger gnawed at her more forcefully than she’d expected.

  Taliyah descended dark, dank steps and entered a wide corridor with crumbling stone walls and flickering torches. Water dripped in several places. A horrid odor of mold and death coated the air, creating a fetid perfume. In the dungeon, the ground remained cold all year around, just like in the garden, freezing her feet inside her boots.

  Navigating the corridors, she eyed every cell. Most contained a prisoner who’d committed a terrible act against harpykind.

  Hmm. Not a great selection, to be honest. Despite their varying species, no prisoner displayed hints of strength. Even if she tapped out the entire lot, she doubted she’d fill her tank halfway.

  The General contenders occupied the cell at the end of the farthest corridor. The only way in or out of it was flashing, a skill these harpies did not possess. They had no strength, either. Metal bands pinned their wings, crisscrossing above and below their breasts outside their shirts.

  The sight gutted Taliyah, and she curled her hands into fists. Along with everything else, Roc would pay for this.

  The women huddled together, whispering. An Astra stood sentry nearby. The guy with long white hair. Striations of pink, gray and brown ringed his yellow irises. He wore a T-shirt and leather pants, like Roc, and he didn’t move in the slightest bit. But his gaze darted constantly, as if he saw things that weren’t there. He mumbled his words. “There and not there. When? When did they vanish?”

  She tuned out the warrior and focused on the harpies. Hey! They were talking about her.

  “Is Tal already dead, do you think?” someone asked.

  “You heard yesterday’s fight, right? Girl struck and missed, and boy retaliated. We’re on our own now. As the warrior with the most stars, I’m in charge.”

  That voice Taliyah recognized. Mara had best watch herself, or she’d get hers, too.

  The Astra didn’t rebuke Taliyah as she closed the distance, but he did shut up and stare when she stopped in front of him. Embers of red flared and died in those amazing irises.

  “I’m here to check out the one-room abode with natural flooring and guaranteed security. Gotta say, the curb appeal isn’t what I was hoping.”

  “Why am I happy to see you?” he demanded.

  “Because I’m awesome?”

  “Why, why, why?” His gaze slid away from her. “Why don’t I remember? She was there. They were there, then nothing. What don’t I remember?” He resumed his mumbling, then his pacing, seeming to forget her presence altogether.

  A possible weak link in the Astra chain? Could he be used against Roc?

  Gasps sounded from the harpies. “Taliyah!”

  “Our MVP! Never doubted you’d survive.”

  She darted past the jailer, hurrying to the bars to greet the girls. Grins and cheers abounded. No one bore any wounds or bruises to signal physical abuse. They wore plenty of dirt, though.

  “Is their leader dead yet?” Mara asked, her superior tone suggesting she’d have this thing won and celebrated by now.

  Of course she went there. “Trust me, I’m working on it. I plugged the Commander full of bullets and arrows, and he barely felt it. He caught my sword blade and all but yawned.”

  “Bed him, his men, or a vibrator for all we care,” Mara belted out. “We all heard him. He needs a virgin. No hymen, no sacrifice.”

  The exact plan Roc claimed every bride had endeavored to enact at some point. “Aw. Is Mara afraid of a wittle competition?”

  “Aw. Is Taliyah afraid she’ll fail to get it and quit it? The Commander didn’t seem impressed with your goods and services.”

  “Only because you weren’t looking low enough,” she snapped. The woman had landed a direct hit. What if she...couldn’t?

  If these girls ever found out about the chastity belt, they’d tease her for life.

  “Wait. Are you blushing?” Mara gasped.

  “Guys! T-bone is blushing!”

  Speculations about the reason ebbed and flowed, blending together.

  “I’ll kill him, okay?” How? How? “Don’t worry. I just came to tell you guys the rest of our people are being kept in a duplicate realm. Some or all of the Astra have a key. We need one.”

  “On it!”

  “We’ve got this!”

  “I’ll nab Officer Mumbles’s key, guaranteed. I think I’ll take his heart while I’m at it. Everyone needs a keepsake.”

  Harpies were the best. “I’ll send food you can steal from Mumbles,” she said, then pivoted on her heel and stalked past the Astra. He made no comment.

  Where was her dear, darling husband right this second? What was he doing? Should she track him down to make another play for his head or wait?

  Wait and stick with her original plan, she decided. Return to the Realm of the Forgotten while he slept, feed, strengthen and clear her head. Tomorrow, she’d launch her next attack.

  For the rest of the day, she’d...what? Try to learn more about him, to unearth another weakness? Challenge him in a sexual way to keep him off-kilter?

  You are not my gravita.

  Gah! What did that even mean?

  When Taliyah entered the master suite, she noticed a constant, rhythmic clink. The noise came through the private balcony, so she padded over. Open doors allowed a soft, rose-scented breeze to waft past the dancing curtains. At the railing, she scanned the royal gardens.

  Oh, wow. Okay. A shirtless Roc sat before a massive chunk of black rock, his big, tattooed body bathed in sunlight. Pieces of the rock fell as he chiseled. Sweat trickled down ridge after glorious ridge of flexing muscles. Fury and determination tinged his expression.

  Beautiful monster. Powerful beyond imagining. Dangerous in ways she’d never thought possible. In a single day, he’d trained her body to react to his, the mere sight of him enough to fill her with heat.

  For some reason, her mind replayed the way he’d tossed and turned and shouted as he’d slept. A fearless warrior, plagued by bad dreams.

 
; Ugh. Was sexy, stoic and secretly tormented her new type?

  She couldn’t count the number of times Roc had inspired arousal in her...or the times he’d made her forget her dissatisfaction. That one rankled. She might kill him for it alone.

  She was going to kill him. That was mission objective number one. He believed failure waited in her future. He also believed that she, like the rest of his brides, would try to seduce him at some point—and bomb. Even Mara had lost faith.

  Would Taliyah bomb if she gave seduction her best? Roc had hardened for her this morning, yes, but the look on his face after she’d baited him about Hades... The Astra might keep his distance from her for the remaining twenty-nine days. She had enraged him, the urge to throttle her pulsing from him.

  Her confidence dwindled. Suddenly, she had...doubts. Not just about the seduction but the war. His special skills were stacking up. The ashing. Her inability to feed from him. His resistance to pain and lightning-fast ability to heal.

  Doubt? Me?

  Never accept a picture of defeat. Especially in the middle of a war.

  What had her mother used to tell her as a child? Doubt is fear in disguise. All fear must be rooted out and destroyed or it will only grow again.

  Taliyah refused to fear anyone, even a white-hot monster with sex appeal seeping out of his pores. But...what if she did fail to kill him and this marriage came down to the wire? What if she had no other option but seduction? Shouldn’t she lay the groundwork for success, just in case? Shouldn’t she shake his confidence?

  Roc was more of a threat than she’d expected. Orchestrating his death would be difficult, so allowances must be made. He wasn’t like other men. He was a thousand times more stubborn, with a literal god complex. Unlike most guys, he wasn’t out for a quick nut: he had his own mission objective, with a guaranteed prize waiting at the end of his rainbow. But...

  Stupid but! How she hated the word. But. Wasn’t it her duty as his wife to show him how wrong he was about everything always? Shouldn’t she prove her ability to take him by the balls and lead him anywhere she wished?