The Warlord

by Gena Showalter

  Roc bit his tongue, catching the item while keeping his gaze on her face. Do not look down. A single glance at her nipple piercing or the tuft of pale curls between her legs might be his undoing.

  “I’ll give you a temporary reprieve from your belt.” More eager than he would ever admit, he lifted the key from his head and removed her belt. “Don’t even think about attempting to seduce me.”

  “Uh, I love to break it to you, Roc, but that ship has sailed. Why would I bother seducing you, anyway? I already proved I could. You’re a sure thing.”

  He pursed his lips. “That was before I knew what you were.”

  Something akin to hurt flickered in her eyes, there and gone. Her usual irreverence showed up, and she smirked. “You should probably pass the memo on to your penis. You’re Roc-blocking it.”

  Hurt? A phantom? No. “Bodies can be tamed. They just take a little longer than minds.”

  “Sure, sure.” She held her palms up in a gesture of innocence, then stepped into the stall and glanced at him over her shoulder. “I promise to do my very best not to tempt you beyond reason. Do your best to resist.” As she entered the water, droplets cascaded down her incomparable form.

  As he watched her through the fogging glass, she leaned against the wall and washed her hair, her body. Her weakness displeased him. He had duties; in this state, she wouldn’t be able to keep up.

  He knew harpies used blood as medicine. Before he could talk himself out of it, he bit into his finger. Blood welled as he extended his arm into the stall.

  “Drink,” he commanded.

  She looked at the finger, then his face. Finger. Face. She wanted to refuse, as evidenced by her glower. But she snapped, “Why?”

  He knew what she asked. “I might not like what you are, but I won’t leave you in pain.”

  Glaring, she marched over. With a firm clasp of his wrist, she brought his finger to her lips and...softly licked. The sight of her tongue inspired a string of internal curses.

  Her eyes closed as she savored, a little color returning to her cheeks. When she fit her lips over the healing wound and sucked, satisfaction joined forces with possessiveness, and he nearly roared at the rightness. Providing for his wife. Nourishing her.

  When the wound closed, she nicked him with a fang. As she sucked a little more and swallowed, he trembled and scowled. He...wanted.

  Once she finished, she lifted her head. He almost protested. She’d taken a mere handful of drops.

  “I won’t thank you.” She turned to finish bathing. Weakness gave way to sensuality, every move she made meant to rouse a tide of lust. The way the suds sluiced down her curves, her hands following...

  He panted. He couldn’t look away.

  She bent over to soap her calves, and he swallowed a groan. Those legs. Those curves. The elegant line of her spine. Those spectacular wings, fluttering in invitation.

  He shifted his gaze to her nape, where an elaborate brand snagged his interest.

  Brand? He’d felt the scars when he’d handled her, but he’d assumed the raised tissue came from a childhood injury, before her immortality took root.

  Curious, he stepped into the stall. He even entered the water to clasp her arms and press her against cool tile. He smoothed her hair out of the way, dragging his knuckles over her damp flesh more slowly than he’d intended, saying, “Why do you have the brand of a deity on your nape?”

  She didn’t fight him—yet. “A deity? What deity?”

  He grazed his thumb over the raised flesh, those possessive instincts threatening to engulf him. She should wear my brand. “This symbol is the mark of a god or goddess. Not one I recognize.” And he knew every faction of royals, from the Titans to the Egyptians, and everything in between.

  “And?”

  “And brands give another person access to you in lifesaving and dangerous ways.” Roc carried the one for Chaos, as well as his own personal mark, and one for each of his warlords. Those brands secured telepathic communications and allowed a summoning. Ian used his brand to locate and flash them all. “How do you have a brand and not understand its purpose? Who gave it to you?” More important, what did they plan to do with her?

  “Nice try, but you won’t scare me into talking. No, you know what? I’m happy to share this time. Neeka gave it to me, and even when she’s being the most annoying person ever born, with questionable motives, she has my best interests at heart. She’d never do anything to endanger me. Unlike my own dear husband, who does everything to endanger me.”

  No one executed better assaults against a man’s ego than Taliyah and her viper’s tongue. “Be absolutely certain you trust her. The brand can be used against you. This Neeka has paired you with some unknown deity who might hope to weaponize you for their own gain.” Was this how she remained lucid, despite her hunger? Did some god use the mystical link to provide her with power?

  “I get it. You’ve seen my taste in spouses, so you doubt my intelligence. Here’s the thing. The guy who plans to kill me shouldn’t question my best friend’s intentions. She’s bled for me. You’ve made me bleed. So yes, I’m absolutely certain I trust her. Now do us both a favor and exit my stall. I’m treating myself to a spa day. I’ve earned it.”

  Exiting is a favor—to myself. But it was too late. He’d touched her luscious body. He’d inhaled her scent and warmed.

  Instinct demanded he heat her.

  Roc stepped closer, urged by primitive forces. He settled his grip on her waist and gently massaged, thrilling when she groaned. No one made sexier sounds than a needy Taliyah Skyhawk.

  Had she rolled her hips, as if imagining his fingers inside her? Wishful thinking? Roc couldn’t deny he imagined it. He’d had a taste of her. For his sanity, he required more.

  As always, she rallied quickly, her defenses firmly entrenched. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but this is a little more than watching, yes?”

  “Don’t care.”

  “You’ve forgotten that I’m a disgusting phantom so quickly? How embarrassing for you.”

  The reminder hit like a typhoon. He skidded two steps back, ripping his hands from her.

  She was right. How easily he’d caved. When you played with your temptation, you deserved your inevitable wounds. But he still didn’t leave the stall. He couldn’t. She’d turned to face him, and his mind lost control of his body.

  Water sprayed between them, mist twirling up. She became a dream...a nightmare. Despite the acerbic tone she’d used before, she evinced raw desire now.

  Her nipples drew tight as she roved a slumberous gaze over him. Did she note the tension in his stance? The hardness of his shaft? Did she celebrate her effect on him?

  Tiny pink claws glided down her torso to tease the thatch of curls between her legs. “I can’t help but notice you aren’t leaving, husband.”

  Was it possible... Did she experience the same frenzied tug-of-war? Did her body experience the same ravening hunger as his?

  His heart thudded, as if he were a young lad dealing with his first maid. Roc had decided to take his interactions with her one minute at a time. This minute required a decision and the strength to see it through.

  Pleasure a phantom and suffer, or not pleasure a phantom and suffer?

  Before Taliyah, he would’ve opted for the second. Gladly. No thought needed. A phantom, much less a sacrificial lamb, had no business in his bed. But a gravita...a wife...

  He swallowed, different muscles flexing. Want her? Take her...

  Why shouldn’t he take her? He was Commander. Why deny himself what he wanted? He’d earned the right to have whomever he wished, whenever and wherever he wished.

  Erebus sought his misery. Why oblige his enemy and welcome his own torment? The god expected Roc to fight his attraction, remaining in an aggravated state. He hated what Taliyah was, yes; she would feel like paradise regardless.
He didn’t trust her, but he didn’t need to trust her to protect himself from her attacks.

  You will regret this.

  “Well,” she demanded, anger eroding her softened repose, “are you just going to stand there?”

  He met her gaze, fury to fury. She began to pant. A telling sign he didn’t have the strength to resist.

  Motions clipped, he kicked off his boots and unfastened his leathers. “This means nothing, bride.”

  She cupped her breasts, eyelids sinking. “It means less than nothing.”

  They stepped toward each other, bumping together. As he lowered his head for a kiss, she lifted to her tiptoes. Their tongues thrust and tangled together, a fevered madness setting in.

  23

  Taliyah didn’t want to think, but thoughts zipped through her mind with dizzying speed anyway, culminating in a need to both push the Astra away and lock him in place. To savor this sense of satisfaction and curse it.

  He’d imprisoned her. Insulted and threatened her. And fed her. Tended to her when she’d sickened. Freed her from the belt. Watched her with undisguised lust. And now he kissed her with stunning ferocity.

  She told herself she didn’t have to make a lifelong decision here. Enjoying the moment was a perfectly acceptable plan. Right now, the fact that she’d missed him didn’t matter. And why bother trying to guess how she’d feel after the shower? She’d feel how she’d feel. She could handle herself and Roc then.

  Her claws curled into his chest as she returned his kiss with every drop of lust frothing inside her. Lust she shouldn’t feel, given her hunger, but there it was. She couldn’t slake it. His warmth seeped past her skin, chasing away the dungeon’s chill.

  Steam enveloped them, and water rained. Warm droplets dripped into their mouths and splashed over their bodies.

  He yanked her closer, smashing her breasts into his chest, and she slung her arms around him. With every inhalation, her nipples grazed his ripped chest. She scored his back, lost. Everywhere he touched, sensations left a mark. Hotter heat. Wild tremors. Delicious prickles and tormenting flutters. The aches. Oh, the aches!

  As she writhed against him, thoughts fragmented, the rooms in her brain shutting down, one by one. Her body took the helm. The promise of bliss beckoned.

  He pushed her into the wall. Cool tile drew a gasp, but hot man added the moan. Leaving her off-kilter, he slicked his hands over her breasts, circled her nipples with his knuckles, then plumped and kneaded the mounds.

  “I want to do things to you,” he growled into her mouth.

  As she quivered, excited by his claim, he stilled. Rage overcame his expression, confusing her. “Roc?”

  He peered up at the ceiling and roared, “Not now!”

  What? Had she hurt him? “Roc?” she repeated, plucking her claws free of his flesh. She grimaced when she spotted beads of blood. “My bad.”

  He lowered his head and rested his forehead against hers. “My apologies. I wasn’t speaking to you. A phantom horde has overtaken the kitchen, and they’re here to feed.” The more he spoke, the stiffer he became. When he lifted his head, fury darkened his expression.

  “I’m not to blame,” she stated bluntly. And what a nice reminder: never mix war and pleasure.

  He got his huff on. “I laid no blame at your door, Taliyah.”

  Please. “You laid all blame at my door, Roc.”

  He glared at her as he summoned more of those trinite posts. One in each corner, trapping her within the stall.

  “How wonderful for me,” she said, batting her lashes at him. “Another prison.”

  “In here, you’ll be safe while my soldiers dispatch the phantoms.” His gaze moved beyond her, and she realized he’d just received another telepathic communication. Whatever he learned didn’t brighten his mood. When he focused on her again, he got snippy and said, “Does it gratify you to know we’re dealing with your snares and ambushes?”

  Well, well. Now he outright admitted he blamed her. “Yes,” she replied truthfully, “it does.” Cool air enveloped her wet body, chasing away the warmth. “But I didn’t bring any phantoms here.”

  He opened his mouth to respond.

  “No,” she snapped. “Don’t contradict me. I’m not working with Erebus, and I’m not controlled by him. He told me he wanted me to destroy you for him. I informed him I would destroy you for me. I’ve never once done his bidding. The guy’s a prick. When I commit a deed, I own it. I want you to know I’m the one responsible for your upset. My snares and ambushes are a fine example.”

  He frowned, but he didn’t comment.

  Forget assuaging the aches. His attitude was inoculation enough. Smoldering? What smoldering? She’d already moved on. Now she needed to figure out why she’d vomited the berserker’s soul.

  The problem wasn’t the man’s origins. Once, she’d gone on a berserker bender.

  Mmm. She remembered it well. Their power had been intoxicating. The sweetest wine.

  Inner shake. She’d never sickened with a berserker. So what happened today?

  “I want to believe you,” Roc said, and he kind of sounded...defeated. “That’s the crux of the problem.”

  “Dude. Are you seriously feeling sorry for yourself?” Taliyah gifted him with a rude hand gesture. “You know what? Screw you.”

  He stared at her as if she were some great mystery. News flash. She was pretty much an open doomsday book. Harm her people, and she ensured you paid. The end.

  His eyes glazed as another message came in. Whatever was said, his aggression deflated. “The horde has been dealt with.”

  “Proof I didn’t send this ambush. No one died.” Um, maybe don’t antagonize the guy with the wing-pinner? Strength had never been so important, and they both knew it.

  He thrust his hand through his wet hair. “I can’t trust you.”

  “Like that’s a shocker.” She sighed, choosing to release the worst of her irritation. “Look. What’s happened can’t be undone. We called a truce yesterday. Let’s call another one today. Twenty-four hours. That’ll give us time to ask each other questions. Tit for tat.”

  His remaining aggression slowly dissolved. “I don’t know how this is possible. How you are a phantom, yet also...you.”

  She considered telling him about her connection to Chaos, then caught the gleam of the posts around the shower stall and clamped her lips shut. Roc didn’t trust her, and she didn’t trust him. For very good reasons! For one to survive, the other had to die. Maybe. Probably. What if there was another way?

  Stupid thought? Impossible? Whatever. She’d ponder it later. Today, she’d get to know her enemy...who looked adorably, frustratingly lost all of a sudden.

  What are you doing? Stop. Adorably lost? An enemy in any form was still just an enemy.

  “Whatever happened to your Hall of Secrets idea?” she asked.

  He scoured a hand over his face. “I’ve yet to receive a report from Roux.”

  Her nose scrunched up. “What kind of information do you think you’re going to get?”

  “Something!” He slammed his fist into his palm. “That’s all I need.”

  How easily and quickly he swayed from one extreme emotion to the other. But was it good or bad for her?

  Taliyah exhaled as her thoughts whirled. Things had changed between them, so she must change, too. From now on, she and Roc were going to be constant companions. Antagonizing him, as she’d done before, wasn’t the wisest course.

  Want better results? Pick better battles. “Let me reiterate that I am a phantom, but I’m not controlled by Erebus. If you’ll give me a chance, I think I can prove it.”

  He opened and closed his mouth before waving her on. “I’m listening.”

  “Can we agree that there’s something Erebus will never, under any circumstances, order a phantom to do?” Actually, she thought her fa
ther might rage. “He doesn’t want anyone to make you happy, even for a moment.”

  Clipped nod. “We can agree.”

  “Well, think back. I’m sure you’ll remember a specific moment in our history when roses were in bloom and you came like a geyser all over my belly.”

  Again, he opened and closed his mouth. “This is different. You are different. He knows what you mean to me.”

  She went still. “What do I mean to you?” No. Unnecessary question. Moving on. “Why do you think he told you I’m a phantom?”

  Broody silence heralded minutes of reflection for them both.

  Impatient, she led him into the realization she sought, a teacher with her student. “He did it so that you’d...what? Stop messing around with me.”

  Another bout of silence passed before he nodded. “That’s true.”

  Success loomed! “I mean, really.” She simpered at him, just to drive the point home. “What kind of warlord follows his enemy’s plan for his life?”

  Maybe she’d driven a wee bit quickly. He narrowed his gaze on her. “I know you’re manipulating me.”

  “So? Truth is truth.”

  He narrowed his eyes further... Holding her gaze captive, he reached for the waist of his leathers. After working the pants from his legs, freeing that impressive erection, he eased onto the shower bench, getting comfortable, Roc-style. In other words, he sat as rigid as stone and glared.

  Her wings buzzed, the rest of her fluttering. Well, not all of her. Hunger pangs twisted her stomach.

  “If you think I’m ever kissing you again,” she said, turning toward the water, pretending to luxuriate in the stream, “you’re dumber than a box of Rocs. I’m here for conversation.”

  He started making those huffing noises again. Didn’t like being denied? Too bad. She’d learned her lesson when it came to the Commander.

  “How old were you when Erebus turned you into a phantom?” he asked.

  Cautious, she replied, “I was very young when I realized I was a phantom.” To him, very young might mean two or three centuries, minimum.

  “What do you mean, you realized? You didn’t know the moment he’d turned you?”