The Warlord

by Gena Showalter

  “Fear?” She lifted her gaze, and her head followed, only at a much slower pace. “You take that back right this instant. I fear nothing.”

  “You should fear Erebus and his phantoms,” he told her, and yes, he contradicted his earlier assurance of protection. He was aware. “They want you dead before the day of sacrifice.”

  Her icy irises glittered with malice, the waters beneath that frozen surface clearly churning. “Since you killed our current General, I’m merely a single star away from being the next harpy General. I can handle a god and his puppies. Now. Do. You. Understand?”

  Magnificent female. She embodied rage.

  He suspected he’d learn nothing else until he responded to her query. “Let this stand as an official proclamation by the Astra Commander. Taliyah Skyhawk fears nothing.”

  Pride assuaged, she relaxed into her seat.

  “I haven’t forgotten what you said in the throne room.” Words spilled from him, a question suddenly troubling him. “With whom have your hands and mouth...done things?”

  She didn’t miss a beat. “I used a temporary boy toy whenever the occasion suited me. His name is Hades. Why?”

  “Hades, a king of the underworld?” A master seducer, according to reports.

  “You’ve heard of him?”

  “The male has won major wars and slain countless enemies. Yes, I’ve heard of him.” Roc settled his fingers over and around the arms of his chair, slowly gripping the wood.

  Taliyah and Hades.

  Hades and Taliyah.

  Hmm. “Do you miss him?” How could any male leave her a virgin, when the fate of his loved ones didn’t hang in the balance?

  Her lips formed a wide O, and she sputtered again. He hated that he’d stooped low enough to ask. The answer mattered not at all. In no way would her emotional state affect Roc’s plans. But he didn’t like the thought of his bride pining for another male in his palace. The disrespect of it... Yes, the disrespect. The only reason this bothered him.

  He would hear her response, and he would hear it now. “Answer me, harpy.”

  “You really are jealous,” she gasped out. “You are! We’ve been married a hot minute, and you’re already foaming at the mouth with jealousy.” Mirth softened her features, highlighting her delicacy. “Astra are possessive, then? No, don’t try to deny it. Envy is practically seeping from your pores, darling.”

  In that moment, Roc kind of hated her. “I’m merely curious as to why you risked your chance to become General to get off with a man like Hades.”

  “Here’s the thing,” she said, and judging by the calculated gleam in her eyes, she planned to eviscerate Roc. “I didn’t just get off with him. I had my world blown. Repeatedly. No other has ever come so close to winning my V-card.”

  A god of the underworld had nearly taken what belonged to Roc. Little red dots sparked throughout his line of sight, every inhalation like a stream of fire in his nostrils.

  The first signs of anhilla, a time when nothing could stop him. Anyone who got between him and his enemy died screaming.

  —Dismiss me, and I’ll finish constructing the chastity belt before dinner ends. I’ve only a handful of adjustments to make.—Silver’s voice broke through the haze, alerting Roc to how quickly he was burning through his control.

  He gripped the arms of his chair tighter, swung his gaze to his warrior and offered a clipped nod.

  —Do it.—The sooner Roc put Taliyah in her belt, the better. Not because he feared he would lose his mind and bed her. Please. No matter how badly he wanted her, he wouldn’t take her. But, if he had to suffer without a concubine tonight, she would suffer without relief of any kind.

  Silver stood and marched out of the room.

  “What was that?” A frowning Taliyah skidded her gaze over the warlords. “Do you guys communicate telepathically like Sent Ones or something?”

  “Eat,” Roc snapped.

  “I’ve nearly cleaned my plate!”

  “Yet you haven’t consumed more than a bite.” He needed time to calm. She needed sustenance. They might as well stay here while he awaited the belt. “We aren’t leaving this room until you’ve dined, Taliyah. If I must feed you by hand, I will. That, I swear to you.”

  8

  Taliyah recognized a challenge when she heard one. Alaroc wanted her to refuse to eat dinner. Any excuse to punish the woman who’d unearthed a weakness: his primitive sense of possession. Oh, he wasn’t a raving envymaniac because he’d fallen for her or anything like that. She carried his name now. He considered her a piece of property. In his mind, he had an exclusive right to her body.

  At the moment, he spoiled for a fight. How he must lament his inability to summon his concubine. For the next thirty days, Taliyah was his only outlet. Therefore, she shouldn’t fight him on this. What the Commander wanted from her, he would not get.

  Smirking at him, she spooned a bite of something creamy. Oh, ew. Had masticating always been this revolting? She much preferred her diet of souls. They went down nice and smooth. At least she didn’t have to steal or earn food in order to enjoy it, like other harpies. Her phantom half overrode the necessity.

  Roc glowered at her. Because her drama queen couldn’t help himself. “If you dislike a dish, pick another.”

  “Why so huffy, husband? Bad day at the office?”

  He said nothing, just studied her as if he were taking notes for their coming battles, planning where he’d put his hands.

  With her next bite, she got the hang of things, adapting to the sensations and flavors. She absolutely, positively didn’t squirm as she watched him watch her. The guy confused her, that was all. He was brusque and high-tempered, expecting obedience in all ways, at all times, but he was also...normal.

  He’d softened when he’d spoken of Chaos and bristled at the mere mention of Erebus. How would he react to her familial relationship to the males? She supposed it depended on what was stronger, his love or his hate.

  With Erebus scheduled to revisit Harpina, she decided to keep the information in her pocket.

  A bomb could only be detonated once.

  Today, she had to settle for screwing with Alaroc. Shocking him from his stoic demeanor was amusing, at least.

  “Just curious,” she said after she swallowed. “Are we spending our honeymoon in my bed or yours?”

  Reclining in his seat, he adopted a casual pose. Nice try. Aggression like his couldn’t be masked. The black shirt hugged massive biceps flexed and ready. Beneath the sleeve, a tattoo frothed and writhed with greater speed.

  Avoid the trap! She redirected her attention to his too-rough, too-beautiful face. Now wasn’t the time for another trip down Murder Lane. “Well?” she prompted.

  “I’ll sleep in the General’s suite. Alone.”

  So. He required sleep, like everyone else. He wasn’t all-powerful.

  Operation Night Gorge is a go.

  “Since harpies only use beds for sex and laundry storage,” he said, “I’m sure you’ll spend each night plotting my downfall.”

  “You aren’t wrong.” Until a consort was found, a harpy refused to rest in expected places or near an enemy. “You’re not afraid I’ll ditch you?”

  “I’m able to destroy the duplicate realm with the harpies inside it. No, I’m not afraid you’ll ditch.” He delivered the threat as calmly as he’d delivered everything else, a warlord confident of his strategy. As he should be.

  The strategy was sound. She couldn’t delude herself into thinking he merely called her bluff. If she left and he caught her, he would absolutely destroy the other realm. But he was wrong about something. The knowledge wouldn’t stop her.

  First rule of war: never let trepidation about what could be stop you from doing the right thing.

  If Taliyah wished to confer with Neeks, she’d freaking confer with Neeks. If she did he
r realm-hopping after she’d fed, the sleeping Alaroc would never know she’d jumped ship for a bit. If he even survived the feeding, of course.

  His soul was going to taste so good, she just knew it.

  “What motivation do I have to leave you, hubby dearest?” She batted her lashes at him. “A pre-General deserves to savor every second of her starter marriage.”

  His gaze dropped to her wrist. “What makes you think you’ll become General before the other harpy? The one I first selected. She has more stars.”

  Annoyance prodded her. “That might be the dumbest question you’ve ever said. Mara fought General Nissa and lost. She’s out of the running until the new General is crowned.”

  Taliyah figured those with nine stars would battle it out. Once she herself completed her sacrifice, she’d challenge the winner. Not to brag, but she could beat Mara while blindfolded, with both hands and feet bound.

  “Why do you wish to become General?”

  “I’m the best woman for the job.” Truth was truth.

  “And what makes you think you’re the best?”

  Curiosity layered his tone, nothing else, but for some reason she reacted as if he’d thrown a gauntlet, sputtering and shifting. No one had ever asked her a follow-up question about this. “For starters, I’m strong.”

  “So are the others.”

  “I’m—” Argh! “I was born to be General, so I’ll be General.” And your constant dissatisfaction? What of that?

  Alaroc’s head tilted to the side, his gaze moving past her. She glanced over her shoulder, following his line of sight. Nothing jumped out at her. No changes. Oh, wait. He must be communicating with his men.

  He jumped to his feet as if he’d been ejected and held out his hand. “Come.” A shocking mix of anger, arousal and excitement emanated from him, electrifying the air. “I have a special gift you will accept.”

  Beyond curious, she almost accepted his help to stand. “No, thanks. I’m ready for dessert.” He would get nothing he wanted today.

  With a grunt, he hefted her to her feet and restrained her against his chest.

  Her heart drummed as they peered at each other, silent. Rebellion blunted, desires switched and honed. “Are you my dessert, Astra?”

  He cursed and flashed her from the dining hall, an unfamiliar bedroom forming around her. Less space than the master suite, with fewer valuables. The canopied bed, claw-foot tub before the hearth and desk with golden turtles anchored beneath the legs suited her tastes.

  Alaroc released her, separating from her so abruptly she stumbled.

  Okay, so she could add flashing other people to his résumé of skills. She glared up at him, only to lose her train of thought. The silver striations in his molten-gold irises were spinning.

  “Now,” he said, unveiling a sardonic smile. “We do this my way, nice and easy, or we do this your way. Not nice and easy.”

  Different parts of her quivered as she scanned the bedroom, on the hunt for what could possibly cause this kind of reaction in—Oh, screw that! A beautiful but treacherous chastity belt waited on the mattress. She recognized the design.

  A thin metal band decorated with swirling symbols fit around her hips. Two flat links of chain hung from the band’s center, one in front and one behind, both delicate in appearance. They held a small, curved metal sheet in place.

  No wonder Alaroc exuded sizzling excitement. With this “gift,” he better secured his investment, ensured his bride remained untouched and punished Taliyah for taunting him at dinner.

  Anger glimmered within her. Definitely anger. Not an excitement comparable to his. “You need help to resist me? How sad for you.”

  He paid no attention to her words. “For once, harpy, I’m hoping to do this your way.”

  Hot shivers trekked her spine, pings of exhilaration—er, hotter anger singeing every nerve ending. “How do you feel about regifting? I think the belt will really make your erection pop.”

  “Either I put it on you with your cooperation, or I just put it on you.” Guttural tone, unwavering resolve. “Decide.”

  Her mind raced. Man, she’d really poked the bear with her jealousy comment, huh? He’d been itching for this fight ever since. Accepting the belt would discombobulate him, but giving up a personal freedom without a battle wasn’t her style.

  Why waste an opportunity to witness his combat skill?

  She toed up to him. “Looks like you’re getting your wish, Astra.” His delectable scent muddled her thoughts, but she forged ahead. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  A slow grin bloomed. “With pleasure, bride.” In a motion too swift for her to perceive, he swept her into his arms and threw her atop the bed, right next to the chastity belt. Before she even stopped bouncing, he lifted her skirt and ripped off her minuscule panties.

  She gasped as cool air kissed her heated core. “Well, well, well. You have moves. Not bad.”

  “There’s more to come.”

  “I’m sure there is.”

  To her consternation, he didn’t pounce. He moved to the side of the bed. Gaze locked on her, he rolled his head left and right, popping bones in his neck. Preparing. Muscle and tendon flexed, and she gulped. All that carefully banked power was doing strange things to her concentration.

  Inner shake. Taliyah propped her weight on her elbows, smiled with invitation as he leaned toward her—and kicked his face with her six-inch stilettos.

  He caught her ankle, but only after she’d cut his cheek. Blood trickled from the wound already healing.

  “I have moves, too,” she said.

  “I’m sure you do.” He grazed his thumb over her heel, tickling, popping the shoe off. “Have you ever worn a chastity belt?”

  Do not moan. “Only in nightmares.”

  A husky, sardonic chuckle met her answer. “You’ll wear mine.”

  How could a voice remind her of sandpaper and silk at the same time? “You’ll have to subdue me first. Can you?”

  His gaze dropped to the apex of her thighs as a bead of sweat trickled from his temple. “I think you like the idea.”

  She didn’t. She couldn’t. The madness! “I like the possibility of your defeat,” she said, her voice hoarser than usual. How humiliating.

  No more conversation. Erupting, Taliyah kicked him with her other foot. Harpy speed allowed her to nail him once, twice, thrice. Could he have stopped her? Probably. But he didn’t even try. He held her stare, the stiletto’s heel sinking into his shoulder with each strike.

  “The way your breasts jostle...” Pulling himself from his stupor, he plucked the shoe from her and pitched it behind him.

  When he reached for her, she punted him in the throat. He stumbled a single step, and she jolted upright, punching him in the same spot she’d last kicked him. Her knuckles cracked with the first blow and shattered with the second, his trachea like steel. She didn’t care; she swung again.

  He flashed before the next blow landed, disappearing. Heat behind her! Taliyah rolled back and punted her legs. Contact! He grunted, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.

  “You’ve had your fun. Now I’ll have mine.” He dived for her.

  Just before he landed, she rotated. He crashed on the mattress, but launched up with purpose.

  She rolled and kicked. He latched on to her ankle and tugged. They grappled on the bed, the floor, knocking into furniture and shattering knickknacks. She fought dirty, her entire body engaged in the battle. Wings fluttering, fists like hammers. If an opportunity presented itself, she took it, poking at his eyes, crushing his throat and bruising his balls.

  The only skill she didn’t utilize: misting. Maybe he’d consider it an illusion, maybe he wouldn’t. The reward didn’t outweigh the risks. Misting required energy, and Taliyah had yet to feed. She was already tiring, weakness invading her limbs.

 
Gah! How much more could she dish?

  To her astonishment, he didn’t throw a single punch. He merely defended himself.

  She panted and wheezed as she shouted the many ways she hoped to kill him. All the while, he used his superior strength to herd her back to the bed. The beginning of the end for her, and they both knew it.

  In minutes, he managed to pin her to the mattress. With her wings smashed, her strength dwindled faster.

  “Concede, harpy. I’ve won.” He hovered over her, damp with sweat. A vein bulged in the center of his forehead.

  Some of her animosity drained. His tension... She might have lost this battle, but she’d won something else. “Why don’t you look victorious, warlord? Because you want me more than ever?” A massive erection had popped the button of his leathers, rising from the waistband, the head slick with arousal.

  Silent, he held her down and slid the belt up her legs nice and slow. He couldn’t mask his tremors as he anchored the belt in place, his fingers lingering on her skin.

  The big, bad Astra trembles for me?

  Ignore your wonder. “You like tit for tat, yes? Guess I’ll have to make you insane with unrequited desire before I kill you.”

  He didn’t back down. A single twist of his wrist bolted the belt in place.

  The ominous click and the cold bite of metal should have infuriated her. Lying there with a two-hundred-plus-pound enforcer between her legs, she felt...vulnerable. And she liked it.

  Something was seriously wrong with her. A General should never enjoy a foe’s victory.

  “Do you see now, harpy?” Satisfaction oozed from him. “You can’t beat me.”

  Determined to lord something over him, Taliyah snapped, “All I see is a man without a concubine who just lost fingering privileges with his wife.”

  9

  A mess of conflicting emotions, Roc flashed to the master suite next door. He needed to escape Taliyah’s addictive chill...titillating scent...defiant gaze...wanton mouth...the excitement and thrill she roused with her very presence.