The Warlord

by Gena Showalter

  Hades had trained her for this. Her eyes widened. That’s right.

  One day, you’re going to require the skills of a seduction master, Neeka had told her.

  Hello, one day. And really, it wasn’t like Taliyah had to go all the way with Roc. She just had to make him admit how much he wanted her. In the process, she might discover other weaknesses or gain an opportunity to strike.

  She returned her gaze to his muscular, tattooed build, a shiver racing over her. At the very least, pitting her ability to seduce against his ability to resist might rid her of the chastity belt.

  Justifying your actions, girl?

  Maybe. But until she fed, she wouldn’t win a physical altercation with him. A vengeful seduction without benefits was currently the strongest arrow in her quiver. So...

  Yes. She would do it. The decision solidified, and she crafted a quick plan. First, she’d log in more time with the crystal, searching for Blythe and Isla, as well as mentally charting names and identities of other harpies she recognized. Then preparation for hubby dearest could begin...

  Roc would learn. War with a harpy and suffer.

  13

  Roc perched on a stool, working in the hot Harpina sun, surprised and disappointed as the hours passed and neither Taliyah nor phantoms interrupted him. A battle might do him some good. Release a little tension. Any tension. Inside him, pressure continued to build. At this rate, an explosion seemed imminent.

  Usually, he summoned his concubine before he reached this level of aggression. But even if an interlude were an option, he didn’t want his concubine.

  Though Taliyah wasn’t his gravita, his treacherous body craved her alone. Because his mind craved her alone.

  Women are a receptacle, Roc? One as good as any other? If ever words returned to bite him...

  Fierce Taliyah was unlike any other. More stubborn, defiant and rigid...until aroused. Then she melted for him. Or pretended to. He cursed.

  Roc yearned for her, while she yearned for another.

  “Zero point zero,” he spit.

  With a huff, he adjusted the erection that refused to deflate. No more thoughts of the snarpy.

  He dipped his head and hiked his shoulder, wiping sweat from his brow before he resumed chiseling his chosen meteorite. A six-ton beast shaped like a half-moon. Big enough to fill his new bedroom. The best of the best, without crack or blemish. The better the meteorite, the more honor he bestowed upon Chaos. More than a sign of his great respect for the male who’d helped shape him, the meteorite served as a sign of his commitment. Something Roc took seriously. How else did you thank the god you served?

  Usually he worked as if he handled handblown glass. Today, he put too much force behind his blows, his temper boosting every strike. Large hunks of debris rained to a ground covered in frost. A Harpinian anomaly he despised, for it reminded him of Taliyah and—

  No thoughts of her!

  Thunk, thunk. Thunk, thunk. A larger section of rock fell, a crack forming in the piece left behind. He ground his teeth and switched his efforts to erasing the damage. Perhaps he should think of the snarpy. List the many ways he despised her.

  Yes, he liked this plan. For starters, Taliyah Skyhawk, Terror of All Lands, refused to follow orders even to save her life. She turned everything into a contest of wills, forcing him to do the same. The excitement of those contests didn’t matter. The woman refused to bend, a trait only estimable in an Astra. With her presence, her scent, her everything, she made him burn. He loved—hated to burn. He valued control in every area of his life.

  Control equated to power. Life without power equated to misery without equal.

  Cursing, Roc dropped the chisel and resettled on the stool, his elbows on his knees, his head in his upraised hands. A petite temptress was walking all over the Commander of the Astra Planeta, and he was letting her do it. He invited her rebellions, because he liked the end result. His hands roaming over her body. His fingers inside her.

  Even now, he panted for more.

  Could he make her moan? Would she beg for his kiss, his touch—or Hades’s?

  Roc’s claws shaded from gray to black, the tips becoming razors. For pride’s sake, he should make Taliyah crave him. He had something to prove.

  Taking her to bed was practically a duty. He didn’t require her virginity, only her pleasure.

  Yes! He jumped to his feet, certain of his brilliance. He’d make her come all night long.

  Deny my effect on you then, harpy.

  Before he’d taken a step, he recalled the day Solar used a similar excuse to be with his bride. He eased into his seat.

  Back then, Roc had believed the idea smacked of “pure foolishness.” Did it?

  Or did he know better now?

  Better. Definitely. With Taliyah, the scales were unbalanced. In her favor! He desired her, but she didn’t desire him in return. She had power over him. An unacceptable situation. No one should have power over him, especially a bride.

  Might equaled right.

  Roc wasn’t some inexperienced youth who lost his mind in the midst of passion, forgetting his purpose. He had the skill to pleasure Taliyah as much as he pleased, without crossing that final line. As he released the worst of his tension, she would learn to never again taunt him.

  The perfect plan. Flawless.

  With measured strokes, he petted the key he’d hung around his neck before coming to the gardens. The only way to open the enchanted chastity belt. Taliyah didn’t know the skills he possessed in the bedroom. But she would learn. Laugh at him? No, oh no. She’d be too busy screaming.

  Arousal singed muscle and bone. He wanted Taliyah screaming.

  He would have the harpy in his bed tonight. By morning, the scale would tip in his favor.

  —May I approach, Commander?—

  Roc wasn’t in the mood for company, but his station came before his mood. Had phantoms been found? —You may.—

  His brother appeared and leaned a broad shoulder against the meteorite. Rather than offer a report about phantoms, as expected, he said, “You look more tormented than usual.”

  “That means I look better than I feel,” Roc grumbled. He picked up his chisel to eliminate what remained of the crack. “What do you need?”

  “Lack of sex isn’t getting to you at all.”

  He opened his mouth to lament the trials of being wed to the world’s most sensual bride, only to snap his teeth together. Soon, Ian would begin his assigned task. As the least ranked, he was forced to do something so horrific Roc shuddered at the thought. Let him have his fun while he can.

  “I’ll be better tomorrow, you’ll see.” Sizzling desire raged as he imagined Taliyah naked in his bed. “Much better.”

  No reason to inform his brother of his plans. A worried soldier led to a worried army. A worried army was a defeated army. What’s more, their concern had no bearing on the situation. No matter how many times the snarpy begged and pleaded for Roc’s possession, he would refuse, his resolve steadfast.

  Ian whistled. “You realize you’re stroking the key like a lover, yes?”

  Again? He returned to his task.

  “Perhaps I should retain possession of—”

  “Mine!” The word burst from him, a command, warning and claim all at once. Realizing how crazed he sounded, he scoured a hand over his face. “My apologies.”

  Ian blinked at him. “You’re...sorry? You?”

  What if she is your gravita?

  No! Roc had endured thousands of years without a fated mate. The odds of finding his gravita were low. Lower than low. And if not, well, Taliyah’s station still didn’t matter. He couldn’t divorce her and sacrifice another; the ritual prevented it. When the time came, Taliyah would die. Perhaps he would ascend immediately afterward. His dream of slaying his enemy and enjoying a happy, peaceful life realized at l
ast.

  For the first time, the thought brought no triumph.

  Tone flat, he told his brother, “I’ll keep the key.”

  Ian held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I thought you should know the harpy rigged traps throughout the palace.” He reached over his shoulder to pluck a large, bloody shard of glass from his flesh. “I met with each of the men this morning. Silver was shocked every time he flipped a light switch. A floorboard caved in and sliced Roux’s tendon. Knobs fell off doors every time Halo touched one. A chandelier came down on my head. Twice.”

  An inventive and interesting strategy. None of his other brides had sought to annoy everyone to death. Roc ignored the sliver of pride working through him.

  “The harpy doesn’t play nice,” his brother said, amused rather than angry.

  “I’ll deal with her after I’ve completed this section of the altar.” He knew just what to do...

  “Also,” his brother said, “I should probably mention she visited the prisoners earlier today. The whole group plans to swipe a realm key from Roux, and they aren’t being secretive about it.”

  His lips twitched. He had to admire Taliyah’s initiative. He’d threatened to destroy the duplicate realm, and she’d launched a search and recover mission as soon as possible.

  Only another Astra brandished the strength and talent to steal from Roux. Especially when he didn’t carry the item in question. Astra were the keys.

  “What is she doing now?” he asked, doing his best to hide the intensity of his curiosity.

  “After spending hours searching the palace with the crystal, she set up camp in the kitchen. I asked her what she was cooking, and she told me she couldn’t speak to me without angering her snookiems, but if she were able to speak with me, she’d tell me she’s making an elaborate meal for her pookie bear. Obviously, she’s poisoning your food.”

  Snookiems? Pookie bear? Ian was right. She was absolutely poisoning Roc’s food. A disappointing and familiar play. Many brides had gotten their hands on toxins and venoms. Not that they’d had any luck. No matter the toxin or venom, the Astra were immune. They created worlds. They were poison, and they were remedy.

  He’d expected Taliyah to physically assault him. He’d...hoped.

  “Did she search for someone specific?” Her mother, sisters and cousins lived in another realm. People who would mourn her death. A thought he’d never allowed himself to entertain during his other marriages. A thought he dismissed. Doesn’t matter. Can’t matter.

  “I’d guess yes. The more rooms she searched, the more frustrated she appeared.”

  Perhaps he’d do a hunt of his own. If any of her relatives visited Harpina the day of the invasion, he’d peg them by sight alone. The mother and cousins had accompanied her that day in the market. The sisters he’d spotted only once, later that day. He could use the females as leverage. Or a gift?

  A gift, Commander? Who are you?

  As he stood, aggression prickled his nape. Ian felt it, too, and they tensed in unison. Someone prepared to launch an attack. Taliyah?

  Just as his blood heated with excitement, a whoosh and a whistle sounded. He reached up, catching the shaft of an arrow, then cast his gaze over the garden. There. His excitement fizzled. Not Taliyah but a vampire hiding in the shade. Another harpy consort?

  The bloodfiend launched a second arrow, but Roc caught it, too. With a toss and a sigh of disappointment, he returned both missiles to the vampire. Another whoosh and whistle, only faster and deadlier. The first arrow sank into the vampire’s left eye. The second embedded in the right.

  As the screaming man toppled, Ian flashed to his side. With a single swipe of his claws, the vampire forfeited his head.

  Ever since Ian lost the Commander’s helmet, he’d meted swift deaths to any who challenged him. He never hesitated to make a kill.

  He returned to Roc, the severed head in hand. “Shall I display this on the front lawn with the others?”

  He gave a clipped nod, but Ian didn’t flash. He lingered, uneasy, as if something of grave importance plagued him.

  “What?” Roc asked and heaved a sigh.

  “Do you...maybe, perhaps, I don’t know—” Ian massaged the back of his neck “—want a chastity belt of your own?”

  Are you kidding me? Roc dropped his chin, a bull ready to charge. “Do you angle to lose your tongue? If I can’t resist the urge to penetrate one little snarpy, I don’t deserve to lead the most powerful army in existence.”

  “Are you sure?” his brother asked, mimicking Taliyah. “Allow me to demonstrate a scene from yesterday’s dinner theater. In the role of Roc...” Ian banged his chest and growled, “I told you what happens when you provoke an Astra. Now I’ll show you. Me Commander.” He snickered. “Oh, and there’s been no sign of phantoms. Not that you asked about our safety or anything.”

  One step. Roc took one step before his laughing brother vanished, taking the head with him.

  Roc grabbed an icy water bottle, chugged half the contents and poured the rest over his sweaty face. A cool tide rushed over him, doing little to douse his desire for the snarpy.

  Maybe he did require a chastity belt of his own.

  No, he just needed to deal with the harpy. Ian’s parting shot had set off an alarm. Not loud but noticeable. Erebus never wasted a moment to war. Why hadn’t he sent a phantom to attack yet? New strategy?

  Bring it. Roc had planned for every eventuality.

  Except Taliyah.

  He swiped a hand over his face, freeing his lashes of water droplets. Tonight he would eat the meal she prepared, whatever it was. Goading her temper while they dined was sure to lighten his mood. If she attacked him, she’d give him the perfect excuse to put his hands on her. He could make her want him.

  He would.

  14

  Taliyah surveyed her handiwork. Nice. Expert-level romance. In front of a well-stoked hearth, she’d arranged a picnic-style dinner on a coffee table.

  The stage for Roc’s test-seduction was set.

  A General should be versed in all forms of attack. Even this. Once she convinced him to remove the belt, she’d know she possessed the ability to seduce him. So would he.

  Her confidence would be restored, and she’d have no trouble resuming the orchestration of his murder. All would be well.

  She smoothed her hands over tonight’s dress of choice: a stunner of Grecian design, sophisticated yet Gothic. The choker collar provided open shoulders and a deep V that ended just below her navel. The cinched waist led to a flowing hem with multiple slits, her sexy heels on display. Between her breasts dangled the key to Harpina.

  Maybe Roc knew what it was; maybe he didn’t. He probably didn’t care either way. In his mind, his threat to destroy the duplicate realm bound her here. He—Argh!

  Every time she moved, the chastity belt grazed the heart of her need. Taliyah thought she’d go mad. The stupid contraption was coming off tonight. If desire got the better of him—it must—he would remove the belt.

  Could she get him there? The challenge of it all was kind of...sexy.

  Incredibly sexy.

  Make him want you, future General, not the other way around.

  Wait! The constant scrape of a chisel ceased. Had Roc finished his work for the day? Heart kicking into a wild beat, she hurried to the balcony and searched the gardens. The colossal hunk of rock remained, but she saw no sign of the Astra.

  She averted her gaze, shifting her attention to the horizon, where his wall circled the city, a majestic but horrifying monstrosity. Did he walk the parapet? How long did she have before he hunted her?

  What if he didn’t hunt her?

  The door opened. As if her thoughts had conjured him, Roc stalked into the bedroom, master of the manor.

  She whirled, facing him fully. He’d showered somewhere other than his bathroom
. Interesting. He’d donned a shirt, covering the bulk of his alevala. That shirt did great things for him, stretching over broad shoulders and bulging muscles. Water droplets dampened his hair, a few beads clinging to long black lashes. Harsh features appeared more pronounced than usual, strain pulling his bronze skin taut.

  He strained up good. Real good.

  He stopped abruptly and perused her slowly. Tremors beset her limbs. Performance jitters, nothing more.

  His expression remained neutral, but his hands fisted. “I’m told you prepared my dinner.”

  My cue. Strolling closer, Taliyah motioned to the picnic. “My hubby had a tough day, and he deserved a little pampering.”

  “Yes, I can see you slaved over this delicious meal of—” he glanced at the different platters of food “—pineapple.”

  So cooking wasn’t her strong suit. She’d gathered every pineapple in the kitchen. “I wasn’t sure how you preferred it, so I spent extra time preparing it multiple ways. Sliced, smashed, crushed, kicked, choked or smothered. Husband’s choice. And yes, I’m such a good wife. I know.” When she reached him, she realized she had a choice. Link her arm through his and escort him to the table, or walk past him, letting him watch.

  When his pupils pulsed, she opted for the latter. She paused only long enough to drag a fingertip over his chest. “Come. Eat. You must be ravenous.” Strolling off...

  A sudden vise grip on her arm spun her into him, smashing her breasts into his chest. An involuntary shiver coursed through her. Heat followed.

  She swallowed, her bones threatening to melt. “Perhaps you have another meal in mind?”

  Roc dipped his head and dragged his nose up her throat, sniffing her. As he straightened, his pupils pulsed again. A heartbeat in his eyes. “I accept your invitation to come and eat.” He sounded...lusty.

  Uh, where was the rampaging beast she’d dealt with this morning? “You aren’t afraid I’ll poison you?”