The Warlord

by Gena Showalter

  Silver spoke up. —I believe the group entered through an unframed window in the north tower.—

  The windows were Ian’s job.

  With gravel in his voice, his brother admitted, —I was too busy repairing Taliyah’s traps to finish framing the windows.—

  Taliyah’s purpose all along?

  —Remain in the dungeon. I’ll summon Vasili.—The Midnight Sun had never learned to interact well with others, not even his Astra brothers. Usually, Roc left him in the duplicate realm, where the survivors of the conquered realm always slept. —He’ll ensure every exit is completely covered by morning.—

  Roc turned his awareness to the duplicate realm.

  —Vasili, come here and finish the palace fortifications.—

  The response came immediately, barely a grunt. In Vasili Speak, that was an enthusiastic assent.

  To the group, Roc confessed, —Erebus mentioned the Blade of Destiny—

  The other Astra didn’t hurl accusations, as Roc deserved. If he’d better guarded his Amazon bride, Erebus would have been unable to sleep with her, winning the blade. But Roc’s men went into war mode, discussing something they’d pondered before. How did you form a defense against someone who knew every move you’d make?

  Had the male turned Taliyah because she was Roc’s gravita?

  Will rip off his head and tear out each of his organs.

  The blame for Taliyah’s condition might rest at Roc’s door...

  He resisted the urge to return to her. No going back until he’d crafted a viable plan and built up an unshakable resistance against her appeal. His fault or not, her fate was sealed.

  Roc fired off commands. —Halo, call the soldiers together. Silver, read their minds en masse. We might have traitors in our midst.—

  If anyone had aided Taliyah and Erebus, Roc had...questions.

  22

  Taliyah hated Roc, but she missed him, too. She missed his warmth. His intensity. His hard stare and those roaming hands. Mostly, she missed the excitement he incited. For two days, he’d held her dissatisfaction at bay. Now? The sensation proved as relentless as ever.

  Her hunger didn’t help. Must eat. Soon. She kept eyeing her wrist, wondering how her own spirit might taste. Amazing? She’d taste amazing, wouldn’t she?

  A demented laugh caught her attention. Her own?

  The day wasn’t a total wash, thankfully. She’d come up with a rock-solid plan: get free by any means necessary, then figure everything else out. Okay, maybe not so rock solid. At least she’d gained intel into Roc’s fighting habits.

  During their miniskirmish, she’d witnessed one of his many abilities in action. The way he’d flashed those poles around her in a blink, trapping her within, told her he had an invisible arsenal at his disposal; he had only to flash it in.

  No wonder he tossed his weapons so haphazardly. He could acquire more with only a thought. She’d bet the same was true for his men.

  When she gained the strength, she would mount an escape. Although, honestly, she believed Roc would return sooner or later. He would remember the blessing mattered more than his bride’s species. Guaranteed he would glue himself to her side to stop her from meeting with Erebus.

  Forget Roc for a sec. The ring presented a major problem. Your crutches became your enemy’s best weapons against you. She’d done herself a huge disservice by relying on a piece of jewelry for the sake of her sanity. At crunch time, she’d had to take a time-out to scream.

  Now, when she should be fighting for her life, she needed to use days she didn’t have to train against the screams.

  No one would use those screams against her again. Next time, she would be prepared.

  “Taliyah! Psst!”

  The whisper-yell penetrated her ravenous haze, and she swung her attention to the harpies. Since Ian’s arrival, the girls had avoided speaking with her. They’d only murmured among themselves, recounting history lessons about Erebus and his phantoms.

  Mmm. Did someone just ring the dinner bell? As she ran her bottom lip between her teeth, the harpies paled.

  “Are you really a phantom?” Mara barked the question.

  Taliyah had refused to be straight with Roc, but she wouldn’t be so stingy with her own people. “I am.”

  Had Ian’s ears just twitched?

  Let him listen and inform his boss.

  “So you’re the puppet of harpykind’s first enemy?” Mara demanded. “The god who once slaughtered our people?”

  “Not a puppet.” A daughter. She almost said Screw it and revealed her royal connection. So badly she wanted to witness everyone’s reaction. Somehow, she resisted.

  “Only a puppet,” Mara reiterated with a nod. “And you think to lead us?” She scoffed. “I’ll die before I serve you.”

  “Trust me. I can arrange your death in a matter of minutes.”

  “Shout it out later,” someone else piped up. A younger harpy with pale hair and only three stars. “We need an A-plus plan, like, yesterday.”

  Everyone looked to her, then Mara, then Taliyah again. What? They expected genius when she struggled to remain upright with her head propped against the wall?

  “Roc will return at some point. He’s got to keep me alive for another twenty-eight days.” Despite the lack of windows, her internal clock told her they’d passed midnight hours ago.

  “Do you truly believe you can kill these guys?” Three Stars asked, earnest.

  Did she? Eight hard-earned stars, two absentee fathers, one indomitable mother and four feral sisters. “I do,” she replied.

  “All right. I...I’ll let you have a nibble of me.” A slim brown arm extended through the bars. “Let’s get you strong and racer ready.”

  Ian stepped forward, but made no other move toward them.

  Taliyah reeled at the staggering sacrifice. Then the girl doubled over and screamed in agony. Her knees gave out.

  The others rallied around her, cheering her on as she received her fourth star.

  Taliyah’s chest swelled with pride. Another harpy’s win always thrilled her, inspiring her to reach for greater heights, reminding her of why she fought so hard to lead harpykind. Strength like this must be protected and nurtured. But...

  Why couldn’t this be enough? Why did dissatisfaction remain a permanent part of her makeup? What did the Commander bring to her table that others didn’t? Why did she care that he suffered bad dreams?

  Why did she want to soothe him?

  When the cheering tapered, the newly starred, beaming harpy reached through the bars once again. “Order up.”

  “Keep your soul,” she said with a small smile. “I have faith that Roc will provide. Wait and see.” He wouldn’t want to, but still he’d do it. He needed her well.

  He could take his disgust and shove it.

  New resentment welled. Perhaps she didn’t miss her husband after all.

  * * *

  Ticktock, ticktock. Roc sat at the edge of his bed. Hours before, Silver had discovered eleven soldiers with ties to Erebus. Ties the god had created days before the Astra first came to Harpina.

  As soon as Roc had locked the males in the dungeon of the duplicate realm to await punishment, he’d come here.

  One after the other, warlords had requested a telepathic conversation about the phantom. He had issued denials and watched the clock on the wall. Seething. Waiting.

  The moment 6:00 a.m. arrived, he rose and showered, removing the alevala from his chest. How Solar must be laughing in his grave right now! Without question, the former Commander had once felt as if he stood before his own personal version of paradise, the beauty of it stealing his thoughts, pleasure beckoning...until the whole world erupted into flames.

  How many times had Roc discounted the man’s obsession with his siren? How often had he advised his leader to ignore her appeal a
nd pick someone else? Now he wrestled with his own desires, unable to take his own advice.

  At least he’d decided what to do with Taliyah. An easy verdict to render, since he’d had no other option.

  Roc would keep her at his side, always.

  Could he handle twenty-four hours a day with an unpredictable phantom-harpy? No. Could he allow more secret meetings with her master? Also no. Sneaking other phantoms into the palace ended now.

  She would gloat about his predicament, just like Erebus. She’d probably even guessed his strategy. Had probably constructed a counterstrategy to create problems with his men—with his body. She specialized in his sexual torment, after all.

  Erebus chose well.

  Did Roc have the strength to resist Taliyah, if she turned up the heat? He didn’t know. Even now, filled with hate and repugnance, his body craved hers. The rest of him anticipated their next sparring match.

  For the first time, he operated without a fully prepared battle plan, complete with a backup and a backup to the backup. He had to take this minute by minute.

  Overflowing with dread, he dressed. He opted to forgo a shirt and selected a pair of leathers. He slid his feet into combat boots. Rather than strap up with multiple daggers, he sheathed a small three-blade at his ankle. Give Taliyah easy access to a weapon able to end her life prematurely? No.

  Nothing left to do but collect her...

  How had she fared throughout the night? He didn’t want to care. He wouldn’t care. Roc lifted his chin and straightened his shoulders, then flashed to the dungeon, just outside Taliyah’s cell.

  The sight of her hit like an asteroid. She occupied a corner, her legs bent and drawn up behind her. A queen before her people. Around her eyes, black lines had grown together, shading the spaces between them; uneven edges dripped over her cheeks like tears. Her irises had turned fully black and seemed to spin, snaring him in a dizzying maze.

  An irresistible, deadly beauty, even now.

  Staring at him, she purred, “Hello, husband.” She graced him with a slow, wicked smile, and he hissed a breath between his teeth.

  He didn’t mean to, but he dropped his gaze to her lips. They, too, were fully black...and he wondered how soft they’d feel against his skin.

  He stiffened with annoyance. “Hello, soulsucker.”

  “Aw, how sweet. Another adorable nickname.” A Gothic ice queen, she glided to her feet and strolled to the bars, every movement a wonder of sensuality. Thin straps of metal crisscrossed over her chest, turning her T-shirt into a gown.

  She’d reverted to predator mode. Having spotted prey, she’d roused enough energy to launch a final stand.

  Frostberries perfumed the air, setting little fires in his lungs. Golden torchlight illuminated the stardust smeared over her skin, fueling his most possessive instincts.

  You should try to resist, at least.

  The other harpies stepped up to the bars between the cells for a closer look at the byplay. Commentary abounded.

  “Uh-oh. He looks ticked.”

  “Only because you’re staring at his face. Check out the package in his pants.”

  “I sense a severe clubbing in T-bomb’s future.”

  “If I’m going to stay here,” Taliyah said, empress of her audience, “I insist on redecorating. Maybe a couple of tasteful nudes.”

  He glared at her. A lowly phantom had no right to tease the Astra Commander. “You won’t be staying here.”

  She pouted with feigned disappointment. “Let me guess. You’ll be glued to my side forevermore.”

  “I will.” He punctuated the words with a clipped nod.

  “Why do you appear so glum about it? You’re getting uninterrupted time with the woman of your dreams. I’m the one who deserves to wail. I have to spend time with you.”

  Disregard her words. Move on. “There will be new rules, of course.”

  “Of course. I’ll give them the same respect as the others.” She reached through the bars slowly, giving him a chance to protest before she glided a claw around the unstained skin above his heart. “Will I get three squares a day?”

  Though he didn’t understand the words themselves, he easily deciphered their meaning. He’d thought to keep her hungry and weak. Should he? She’d deteriorated in a matter of hours. How long did she have until her eyes turned milky, her mouth a suction cup?

  Not even trying to mask his revulsion, he flashed into the duplicate realm, appearing in the cell with the imprisoned soldiers.

  Roc grabbed the closest—a berserker whose jaw had yet to heal from repeated exposure to Roc’s fists. He carted the male into Taliyah’s cell.

  She remained at the bars, her back to him.

  “Your breakfast awaits,” he said as the male fought his hold. “Compliments of Erebus.”

  She turned with sensual grace and eyed her meal. “Normally I’d ask what crimes he’s committed, but I remember seeing him in the throne room. He’s a soldier of yours. That’s crime enough.”

  Roc pushed, and the berserker stumbled to his hands and knees before coming up in a rush, preparing for battle.

  Taliyah moved at an incredible speed, even without use of her wings, restraining him against a wall with her shackled hands and forcing his head to tilt at an uncomfortable angle. She pressed her mouth against his throat, like a vampire tapping a vein. The berserker shouted and flailed—at first. He slowed...sagged, finally hanging motionless in her grip. Color drained from his flesh. Taliyah’s pinkened.

  Roc could barely stomach watching a soulsucker in action...usually. Somehow, as she swayed in time to her swallows, she made the act a sensual dance. He...didn’t like it. His bride should not put her mouth on another male.

  Jealousy shocked him. Singed him. Infuriated him! She’s a phantom. This doesn’t matter.

  Still he fought the urge to stride over and slay the male. Roc breathed with purpose. Inhale, exhale. Slow. Slower. Better. Except it wasn’t better!

  As he took a step forward, Taliyah released her meal. Nothing but an empty shell. The body fell to the floor with a hard thud, utterly drained and eternally dead.

  The harpies withdrew, and Taliyah most definitely noticed, her posture growing rigid as she straightened.

  She craned her head to meet Roc’s gaze, sending a jolt through him. As the shadows receded from her eyes and mouth, and the onyx vanished from her irises, she smiled, radiant.

  In that moment, she embodied each of her species. The seducer, the warrior and the ice queen.

  “Haven’t drained someone in so long, and oh, the power! I usually only take enough to stay strong.” She wiped her lips with the back of her hand and winked at him. “I don’t have to ask if you enjoyed the show. Your measuring log says plenty.”

  Knew she’d gloat. “Come here.” Today he issued orders, and she obeyed him. He would settle for nothing less.

  She didn’t come here. “Is this the part where we kiss and make up? Because—” Her brow wrinkled, and her smile dulled. She clutched her stomach, accusations flickering in her eyes. “Did you poison me, Commander?”

  “Not on purpose.” Was this another trick?

  In response, Taliyah hunched over and vomited a stream of bright light. The more she lost, the faster the shadows returned to her eye sockets. By the end, onyx swamped her irises once again.

  No, no trick. Concern seized him.

  If Erebus had predicted Roc’s actions, he’d known where Roc would source for his phantom bride’s food. Had the god purposely tainted the soldiers? Or was this something else?

  He didn’t know anything anymore.

  At her side once again, he removed the shackles, preparing to relocate her. Chafed red skin ringed both of her wrists, the sight...disturbing. “Has this ever happened to you before?”

  “Never.”

  Chest tight, he clasped
her nape and flashed her to the master bathroom. “I’ll find you someone else to eat.” Another male who would feel the softness of her mouth.

  Hot blood rushed to Roc’s muscles, stardust singeing his palms.

  “Don’t worry, Roc.” She pushed at him. “I have no interest in you as food. I like my meals with a little less hypocrisy. Beggars can be choosers.”

  A lie. The woman was starved. If he wanted her to eat from him, she would eat from him. But he didn’t, so the point was moot. “Explain how I’m a hypocrite.”

  Shrug. “You judge me for eating souls, yet every five hundred years, you snuff one out.”

  He huffed a breath. “Better a hypocrite than a phantom.” How did she remain so intelligent? So lucid?

  “Are you kidding? There’s nothing worse than a hypocrite.”

  Her disdain wouldn’t affect him.

  It wouldn’t.

  Appearing to stand by force of her will alone, she cast her gaze around the spacious enclosure. Planning her escape?

  He inspected the room for anything she might use against him. The former General had obviously adored over-the-top luxury. Gold dragon scales covered the walls. Every faucet and knob boasted an array of precious gems. A beast-skin rug draped the marble floor in front of a claw-foot tub. The shower stall possessed multiple showerheads, a marble bench, a circular glass partition.

  Taliyah could use everything as a weapon in a thousand different ways. He’d have to remain on guard.

  “You may bathe.” He turned the knobs in the shower, hot water raining from different spouts. Steam quickly filled the stall.

  He removed the pinner, and she sighed with relief, rolling her shoulders and flapping those delicate wings.

  Chest clenching, he explained, “I won’t shower with you, but I also won’t leave you unattended. When I said you’d stay within my sight, I meant it.” The phantom couldn’t be trusted.

  She shrugged and pulled her shirt overhead. “You want to perv out while I shower. No need to explain.” With a flirty smile, she tossed the garment at him.