The Warlord Page 3

  Isla had her own phantom abilities, despite never dying.

  “The monsters... I’ve seen nothing like them. So cold, so cruel. They shredded anyone who approached them. There was so much blood.” Tabitha the Vicious peered at Taliyah with grave eyes. “Save our people, daughter. Save them all.”

  Seeing her powerful mother so shaken and speaking as if the world had just come to an end shook her to the core. “I’ll go to Harpina and assess the situation, yes.” Forget her own injury. She strode to the closet to collect daggers, a crossbow and a pair of short swords. Strapping those swords to her back proved excruciating, but she didn’t care. “Whatever these monsters are, they’ll die begging for mercy.”

  “Use my key.” Motions more awkward by the second, her mother removed a chain, where a small, dagger-shaped pendant hung.

  Realm keys, no matter their incarnation, allowed a holder to flash, moving to a new location with only a thought. She could land in any location of her choosing. The key to the Realm of the Forgotten would facilitate her return. She’d had it tattooed on her lower back, an hourglass set to vanish when her purchased time ran out.

  After securing the chain around her neck, she double-checked her enchanted ring. The metal screws anchoring the metal to bone held steady. Excellent. The older she’d grown, the louder the phantom screams had become, until even a few seconds had threatened to push her off the cliff of madness.

  She turned to Neeka. “Any helpful hints for me?”

  Her friend tilted her head, as if digging deeper into her vision. “You should say yes.”

  Say yes to what? “Anything else?” Maybe something she understood?

  No answer was forthcoming, the oracle lost. Very well. Taliyah nodded goodbye to her mother, then forced her body to mist. Frigid cold washed over her, weightlessness settling into her bones.

  Deep inhalation. She clasped the key to Harpina. With only a thought, she flashed to the other realm. The bedroom faded...

  Heartbeat, heartbeat...

  The palace formed around her, and she exhaled. Murals covered gold-trimmed walls, featuring General Nissa in the midst of battle. Multiple chandeliers dangled from the arched ceiling. Gold bricks paved the floor.

  Usually chattering harpies filled this area. Today? There were no harpies and no chatter. Just dead silence.

  Rage sparked in Taliyah. Someone will pay.

  A massive set of double doors loomed before her. The throne room waited beyond them. Tall, muscular guards stood sentry, both males clutching a sword—the weapon of choice for immortals with sensitive ears. There were other men present, some marching down hallways, others guarding different doors. Vampires, wolfshifters and banshees, all natural-born enemies, worked together. What she didn’t see? Monsters.

  Taliyah wrapped her fingers around the hilt of a dagger, preparing to strike. In this form, no one could see, hear or even sense her. Appearing, striking and vanishing would be easy. But why solidify, leaving dead bodies sure to set off an alarm? Why not spy first?

  “Who is the bloodthirstiest among you?” a rough voice called from the throne room, brutal in its intensity.

  She stiffened. A monster?

  Let’s find out. Wasting no time, she ghosted through the closed doors...

  3

  Taliyah drew up short. Hundreds of soldiers surrounded her. Other vampires, wolfshifters and banshees stood alongside other natural-born enemies. Elves, warlocks, merfolk. Goblins, minotaurs, centaurs. Trolls, fae, shifters of every kind. Gorgons and even a handful of creatures she couldn’t identify. Everyone focused on... She couldn’t tell yet, the crowd too thick.

  She ghosted forward, passing through bodies until—Taliyah gasped. Ten harpies knelt before the royal dais. With their hands chained behind their backs, the metal links connected to their ankles, they couldn’t protect themselves, much less stand. Their wings fluttered like crazy as they struggled for freedom without success.

  Rage growing hotter... Where were the other harpies?

  Directly behind the captives—each a contender for General—were four men.

  The monsters, no doubt about it.

  They were enormous, both incredibly tall and stacked with muscle. A wealth of tattoos covered their torsos—Whoa. She did a double take. Did those tattoos move?

  They did. But why? What did it mean? She needed a plan.

  What would a General do? Aid the captives or hunt for the others?

  At the moment, the invaders were distracted by...whatever this was. They remained unaware of the powerful phantom lurking in their midst. There was no better time for a search and rescue. Also, there was strength in numbers. The other harpies could help her save these captives.

  What did these men have planned for them, though? Rape? Murder? A little of both? Hatred seethed inside her.

  Better stay put.

  Where did these monsters come from? What were their greatest strengths? Their weaknesses?

  They reminded her of berserkers. Extra-large mutant berserkers on a steady diet of the bones of their foes. Each man wore an elaborate headdress. A mythological creature’s bottom jaw rested on their shoulders, the upper part on their skulls, with saber teeth creating a cage-like effect around their faces.

  Taliyah curled her hands into fists. Bloodstained claws extended from their nail beds.

  “Come, ladies,” a man called. The man. The one she’d heard before. “Surely someone wishes to claim the title of Bloodthirstiest Harpy?”

  That deep voice with its smug undertone drew her gaze toward the throne, where a fifth male reclined.

  How dare he claim the General’s seat?

  He exuded aggression and arrogance, the ferocity of him awe-inspiring. His headdress was bigger than the others. He was bigger than the others, with a crap ton more of those moving tattoos. Except for a fist-size patch above his heart, the images covered every inch of exposed skin.

  I’m going to kill him. The decision solidified, becoming a mission. He would be the first to fall by Taliyah’s hand.

  He drummed black claws on the arm of the golden throne. “The bloodthirstiest will be released from her bonds. The rest will spend the next month imprisoned in the dungeon below. Any takers now?”

  The girls took turns belting out replies, their tones sugary sweet.

  “I’m like walking cotton candy. I practically dissolve in your mouth.”

  “Don’t listen to her. She once drove a car into my face! I’m the sweetest.”

  “Sweetest? You just admitted to liking the taste of your own face. Bloodthirsty!”

  As the women did their best to nominate each other for freedom, the leader continued to drum those claws.

  Wanting a better look at him, Taliyah floated closer. Not materializing and fighting to free her people destroyed her.

  As soon as she reached the edge of the dais, the leader shifted.

  “Did I forget to mention,” he grated, “the bloodthirstiest harpy earns the right to challenge me?”

  New assurances rang out.

  “Me, me, me! You heard about my face smash, right?”

  “Jacoline be nimble, Jacoline be quick, Jacoline will impale you with a candlestick. Hi. I’m Jacoline.”

  “I will cut you open and remove your organs one by one—with my teeth.” The threat came from Mara, a woman who’d earned her ninth star. Blonde like Taliyah, and equally pale.

  The leader stood, silence descending upon the onlookers. “I believe I’ve found who I seek.”

  Not yet. Challenge him? Sign me up.

  She had to be careful, though. If someone noticed Taliyah’s appearance, they might suspect she’d keyed in. They might realize she’d misted, might discover her true origins. So, Taliyah returned to the double doors. A quick scan proved every eye remained on the leader. Replacing a dagger with mini-crossbows, she materializ
ed at last. The barest tendrils of warmth unfurled through her limbs.

  No time to waste. She shouldered her way to the front, commanding, “Out of my way.”

  All eyes zipped to her. Some men stepped out of her path, confused. Others had to be pushed. Most glowered at her, but didn’t retaliate.

  In this form, she smelled the blood and sweat of the men. “I hear you’re holding auditions for Bloodthirstiest Harpy, and I’m here for my reading.”

  “You,” the leader said, his tone...reverent? Thick shadows cast by the headgear kept his features in hiding, but she could feel the burn of his gaze upon her icy skin.

  He recognized her? Had they met before? Perhaps he followed her on social media. Can’t blame him. Her posts chronicled her steps to become General.

  Guards drew their swords, suddenly intent on stopping her by any means necessary.

  “Do not touch her.” The leader stated the words simply, but every weapon got sheathed in a hurry. Men leaped out of her path.

  The authority he wielded, to control so many with a lone statement... Envy swept her up.

  “Allow me to introduce myself,” she announced. “I’m Taliyah the Terror of All Lands, the Cold-Hearted, the Enemy of Enemies. My hobbies include listening to the screams of my foes, collecting the bones I sever and avenging the deaths of my people.”

  Bypassing the bound harpies a second time required great effort; for the greater good, she managed it. Only when she reached the royal dais did she halt. Your move, monster.

  Move he did, lifting the headdress. Powerful biceps flexed, igniting flutters of anticipation in her chest. What would she find? An average Joe? A hideous beast? Maybe a handsome fairy-tale prince?

  A thick tracery of veins led her gaze to the tattoo of a beautiful Amazon warrior on his—

  A sudden spike of dizziness rocked Taliyah, and she swayed. Her eyesight dimmed, the throne room fading. What’s happening?

  Though she fought, a scene opened up inside her mind... A memory?

  I stalk through a garden, trailing an Amazon dressed in a blood-splattered ivory gown.

  The girl from the tattoo, Taliyah realized with shock.

  As she stumbles and flees to the right, then the left, warriors wearing those monstrous headdresses step into her path, forcing her to continue straight ahead, where a massive structure looms. An onyx monstrosity with steps, a raised platform and an altar.

  A crowd stands behind it, a thirtysomething male in the center. He exudes supremacy. Two small women in sheer gowns stand at his sides. To the right is—

  Taliyah gasped. Erebus. Her father looked just like the drawings she’d seen. Fair, with curling hair and black eyes.

  Stretched behind him is an army of phantoms, each soldier motionless, silent and female, draped in an ill-fitting black gown.

  The Amazon throws a panicked glance over her shoulder and chokes on a sob. When she reaches the altar, I—no, the leader clasps her by the nape with a large tattooed hand, his claws at the ready. She grapples with tremendous skill, but she loses quickly.

  “Stop! Do not do this!” she pleads in an ancient language.

  Without hesitation or guilt, he forces her to lie flat upon the altar.

  “The first is startling, I know.” The now familiar voice sent ripples through the...vision?

  As she struggled to escape it, her sight remained dark. Her other senses screamed to life, at least. Incredible heat engulfed her, and the most divine fragrance filled her nose. Notes of spiced rum and melted sugar—or foreplay—made her mouth water. But...

  Why can’t I see?

  “You are reliving my memory,” the male said.

  Him. The leader. He was responsible for this. Air sawed in and out of her mouth as she continued to struggle, shudders working through her wings. “I’ll peel you from my brain if I must. I’m getting you out, whatever it takes.”

  “Relax, and it will finish playing out, then dissipate.”

  Relax? Around foes? Not happening. She fought with more force until finally, finally light came, the memory dying prematurely. The throne room appeared first, and so did the leader. He had closed the distance and now towered over her.

  Taliyah’s jaw went slack. He wasn’t an average Joe or a hideous beast, that was for sure. No, he was all chiseled perfection and raw sex appeal. Prince Charming with a rap sheet.

  His tattoo-free face boasted flawless, bronze skin, a proud, patrician nose and sinfully plump red lips. The softest-looking mouth she’d ever seen. He cropped his hair military-short, but he also sported a beard in need of a trim. Spiky black lashes framed magnificent gold irises with striations of gray.

  Realization 1: the heat and scent came from him.

  Realization 2: he was studying her just as intently as she studied him.

  Even as oxygen lodged in her throat, she feigned nonchalance, canting her head to the side. “I call foul. You’re supposed to count down before you initiate a staring contest.”

  “A countdown is your responsibility, harpy. When I turn my attention someone’s way, they should know they have five seconds to convince me not to kill them.”

  Good one. She’d be using it. Offering him a bright smile, she said, “How adorable are you?”

  Beneath his eye, a muscle twitched. “I am Alaroc Phaethon.”

  Phaethon. Fey-uh-thuhn. Familiar. Where had she heard that name?

  “You may call me Roc.”

  Oh, she may, may she? “Thanks, but no thanks, Alaroc.”

  He reached out and sifted a lock of her silver-white hair between two fingers. She let him, curious to know his game.

  “Where are the rest of the harpies?” she demanded when the seconds ticked by and he did nothing else.

  “Alive. At the moment, that’s all you need to know.”

  “Alive? When their hands and feet litter the palace grounds?” Pairing a conversational tone with hate-filled eyes—was there a better combination?

  “I killed your General. No other harpies, only consorts.”

  Though her mother had already warned her about Nissa, shock and sorrow inundated Taliyah. She hadn’t been the General’s biggest fan, but her respect for the position had never diminished. Nissa had earned her spot.

  For the first time in history, harpies were without a leader.

  “Those who attacked us lost their appendages before being tossed into another realm,” he continued, “where they will stay and heal.”

  That couldn’t be true. Could it? No one possessed the ability to throw others into another freaking realm. Right?

  Uncharted territory...

  A sense of purpose settled over Taliyah. The purpose for her birth was upon her. Her motivation to train without ceasing and forgo pleasures of the flesh. Her moment to shine.

  My sisters need me more than ever.

  “Prove my harpies are alive,” she demanded. “Take me to them. Let me see them with my own eyes.”

  “I will. Once you earn the right.” He dragged his gaze over her body, his pupils expanding over those amazing golden irises. “You are the Bloodthirstiest Harpy, are you?”

  “I am.” Truth was truth.

  Phaethon... The name continued to poke and prod at her calm.

  “And what gives you the right to bear this title, hmm?”

  She leaned toward him, as if she had a secret to impart, while sneaking a dagger closer to his groin. “The fact that I’ll be using your testicles as a new coin purse, perhaps?” She shoved the weapon deep into...his thigh?

  He’d guessed her intent and shifted his leg, the blade embedding in muscle. He hadn’t flinched or cried out.

  She huffed with irritation. Centuries spent on the battlefield had honed her instincts, and right now those instincts were shouting, To win, you must use tricks you’ve kept secret.

  “Y
ou were saying?” he asked, nonchalant.

  “A girl’s gotta swing and miss a few times, right?” Shrug. “Next time I’ll hit your balls out of the park. Promise.”

  He examined her, betraying only the slightest hint of eagerness. “You are a virgin, Taliyah?”

  Whoa! What did that have to do with anything? With a forced smile, she asked, “Does playing just the tip count?”

  He stood motionless, never broadcasting his intentions. Blink. He clasped her by the shoulders and spun her around. Suddenly, she faced their audience, his muscular arm slung beneath her breasts, locking her in place.

  His body heat! This close, he threw off intense waves of warmth. His skin actually burned hers...and she thought she might like it. Humiliating!

  She looked over the crowd, but no one peered her way. The warlords had forced the harpies to the floor, facedown.

  The powerful warrior behind her let his mouth hover just over her ear. “Let’s make sure, shall we?”

  That voice...the audible equivalent of a whorehouse. Capable of pleasuring every inch of your body, as long as you paid for it.

  What was he planning? Rather than raging out—her usual MO—she forced herself to melt against him. What did he have planned and why? “Baby, this mouth and these hands have done things.”

  “Have they, then?”

  Her breath hitched as he slid his free hand underneath her shirt, just above the waist of her pleated skirt. His heat intensified, his palm scorching her skin. She didn’t move. She couldn’t. Shock held her immobile. Surely he wouldn’t—

  He did.

  He thrust his hand under her panties, through the tiny thatch of curls at the apex of her thighs, and thrust two fingers deep inside her. A moan nearly escaped. The warmth! Being filled... He needed to stop this. He needed to stop this now. Before she—

  With a curse, he yanked his fingers out and stepped away.

  Rational thought returned quickly, her cheeks burning with mortification. He’d made her forget their audience. She’d gotten wet for him.

  Wet.

  For him.

  How dare he! She spun and threw a savage punch, her fist connecting with his rock-hard jaw.