The Warlord Read online

  He had lost track of his surroundings in the presence of a foe. “Harpy, you should know the male you taunt. I can rip you into more pieces than anyone can count.”

  To his consternation, she remained unflapped. “You can try.” She released an airy sigh. “I must admit, I’m intrigued by the notion of ruling your men. Do you think I’ll be the first dictator to slaughter her own army?”

  The most beautiful of his brides, and the most stubborn, it seemed. “No matter what you throw at me, I’ll overcome. I must. Your death is the first step to earning a blessing from my god.”

  She didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, yeah? What kind of blessing?”

  This time, he offered no response. With the Astra, you had to earn the right to question someone of higher authority. Roc had humored this woman enough. “I’ll hear your answer now, Taliyah.”

  The gleam of calculation returned to her ocean-water eyes. “Slow your roll, Rocaby-baby. I’m not done getting my answers yet. You implied you’ve experienced wedded bliss before. So, how many times have you gotten hitched and ditched?”

  That gleam... Why did he like it so much? “Many.” Perhaps he wasn’t finished humoring her after all. He beat a fist into his shoulder, saying, “I wear their deaths in my skin.” The alevala acted as an outward sign of his inner commitment, his unwavering determination and his willingness to cross any line to achieve a goal.

  He regretted nothing.

  Except one.

  He fisted his hand to stop himself from rubbing the patch of perfectly healed flesh above his heart, where he’d removed a fist-size circle of skin just this morning—as he did every morning. The patch was beginning to stain again. Sometime in the night, a full image would appear, revealing the worst of his crimes.

  “Lucky,” she muttered, shocking him.

  He raised his chin. “In thirty days, I’ll wear your death, too.” A warning, challenge and promise. “Unless you defeat me, of course. Or shall I offer this gift to another harpy?” As soon as the bluff registered, he had to bite his tongue to stop from reversing himself.

  A part of him had hoped to avoid Taliyah today, but here she was. If he must wed the woman he wanted most, he must wed her. What if she agreed to let him pick another?

  “Let someone else have a crack at you?” In her irises, sunlight glinted off the ice. “Your death will be my honor, and mine alone.”

  He exhaled with relief and fought a smile. The desire to mete justice was the downfall of every bride. Of any species, really. Did she have a right to feel this way? Absolutely. He’d harmed and imprisoned many of her kinsfolk today, then threatened her life and touched her without permission. But right or wrong, Roc couldn’t, wouldn’t, change his plans.

  “Do you accept me, Taliyah Skyhawk? I’ll hear the words.”

  Still she resisted, saying, “If I do, you must free the harpies.”

  Bargaining wasn’t uncommon among his brides, either. In the beginning, they pushed and pushed to learn his limits. It was a smart move—with anyone but an Astra.

  Reach my limit and die screaming.

  “You have no power and no leverage.” Already he’d made a major allowance. Usually when he conquered a new world, he killed the soldiers who attacked him, only imprisoning those who stood down. Those he could later mold. For her and her loved ones, he’d merely injured and tossed. Just as he’d claimed.

  He owed this woman no other favors, yet he added, “Give me no trouble today, I’ll let you see the captives.” He did this because...just because. He wanted this over and done as quickly as possible, and this presented the swiftest route.

  As believable an excuse as any.

  A pause. Then a grated, “What are the rules of engagement?”

  His relief returned. She engaged rather than taunted. Progress. “The rules are simple. I will show you the same respect you show me. A room of my choosing remains designated as neutral territory. In it, you are to commit no acts of violence. You won’t speak to my men. You’ll limit your attacks to me and only me. I’ll sleep with anyone I desire, anytime I wish. You’ll practice the art of abstinence.” Something he would be helping her with...

  The corners of his mouth began to lift. A smile? But why?

  She flicked her tongue over an incisor, staying silent, and smiling ceased being an issue for him. She would say yes now. Allowing her to drag this out smacked of weakness.

  “Do you agree to wed me, Taliyah? I won’t ask again.”

  Finally, she offered him a curt nod. “Yes. I agree to wed you.”

  Roc bit his cheek to silence a shout of victory. And a flash of...was it grief? No, couldn’t be. All was going according to plan. For better or worse, Taliyah Skyhawk would be his bride. Guaranteed she tried to kill, seduce and guilt him, in that order. For thirty days, Roc had only to defend, resist and ignore her. And try not to enjoy the battle between them, as he had during this first encounter.

  Despite his...stronger reaction to her, he wouldn’t waver in his objective.

  A beautiful female with blue-green hair and brown skin etched with glowing, starlike symbols appeared beside Roc and Taliyah. The witness, his sister Aurora. As always, this rare glimpse doused his internal organs with acid.

  They spoke to each other every five hundred years, when he wed, when they saw each other at the sacrifice and occasionally when he visited Chaos’s realm. Something he could only do by invitation.

  He missed his two sisters more than a limb, remembered playing games and huddling together for warmth...remembered his inability to save the pair from being sold by their parents.

  His hands drew into tight fists. If not for Chaos... The god had saved the pair, winning them from the males who’d originally bought them, accepting them as acolytes.

  Aurora wore typical acolyte garb: sheer scarves as black as a starless night, the hem dancing at her bare feet despite her stillness.

  “Who are you?” Taliyah demanded, and Roc tensed. “Because I just watched you passively observe another woman’s murder.”

  “You will watch your tongue, harpy, or you will lose it.”

  His soon-to-be bride didn’t flinch at his harshness. No, she studied his sister with new intensity. Trying to put pieces of a puzzle together?

  With a frown, Aurora removed the blade from his thigh. Oh, yes. He’d forgotten it was there.

  “My thanks.” Dear one. When he extended his palm, she offered the hilt and a quick, private smile, and his stinging chest clenched.

  Voice as wispy as wind, she said, “You may begin.”

  “What?” the harpy shrieked. “This is happening now?”

  “Now.”

  A bit hysterical, she called, “But where’s my toaster? My barely remembered bachelorette party? Where are the strippers?”

  She teases me? He clamped his large fingers around her small wrist, then lifted her palm to the light; she remained stationary, opting not to fight him. Not by word or deed did she react as he ran the blade from the base of her index finger to the middle of her wrist.

  Blood welled and pooled. “You’ll regret that,” she said with a cold smile.

  “Why? Because you are a venomous snake?” He sliced open his palm next, then linked their fingers, mixing their blood. “I’m immune.”

  She gasped as if he’d singed her. Maybe he had, the difference in their temperatures startling. She tried to wrench away, but he held on, her strength no match for his own.

  Determined to finish this, he gazed into her frosty eyes. “I take you as my bride, Taliyah Skyhawk, the Terror of All Lands. You are mine.” His voice had heft and carried throughout the room, lingering long after he’d spoken. As Commander of the Astra, he needed to say nothing more to cement this union. He merely required her acceptance. “Repeat the words,” he instructed, tightening his grip.

  She didn’t repeat the words. Not ri
ght away. She glared up at him and huffed, “I’m going to enjoy killing you. So you know what? Yeah. Let’s do it. Let’s War-of-the-Roses this sitch. I take you as my bride, Alaroc Phaethon. You are mine...to murder.”

  Aurora accepted the words, calling, “The marriage is acceptable to Chaos. The clock starts.” She cast Roc a final glance before vanishing.

  He couldn’t halt a familiar pang of loss. Focus.

  Taliyah smiled up at him, the tone of it different from her others, rendering him momentarily mute. If ever evil had a face... “This is the moment we kiss, right?” If ever seduction had a voice...

  He dropped his gaze to her lips, the action automatic and unstoppable. So plump and pink. A heart-shaped masterpiece, with a center dip in the bottom one. Impossibly lovely. He cleared his throat. “There’s no reason to kiss. Our word is our bond.”

  A gleam of calculation appeared in her eyes. “I disagree. I’m not married until I’m kissed.”

  True in some cultures, but not his. “My blood runs through your veins,” he grated. “You are very married.”

  “No kiss, no marriage.” All simmering seduction, her eyes swirling and mesmerizing, she glided her free hand up his chest. The snakeshifter had decided to work her wiles. “Stop me when it’s too much for you...”

  Her temperature shocked him into immobility. That must be the problem. He did nothing to dissuade her when she freed her other hand from his and twined her fingers at his nape... nothing to stop her when she hauled her body against his, jumping up and winding her legs around his waist.

  No, he reached up to ghost his fingers over her wings. They fluttered swiftly, brushing his knuckles again and again. His lungs squeezed.

  He would set her on her feet. He would.

  “Practically begging for it,” she muttered, leaning her face toward his. Slow, so slow. Giving him time to protest as her gaze challenged his.

  His shaft throbbed harder. Rebuke her. End this.

  He remained quiet. She had something to prove—but so did he. She expected him to turn away. He would not.

  Would she?

  Almost upon him... Contact. She pressed her lips to him, and he sucked in a breath. She jolted.

  Wanting consumed him as they lunged in unison. Their mouths crashed together, tongues thrusting. A moan left him. How sweet she tasted. How sweetly she tasted him.

  As the seconds, minutes, hours ticked on, neither willing to stop, he thought he might be losing his mind. When the first flame of a wildfire ignited, he fisted her hair. He loved the way the soft strands felt between his fingers. Angling her head, he deepened the kiss. She let him.

  Want more of her. Must touch. His control wavered.

  No! Heartbeat thumping, he peeled Taliyah off his body and set her on her feet, ending contact. Her frostberry scent clung to his skin, and her sweetness lingered on his lips. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He needed her sweetness gone immediately.

  “Never do that again,” he snapped. “You have thirty days left to live, Taliyah. Anger me at your peril.”

  5

  I’m...married? It was a state Neeka had urged Taliyah to accept. A state she’d never planned to be in, outside of a joke. Maybe a dare. But she’d kinda sorta done it for real.

  To be honest, she’d expected her ninth star to appear right after the vows. Getting hitched to the big bad in order to save harpykind was a huge sacrifice, right? Apparently not huge enough. The star remained invisible.

  Now she had thirty days to figure out the perfect game plan and murder her husband. The game plan was optional.

  I can do it. I must. She had to. The second Alaroc breathed his last, she could instruct the Astra to free the harpies. Did she believe the towers of beefcake and hostility would actually follow her orders once she proved victorious against their leader? No. But also yes. She didn’t know! Some of the more ancient warriors honored their word, no matter the cost.

  What she did know? The warlords could use her people against her at any time. Therefore, she must find and free the harpies as soon as possible.

  Her goals realigned. Harpies forever.

  The fact that this guy thought to sacrifice her? A secret phantom? Good luck. She’d just resurrect. Maybe? Probably? What if he utilized some kind of special weapon? She remembered reading about a powerful blade the Astra employed against all phantoms. Although, Taliyah wasn’t some mindless being. She was royal, practically a goddess. Maybe she’d still resurrect.

  She feigned nonchalance. “Do make sure there’s a vegetarian option at the reception, darling. Did you remember to order a cake?”

  His pupils pulsed, and it was the oddest thing she’d ever witnessed. Perhaps one of the hottest, as well. What did it mean? Fury? Passion? Or both?

  Maybe she shouldn’t have kissed him. But oh, he’d been so smug. She’d needed to oversee his defeat. Any kind of defeat. And yes, she was the kind of person willing to impale herself on a pole, as long as she impaled her foe, too. Alaroc hadn’t wanted the kiss, so he’d gotten it. But this... She hadn’t expected to like it. Her lips tingled from the softness of his. His taste proved as amazing as his scent, all spiced rum and melted sugar. Like the piña colada she’d once sampled. Something she thought she might...crave.

  “There will be no reception.” Alaroc maintained a blank expression. No big deal. He’d never be able to erase the memory. Whether he admitted it or not, a part of him had liked the kiss, too. “You’ll wish to settle in and plan your first attack, I’m sure. Allow me to escort you upstairs, so that you may begin.” A polite request that wasn’t really a request.

  No time to respond. He grabbed her healed hand and marched her across the throne room. The executioner and his prize. His men dived out of the way. The harpies watched her with envy.

  To her bafflement, the warlord’s grip remained firm, never bruising. They entered the hallway, the guards she’d spotted before standing in place. Should have killed them while I had the chance.

  Alaroc led her around a corner, and she noted the blood-splattered walls. The blood of her kind. Furnishings were overturned, priceless vases broken and scattered over a cracked marble floor.

  Fury reignited. Harpies might be a bloodthirsty lot, but they valued their treasures. “How did Harpina draw the short stick? What made you decide to wed a harpy?”

  “I’m always mystically drawn to the world I must conquer.”

  Mystically drawn? “By whom? Your god?”

  “Perhaps him. Mayhap fate.”

  He has drawn his cards...

  “Well, fate dealt you a bad hand this go-round.” Taliyah wanted so badly to study Alaroc’s tattoos and learn from the mistakes of past victims. But she resisted the urge, knowing the distraction would cost her. “Hey! How do you know your way around the palace?” Men like him were never allowed inside. Plus, he’d arrived today.

  “I arrived a year ago, unbeknownst to the citizens.”

  “Excuse me?” An entire year?

  “I trekked every inch of the realm, collecting data. My knowledge allowed me to create a duplicate realm. That’s where your people currently reside. Today is merely the day I revealed myself.”

  Taliyah listened, agog. A duplicate realm? As storage?

  Um, how was she supposed to defeat a creator of worlds? And what was that strange sensation working through her? That couldn’t be dread, could it? Nope. Impossible!

  “Why not pick a timid mouse and guarantee a victory?” she asked.

  “Neither mouse nor lion has the power to defeat me.” A pause. At a lower volume, he admitted, “I’ve never desired a timid woman.”

  And he must desire his wife?

  As they ascended a staircase, she realized they were headed for the General’s suite. A big nope from Taliyah. She dug her heels into the marble, barely slowing his progress. “I’m not staying in Nissa�
��s room.”

  “Correct. I am.” He didn’t bother glancing at her, just kept dragging her along. “You’ll stay next door.”

  Teeth grinding, she asked, “You don’t feel guilty about claiming the bedroom of the woman you just murdered?”

  “Hardly. She chose to die. I honored her decision.”

  “Hold up. You didn’t just say she chose to die.”

  “She attacked me. She chose to die,” he verified, his tone flat.

  “And you honored her decision,” she repeated, her tone dry.

  “Is there any greater honor than dying for your cause?”

  “Yes. Living for it.”

  He frowned over his shoulder, and she schooled her expression to say, Go ahead, deny it.

  “Perhaps you’re right,” he said with a shrug. “I gave her the second-best honor.”

  Such a paragon of virtue. “If honor really matters to you, you won’t cheat on your brand-new wife.” Since sex purged him of aggression, she considered herself the royal wet blanket. The more on edge she kept him, the more mistakes he’d make. “If you truly respect a person’s position, as I do, you’ll respect mine and abstain from sex for the next thirty days.”

  The muscles in his shoulder bunched as he said, “You manipulate me. At the moment, I’m willing to play along. So yes. I will remain celibate on your behalf. If you think you’ve won a battle, however, you are mistaken. You alone will suffer my wrath.”

  “For your information, I’ve won two battles. This pledge and the kiss. Admit it, you’re hungry for more of me. Starved!”

  The slightest noise left him. A growl? A grin spread. Oh, yeah. He wanted more.

  Now she would needle him about it for the rest of his very short life.

  They reached the master suite, where two guards stood sentry. Without a word exchanged, the pair opened up, allowing Alaroc and Taliyah to stride inside without pause.

  “You may go,” he said, giving Taliyah a nudge as disciplined as his handhold.

  With a quick scan, she memorized the layout of the room and noted every object she could use to her advantage. Basically: everything. The teapot in the sitting area before the hearth. The vase of flowers on the dresser. The massive chandelier hanging over the bed.