Page List


Font:  

“Better is only an illusion, female.” He swung at her, a sword appearing in his grip midway. As her head went flying from her body, his impassive expression never wavered.

He killed her as easily as he’d once killed the hind, with no regrets or guilt.

The body crashed to the ground, flaming creatures dropping from the air. They, too, died, their fires extinguished by the time they thudded to the grass. Smiles broke out among the Astra. Roux came forward to pat Halo on the shoulder. Ian raced over and ruffled his dark hair. Halo rolled back his shoulders, his chest swelling with pride.

An unfamiliar male joined the celebrating melee. “You served us well, Halo. Rest tonight. Tomorrow, we begin planning for the next task.”

The former leader, Solar, who’d ruled before Roc? Whoa! His beauty was blinding.

“Thank you, Commander,” Halo said, confirming her suspicions. “I have a strategy mapped out.” Already back to business as usual.

The present yanked Ophelia from the memory, and she met Halo’s spinning gaze.

“Who did you see?” he asked with a frown.

“A redhead and her blazing circle.”

“Ah. Dreama. A goddess of wishes. My fifth task with the Astra.”

“In many ways, you are the same now as you were then,” she said, sliding a fingertip over his washboard abs. Something he’d said to the goddess stuck with Ophelia. Better is only an illusion. Did he still feel that way—hopeless? “In other ways, you have changed greatly.”

His irises glinted with promise. “Do you like these changes?”

“Oh yes. Very much.”

Light and shadow jockeyed for position over his rugged features. “The stardust means nothing to me. You know this, yes? What I feel for you is real and lasting.”

“It’s more than that.” Why not say it? “I’m scared, okay? The two times I risked my heart on love, I crashed and burned. I lost so much more than I gained.”

With a hand on her nape, he urged her forward and kissed her lips. “Those males were not me, sweetheart.”

“They weren’t, no. They didn’t go cold. As you’ve proven, emotions changed.”

“Connection is more than emotion. It is an intangible link between two people.”

“Yes, but links can be cut.”

“Not my links.”

Dang him! “Okay. What about the fact that Erebus will monsterize me for the last battle? We both know it’s going to happen. And yes, monsterize is a real word of my own creation. If we are pitted against each other, what then?”

He opened his mouth.

“No, let me rephrase. When we are pitted against each other, what then? If you don’t kill me, everyone else is cursed. If you die, we’re all damned. I mean, how many harpies do you think will die alongside our Astra allies who can’t win anything? How are we going to save everyone?” Could they?

He rubbed the top of her sternum, above her brand. “Erebus will have no more use for you if we remove your yoke to the Bloodmor. Which I believe I can do, if you do not resist its removal.”

She jutted her chin. “I remember you saying your strength drains when you remove a brand, and that the removal of mine doesn’t come with a money-back guarantee. And, okay, I’ll be honest. The brand is the sole bridge to the last vestiges of my hope.” A part of her clung to the assurance that she could take out Erebus and save the day—that she would do it, even if they made it down to the wire.

“Perhaps we should steal the Bloodmor,” he said, stroking his chin. “Nothing in the rules prevents it.”

Stealing the Bloodmor. That wasn’t a bad idea. To use Erebus’s own weapon against him... “Yes. Let’s steal the Bloodmor.” Today if possible. What did Erebus have planned for the next labor?

Halo leaned in and kissed the base of her throat, where her pulse suddenly slammed. “Until then...let’s get this vow of forever settled. My body misses yours, Elia.” Kiss. “And yours misses mine.” Lick. “The sweet scent of your arousal keeps me hard all day.”

The ache between her legs doubled. Tripled. A mewl escaped as her nipples drew tight and her belly fluttered.

“You want me,” she moaned, “you can have me. Why don’t we call a daylong truce? You’ll show me what I’m missing when I refuse to purchase your lifetime warranty, and I’ll prove I’m worth leasing with a chance for purchase. I’ll return you to the dealer in only slightly used condition, promise.”

She whipped her hips, and his pupils flared and contracted, like a pulse—a heartbeat.

“You make sense.” He ran the tip of his nose up her throat, inhaling sharply. “Your logic is bulletproof.”

“It is bulletproof, isn’t it?” Her lungs constricted. He was soon to cave? Perfect! Wonderful! Not disappointing. Not the teeniest bit. Joy pinged her chest. Surely it was joy. With the return of her intense lover, she would be deluged with pleasure and satisfaction. But, um, had joy always felt so blah?


Tags: Gena Showalter Rise of the Warlords Fantasy