“You’re the best and the worst, and I love you, but I also kind of hate you.” Ophelia smacked her dry lips and whimpered. “If you have any affection for me, you’ll pretend today doesn’t exist.”
“Up! Up!”
“So cruel and heartless,” she whined. She cracked open lids as rough as sandpaper. Though her eyes burned, she did her best to focus. “Come back tomorrow. Friday at the latest.” Like most single harpies, she enjoyed the luxury of sleeping on a bed only when she was safe in her home world—and she never parted with her luxuries easily. “Also, stop calling me by that ridiculous nickname.”
Although, it certainly beat her epithet. Ophelia the Flunk Out. A title she’d earned eight years ago, at the age of eighteen. The day she’d gifted her virginity to her boyfriend, ending her fight to become harpy top dog: the General.
Once upon a time, virginity had been a requirement for any General hopeful, and even the General herself. The fact that Ophelia had willingly parted with hers for a cute smile and a false promise of eternal love was one of her greatest regrets. Especially since she was the only sister of Nissa the Great, a previous General known for her uncompromised, unwavering standard of excellence.
And what had Ophelia gotten out of the loss? Zero climaxes, a bitter breakup the next day, and a derailed future. Lady O No.
The worst part? The soul-crushing mistake was the first of many made throughout her life. To be honest, mistakes had become her specialty. As her sister used to say, “If ever someone hands out an award for screwed-up priorities, bad taste in guys, or most wrong turns, you deserve first, second, and third prize, Ophelia.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and moaned. “I hate my life.”
“So?” the cruel and pitiless Vivi countered. “You love me, and I’m not leaving until you get up and push me out of the room.”
Ugh. There were approximately zero people more stubborn than the harpy-vampire. A combination affectionately known as “harpire” and “vampy.” Either Ophelia participated in her own awakening, or her friend continued torturing her.
She rapid-blinked to clear her vision, her focal point expanding gradually. Morning sunlight streamed through the lone window in her cramped bunkroom. A precious space she’d had to fight fang and claw to get, since Nissa had expected her to live at the palace.
Too bright! Her eyes stung and watered, the minimal furnishings blurring. She rapid-blinked again, finally finding Vivi. An elegant, fine-boned beauty with dark hair, darker eyes, and pale skin.
“You have two settings constantly at war. Overachiever and self-destructor.” Vivi offered Ophelia a sweet grin that masked her core of iron. “Care to guess which direction you leaned this time?”
“No,” she grumbled.
“That’s right. Because you don’t need to guess. You already know you reached rock bottom and tunneled underneath. But guess what? This is my rescue mission. You’re getting up, and we’re heading to the gym where you will sweat out your hangover. You aren’t missing your meeting with General Taliyah.”
“Don’t remind me.” She motioned to the empty vodka bottles on her “desk,” a detachable slab of wood. “Not after I worked so hard to forget. What time is it, anyway?”
“Only 6:00 a.m.”
What? Only? What? Ignoring her aches and pains, Ophelia eased into an upright position and stretched. The tiny, translucent wings between her shoulder blades fluttered, relieved to be free of the mattress. “The big meeting isn’t until noon,” she grumbled.
“I know! So we’d better start sobering you up ASAP.”
Someone save me. Taliyah Skyhawk, the newest Harpy General, had demanded a sit-down with Ophelia. Her friend believed a promotion waited in her future. Maybe leading a patrol of her own or joining a higher ranked unit. Her dream. Ophelia wasn’t convinced and feared the worst.
“What if she complains about me? I’ve served to the best of my ability, but is my best good enough?” Nissa had always complained.
Why didn’t you throw the first punch faster, Ophelia?
Are you trying to tickle or subdue him, Ophelia?
How are we even related, Ophelia?
“So what if she does complain?” Vivi asked. “She only corrects the ones she loves. And your skill far outweighs your errors.”
True. And, honestly, Ophelia had been an exemplary soldier lately. Mostly. Kind of. Her record shined like a freshly polished diamond. Or cubic zirconia. She’d graduated from Harpy University with high dishonors, majoring in Murder and minoring in Revenge. She’d never missed a day of class or training without an excellent excuse.
To maintain her incomparable stamina, she jogged daily upon occasion. When off the clock, she participated in countless digital combat simulations to hone her most lethal skills from the comfort of her room. She absolutely, positively never questioned her superiors very often. Anytime she patrolled the city, she remained almost fully alert, even when hot guys entered the picture. Even on vacations and holidays, she always sometimes avoided males as if they were a plague. Because they were!