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Her first boyfriend had taught her well. Her second and final guy had served as a reminder. Romance brought nothing but heartbreak. Males desired her until they won her. As soon as they realized they couldn’t satisfy her nymph side, their pride nosedived and they bailed.

So why do I continue to yearn for someone of my very own?

As if she didn’t already know the answer. She was a weak, foolish half-nymph, who sought pleasure above everything. When she got turned on, her common sense switched off.

Seriously. If allowed to run wild, nymphs became single-minded with their pursuit of passion. They wanted what they wanted, and they wanted it often. Even when a lover had nothing left to give, nymphs begged and pleaded for climax, all pride erased. No man could keep up.

Thankfully, her harpy kept her nymph buried in the back of her mind, ensuring Ophelia never again forgot her life plan—taking another shot at the Generalship. Expectations for the title had recently received an overhaul, the virginity rule axed. Any contender of consenting age could bang on the daily if she so desired.

Ophelia now had a chance to qualify for the position. And qualify she would or die trying. So. Best to avoid temptation altogether and maintain her focus. Meaning, no sex for her. With near-constant hard work and unshakable dedication, she could complete the ten requirements for General in only a handful of centuries.

Did she wish to rule the entire species, as Nissa had? Yes. But also no. The thought of so much responsibility left Ophelia shuddering. But stop her? Not for a second. She must prove herself. And she would. Gradually. A single step at a time.

Fingers snapped in front of her face. “—listening to me?”

Great. She’d gotten lost in her head. “No. I’m thinking about my next step. I’ve got to make a kill, Vee.” Her cheeks flamed at the lack. Everyone in her graduating class had a substantial kill list. She should too.

“You will.”

“How can you be sure?” The past few weeks, she’d fought countless phantoms—mindless, soul-sucking husks intent on draining life. Or rather, she’d tried to fight them. As soon as she had approached, they’d vanished.

“Because I know you. And I know you’re afraid Taliyah will banish you from Harpina. Which is ridiculous, by the way.” Vivi spread her arms wide. “I mean, maybe she does banish you, but so what? You’ll fight to change her mind. And guess what? What you fight for, you win. Always. That’s why I lowered myself to love you, isn’t it? You waged wars for my affections.”

Ophelia snorted and tossed a pillow at her favorite vampy. Whether the General found fault with her performance or not, banishment was a very real possibility.

Taliyah probably expected Ophelia to retaliate against the Astra Planeta for their part in Nissa’s death.

My right. Not too long ago, nine warlords had conquered the harpy realm for reasons no one had considered Ophelia worthy of knowing. And they’d done the deed in a single day! Their power seemed limitless, their tempers more so.

Their vast armies consisted of warriors of varying species. Everything from pure-blood vampires to banshees, to shifters and gorgons. Basically anything found in myths and legends.

Ophelia had never gone head-to-head with an Astra or even a soldier under their command. Before her unit had ever reached the battlefield, the fray had ended. Harpies all over the land had fallen asleep, herself included. She’d awoken weeks later, only to learn Roc, the Astra Commander, had killed Nissa.

Nissa. Gone.

Ophelia pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth. She had every right to declare a blood vendetta against the Commander of the Astra. Among harpies, vendettas of every kind were common. And revered. As long as the punishment fit the crime, not even the General herself had a right to obstruct Ophelia’s vengeance.

Though Ophelia and Nissa had been centuries apart in age and had barely liked each other, they’d been family. The last of their line. Deep down, Ophelia had loved her sister. She still did.

She hated the Commander for what he’d done. Could she beat him in a battle, though? Not at this time, no, and there was no reason to delude herself otherwise. Did she wish to spend the rest of her life attempting to harm him while merely managing to annoy him, simply to satisfy her need for revenge? Also no. Maybe? Ophelia didn’t know anything anymore.

“Chop, chop.” Vivi clapped her hands with more force. “Don’t just sit there, staring at nothing. Get up and get dressed.”

“Okay, okay. But I’m not meeting with Taliyah.” If the General had something to say, she could find Ophelia and say it.

“That’s a good one. Because yes, you are. Up, up!”

Grumbling under her breath, she untangled herself from the sheet, clambered to her feet and stumbled into the bathroom. As next-door neighbors, she and Vivi shared the small space. Clean freak Vivi kept things tidy, ensuring everything stayed where it belonged, even after Hurricane O, category 5 blew through, disrupting everything. The harpire even redecorated with a new theme every month. At the moment, all things glitz and glamor surrounded Ophelia.


Tags: Gena Showalter Rise of the Warlords Fantasy