Was this how the Astra felt every moment of every day? Unstoppable? How liberating!
Why would she not want more of this?
They passed different units on patrol. Halo barreled through them all, unwilling to let anyone or thing get between him and his target. Man, that was sexy.
More soldiers. More collisions.
“Ophelia!”
A glance over her shoulder. Silver materialized just ahead of Halo, and the two slammed together. How do you like it, douchebag?
Oops. Halo didn’t take the brunt of the impact; Silver did, flying across the street, flipping end over end. Her Astra never slowed.
She pumped her arms with more force. Just a little farther. Destination ahead. A flowery archway seeming to lead to nowhere. With single-minded determination, she dove...yes! Ophelia entered Haronly, leaving Halo in her dust.
* * *
Halo paced the sidewalk near the door to Haronly, his mask of civility nearly frayed beyond repair. Hours had passed since Ophelia’s disappearance inside the subrealm. A mystical veil concealed her scent, and he almost couldn’t cope. The frenzy inside his head...
Growls rumbled in his chest without cease. He just needed to see her. To hold her, perhaps. To spank the fire out of her backside, definitely. Or not. Why had she cringed from his touch, as if she expected pain?
He pulled at hanks of his hair. Checked the time. Half-past 1:00 p.m. There’d been no freeze. Erebus had lost another hour then. Since the loophole removed all hint of rules, the god might attack anytime after 2:00 p.m.
Halo rubbed a raw spot on his chest. If he didn’t lay his eyes on the harpy soon, heads were sure to roll.
From now until the completion of the task, he intended to keep Ophelia close. Within his eyesight, without fail. Roc was right. She was involved in the task, an influence for the ultimate showdown.
Halo had a thousand questions; she had all the answers. Some queries singed deeper than others. Why had she hidden herself in Haronly? Why had she cringed from his touch? Did she aid Erebus? Was her blood linked to the beasts? Did she blame Halo for her suffering?
Inhale. Exhale. A crazed sound left him. Is she my gravita? He hadn’t ruled out the possibility. How could he? He had nearly attacked a brother over her handling. That wasn’t something “the polite one” did.
If he must have a fated mate, it might as well be the female who smelled like paradise, made him forget his struggles and come so hard his entire world spun out of orbit before he’d even gotten inside her. Most of all, he thought he might like the wily, cagey temptress.
“Be at ease, warlord.”
A familiar voice penetrated his awareness, even as Halo continued pacing. Celestian “Ian” Eosphorus. The kindest and cruelest among them. A powerful male with dark skin and black eyes. For some reason, he had shorn his dark braids this morning, and many Astra enjoyed teasing him over the lack.
Centuries ago, tradition stated an Astra should cut his hair when he was open to receiving offers of romantic affection. Ian was the only warlord who ascribed to the ancient custom.
If the warlord craved a fated mate, Halo had some advice for him. Don’t!
Ian moved in front of him, blocking his path. “Be. At. Ease.” An unmistakable command.
Halo’s response was automatic. “Yes, Commander.” As the greeting echoed in his head, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. Ian.”
In the very beginning, Ian had served as head of the Astra. Commander of the twenty. But he’d failed his first blessing task, refusing to sacrifice his bride. She had died anyway, the moment the Astra were cursed with five hundred years of defeat. That very day, Erebus and his brother, Asclepius Serpentes, waged a savage battle against them. They lost several warlords. When the dust had settled, Astra rankings had been rearranged, with Ian slated at the bottom.
A male named Solar had assumed command, with Roc as his second. They’d ruled the army for centuries. But everything had changed when Solar wed his gravita. Like Ian, he’d refused to sacrifice her. And like Ian’s bride, she had died anyway. A second curse came down and more Astra were lost in battle. Just as before, the survivors received new ranks.
“You’re doing it again. Losing sight of what’s in front of you.” Ian patted his cheek twice. If patted meant the same thing as slapped. “I have a lock on the friend, Vivian Eagleshield. Do you wish to speak to her or not?”
Halo gave a clipped nod. “Bring her to me.”
In a blink, Ian flashed the female to his side without the aid of touch. A skill he had always possessed. Unlike Erebus.
The dark-haired beauty materialized, holding books with one hand and swinging the other. Her claws raked across Ian’s throat. Blood welled from the jagged grooves, dripping out before his flesh wove back together.