He kissed her brow. “Other females would kill to use me as a scratchpad and discuss their day. My first and second concubines tried, and they lost their positions.”
“Yes, and I’m sure they cried buckets of tears when you fired them.” Ophelia rolled her eyes. “By the way, you’re about to get fired from the same position for the same reason. Mistress O No prefers her men less talky.”
He remembered her defense of her nicknames the day they’d met. Knowing her better now, he thought she might have been embarrassed of them. “Do you desire a new moniker, Ophelia? If so, we will get you a new moniker. Whatever you wish.”
“Uh, not likely. Other people get to pick our nicknames for us, always. It’s an unwritten rule. Isn’t it?” She dug her claws into his pectoral and gasped out, “Halo, can we pick nicknames for ourselves?”
“Harpy, we can do whatever we want. When we tell someone to use a certain title, they will use a certain title. There will be no exceptions.”
She rewarded his honesty with an infectious laugh as earth-shattering as her touch. “From now on, I’m Ophelia the...something. I need a moment.”
“Our deal still stands. As long as you are in my arms, you may take as much time as you require.”
As she muttered ideas under her breath, Halo cast his gaze over the room. A candlelit lunch—attempt two—had been prepared by Ian before the freeze. The food waited untouched on a small round table near the crackling hearth. A bottle of vodka chilled in an ice bucket. He’d noticed the twenty empty ones in her bunkroom, figured she enjoyed the beverage, and made a special request this morning.
“Perhaps you’ll think clearer with a full stomach,” he suggested.
“But I’m not ready to leave the cocoon of your warmth.” She plucked her claws free and rested a palm above his heart, tentative, as if trying out the new pose.
He wasn’t ready to leave, either. “Have you watched any memories of my alevala lately?”
“Only the elfin goddess with the pet unicorn. You were so cold and callous to her.”
Ah, yes. Halo had been unable to kill the elf as easily as his other targets. The powerful female had possessed the ability to blend into her surroundings with such seamlessness, he’d been unable to find her. And he could find anyone. To draw her out, he and the other Astra captured and trapped her favorite pet, creating a transparent doorway before it. The moment she had slipped through that doorway, she had entered a duplicate realm, allowing Halo to track her every movement from then on, blending in or not.
“She stood between me and the well-being of my brothers,” he explained.
“And all obstacles get obliterated. Yeah. I remember.” Bitterness tinged her words, confusing him.
“Had I not defeated her, I would not be here with you.” He would have done much worse to get here.
“Yes, but at the time, you didn’t know someone as glorious as me would ever cross your path.”
If he wished to win this harpy, he must share something of himself. Give and get. Sow and reap. An unavoidable fact of life. “You resent my coldness. But I would not have survived the Order without it.”
“I’m listening.”
“The instructors used pain to teach me to shut down. To forge ahead, no matter my thoughts, feelings, or desires. That kind of training is difficult to shed.” He waggled his jaw before admitting, “If ever a hindrance kept me from reaching a goal, I lost something precious to me.”
“That sucks. I’m sorry.” As she petted him, he decided sharing wasn’t so bad, after all. “It explains a lot. You equate punishment with emotion and fight what you feel.”
Until you. Everything she elicited, both the good and the bad, came with rewards. Excitement and ease. Effortless pleasures. Anticipation...
“The same can be said of you, eh?” he asked, playing with her hair.
“I wasn’t disciplined if I messed up, but I was made to feel like the world’s biggest failure.” She steepled her hands and propped her cheek atop them. “Tell me you killed your instructors.”
“I did. Violently.” The memory pleased him to this day. “Chaos purchased and trained me alongside the other Astra. They showed me how to rely on someone other than myself. Eventually trust grew. A bond formed. Together, we returned to the Order and gifted pieces of the instructors to their students as trophies.” He turned the spotlight on her. “What do you know of your father?”
“Oh. Well.” She appeared startled that he’d asked. “I’ve never met him. I don’t even know his name, which is often the case for harpies born outside of a consort.”
His chest clenched. His harpy daughters would know him; he’d make sure of it.
Halo blinked. His daughters? As if making a family with his gravita was a done deal. As if he craved it deep, deep inside.