“I have, yes.” He punctuated the words with a nod. “Your father killed my brethren and my old Commander.” Erebus might not have taken the former leader’s head, but he was still responsible for the male’s death. “I miss them every day.” The family he’d built was now forever incomplete...much like Blythe’s.
He almost flinched.
Her mind must have traveled a similar path. Her irises turned black again. She swiped out her claws, intending to take another kidney.
Roux caught her wrist, stopping her at the last possible second. “Do yourself a favor and put your grievance with me on hold. The next blessing task nears. Erebus is soon to challenge a new warlord, and I won’t tolerate interference from you.”
“Give me a minute to etch that pearl in my memory bank. Roux won’t tolerate interference. He suggests I forget my vendetta against him until he and his buddies successfully defeat my father and ascend, gaining more power and living their dream. Got it.”
“I didn’t utter a suggestion,” he grated.
The corners of her soft pink mouth curled up, and his guts tightened. Uh-oh. He knew that look. Knew trouble came next.
“You know,” she said, sounding contemplative, “if you hadn’t murdered the male I loved, we probably would’ve been friends. But you did. And we’re not. And for some reason, I’ve only gotten to see him once, so I’m cranky.” Swipe.
She used her free hand to snag a kidney. “Four,” she said, droplets of crimson falling from her hand. “In case you’re wondering, it was just as satisfying as I’d anticipated.”
The blip of pain should have heralded a brutal retaliation to prove he meant business. Instead, he growled and spun her into the wall, marveling over a spike of excitement.
Excitement. As if they were playing some sort of game.
Their gazes met, and he heated another twenty degrees.
“Do not push me, harpy.”
The organ splattered on the floor. “Or what, Astra?” Smirking up at him, she vanished. Not flashing but misting, as only her kind could do.
The urge to hunt her down choked Roux. To press her against another wall and...do something. With his hands. His mouth.
Once again, frustration rose to the forefront, overtaking him. He needed to get this female out of his head. Somehow. Soon.
4
THE GOODBYE
Blythe trailed Roux, slinking through a lavishly decorated corridor in the Harpinian palace. He turned a corner, heading for his bedroom, and three of her father’s phantoms came into view. Their skin was pallid, their eyes milky while. As usual, Erebus had sent females he’d dressed in ragged widow’s weeds.
The trio walked in a circle at the far end of the hall, directly in front of Roux’s door. With monotone voices, they chanted, “Wait for Roux, tell Roux, laugh. Wait for Roux, tell Roux, laugh.”
They spoke the order that had been issued by their maker, Blythe’s father. And they would obey every action to the letter.
How Daddy Undearest loved to sneak his minions past Astra defenses. Not to inflict physical injury. No. Such small groups of phantoms could do little damage to such powerful males. Erebus did it to wreak havoc in their minds. And it worked. Roux stiffened and withdrew a dagger.
That weapon! Trinite. Hissing, Blythe stumbled back a step.
As soon as the creatures sensed the Astra, they pivoted in unison, facing him, and tilted their heads to the side. They were nothing like Blythe. She had free will; they did not. They could do nothing unless commanded by Erebus. A terrible fate they had not deserved.
As Roux closed in, the women intoned, “Riddle me this. What fills your life and makes it empty at the same time? Regret. Ha ha ha. Ha ha ha. Ha ha—”
He killed them all with a slash of the dagger. The phantoms tumbled to the floor, where they quickly evaporated. Muttering under his breath, he stalked into his bedchamber.
Blythe followed him, ghosting through the door just in time to witness his beeline for the wet bar. He poured himself an ambrosia-laced whiskey with a trembling hand.
Oh, oh, oh. Trembling?
He poured himself a second glass, then a third, until the trembling tapered off. Only then did he plop onto the foot of a massive bed. Strain bunched his muscles as he propped his elbows on his knees and sank his face into his upraised palms. A picture of defeat.
Blythe thrilled. What had caused this delightful development?