Panicked, she wrenched from his grip. The heat cooled. Okay. All right. Better. She scrutinized her surroundings. A large suite usually reserved for a decorated leader; someone who served directly under the General. Ophelia recognized the array of weapons hanging on the wall. Things the previous owner had taken from her conquests.
She had entered this hallowed chamber only once before, when a superior officer had debriefed her concerning a skirmish with rogue berserkers. Despite Halo’s move-in, the chamber was unchanged. A crimson comforter draped the canopied bed. A plush bear-shifter rug stretched before an unlit hearth. Beside each row of weapons hung a gold framed portrait of a late, great harpy.
With an easy tone, Halo asked, “Would you like more time to catalog all the exits and weapons you can use against me or may I begin my interrogation?”
“This breaking story just in. I finished five seconds before we ever arrived. Now I’m debating your endgame. You say interrogation. I say Astra, please. You brought me to a bedroom to repopulate the world. Admit it.”
He blinked while emitting more of that delectable warmth. “We will not be having sex, harpy.”
“Yeah, that’s right we won’t. As if you could be so lucky.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, like he’d practiced the favored power pose in a mirror before deciding to unleash it upon the world. Not bad. Look at the way those tattooed muscles flexed. The way those images moved. Especially that one. A gorgeous female with crackling eyes, beckoning her closer...
No! Not tattoos. Alevala. Focus. But it was too late. A link between Ophelia and the image solidified, a memory that wasn’t her own filling her head...
Suddenly she was peering into another bedroom. Bigger than this one, with gold furnishings. A female—the beauty inked in Halo’s skin—sprawled over a plush mattress, naked. A glorious mane of red curls tumbled around delicate shoulders as white as snow.
“You are the immortal who slays other immortals,” Red purred, unafraid of the fully clothed warrior who lurked nearby, an ebony dagger clutched in each hand. “The warlord who has chased me across galaxies for weeks.”
“I am.” Halo’s voice was as cold as his expression, as if he were utterly removed from the situation. There, but not there as the female smiled and spread her legs.
“Are you here to kill me, then?”
“You are the goddess Succubia, are you not?” A deep chasm of nothingness; that’s what he was. The bawdy sight affected him not at all.
A true shock. This was the original goddess of lusts. Ophelia had studied the star of myriad wet dreams in college. A powerful enchantress who had existed eons ago, said to be the mother of all succubi, incubi, and nymphs, with an ability to inflame anyone’s passions to desperate, unfathomable heights.
The ultimate superheroine. Almost. Kind of. Mostly, Succubia had been pure evil and a blight on humanity, feeding on those she bedded. But honestly, there were worse things to do, right?
“I am,” Succubia said, mimicking Halo’s coldness even as she beckoned him closer.
“Then yes, I’m here to kill you.”
“And yet you haven’t struck. Because you can’t stop wondering what it feels like to be inside me.” Eyelids hooded with invitation, the goddess traced a blunt-tipped nail between her breasts. “I can give you pleasure beyond your wildest imaginings. Surely you’ve heard the rumors.”
“What need have I of pleasure?” Halo said as other Astra appeared around the bed. “And I hesitated only because I awaited our audience.” He acted, moving too quickly to track. At first.
Shock sent Ophelia reeling inside. Such savagery! He showed not a drop of mercy as he sliced, hacked, and shredded the goddess into too many bits to count. He never hesitated, never broke a sweat or lost his breath. When he finished, he calmly gathered the edges of the bloody comforter together, creating a death satchel as his fellow Astra patted him on the back in a job well done and he blushed, almost sheepish.
What Halo did with the goddess’s remains, Ophelia might never know. The memory faded, the present—real-life Halo—returning to her awareness. He hadn’t adjusted his position in the slightest. No, he towered mere feet away, his muscular arms still crossed over his chest, his expression impassive.
Tremors cascaded down her spine, and she gulped. If Halo was heartless enough to harm the goddess of lusts, how much more would he harm Ophelia, a descendant?
Wait. Had he finally frozen up like the others? He wasn’t blinking.
“Not you too,” she groaned. Racing closer, she slapped a hand over his heart. Wait again. Thump, thump, thump. It beat. Oh wow. It beat quickly. And hard. Like a hammer. And his skin...so hot. Mmm. Like a cozy blanket you snuggled against.
A growl rose from him, and she blushed, hopping back. Okay. Not frozen. Good to know.
He narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, and it was just as terrifying as before. “Which memory did you witness?”