The same thing she could have done for a zombie. He gripped the arms of his chair—the arms split apart in his grip.
Ophelia looked at the decimated shards of wood that littered the floor, then Halo. The shards. Halo. A hint of a smile teased the vixen’s mouth. Had she guessed his thoughts? Sensed his raging desire?
Was she learning her strange power over him at the same time he did? Probably. He should care. But he only wanted to kiss her again.
“What’s your big beef with Erebus?” she asked. “Why is he extra revengey with you?”
Revengey? Halo eased up as if an exploding piece of furniture was a common occurrence. “Long ago, the Astra served as royal guards to Chaos. When we ascended in the past, we became gods of our own territories. Erebus ascended around the same time and became the god of his own territory as well—ours. What one controls, the other forfeits. Now his failures are our successes and vice versa. Another ascension looms, Erebus versus the Astra. One of us will increase while the other decreases.”
“Yeah, but like, he really hates you, I think.”
What exactly had the male said to her? “I killed his twin brother, and the male did not revive.” Next question. “Did you hope to achieve your first kill today, even though no one will remember tomorrow?”
“Yes! I’ll remember. And you blew it, by the way.”
“Be grateful I did. The phantoms who come after me are aged and starving. Far stronger than the younger phantoms you find on the city streets.” Risk Ophelia’s harm a third time? No. “The older phantoms can pull you into their orbit, holding you without contact while they feed.”
“Well, the more I practice fighting them, the better I’ll fight them.”
True. And a fighting harpy was a safer harpy. “Once the Astra have completed the rest of the blessing tasks, I’ll train you myself.” Yes, he liked this idea. A legitimate excuse to put his hands on her. To rub against her. Could he make her beg for sex, as she’d suggested during his inspection?
Her vivid gaze sharpened on him, calculated and cunning. “Why use your precious time to train one of thousands of soldiers?”
“Because I can. Now, enough conversation.” He had revealed more than he’d learned. A first for him and not an experience he hoped to continue. “I intend to study. While I do, you will sit there and be quiet.”
“Sure, sure. So, so quiet.” She slid The Care and Feeding of Your Nymph from the pile and tossed it his way. “I recommend you start with this. So far, your review is stuck at zero stars.”
Holding the harpy’s glittering gaze, he picked up a journal written by a scribe who’d witnessed Hercules’s labors firsthand.
She gave a negligent shrug, not seeming bothered in the slightest. “You do me a solid and be quiet, too. Before this whole thing started, I had myself a wild night. I could use some beauty z’s.” She kicked up her feet and got comfortable in her chair, closing her eyes before he had a chance to respond.
A wild night. What had she done? With whom?
Halo’s claws sharpened, nearly shredding the five-thousand-page tome. Inhale, exhale. Better. He flipped the pages, tearing one. No big deal. Tomorrow would repair any damage.
Concentrate. He read about the first labor quickly, skipping over nothing. Chaos had told him to learn something from each feat. So what had Halo learned with the lioness?
She’d had weaknesses, even though she hadn’t seemed to have weaknesses.
And what about Hercules’s second labor? A nine-headed water beast. The hydra. A species Halo knew well. Cut off one head, and two more grew in its place.
Was he to face another beast? Or something else? The labor must only be inspired by Hercules.
“Ugh! This horrid seat should be burned.” With a huff, Ophelia climbed atop the table, stretched out, and got comfortable, but she didn’t attempt to sleep. She tossed a crumbled ball of paper into the air.
Concentrate. To defeat the water beast, Hercules and a partner had worked together. Hercules did the head cutting while the other male cauterized the wound, preventing any regrowth. Their weapons were described in minute detail, with sketches and an examination of their histories.
Halo had an assortment of armaments at his disposal, many able to seal a wound while causing the injury. Daggers. Swords. Sickles and axes. According to task rules, he could use any or all, no partner necessary.
A strange rumbling sound drew his gaze up. A quick scan. Nothing seemed amiss. Ophelia continued to throw her paper ball, as if she’d heard nothing.
The sound came again, bringing realization. He cringed inside. His companion required nourishment. How long had he allowed her to suffer with hunger?
He checked the clock in his mind: 11:59. His brow furrowed. Hours had passed since they’d last spoken. Now, the freeze was due to begin. In less than a minute, the kitchen chef would be unavailable to prepare a proper meal for Ophelia to steal or earn. A necessary part of any harpy’s diet; otherwise, they sickened.