The Immortal (Rise of the Warlords 2)

Another minute passed. His nerves stretched taut. Ophelia had defied him—and proven him to be a liar in the process.

He would not be storming the door and fetching her. He ground his teeth.

Outwit, outplay, outlast, harpy? You’re on.

He was the Immortal of Immortals, and he would have his way!

Finally, Vivian strolled from the mist without a care. “Phel says you can’t complain about the delay. I was totally on time because there is no time. Oh, and she also says yes. She’ll take your anything, but with caveats. She’s staying in Haronly tonight, and that’s that. She’ll meet you in the palace foyer tomorrow morning at 8:00 a.m. to reveal those mysteries. Or a few minutes after. Depends on how long it takes her to catch me up, since I will remember none of this. I’m invited to the meeting as her advocate, obviously. She insists. So. Do you agree? You have three seconds to respond, or the offer is null and void. Three. Two.”

“Oh, I agree,” he stated. He thought he felt his lips curl into a grin. “Until tomorrow then.”

By 8:00 a.m., he would have a battle plan.

That harpymph is mine.

14

6:50 a.m.

Day 5

With Vivian at her side, Ophelia climbed the one hundred steps leading to the front doors of the palace. Determination welded her spine straight. She would beat Halo to their meeting. This time, she would be the one waiting for him. He was right. They had things to discuss.

When she’d awoken this morning, tucked inside her bunkroom, she’d had no new infusion of strength—and she hadn’t liked it. Because she had needed more, today especially. She’d known it the instant the trinite collar appeared on her nightstand, with additional symbols etched into the bands. The very reason she hadn’t donned it.

What did those symbols do? Tether her to Halo’s side? Probably. He wasn’t above using the collar to get his way.

More than a discussion, they had a reckoning coming.

He’d included a note.

Don’t be late. This time I’ll come for you, wherever you happen to be. Wear something easy to remove.

Yours, H

Her wings fluttered with excitement. Or anger. Yes. Anger.

Despite the cool morning breeze, she’d opted to wear something sexy rather than protective. And yes, it was probably super easy to remove. Not that she’d heeded Halo’s suggestion on purpose. She’d just really felt the garment’s vibe. Whatever. It wasn’t important. The sheer, cotton-candy-pink dress provided ample cleavage. A short, slitted skirt allowed peek-a-boo glances at her panties when she moved a certain way. Eight-inch stilettos with ribbons wrapped around her calves completed the outfit.

Halo had offered her a payment of her choosing, and she’d wanted to look her best when she informed him of the cost.

“I’ve never visited the palace this early in the morning, but I kind of expected a crowd flying in and out, not a ghost town,” Vivi remarked. “You think the Astra ordered everyone away?”

More excitement—anger—trickled through Ophelia. Halo had beaten her to the foyer and driven everyone else out, hadn’t he?

“Oh, yeah,” she said. “Let’s hustle.”

“Dressed as a tasty snack and in a hurry.” Vivi tsk-tsked. “What’s becoming of my dear Lady O No. Is she catching feelings too?”

“My intentions are a hundred percent calculating, I swear!” After studying Hercules’s labors and those shockingly sexy robot lovers, she’d come to a firm, unshakable decision. Better to leave Halo in the dark and continue on her current path. Die, strengthen, and override the god’s control of her will, saving everyone. Her...fate. No copping to the truth. She wouldn’t lie to him, but she wouldn’t spill every detail about her association with Erebus either. No matter what Halo did or did not suspect or know.

What did he suspect? What did he know?

One thing was certain: He considered her an underdog, incapable of defeating such a powerful opponent. But he was wrong. They were all wrong. Ophelia could do this. She knew it; felt it. She needed only a chance to prove it.

Did guilt prick her, ever so lightly? Yes. His task, his rules. She got that. But what if her repeated deaths were a necessary part of his ultimate victory? A sacrifice they must both make? Hadn’t Roc and Taliyah won their blessing task with a sacrifice?

“Explain your masterful calculation to me,” Vivi said.

“The dress is my armor, okay?” she admitted. “In this situation, my best defense is my confidence.” Halo would come at her one of two ways. Big boss man or eager plaything. Either way could prove fatal to her resolve to resist him.

No longer fresh from an agonizing death, Ophelia was having trouble shaking her desire for the Astra. But there would be no more making out. No more mind-shattering orgasms. Unless she decided to give the whole stardust thing another shot? And she probably should, if she were being honest. Finding her consort and entwine would only help her cause. Natural strength for the taking, independent of the beasts!