The Immortal (Rise of the Warlords 2)

Once without stardust didn’t equate to twice without stardust. The first time might have been an aberration, right? And had she even given Halo a genuine chance to mark her? Maybe she had to do some reciprocation first.

Mmm. Yes. Reciprocation. That seemed perfectly reasonable. Worth exploring, definitely.

“Phel, my love?” Vivi said with sunny delight.

“Yes?” Halo...naked...standing—no, reclining in a plush chair as she knelt between his legs...

“You are totally making out with yourself.”

Wait. What? She blinked, only then realizing she was cupping her breasts. Her cheeks heated as she dropped her hands to her sides. “I could have been fixing my dress.”

Vivi snickered. “Yeah. Sure.”

They topped the steps, then soared across the front lawn and through open double doors. In unison, they halted. Oh, yes. Halo had indeed beaten her here. He stood in his usual spot, the foyer’s only occupant, his arms crossed over his chest. Ophelia’s In Trouble. In more ways than one.

He looked good. Really good. A white T-shirt molded to his broad shoulders and wide chest. Leathers hugged his tree-trunk thighs.

Built for the longest, roughest rides. Her mouth watered.

His gaze roved over her—slowly. He paused at her breasts. When her nipples drew tight beneath the fabric of her dress, he licked his lips. At her navel, he unveiled his teeth. The apex of her thighs spurred him to flick his tongue over an incisor.

Breathing was suddenly impossible for her, the air too thick. And yet still she smelled smoked cherries and sandalwood. One of her greatest weakness.

She averted her gaze before she forgot everything and hurled herself into his arms. Only then did she notice the wall behind him. The hydra did indeed hang next to the lioness. A single head graced the mount. A snapshot of horror that barraged Ophelia with, well, pride. Each death had brought them closer to Erebus’s defeat.

“Dude,” Vivi said from the corner of her mouth. “Is your guy always this intense when he stares at you? Because I’m getting serious side-high.”

“You will leave us,” Halo told her friend, never looking away from Ophelia. “I will be...gentle with the harpymph.”

Oh, would he now?

“Gentle? Do you want to lose your personal war with our favorite harpymph?” Vivi asked. “But fine. Whatever. You command me gone, I’m gone.” She kissed Ophelia’s cheek, whispered, “You’ve so got this,” and bounded away.

After a signed conversation this morning, all cards on the table, they’d agreed on the best plan of action. Leave Ophelia alone with the Astra. Find out what he knew, what he suspected, and deal with the consequences.

He flashed closer, summoned the collar to his grip and secured it around her neck, ensuring she didn’t have a chance to fight.

So irritating! “What problems are the added runes gonna cause me?”

“They merely ensure you cannot carve out the disk.”

Okay. That worked for her. How it rankled that Erebus was able to transform her on his terms. This was her origin story, after all, and she should wield her own agency for it. But, um—quick mental side journey—was her Astra radiating more heat than usual? And mmm. His scent. Was it richer?

A thin fog shrouded her mind, dragging her deeper under his spell. She acted without thought, slowly sliding her hands up his muscle-packed arms. “So powerful yet so soft.”

The rasp of his breaths tickled her lips. His pupils enlarged, but the striations never stopped spinning. Smoke seemed to waft from the edges.

Resist him? Why try? She’d already rendered her decision. Take a chance and give him another opportunity to mark me.

He caressed her cheek, astonishingly gentle. “Did Erebus appear to you in Haronly?”

Eager plaything it is.

She didn’t attempt to mask her shiver. “He did not. He maintained his distance.” And talk about the shock of shocks; Erebus had kept his word and given her a reprieve.

“You weren’t harmed?”

“No injuries of any kind.”

“None of your blood spilled, and I completed no labor.” Halo brushed the tip of his nose against hers. “Is there a correlation between the two, Ophelia?”

Okay. He did suspect the depths of her involvement. “It’s possible there is, yes.” She offered no more. Careful. Ignore the newest prickle of guilt.

“You don’t know for sure?”

“I know some things, but not all things.” Truth.

“Now I will know those things, too.” He flashed her to a velvet settee between the two staircases and urged her to sit. She obeyed, expecting him to occupy the spot next to her. Panting a little—and growing a lot hard—he remained standing before her instead, peering down at her.

She smiled at him. Not such a well-oiled machine now, are we, Astra?

A muscle jumped in his jaw. “I believe we have some mysteries to discuss.”

“You are correct. We do.” Easing into a position of great relaxation, she told him, “First, you will hear my fee. To start, I demand a public apology from Roc for slaying General Nissa.”