The Immortal (Rise of the Warlords 2)

“Are you planning to attack me then?” he asked, grazing his knuckle along her jaw.

“Darling,” she rasped with her most cunning smile. “I’ve attacked your thoughts since the moment we met.” Bold words. Prideful and flirty. But also seeking. How did he feel about her now?

He returned her smile slowly, his features lighting up. “True. I didn’t stand a chance.”

He still likes me!

“Kiss already! Make me a big, beautiful Astra baby,” Vivi called from the bathroom doorway. She pumped her fist in the air.

Oops. Ophelia had lost track of their audience. “Excuse me a moment,” she told Halo. “I have a best friend to annihilate.”

“We stay together.” He captured her wrist and flashed her to the coliseum.

Huh. Empty. Usually, harpies trained here at all hours of the day and night. At any given time before the freeze, groups could be spotted running up and down the stairs or brawling on the sandy battleground.

“Today, we spar,” Halo announced. “You said you excel at maiming and pillaging. Now you’ll prove it.”

Really? Truly? He was giving her a real chance? “One teensy little problem,” she said, spreading her arms to indicate her current attire. “I’m in my pajamas and bootless.”

“That isn’t a problem, teensy or otherwise. A good soldier can fight in all manner of clothing. Or lack of it.”

Well. He wasn’t wrong. “Why test me now? Aren’t you afraid the delicate nymph will get an owie?”

The muscle jumped in his jaw. A tell she hadn’t spotted in a while—huge mad. Aw. Welcome back. She hated to admit it, but she’d kind of missed his anger.

“When I said I wanted to keep you,” he grated, “I meant it. This is a part of your life, so it will be a part of mine. We will be happy together.”

Just like that, a geyser of guilt blew its top, spewing cold, hot, awful acid. He was making promises he shouldn’t. Promises he might not make if he knew all the facts. She should tell him the truth. Yes. She should. And she would. Just as soon as the time was right.

When she averted her gaze, he pinched her chin. Oh! Not the chin pinch! “We will be loyal to each other. I will not bring harm to you, and you will not bring harm to me. Isn’t that right, Ophelia?”

“Of course that’s right. We’re allies!” She slapped his hand away, annoyed with him. With herself. No matter what it seemed like, she had only their ultimate good in mind.

“That’s what I am choosing to conclude, because I am tired of keeping my distance.” He rolled his head, then his shoulders, then stepped a few feet back, settling into a battle-ready stance. With a wave of his fingers, he invited her to challenge him. “Attack me.”

She didn’t. She crossed her arms over her chest, mimicking his power pose. “Be honest.” What did he mean, choosing to conclude? Had he kept his distance because he’d doubted her loyalty? “Is this a real test of my skills or an excuse to feel me up?”

“It can’t be both?”

Well. Another solid response. “All right, then.” This was actually happening? Going head-to-head with a god? “I’ll train with you.”

“Don’t hold back,” he instructed.

“I’ll give you everything I’ve got, promise.” Wings fluttering, she stripped off her flannels. Wearing only a tank top and panties, she approached him slowly, rolling her hips. “You try your best to do the same.”

He roved his heated gaze over her. “I thought we agreed warriors can battle in flannel.”

“No, we agreed warriors can battle in anything. Try not to let my near nakedness distract you.”

“Too late. I am undone. You do not fight fair, beaut—”

Ophelia punched him in the throat, striking fast and sure.

His breath hitched, his sentence ended abruptly, but nothing more. He healed too swiftly.

“You’re right,” she said. “I don’t fight fair.”

“We are to have no rules, then,” he said when he was able. His eyes sparkled in the morning sunlight. “Good to kno—”

She punched his throat again. “You were saying?”

Another hitch of his breath. His eyes narrowed on her. She smiled as sweet as sugar—then she attacked for real. They grappled across the field. Rolling together. Springing apart. Launching blows. Dodging, flinging sand. At first, he merely played defense, allowing her to land certain blows. Learning her, just as he’d done with the lioness and the hydra. But Ophelia used the time to learn him as well.

Observation #1: Her body distracted him. Anytime he pinned her, he neglected the fight entirely and focused on rubbing against her. She might neglect the fight for a moment too, but she always sometimes bounced back in a slow hurry.

#2: He would not, under any circumstances, wound her. No matter what moves he executed, he never once scraped her with his claws. Never bruised her or broke her skin.