The Immortal (Rise of the Warlords 2)

So she preened a bit after that? So what? She didn’t need anyone’s admiration, but there was nothing wrong with enjoying it. Or enjoying him. Which she would do. Today. Even though she and Halo would go head-to-head at some point—her certainty of that hadn’t dimmed. She would use this labor to test her control against Erebus. Tomorrow, she would tell Halo the full truth, and they would go from there, whatever his reaction.

Yes. Decision made. Things changed, and plans must change with them. And maybe, just maybe, this had been her problem all along; the reason he hadn’t bathed her with stardust. Until she was strong enough to tell Halo the truth, she wasn’t strong enough for him, period.

“So what’s on today’s pre-freeze agenda?” she asked. “Because you owe me a day of fun, and if you’re game, I’ve decided to cash in.”

He rubbed his hands along her sides. Not in a sexual way. Not exactly. This struck her as...appreciative. The way a collector might polish a favorite coin. Her belly fluttered.

He peered up at her as if he cared for nothing else. “You want fun, you get fun. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

21

“This isn’t what I had in mind,” Halo muttered.

Ophelia paraded him through the palace, stopping any harpy they came across, making introductions, and giving him the great honor of singing her praises while she preened.

“They won’t remember this,” he told her, slightly baffled as they walked away from the latest group.

“True. But I’ll forever remember their reactions, and that’s enough. You’ll see for yourself. Ready for some verbal reciprocation, Immortal?” she asked, practically bubbling over with giddiness as she guided him toward Ian, who currently worked on a fortification for a window.

As soon as Halo had awoken this morning, he’d sensed a new labor loomed. He’d briefed the Astra on the highlights. Now they worked to keep Erebus from making an impromptu visit while Halo advanced his relationship with his harpymph.

Ian glanced up from his task, his brows drawn. “Yes?”

“Introduce me to your friend, darling.” Leering at Halo, melting on him as only she could do, Ophelia said, “I want to make sure he knows how lucky he is to work with the most brilliant, powerful warlord in all the realm.”

Hmm. All right. Yes. He saw the appeal of this. Ecstasy and agony. “I’m sure Ian knows, now that he’s heard the truth from the realm’s most cunning temptress.” Halo kissed her knuckles. “Ian, meet Ophelia the—what moniker did we decide to go with, sweetheart?”

“Sweetheart?” she squeaked.

“Yes, that’s it. Ophelia the Sweetheart.” Halo nodded, adoring her dawning realization and horror. “Ophelia the Sweetheart, meet Ian.”

“Wait,” she said, batting at Halo’s chest. A flush deepened the color in her cheeks as she faced Ian. “That isn’t my name. We’re considering Lady O-mazing. Or Death Slayer. The Sweetheart isn’t even in the running. I’m vicious, I swear!”

Ian gaped at him, and Halo inwardly snickered. He desperately wanted to kiss his harpymph right now.

“Come, the Sweetheart.” He led a protesting Ophelia to the foyer, where a crowd of harpies had gathered.

Grappling with her had primed him in ways he hadn’t expected. And also impressed him. She had displayed shocking speed and strength, her every punch threatening to fracture another bone. Her reflexes had definitely quickened since he’d chased her through the royal garden. Perhaps he didn’t have to worry about her getting hurt in battle, after all.

She peered up at him, her face an intoxicating study of amusement, frustration, and excitement. “If Ophelia the Sweetheart sticks—”

“There will be great heck to pay?” he asked. How he loved teasing her. A time when everything felt right. “Do you understand my joke? Because your name is Sweetheart, you dish heck instead of hell?”

A laugh bubbled from her, and she pressed her fingers over her mouth. “Thank you for the explanation of your...joke, did you say?”

At the sound of her merriment, his gut tightened. “I want inside you.” A growled statement. No stopping it.

Her lips parted.

As different harpies looked their way, Halo flashed Ophelia back to his—their—bedroom. No more waiting. He wanted to kiss her, so he would.

Catching her gaze, he sat at the edge of the bed and clasped her waist.

“So.” She stood between his legs and combed trembling fingers through his hair. “You want inside me, Astra?”

“More than I’ve ever wanted anything.” He smoothed his hands up and down her curves. Tendrils of satisfaction beckoned, once again within his reach. Tunneling a hand under her skirt, grazing his knuckles over her damp panties, he rasped, “Do you want me inside you, Elia?” Would she admit it?

“I...do.” Eyes hooded, she stepped back and unstrapped her armor. “Should I strip for you?”

She was giving herself to him? “Yes! Strip for me.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees to prevent himself from reaching for her as the breastplate fell. Suddenly she wore only the collar, crisscrossing bands of black leather and the skirt. Will never get enough of those curves.