The Immortal (Rise of the Warlords 2) - Page 77

Fingers on the fastener on her skirt, she paused. “Am I yours, Halo?”

“Only mine.” Temptation itself. “You like making me crazed, don’t you?”

“I really do.” She twisted the button but didn’t free it, teasing him with what could be. “But you like being crazed.”

“I do,” he echoed. “The skirt. Remove it.” She had decided to give herself to him. To trust him with more and more of her body and her life. He would have her, and they would make this thing between them work.

She reached for the leather straps shielding her nipples instead, only to sway and grow pallid. Her air of playfulness ebbed as she rubbed the disk that hung from the collar. “Halo?”

“What is it?” he demanded, jumping to his feet, ready to kill any threat.

“Something’s wrong. He’s summoning me, I think.” Agony twisted her expression as she panted her breaths and clutched her middle. “I... He... Argh!” She pulled at the collar. “It’s only getting worse. I’m coming out of my skin. Get this thing off me!”

Erebus was attempting to access her brand from a distance? Before the freeze?

Halo’s blood iced over. He checked his inner clock—yes, they were seconds away from the freeze, and the god was tearing the harpy apart from the inside. “Breathe through it, harpy. You can do this. It hurts, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, sweetheart, but he cannot succeed as long as you wear the collar. Breathe!”

Tears streamed down her cheeks. No, not tears. Blood. Crimson poured from her eyes and nose. The sides of her mouth. Her ears.

“Erebus!” he roared. If the god kept this up, he would kill her. Would slay her right in front of Halo. Perhaps his goal.

Without the trinite, she might have a chance of survival, at least.

Frantic, desperate and not knowing what else to do, he ripped the piece from her throat. For better or worse.

“He’s going to take you, Elia. But I’m coming for you. Fight him until I get there.”

“No! Don’t come for me. I’ll be ok—” She disappeared.

Rage stampeded Halo, anhilla rising. How many times had he failed to protect this female? How much would she be forced to suffer in one day?

As he flew through the castle, checking different rooms, he summoned a multitude of weapons he might need.

No sign of his harpy or Erebus. No sign of them outside the palace, either. Can’t fail her again.

But he did fail her again. The trumpet blasted, signaling the end of his hunt and the beginning of his next test.

He prayed for a second blast, but it never came. Another battle to the death then. “Halo Phaninon!”

Had another creature been activated with Ophelia’s blood? Was she already dead?

To silence a cry, he bit a finger to the bone. Focus. Win. Get to tomorrow.

Blood hot, he palmed motorized axes. Today’s battle should involve a mythological boar. He would go hard, and he would go fast.

A mystical tug drew him to the coliseum. He flashed to the sandy battleground, where he’d trained with Ophelia. Once again, phantoms filled the stands. Erebus occupied the royal platform, perched upon the General’s throne. Pale curls and white skin proved a stark contrast to his black robe.

“Apologies for my timing.” The god grinned, smug. As if he knew a secret Halo did not. “The Blade of Destiny assures me you’re going to suffer mightily after this next battle.”

Hatred gripped his throat and squeezed. “Where is the girl?”

“Do not worry. She’s frothing at the mouth, eager to see you.”

She lived? Acid infiltrated Halo’s veins. Was she being tortured? Sobbing for him? “I will enjoy killing you when the time comes.”

Erebus’s grin only widened, all teeth. “Unfortunately for you, you’re only allowed to kill the she-boar today.”

The ground shook with so much vigor, Halo suspected a pack of boars was coming for him. Yet only one beast flew from the catacombs, flinging those bars across the sand. The size of a rhinoceros, with thick wiry quills. Foam leaked from the corners of her mouth. Two tusks protruded over her upper lip; two curled from the sides of her jaw.

Her beady gaze never veered from Halo as she charged his way...

Protect her. The instinct pulsed, stronger than before. So strong he tensed.

Roaring, she leaped for him. He darted, but not quickly enough. A tusk gouged his hip. That tusk vibrated, shattering every bone in his leg.

Halo collapsed but fought his way to his feet as he healed. Still the instinct to protect clambered.

When he sliced off one of her hooves, she thudded to the ground. Like him, she didn’t stay down. As she righted, a new hoof grew. No, not a hoof, but a... Halo blinked. A head grew, with a face. Sharp teeth, tusks and all.

A head. On her foot. As if the boar were a hydra.

The she-beast charged him once again, that head-foot eating dirt. He struggled to tear his gaze from it. Those eyes. They were pale green. Ophelia green.

Tags: Gena Showalter Rise of the Warlords Fantasy
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