The Immortal (Rise of the Warlords 2)

“Incorrect. I issued an invitation, and she accepted. As for the timing, please, prove I acted before the proper time.” Erebus’s grin returned and widened. “There’s no need to fret. I won’t issue her another invitation. From now on, I won’t even use your female...unless she asks me nicely.”

Hate this male.

And Erebus wasn’t done. “I must admit. I’m glad you’ve discovered the truth. I’ve been eagerly anticipating this look on your face. And such a smart little Halo, solving the mystery all on his own. Yes, the Bloodmor transforms her into the beast of my choosing. As I requested, our harpy didn’t ruin the surprise. But why would she? She gains power every time she acts as my tool against you.”

Fresh fury overtook him, the reminder of her crimes a punch to the gut. Ophelia, Erebus’s champion. With her actions, she had jeopardized everything, removing Halo’s right to choose his own path. She had stopped him from planning accurately. Had left him at a disadvantage with an enemy. And she’d done it all for power. He should have known.

Halo yearned to shake her. To scream in her face. No, he yearned to shake himself. I did this.

Laughing once again, Erebus and his minions faded from view, misting to the spirit realm. Halo remained on his knees, watching as Ophelia wrestled with her encroaching death.

He petted her neck. Slow, measured strokes, his hand unsteady. “You listen well, harpy. I know you’re in there, and that you understand my words. You comprehend that I’ve discovered your secret, and you suspect I’m planning a reckoning. You aren’t wrong. Had you only trusted me with the truth...” Inhale. Exhale. “Tomorrow, you’ll be tempted to run from me. Don’t. You’ll only make this worse for yourself.”

Her eyelids closed as she expelled her last breath.

His heart shuddered. Between one beat and the next, he felt as if a hot poker was stuck between two gears. He’d hurt someone he shouldn’t. And she had let him. Had let him caress her one moment and kill her the next. He couldn’t get over that fact. He had softened for her in ways he’d never done for another. Given her more. This was his reward?

Fury rose anew. Things could have been so different. He’d wanted them to be different. Connection. Fun. Sex. What kind of future did they have now?

Only the assassin of gods—the Immortal—was cold enough to murder his own mate.

No. She wasn’t his. No stardust, no gravita. He’d ignored the truth for too long. Fate would not saddle him with such a treacherous female.

From the beginning, Halo had handled her wrong. He’d given her pleasure, choices, and leeway; she’d given him new memories to despise. Well, no more. They would do things the Machine’s way now.

6:00 a.m.

Day 17

Halo’s eyelids popped open. He stood in the doorway of his bathroom, information streaming through his mind at warp speed. The repeating day. A new one had dawned. Ophelia. Betrayal.

Consequences.

Get to the harpy.

“Go,” he commanded Andromeda, not bothering to explain the situation to her yet again. As cold as ice inside, he strode into his closet, dressed in leathers, and flashed directly to the harpymph’s bunkroom.

Her friend Vivian exited their shared bathroom. Neither female noticed him. Of course, they couldn’t see him. He stood between their realm and a duplicate—a copy realm made by the Astra before their invasion.

According to the rules, Halo wasn’t supposed to leave Harpina. And technically, he hadn’t. He was there but not there. Like Erebus, he knew how to create loopholes.

“Get your lazy butt out of bed. Operation Lady O Be Good commences in thirty,” Vivian said, ripping Ophelia’s covers away.

She jolted upright with a gasp. “I... I need a minute to think,” she said, appearing shell-shocked as she lifted an index finger.

Halo pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth. What was she thinking about? The excuse to offer him for her actions? It won’t be good enough! Nothing would.

Working quickly, he sliced into his palm and used his blood to etch symbols on the doorpost in the duplicate realm, linking it to the original world, creating an invisible doorway. Why not use the same strategy Ophelia had witnessed in his memory? A one-way entrance to the duplicate realm—her new home—for the remainder of the task.

Only the harpymph could activate the doorway, and only upon entry. If he must imprison her to end her interference with his task, he would imprison her. There would be no friends coming to her rescue. Oh no. Halo intended to brand her with a mystical symbol and chain her to the duplicate realm.

Every morning, she would return here, pulled through the invisible doorway anew. No Erebus. No battles. If Erebus tried to tear her in two with another “invitation,” so be it. She would awaken the next day whole, without forcing Halo to murder her on a battlefield. No horrendous death, no ill-gained power—the price she paid for her decisions. The price they both paid.