The Immortal (Rise of the Warlords 2)

“There is a twenty-three-way tie between every time I killed Erebus.”

“Twenty-three times? Seriously?” Although, why such a shock over the extraordinary number? So far, Ophelia had rung in a solid four deaths. And the tally was climbing fast!

“He always returns.” Halo stiffened. “Just as you return after your deaths.”

Okay. All right. His anger was clearly making a resurgence. “Are you complaining about my extra lives?”

“You know it is the deaths I protest.”

Yeah. She did. Why not discuss the big bad and get it out of the way? “I think I should continue to go to the battlefield as a willing sacrifice. Believe it or not, I am learning to control the beasts. I’m an asset to you. Use me. I will help you take down Erebus.”

“To what end? You scheme to slay the god before the final battle. Let’s say you gain the power to succeed. How will it matter? He’ll revive through either the time loop or his phantom abilities. The task will toil on to its determined end. If you’re chosen as the final combatant—and I must assume that’s Erebus’s goal—I’ll be forced to kill you for good or condemn the Astra to five hundred years of defeat.”

And he would choose the Astra, as claimed; and she couldn’t blame him. It hurt but what could she do? He had warned her. “I admit the final battle thing seems a bit...alarming. But I still think our best chance for success is me, beasting out. I wish you could feel my instinct about it. Everything inside me is screaming that I can and will defeat the god. I mean, you do realize the blood of primordials is flowing through my veins, right? I’m a walking miracle. The way we all get out of this. We can dominate your task the way Taliyah and Roc dominated his.”

“There’s no easy way to say this, so I will just blurt it out. Erebus might be responsible for your instinct. A false confidence to lure you onto the field.”

No. This was all Ophelia. “Let’s reach for the stars instead of the mountain.”

“The risk...” He rubbed the center of his chest, tension pulsing from him.

For the time being, she decided to steer the conversation to the coming test. “What is the next labor?”

“Cleaning an uncleanable stable that is filled with a never-ending parade of immortal cattle.”

“Oh, that’s right. Then comes the man-eating birds.”

“Then a Cretan bull.” He closed his eyes as if he couldn’t bear the thought of the battles.

Ophelia opted not to mention the giant, flesh-eating horse and three-headed dog that followed. “It’s really okay, Halo. I want you to kill me.” Not words she’d ever thought to utter.

“Have you considered what I want?” His eyelids popped open, his irises blazing. “I want to not kill you again.” Raw agony twisted his features. “With even the thought of being forced to do so, the worst of my tension clambers to return.”

No. No tension allowed. Not here, not now. “Halo. Darling. The way to overcome your aversion to using me in the labors is practice. So, let’s do it. Let’s practice.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You expect me to practice murdering you?”

“Hardly. But your next challenge must merely be inspired by an impossible situation, right? Well, in lieu of an uncleanable stable, you’ve got yourself an insatiable nymph whose stamina has already recharged. So. You are going to do your best to satisfy her in a single night.” She petted his chest, then glided her fingers lower and lower, until she clasped his erection. “The clock starts now...”

Day 24

5:09 p.m.

The newest freeze had occurred an hour ago. Would Erebus attack today? Would he not?

For the first time in Halo’s remembrance, he was losing track of his hours and days. Everything was blurring together in a wonderful collage of sex, cuddles, and chats.

Every morning he came to awareness in his private bedroom and flashed to Ophelia. They shared pleasures, held each other, and discussed everything but the coming labors.

One taste of climaxing without effort, and he’d become an addict, as feared.

He tried to keep part of himself distanced and unaffected, but everything she did, everything she said, only served to lure him closer. Her smiles. Her teasing. Her passion and zest. Her humor. He even liked her determination and stubbornness, how she let nothing deter her from her goals.

With imprisonment no longer his aim, he had dismantled the door to the duplicate realm. Its creation had been foolish, anyway. The circumstances hadn’t changed. As he’d reminded them both, his victory could depend on Ophelia.

So how could Halo win the blessing task and keep Ophelia safe in the end? He must keep her safe.

He couldn’t shake a sense that a labor would, in fact, occur today, the right time or not. Would Erebus summon her? Would Halo be forced to face another beast? Part of him hoped so. He had an idea. A theory he wished to test—a way to win...by purposely losing.