The Warlord (Rise of the Warlords 1)

The gleam of calculation returned to her ocean-water eyes. “Slow your roll, Rocaby-baby. I’m not done getting my answers yet. You implied you’ve experienced wedded bliss before. So, how many times have you gotten hitched and ditched?”

That gleam... Why did he like it so much? “Many.” Perhaps he wasn’t finished humoring her after all. He beat a fist into his shoulder, saying, “I wear their deaths in my skin.” The alevala acted as an outward sign of his inner commitment, his unwavering determination and his willingness to cross any line to achieve a goal.

He regretted nothing.

Except one.

He fisted his hand to stop himself from rubbing the patch of perfectly healed flesh above his heart, where he’d removed a fist-size circle of skin just this morning—as he did every morning. The patch was beginning to stain again. Sometime in the night, a full image would appear, revealing the worst of his crimes.

“Lucky,” she muttered, shocking him.

He raised his chin. “In thirty days, I’ll wear your death, too.” A warning, challenge and promise. “Unless you defeat me, of course. Or shall I offer this gift to another harpy?” As soon as the bluff registered, he had to bite his tongue to stop from reversing himself.

A part of him had hoped to avoid Taliyah today, but here she was. If he must wed the woman he wanted most, he must wed her. What if she agreed to let him pick another?

“Let someone else have a crack at you?” In her irises, sunlight glinted off the ice. “Your death will be my honor, and mine alone.”

He exhaled with relief and fought a smile. The desire to mete justice was the downfall of every bride. Of any species, really. Did she have a right to feel this way? Absolutely. He’d harmed and imprisoned many of her kinsfolk today, then threatened her life and touched her without permission. But right or wrong, Roc couldn’t, wouldn’t, change his plans.

“Do you accept me, Taliyah Skyhawk? I’ll hear the words.”

Still she resisted, saying, “If I do, you must free the harpies.”

Bargaining wasn’t uncommon among his brides, either. In the beginning, they pushed and pushed to learn his limits. It was a smart move—with anyone but an Astra.

Reach my limit and die screaming.

“You have no power and no leverage.” Already he’d made a major allowance. Usually when he conquered a new world, he killed the soldiers who attacked him, only imprisoning those who stood down. Those he could later mold. For her and her loved ones, he’d merely injured and tossed. Just as he’d claimed.

He owed this woman no other favors, yet he added, “Give me no trouble today, I’ll let you see the captives.” He did this because...just because. He wanted this over and done as quickly as possible, and this presented the swiftest route.

As believable an excuse as any.

A pause. Then a grated, “What are the rules of engagement?”

His relief returned. She engaged rather than taunted. Progress. “The rules are simple. I will show you the same respect you show me. A room of my choosing remains designated as neutral territory. In it, you are to commit no acts of violence. You won’t speak to my men. You’ll limit your attacks to me and only me. I’ll sleep with anyone I desire, anytime I wish. You’ll practice the art of abstinence.” Something he would be helping her with...

The corners of his mouth began to lift. A smile? But why?

She flicked her tongue over an incisor, staying silent, and smiling ceased being an issue for him. She would say yes now. Allowing her to drag this out smacked of weakness.

“Do you agree to wed me, Taliyah? I won’t ask again.”

Finally, she offered him a curt nod. “Yes. I agree to wed you.”

Roc bit his cheek to silence a shout of victory. And a flash of...was it grief? No, couldn’t be. All was going according to plan. For better or worse, Taliyah Skyhawk would be his bride. Guaranteed she tried to kill, seduce and guilt him, in that order. For thirty days, Roc had only to defend, resist and ignore her. And try not to enjoy the battle between them, as he had during this first encounter.

Despite his...stronger reaction to her, he wouldn’t waver in his objective.

A beautiful female with blue-green hair and brown skin etched with glowing, starlike symbols appeared beside Roc and Taliyah. The witness, his sister Aurora. As always, this rare glimpse doused his internal organs with acid.

They spoke to each other every five hundred years, when he wed, when they saw each other at the sacrifice and occasionally when he visited Chaos’s realm. Something he could only do by invitation.

He missed his two sisters more than a limb, remembered playing games and huddling together for warmth...remembered his inability to save the pair from being sold by their parents.