The Warlord (Rise of the Warlords 1)

Roc glowered at her. Because her drama queen couldn’t help himself. “If you dislike a dish, pick another.”

“Why so huffy, husband? Bad day at the office?”

He said nothing, just studied her as if he were taking notes for their coming battles, planning where he’d put his hands.

With her next bite, she got the hang of things, adapting to the sensations and flavors. She absolutely, positively didn’t squirm as she watched him watch her. The guy confused her, that was all. He was brusque and high-tempered, expecting obedience in all ways, at all times, but he was also...normal.

He’d softened when he’d spoken of Chaos and bristled at the mere mention of Erebus. How would he react to her familial relationship to the males? She supposed it depended on what was stronger, his love or his hate.

With Erebus scheduled to revisit Harpina, she decided to keep the information in her pocket.

A bomb could only be detonated once.

Today, she had to settle for screwing with Alaroc. Shocking him from his stoic demeanor was amusing, at least.

“Just curious,” she said after she swallowed. “Are we spending our honeymoon in my bed or yours?”

Reclining in his seat, he adopted a casual pose. Nice try. Aggression like his couldn’t be masked. The black shirt hugged massive biceps flexed and ready. Beneath the sleeve, a tattoo frothed and writhed with greater speed.

Avoid the trap! She redirected her attention to his too-rough, too-beautiful face. Now wasn’t the time for another trip down Murder Lane. “Well?” she prompted.

“I’ll sleep in the General’s suite. Alone.”

So. He required sleep, like everyone else. He wasn’t all-powerful.

Operation Night Gorge is a go.

“Since harpies only use beds for sex and laundry storage,” he said, “I’m sure you’ll spend each night plotting my downfall.”

“You aren’t wrong.” Until a consort was found, a harpy refused to rest in expected places or near an enemy. “You’re not afraid I’ll ditch you?”

“I’m able to destroy the duplicate realm with the harpies inside it. No, I’m not afraid you’ll ditch.” He delivered the threat as calmly as he’d delivered everything else, a warlord confident of his strategy. As he should be.

The strategy was sound. She couldn’t delude herself into thinking he merely called her bluff. If she left and he caught her, he would absolutely destroy the other realm. But he was wrong about something. The knowledge wouldn’t stop her.

First rule of war: never let trepidation about what could be stop you from doing the right thing.

If Taliyah wished to confer with Neeks, she’d freaking confer with Neeks. If she did her realm-hopping after she’d fed, the sleeping Alaroc would never know she’d jumped ship for a bit. If he even survived the feeding, of course.

His soul was going to taste so good, she just knew it.

“What motivation do I have to leave you, hubby dearest?” She batted her lashes at him. “A pre-General deserves to savor every second of her starter marriage.”

His gaze dropped to her wrist. “What makes you think you’ll become General before the other harpy? The one I first selected. She has more stars.”

Annoyance prodded her. “That might be the dumbest question you’ve ever said. Mara fought General Nissa and lost. She’s out of the running until the new General is crowned.”

Taliyah figured those with nine stars would battle it out. Once she herself completed her sacrifice, she’d challenge the winner. Not to brag, but she could beat Mara while blindfolded, with both hands and feet bound.

“Why do you wish to become General?”

“I’m the best woman for the job.” Truth was truth.

“And what makes you think you’re the best?”

Curiosity layered his tone, nothing else, but for some reason she reacted as if he’d thrown a gauntlet, sputtering and shifting. No one had ever asked her a follow-up question about this. “For starters, I’m strong.”

“So are the others.”

“I’m—” Argh! “I was born to be General, so I’ll be General.” And your constant dissatisfaction? What of that?

Alaroc’s head tilted to the side, his gaze moving past her. She glanced over her shoulder, following his line of sight. Nothing jumped out at her. No changes. Oh, wait. He must be communicating with his men.

He jumped to his feet as if he’d been ejected and held out his hand. “Come.” A shocking mix of anger, arousal and excitement emanated from him, electrifying the air. “I have a special gift you will accept.”

Beyond curious, she almost accepted his help to stand. “No, thanks. I’m ready for dessert.” He would get nothing he wanted today.

With a grunt, he hefted her to her feet and restrained her against his chest.

Her heart drummed as they peered at each other, silent. Rebellion blunted, desires switched and honed. “Are you my dessert, Astra?”

He cursed and flashed her from the dining hall, an unfamiliar bedroom forming around her. Less space than the master suite, with fewer valuables. The canopied bed, claw-foot tub before the hearth and desk with golden turtles anchored beneath the legs suited her tastes.