The Warlord (Rise of the Warlords 1)

Taliyah shrugged. “Go ahead, bet on the wrong horse. This year’s participation trophy is the Astra’s head.”

Teri tugged on the other girl’s arm. “Let’s go. We shouldn’t be talking to her.”

Well, good riddance. She had better things to do.

As Taliyah set traps for the Astra in other rooms, her empty stomach folded into itself. More strength drained. Soon, the sun would rise. Surely Roc had returned. Surely he slept.

Her mouth watered. So hungry. Before she got busy with the Astra, she might as well collect the gun every General stashed in the library. Everyone needed a plan B.

She rushed back and scanned the area. Alone. Excellent. Taliyah approached a life-size portrait of Nissa that hung at eye level. In it, the former General crossed her arms over her chest, a semiautomatic resting against a shoulder.

Can already smell the gunpowder. Another scan of the area. She reached out, her hand ghosting through the image. Not because she had misted; she hadn’t. Harpies often traded mercenary work for magic. Any harpy could do this. When her fingers curled around cold, hard steel, she grinned.

Bullets might not kill Roc, but they’d definitely slow him down. Pair the gun with the crossbow and daggers he’d left on his bed and she could do major damage.

Once she’d sheathed the gun, she sneaked into the proper hallway as quietly as possible. The guards posted at the master’s door earlier were long gone.

Because her room offered a private entrance, she didn’t have to pass through Roc’s. Taliyah set the gun on the nightstand, alongside the other weapons she’d pilfered from him. Had he even noticed their loss? In the small time she’d known him, he’d treated his arsenal as disposable. The exact wrong thing to do, according to Tabitha Skyhawk’s school of successful warring.

Her mother used to tell her, “When your strength fails, your weapons excel.”

Roc’s strength was about to fail him.

He’s gonna taste so good. Trembling with a mix of hunger and excitement, she settled on the bed, boots and all, preparing to do a little soulsucking.

Soulsucking, a term often used with great derision, interchangeable with feeding. It occurred physically or mystically, diner’s choice. Most days, Taliyah preferred live and in person, body to body. When dealing with an Astra, exceptions had to be made.

Let’s do this. Inhale. She pushed her spirit from her body, bit by bit. A painful process, every time. Like amputating a limb. Deeper cold washed over her as bone, muscle and flesh separated from spirit. Almost there...

Every immortal possessed a spirit, soul and body. The body acted as the house. The soul contained the mind, will and emotions—the power—while the spirit acted as a vessel for the soul, linking it to the body. A spirit could function outside the body, but a body couldn’t function without the spirit.

She hated leaving any part of her behind and vulnerable and wished she could mist to feed. Alas. She must ensure a part of her spirit connected with Roc’s, no barriers between them.

As soon as the creepy process completed, she glided across the room and slipped through the wall. And there he lay, the Commander of the Astra. He was asleep, tossing and turning.

Almost giddy, Taliyah glided closer to the bed. Bon appétit.

When he shifted in her direction, a beam of cerulean moonlight bathed him and she froze. Had he sensed her?

His eyes remained closed, his long lashes casting spiky shadows over his cheeks. If not for the lines of strain around his mouth, he would have looked boyish.

“No,” he barked. He kicked at the covers and whipped his head.

Bad dreams? How very...normal. And kind of cute. It humanized him a bit.

She licked her lips as she completed her approach and eased upon the side of the bed.

He thrashed his head again, and an urge to comfort him caught her unaware. What troubled a warlord as fierce as this one? What bothered a killer who proudly wore his worst crimes on his skin?

Are you...softening? Recalling his purpose for her, she had no trouble hardening her heart. Comfort the man planning to kill her? No. Right now, she lived for his torment.

Taliyah leaned into him, letting her mouth hover over his. Her eyelids sank low. Mmm. She already scented his soul, all that spiced rum and melted sugar. Was she drooling? She might be drooling.

Had she brought a cell phone, she might have snapped a picture of her meal and posted it on her social-media platforms.

The caption would read About to dive into an all-you-can-eat buffet of 100% Grade-A Astra beef.

For a moment, Taliyah merely savored him. When hunger eclipsed everything else, she cupped his jaw, shocked by the fervency of her tremors. Tremors that worsened as she pressed her lips against his and extracted...nothing.

She frowned. Had she done something wrong? Tightening her grip, making sure her spirit brushed against his, she refit her mouth over his, extracting...nothing. She sucked with more force. Nothing. She sucked with so much force her cheeks hollowed, then sucked even harder. The only thing she received? A dance with dizziness.