The Warlord (Rise of the Warlords 1)

She couldn’t count the number of times Roc had inspired arousal in her...or the times he’d made her forget her dissatisfaction. That one rankled. She might kill him for it alone.

She was going to kill him. That was mission objective number one. He believed failure waited in her future. He also believed that she, like the rest of his brides, would try to seduce him at some point—and bomb. Even Mara had lost faith.

Would Taliyah bomb if she gave seduction her best? Roc had hardened for her this morning, yes, but the look on his face after she’d baited him about Hades... The Astra might keep his distance from her for the remaining twenty-nine days. She had enraged him, the urge to throttle her pulsing from him.

Her confidence dwindled. Suddenly, she had...doubts. Not just about the seduction but the war. His special skills were stacking up. The ashing. Her inability to feed from him. His resistance to pain and lightning-fast ability to heal.

Doubt? Me?

Never accept a picture of defeat. Especially in the middle of a war.

What had her mother used to tell her as a child? Doubt is fear in disguise. All fear must be rooted out and destroyed or it will only grow again.

Taliyah refused to fear anyone, even a white-hot monster with sex appeal seeping out of his pores. But...what if she did fail to kill him and this marriage came down to the wire? What if she had no other option but seduction? Shouldn’t she lay the groundwork for success, just in case? Shouldn’t she shake his confidence?

Roc was more of a threat than she’d expected. Orchestrating his death would be difficult, so allowances must be made. He wasn’t like other men. He was a thousand times more stubborn, with a literal god complex. Unlike most guys, he wasn’t out for a quick nut: he had his own mission objective, with a guaranteed prize waiting at the end of his rainbow. But...

Stupid but! How she hated the word. But. Wasn’t it her duty as his wife to show him how wrong he was about everything always? Shouldn’t she prove her ability to take him by the balls and lead him anywhere she wished?

Hades had trained her for this. Her eyes widened. That’s right.

One day, you’re going to require the skills of a seduction master, Neeka had told her.

Hello, one day. And really, it wasn’t like Taliyah had to go all the way with Roc. She just had to make him admit how much he wanted her. In the process, she might discover other weaknesses or gain an opportunity to strike.

She returned her gaze to his muscular, tattooed build, a shiver racing over her. At the very least, pitting her ability to seduce against his ability to resist might rid her of the chastity belt.

Justifying your actions, girl?

Maybe. But until she fed, she wouldn’t win a physical altercation with him. A vengeful seduction without benefits was currently the strongest arrow in her quiver. So...

Yes. She would do it. The decision solidified, and she crafted a quick plan. First, she’d log in more time with the crystal, searching for Blythe and Isla, as well as mentally charting names and identities of other harpies she recognized. Then preparation for hubby dearest could begin...

Roc would learn. War with a harpy and suffer.

13

Roc perched on a stool, working in the hot Harpina sun, surprised and disappointed as the hours passed and neither Taliyah nor phantoms interrupted him. A battle might do him some good. Release a little tension. Any tension. Inside him, pressure continued to build. At this rate, an explosion seemed imminent.

Usually, he summoned his concubine before he reached this level of aggression. But even if an interlude were an option, he didn’t want his concubine.

Though Taliyah wasn’t his gravita, his treacherous body craved her alone. Because his mind craved her alone.

Women are a receptacle, Roc? One as good as any other? If ever words returned to bite him...

Fierce Taliyah was unlike any other. More stubborn, defiant and rigid...until aroused. Then she melted for him. Or pretended to. He cursed.

Roc yearned for her, while she yearned for another.

“Zero point zero,” he spit.

With a huff, he adjusted the erection that refused to deflate. No more thoughts of the snarpy.

He dipped his head and hiked his shoulder, wiping sweat from his brow before he resumed chiseling his chosen meteorite. A six-ton beast shaped like a half-moon. Big enough to fill his new bedroom. The best of the best, without crack or blemish. The better the meteorite, the more honor he bestowed upon Chaos. More than a sign of his great respect for the male who’d helped shape him, the meteorite served as a sign of his commitment. Something Roc took seriously. How else did you thank the god you served?

Usually he worked as if he handled handblown glass. Today, he put too much force behind his blows, his temper boosting every strike. Large hunks of debris rained to a ground covered in frost. A Harpinian anomaly he despised, for it reminded him of Taliyah and—