The Warlord (Rise of the Warlords 1)

He regarded her coldly, intently.

“Did you know I’d left the fortress before I appeared or after?” she asked. For that matter, “How did you remember me?” The Realm of the Forgotten should have wiped her from his mind the moment she’d arrived there.

“How could I forget the bane of my existence?” He straightened gradually. A long-sleeved shirt covered his arms and chest, hiding prime real estate. Leather pants hugged his thighs, and metal-tipped boots protected his feet.

“By bane of existence, do you mean fated mate?” He had his complaints, she had hers. “Or does the Black Widower refuse to acknowledge the woman he can’t live without?” Lifting her top, revealing an extra glittery patch of skin, she said, “Of course, I might deny it, too, if the situation were reversed. I’m yours...but you aren’t mine.”

Literal sparks flared in his irises, blazing bright, extinguished only seconds later. “I can live without you,” he told her, his fury barely banked. “I can also guess how you left the palace. The key dangling from your neck. Which I will be taking from you, one way or another.”

* * *

Roc peered at the most defiant, exciting, challenging female to ever walk any planet and wanted only to get inside her. Once again, she made him throb. Even as she taunted him for being a black widower. Even as she eviscerated him with truth.

I’m yours, but you aren’t mine.

“Take the key,” she said with an airy tone. “I don’t care.”

He studied her. When she’d first arrived, she’d been paler than usual, her eye sockets darker than expected. Roc admitted it: he’d feared. Then his heat raised a rosy flush on her skin, and she appeared normal. Which meant she wasn’t a phantom. She couldn’t be. He’d never harden for a phantom.

“I’ll take more than the key. You’ll give me answers.” He flashed to her, latched on to her arms, then flashed again, ending his journey with his bride pressed against the wall. He inserted a knee between her legs, ensuring she straddled him, the metal plate resting upon his thigh. He covered her vulnerable throat with his fingers. With his other hand, he clasped her hip bone, his grip almost...tender. “Where did you go? Tell me!” Who did she meet?

When she said nothing, his control took a substantial hit. He raised his knee, lifting her feet off the floor, forcing her weight to balance on the needy space between her thighs, relying on his body for an anchor.

She dug her claws into the wall and grinned up at him, far from cowed. “Going to try to pleasure the information out of me? Well, go ahead. I’ll enjoy every second, and you’ll end up frustrated, learning only what I want you to know.”

Fury...passion, something summoned the stardust. Intense heat flared in his palms. Taliyah sucked in a breath. More proof she wasn’t a phantom. The fiends had no need to breathe. But Erebus did. If the god had indeed made more like himself.

“No regard for your friends in the duplicate realm?” he asked.

She bit out, “Are you going to destroy it?”

He’d boasted he would do so, and he never reversed a decision. But as he pictured her lovely, defiant features contorted with grief and... He couldn’t do it.

“The harpies are safe,” he grated. “For now.”

The response clearly surprised her. She frowned as she plucked her nails free and settled her hands on his shoulders, melting against him. “Truly? Why? I didn’t peg you as the three strikes type.”

The way her body fit his...did things to him. “With the right incentive, I can be merciful. Tell me where you went, Taliyah.”

“I... No.” She shook her head, stubborn to her very core.

His heart shuddered in his chest. Had black lines sped through her eye sockets as she’d moved?

Erebus toys with your thoughts, and you’re letting him.

Roc tightened his grip, just a little, just long enough to feel her pulse leap. “Where did you go, harpy?”

“Mmm.” A temptress to the end, she lifted her arms above her head and thrust up her breasts. “Haven’t we played this game before? Remind me, darling. Didn’t I win?”

This. This was what happened when you showed mercy to a foe even once. But no matter. He could make up for his previous mistake. Though he’d bent once, refusing to break her wrist when she’d disobeyed his command to drop the dagger, he would see this challenge through to the bitter end.

He would have her answer. And her thanks.

The decision solidified. He’d wondered what to do about his gravita. Now, with her luscious body pressed against his, he had no problem discerning the proper path. Whether he liked it or not, Taliyah was special to him. His body reacted to hers. Why not enjoy her while he could?

The callous thought jarred him. Enjoy the woman fate selected for him, receiving pleasure from her, before he struck her dead? You are a prize among prizes, Roc.