The Warlord (Rise of the Warlords 1)

He almost tossed in a coin and requested a do-over with Taliyah. How could things start off worse?

“Have you ever tossed in a coin?” he asked.

“Once,” she admitted. “I requested a new sword, and I got it. Right through the gut. But we’re not talking about that. I’m not over your confession. You let your other brides try to seduce you, hoping to save themselves from death?”

He bristled at that. “I did, and I won’t carry guilt for it. Before the wedding, I told them I couldn’t be seduced. Is it my fault they chose not to believe me?”

“You could have told them sex wasn’t a lifesaver.”

“Should a Commander ever explain his thoughts to a foe?”

“Are they really a foe or a means to an end?”

“They get my army if they succeed. They are foes.”

She sputtered for a moment, pointing a finger in his face, then retreating, only to get in his face again. “I hate when you make sense.”

The fire in his blood died. “I’ll never understand you, will I?”

“Probably not.” With a sigh, she deflated. “Why are you telling me this? I’m your foe.”

“You know you’re more. You know I desire you,” he told her, suddenly hoarse. “I want to be with you. I crave you more than I’ve ever craved anything. I need to save you, if there’s a way. I yearn to save you, even if there isn’t. I’m willing to give up the weapon for you. I just want you.”

The rest of her anger dissipated, leaving a conflicted female with troubled ocean-water eyes. “My virginity and future in exchange for a weapon?”

“That isn’t... I’m messing this up worse than I imagined.”

“Wrong. The truth is messing everything up. I suppose I should be flattered. You desire, want, crave, need and yearn for a disgusting phantom.”

“You are not disgusting,” he burst out. “The problem was never you. The problem always lay with me.”

Bit by bit, she softened. “I admit I want you, too. Okay? Does that make you happy? But,” she added, “I won’t rewrite my dreams. I will be General.”

“Of that I have no doubt.”

Pleased with his confidence, she wound her arm around his, snuggling into his side and nuzzling against him for warmth. They resumed their trek.

“How can I be with you and be General? All other Generals had possessed the strength to say no to the men they’d wanted.”

“That isn’t true. Your General Nissa wasn’t a virgin.”

“How do you even know that unless... Is there something else you need to confess, Roc?” She gritted out the question.

Sheepish, he told her, “She slept with Ian, often. He approached her before our invasion. She wasn’t a virgin the first time.”

“Nissa and Ian... My world is suddenly topsy-turvy. But this just reinforces a General’s need to stay away from horny men.”

“A friend is just as likely to betray a General as a lover. Why not have both?”

“Argh! I mean it, Roc. Stop being logical.”

“How can anyone be General when there’s no General to fight?” he said, pressing. No topic had ever meant more. “An acting General must take the reins before a new General can be named a new way. Why must the new leader be a virgin?”

“Because...because...tradition!” she shouted, as if the word carried significant weight.

“What if some traditions are unfounded? How many other Generals allowed the present and the future to eclipse the past?”

“And if you forgo the tradition of the ceremony?” she quipped.

He heaved a breath. “What’s the purpose of this particular tradition?”

“The General gives her body to her people,” she grumbled as she calmed.

That, at least, he knew how to counter. “I give myself to my men without denying my body’s needs. Why can’t you? Why can’t there be a new breed of General? A new regime with modern laws?”

Her claws embedded in his bicep. “I should risk everything for the man who will kill me in twenty-four days? And you do plan to kill me, if you can’t find a way to save your men. Do you deny it?”

Desperation shredded his mask of calm, until he felt as if he chewed on glass. He couldn’t offer her reassurance because he didn’t know what he’d do at the appointed time. “I’ll do everything in my power to save everyone involved. I won’t stop until I’ve found a way.”

“I...need to think about this,” she said, and it was a better response than he’d expected. “You know what really sucks, though? I’m sacrificing a dream. You’re sacrificing a dumb weapon.”

He wouldn’t tell her about his deal with the others. Wouldn’t add that kind of pressure to her.

They entered a part of town known as the Green Light District. According to flashing neon signs, Anything goes! Karaoke bars abounded. So did happy-ending massage parlors, where patrons punched their attendant. The harpy version of a happy ending.

As they rounded a corner, ice glazed his arms, and he cursed. Phantoms.