The Warlord (Rise of the Warlords 1)

“Hello,” she said with a gentle tone. As always, the harphantom paid her no heed. “I’d like to help you. Soon, Roc will cave, and you’ll dine on immortals.” Truth. So far he’d refused, unwilling to give anyone under Erebus’s control added strength. Which was understandable. She kept pushing anyway.

Nothing. No flicker of intelligence inside Dove’s milky eyes.

“T-bomb,” the harpy named Athena called. Miss Four-stars herself. Taliyah had finally learned everyone’s names. “We demand to speak with your manager. Our new neighbors suck.”

“I’m working on it,” she vowed. And she was. Harpies could assist Roc with his war, if only he’d let them. She’d revisited the topic twice, but he had yet to soften.

“You think you can fix these phantoms,” Roux said, speaking up for the first time. “You are wrong.”

She knew his words conveyed a double meaning. You cannot fix yourself, either.

“Roux,” she said, turning away. She glanced at him over her shoulder. “I wouldn’t bet against me. I tamed the Commander of the Astra. I can do anything.” Maintaining a sedate pace, she left him stewing.

Do you truly believe that? She must. The alternative was intolerable.

Taliyah stalked to the master suite, where she crouched on the balcony railing to watch Roc. A chilly wind blew her hair around her face, and she shivered. Another storm brewed in the distance, approaching steadily. The sky had already turned a deep gray.

Energy charged the air as the Commander chiseled at a furious pace. Any vestiges of civility had been removed from his features. He was a man overcome by frustration, strain and anger, his control in tatters.

The steps were complete, the platform set. Only the altar remained. Already he had repaired the cracks he’d caused in the midst of anhilla. Huh. Maybe the deepest, most primal part of him considered the meteorite an enemy?

An acute pang left her panting.

Lightning flashed, and for a moment, Roc looked like a possessed man battling all his inner demons at once. Her heart raced, desire for him surging, never far from the surface. She longed for him, all of him. She always longed for him. Taliyah coveted every experience life offered, nothing held back. But...

But what? Never accept a picture of defeat.

The mantra beat through her head, unleashing a new flood of righteous indignation. Why couldn’t she have everything she wanted? Just because she didn’t have solutions for her problems didn’t mean those solutions didn’t exist. The problems were not insurmountable. Nothing was.

If she fought hard enough, she could forge a new army of harpies. And she should!

Want something different, do something different.

This was an opportunity for harpies to choose their own futures. To stick with the old ways, what they knew, or reset with different—better—rules. They knew what aided, and what hurt. Those who decided to follow her could. Those who opted out shouldn’t. She could rule her own army and have her man. Her...consort.

The truth infiltrated every cell, and she could deny it no longer. Roc Phaethon was her consort, her man, and she thought she might be falling in love with him. The unshakable warlord who shook from bad dreams and his woman’s touch. The Commander who’d always craved a family of his own.

Satisfaction took root inside her, no longer a fleeting thing but a permanent part of her makeup. It grew and grew, internal cracks quickly filling, broken things mending.

This was her path. She knew it was. Never had she been so certain.

She and Roc were only doomed if they gave up.

Thunder cracked, pulling her from her thoughts, and more lightning flashed. Taliyah straightened, perfectly balanced on the rail as wind danced her hair around her face.

Roc had ceased chiseling. He leaned his head into his hands. A position of agony. Of despair. As much as she needed him, he needed her. She required this man, and she would have him.

Decision made.

There was no need to worry about a possible pregnancy: harpies were only fertile at certain times. The only question now? Tell him about Erebus before or after?

The man she’d grown to admire wouldn’t fault her for her parentage. He just...wouldn’t. But either way, he deserved to know before they took this final step together.

Why wait? She wore a halter and pleated skirt; she was ready for war. No matter her foe.

Though she battled apprehension, Taliyah stepped from the railing, falling, falling, landing in a crouch. The time had come.

* * *

Roc sensed Taliyah’s presence. He always sensed her presence. He always wanted her and he always needed her, and he’d grown to hate himself for it. Asking her to abandon her dreams had been wrong. Especially when he’d found no way to circumvent the curse. No way to escape this living nightmare.

The more time he spent with the woman, the more he liked her. The more he liked her, the more hopeless their situation seemed. And he had no one to blame but himself.