He needed more of that. His name on her lips.
—Report to the palace foyer in five. We’ll talk.—
The Commander’s voice filled his head, and Halo had to swallow a roar, the words a lash of cold amid the sultry heat. Though he would slay thousands to continue this kiss, he would not, should not ignore Roc during a blessing task.
Something must have transpired. The first and second day of the repeat, Roc had requested Halo’s presence only after he’d reported in. Which he hadn’t done this morning.
Was Erebus causing problems before the appointed time?
Astra first. Halo lifted his head, but he didn’t sever contact with the harpy. A mistake. He breathed her in. His head fogged again. His gaze returned to her lips. They were parted, red, and glistening. He nearly dove back in for a second helping.
With a desperate curse, he flashed several feet away from temptation. But he could still scent her; need clawed at him. Desire ravaged him, and he fought for calm.
“I wasn’t done.” Ophelia panted, peering at him with a riotous mix of arousal, confusion, and hurt. “Why did you stop? And when can we start again?”
Gears tightening... “I’ve been summoned to the palace foyer, and you’ll be accompanying me. You have two minutes to dress. The countdown starts now.”
9
Ophelia’s Dumb-Dumb switch flipped again, from On to Off. She snapped out of her sensual haze in an instant. Well. From almost getting lost in a needing to ticked.
“That’s all you’ve got to say after pawing at me?” she demanded.
First Halo had the gall to turn her on beyond distraction. Then he’d made all kinds of demands—extreme flirting to nymphs like her apparently. Then he’d done this ultra-sexy chin pinch thing that wasn’t even fair and kissed her as if he couldn’t live another second without learning her taste. Finally, he’d dismissed her as if she were of no importance to him.
A familiar page in the story of her existence. Desired for a moment, forgotten soon after. But no big deal. Whatever.
“Pawing?” he grated.
She hiked her shoulder in a breezy shrug. “I call it like I see it. But no worries. It’s fine. Everything is fine.” Everything was not fine!
She wasn’t some weak-willed nymph who faltered at the first sign of affection. Not all the time. She was a cruel, vicious harpy with a heart of iron and a spine of steel. A fact she had proved every day of her life. Well, almost every day. Or some days. Every so often.
Still! Very few beings comprehended the strength of will required for a nymph to deny her body’s urges. Even fewer realized Ophelia always felt like a powder keg set to blow. The very reason she had enacted her only rule. No men. That was it. Simple, easy. No. Men.
After years of hard work and self-denial, she’d had the audacity to lean into a needing. To allow her desires to turn on and her mind to shut off. She knew better. To cave to her desires for someone, anyone, especially an Astra—argh!
A moment of weakness often led to a lifetime of regret. Nissa would have drowned in disappointment.
When will you learn to control yourself, Ophelia?
Her shoulders rolled in. For most of her life, she had pretended to mock the dream of making her sister proud while longing for it with every fiber of her being. To know, finally, that she was worthy of the Falconcrest name. To hear a lone sentence of praise. To see one smile of encouragement. Or to at least gain equal bragging rights. See, Nis. I’m not a failure. I did what you did.
Now Ophelia had only the dream, an eternal longing, and a headful of childhood memories that left her conflicted.
She figured Nissa had, in part, hated her because their mother had died of complications soon after Ophelia’s birth. Nissa had been a busy General back then, but all reports claimed she hadn’t hesitated to seize the reins of control and raise Ophelia until her tenth birthday. From there, she’d ventured off to training camp like every other harpy her age. Then Harpy High, Harpy Academy, and the military.
Though she’d made no real progress with her end goal over the years, she’d almost always given her everything to every duty. That had to mean something, right? At least a little? The barest smidge?
At some point, she would prove herself worthy of Nissa’s approval—if and only if she stopped letting males sidetrack her. The pattern had to end sometime, right? Why not now?
And really, resisting Halo shouldn’t be a problem anymore. He sucked. Before he’d oh, so abruptly ended the kiss, she had teetered at the verge of begging for sex, as feared. And what a humiliating realization. Especially since he’d been the one to pull the trigger.
How could she forget he was a path to promotion? A means to an end. One should not bang their boss.