Yet still I crave more.

Cool air brushed her exposed skin, and she shivered. Ugh. How long had she stood statue-still, while a silent Halo glared his fill at her naked form?

“Nothing else to say?” She grabbed a bra and pair of panties from a dresser drawer, uncaring that they didn’t match. Seriously. She didn’t care. After yanking on each piece, she gathered a tank top, cashmere sweater, and leathers from hangers in the closet.

Fur lined the inside of the pants, a true luxury item for a soldier. They were her favorite pair—proof she didn’t need Halo’s warmth.

“You relished my so-called pawing,” he grated. “You requested it. Bargained for it even.”

“Are you wearing your listening ears, Halo? Here goes. I’m part nymph. I would’ve bargained for nookie with a zombie.”

He canted his head, studying her as if he’d just discovered a map of enemy territory. Voice dipping, he said, “So you like to be eaten. Good to know.”

Ophelia gaped at her companion. Had the Machine just made a crude joke?

How sexy was that?

Resist! “You’re just another mistake in a string of mistakes,” she snapped at him. “FYI, I never make out with the same mistake twice.”

A muscle jumped beneath his eye. “You have one minute, four seconds.”

So Halo was her own personal brand of catnip? Nymphnip? So what? Her goals hadn’t changed. Make Nissa proud, and maybe save harpykind along the way. Ophelia loved her sisters in arms. They were her family. Her coming actions would prove that, too. No more forgetting the future in favor of a moment. No more getting turned on and veering off course. This time, her navigation was fixed. Full steam ahead.

“Just enough time to explain you are not to get physical with me again.” Chin up, back straight. “You aren’t my type, and you have a concubine.” A concubine she’d forgotten about.

Selective memory loss was a genuine disease she must have inherited from her father.

“What is your type?” Halo narrowed his eyes and gave a clipped shake of his head. “Never mind. Forty-two seconds. Do you wish to traipse about bare foot? Don shoes.”

“You are so annoying.” Ophelia stuffed her feet into socks and combat boots, then shoved her arms into a jacket. Problem: the clothing failed to lessen the Astra’s visual appeal.

Well then. She would just have to batten down the hatches, if ever her nymphy lusts fought her harpy determination. And she thought she knew just where to start.

Look away from the smoke show of a male immediately.

Think an unsexy thought. Think another unsexy thought to be safe.

“Time’s up. Dressed and ready, sir,” she said, giving him a mocking salute. Expecting him to perform a swift grab and go, his usual MO, she braced. Only, he crossed his arms over his chest. A stance she officially dubbed Ophelia’s in Trouble.

“You must be curious about the concubine, since you brought her up.”

Her claws sharpened. Had he slept with the Amazon, then kissed Ophelia? Douchebag! She tried for a casual tone, saying, “Nah. I’m good.”

“I didn’t bed the Amazon this morning or the other. I won’t. I have ended her service to me.” He threw the words at her, as if she’d spent the past hour demanding to know.

Do not rejoice. “You hoping for an award or something?”

“The” Amazon, he’d said. Not “my.” A significant detail or a mere slip of the tongue? Not that it mattered.

“I hope for nothing, but I demand a response.” His narrowed gaze pinned her in place. “Did you bed anyone this morning? Someone you see on a regular basis, perhaps. One of several?”

Why did he care if she had a roster of current lovers...unless a part of him intended to sign up and join the rotation? “What do you think? Nymphs are known for their stables of boy toys.” She’d never kept one, but there’d been interest a few times, probably.

The striations in his irises spun with dizzying speed. “You will not be with another male while we’re together, Ophelia. I’ll kill anyone who touches you. Do you understand?”

He...she...what? Was he jealous? Proprietary toward her? And had he said together? As in together together? Uh... Maybe he did want on that roster.

Her blood quickened, and her limbs trembled. Neither of the two losers she’d slept with had been possessive of her, so this was a brand-new experience. The perfect time to engage her three-step program.

She averted her gaze and welcomed an unsexy thought. A spear slicing inside your ear hurts. Not something she’d known pre-Halo.

Second unsexy thought. Halo has seen my body, but I haven’t seen his. Though there’d been something bafflingly exciting about standing naked before a fully clothed male.

Red alert! Abort thought! Not unsexy. I repeat, not unsexy.

Okay, so her three-step program needed tweaking. “Look,” she said and sighed. “We shared a brief kiss and some light petting. We dislike each other. Why would you care who I’m with?”

Tags: Gena Showalter Rise of the Warlords Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net