The Warlord by Gena Showalter (free ebook reader for pc .txt) 📕

pulled tight over his teeth. Rivers of crimson trickled down, down, joining the stream of water and whirling into the drain. Inhale. Exhale. Good. Some of his tension drained. He’d done this every day for centuries, the pain now a welcome part of his day.

What would Taliyah think, if ever she spotted—

He shut down the thought before it fully formed, the answer moot. She’d never view this particular memory, and that was that.

When a bloody, fist-size flap of flesh plopped to the floor, Roc sighed with relief. Better. Within minutes, he grew new skin unstained by alevala.

He tossed the dagger to the side, the metal clinking against another dagger. With quick efficiency, he washed up and exited.

His gaze strayed to the door to Taliyah’s room. What was she doing in there?

He scowled. He had a thousand things to do today, and none of them involved seeing the snarpy.

“Not my gravita,” he snarled. After dressing in a plain black T-shirt, leather pants and spiked combat boots, he collected his favorite set of chisels. Perfectly constructed altars didn’t grow on trees. He had twenty-nine days to create a masterpiece worthy of his god—and the sacrifice herself.

What was she doing? Didn’t he have a right to know? He was her husband. Her master. Depriving himself of the information only helped her cause. Since she hadn’t ambushed him yesterday, he assumed she’d do so today.

Why not get their next clash over with?

Roc flashed into her bedroom, not bothering to knock and announce his intentions.

The bed was made, nothing out of place.

His hands balled into fists. “Tali—”

A tendril of aggression brushed his skin, his body burning in seconds. He braced for a strike. A split second lasted an eternity as he noticed his crossbow anchored to the wall, a cord wrapped around its trigger. Taliyah braced herself in a corner of the opposite wall, a set of claws embedded in plaster, an arm extended. She’d tied the opposite end of the cord to the trigger of a semiautomatic, the barrel aimed at him.

She grinned, a temptress without equal, transfixing his gaze.

He held himself motionless—barely. “Impressive.”

“I know.” Boom!

Whoosh. A bullet ripped through his heart at the same instant an arrow cut through his shoulder. He had no time to process what she’d done before she launched her next strike.

Boom, boom, boom! Whoosh, whoosh. Three new bullets and two new arrows battered him. He stumbled forward, then back, toppling over something he hadn’t noticed before. Trip wire? He crashed into the floor, falling like a cannonball.

He thought he might admire her the tiniest bit.

“My motto?” She dropped from the corner, landing with spectacular grace. Walking toward him, she swayed her hips, lifted the gun and fired off another round. “Why wait to kill your enemy tomorrow when you can kill him today?”

Only admire her the tiniest bit, Roc?

He remained on the floor, ignoring the pain. “There are few ways to kill an Astra, wife, and this isn’t on the list.”

“I figured. So I brought a sword.” The gun thudded to the floor. A whistle of metal sounded. She reached his strike zone and swung.

He didn’t attempt to dodge. He caught the sword in his hands. The blade sliced skin and muscle, hitting bone with a clink.

Her lips parted, and her breaths quickened. “I’m fighting a robot? Dude. You have no idea how much sense this makes.”

He frowned. She considered him emotionless? “I promise you, I’m all man. My threshold for pain is unsurpassed, my ability to heal unmatched.” Blood poured from the wound, but the newest flare of pain barely registered. “Are you done with this ambush, or do you have more planned? I have duties.”

His feigned boredom provoked the desired response. Fury exploded inside those ocean-water eyes, some of the ice melting. The loveliest color bloomed in her cheeks.

“You’re going to pay for that,” she grated.

She. Was. Magnificent. He hardened. He throbbed.

Intense waves of heat emanated from him, the urge to yank her closer nearly irresistible. To hold her, if only for a moment. To kiss her again. The last time. To touch. To...protect?

He rejected the notion without taking time to analyze it.

Her gaze slid over his body, a virtual caress, and she licked her lips.

His shaft throbbed harder.

“Do you know what I’m going to do to you, Roc?” She met his gaze.

He couldn’t stop his next words. “Tell me.”

“Absolutely nothing.” Hips swishing gracefully, she stepped out of range. The sultry way she moved... “My work here is done.”

She must have rendered him stupid, because he struggled to understand. “What do you mean?” What work?

A grin of delight bloomed. “You crave me. Even now, you ache for me. Do you know how much I crave you? Zero point zero.”

A lie. “I make you wet, and we both know it.”

She tsked. “Are you sure it was you? Or my thoughts of Hades?”

Jealousy shattered what little remained of his calm. Disgusted with her, with himself, Roc snapped, “You are not my gravita,” and flashed away.

12

Gravita? What did that even mean?

Taliyah made her way to the dungeon, tumbling the question through her mind. You are not my...downfall? You are not my...friend? You are not my...good girl?

The answer remained at bay.

When Roc first appeared in her bedroom, she’d sensed his irritation and assumed he’d stumbled upon some of her traps. But as they’d peered at each other across the sword’s blade, something had changed. For a moment, he’d observed her as if she were the answer to his prayers. Then, of course, he’d turned into a snarling beast.

Whatever. His opinion hardly mattered. Like him, she had duties. Namely, coming up with a new game plan. It was nonoptional now.

Plan A, feeding, had failed. Plan B, shooting and beheading Roc, had also failed. So far, plan C eluded her. That was why she wanted to talk with the harpies below. She’d scope out the other prisoners, too. Maybe she’d come upon the perfect snack. Hunger gnawed at her more forcefully than she’d expected.

Taliyah descended dark, dank steps and entered a