In minutes, he managed to pin her to the mattress. With her wings smashed, her strength dwindled faster.
“Concede, harpy. I’ve won.” He hovered over her, damp with sweat. A vein bulged in the center of his forehead.
Some of her animosity drained. His tension... She might have lost this battle, but she’d won something else. “Why don’t you look victorious, warlord? Because you want me more than ever?” A massive erection had popped the button of his leathers, rising from the waistband, the head slick with arousal.
Silent, he held her down and slid the belt up her legs nice and slow. He couldn’t mask his tremors as he anchored the belt in place, his fingers lingering on her skin.
The big, bad Astra trembles for me?
Ignore your wonder. “You like tit for tat, yes? Guess I’ll have to make you insane with unrequited desire before I kill you.”
He didn’t back down. A single twist of his wrist bolted the belt in place.
The ominous click and the cold bite of metal should have infuriated her. Lying there with a two-hundred-plus-pound enforcer between her legs, she felt...vulnerable. And she liked it.
Something was seriously wrong with her. A General should never enjoy a foe’s victory.
“Do you see now, harpy?” Satisfaction oozed from him. “You can’t beat me.”
Determined to lord something over him, Taliyah snapped, “All I see is a man without a concubine who just lost fingering privileges with his wife.”
9
A mess of conflicting emotions, Roc flashed to the master suite next door. He needed to escape Taliyah’s addictive chill...titillating scent...defiant gaze...wanton mouth...the excitement and thrill she roused with her very presence.
As he’d peered down at her in the belt, he’d felt invincible. A heady sensation. He’d only craved more.
Fighting with her was exhilarating. She possessed incredible skill, speed and a cruel streak. His balls ached from repeated contact with her knee. Yet undeniable pleasure had consumed him every time he’d touched her. Her lush femininity had beguiled him.
When he’d pinned her, ribbons of silver-white hair had spilled over the pillows. Beneath the dress, her nipples had puckered, the ridge of the piercing daring him to pinch and suck hard. As his body had burned a flush into her skin, his resistance had crumbled.
The temptress made him crave more, more, more.
He’d yearned to kiss her a second time. Had longed to thrust his fingers deep and bring her to a swift climax. Just one. Her last. As her husband, he owned that climax.
Possessive again? He cursed. Already she worked her wiles on him. The true danger of a snakeshifter. They schemed and maneuvered and lured. You never realized you’d crossed your own boundaries until it was too late.
Had Solar felt torn apart like this?
Roc stomped to the closet—non-dramatically—to armor up. No more thoughts of Taliyah. Tonight, he guarded the wall. Phantoms usually showed up the day after his wedding.
As he selected the night’s arsenal, he blasted a command to all of his men.
—Report.—
Halo spoke first, his right as second-in-command. —I have returned to the wall. No sign of phantoms.—He paused. —This bride is...feisty. Is that the word for lightning in a body?—
Roux’s rumbly voice filled his head next. —The harpies revolted when they heard your battle with your bride. I reminded them you won’t be murdering her for thirty days, but my reassurances failed to calm them. I’m assuming mass execution remains off the table?—
Silver told him, —I have the armies split into groups, dispersed throughout the realm and in formation, ready for anything.—
Excellent.
—I’ve resumed palace fortifications,—Ian said. —Oh, and I should probably inform you the soldiers are gossiping like old ladies. Word about your humiliating interaction with the harpy has spread. Thanks to me. Jokes are being crafted. You’re going to love to hate them.—
Roc flicked his tongue over an incisor as he reached for a three-blade. —Laugh it up. I look forward to the day I return the favor.—
As he exited the closet, he glanced at the door dividing his and Taliyah’s bedrooms. Was she inside, attempting to remove the belt?
Still hard, he cursed. He cursed again as he marched to the exit. Before he clasped the knob, searing heat blistered his nape. The exact spot Chaos had branded a symbol into his flesh.
An official summons.
Roc didn’t resist as an unseen hand reached out to yank him through different realms. He might be a Commander used to complete control, but he served Chaos by choice.
Around him, scenery blurred, walls replaced by trees...water...buildings. Faster and faster, the objects blurred together. The deeper he traveled, the more his brand cooled.
When he stopped, he hovered in the midst of an endless night sky—a private room within the god’s home. No sign of his sisters.
He stemmed his disappointment. Suspended nearby was the enigmatic god known to many as Ocean of the Dark.
“Roc.”
“My lord,” he said, bowing his head in a show of respect.
Chaos possessed rich black skin, his eyes a perfect match. When the sun rose, those eyes lightened, tinted with hues of pink, yellow and blue. By midday, his irises turned a blue so pure they rivaled the purest body of water. Then the process began all over again. A cloud of white smoke encompassed his hair. He wore a black robe, the ends covered in frost.
Roc’s curiosity magnified, but he said nothing more. The highest-ranked warrior should start a conversation. Something Taliyah had yet to learn.
He stabbed his hands through his hair, as if he could scrub her from his mind. No thoughts of the harpy.
Finally, the god began. “You are wed again.” Chaos’s voice boomed, a lightning storm contained in every word.
“I am, yes.” He offered no more. With Chaos, silence proved wiser than chatter. The god often used your own declarations to teach you a painful lesson.
“My son remains determined to break you.”
“I’m sure.” Roc didn’t understand why Chaos loved the male, after everything Erebus had done to the Astra, to others. On the other hand, Roc admired his mentor for loving his son the way Roc’s own parents should have loved him and his siblings.
“You chose Taliyah the Terror of All Lands. The Cold-Hearted.” The god never asked questions, even when he asked questions. He stated, his unwavering gaze boring into Roc’s soul, sifting through his innermost thoughts. “She draws you as no other ever has, yet you will slay her. Other warlords might have wed another and kept the Terror for themselves.”