A living wrecking ball, he heaved his big, shining body into the thickest midst of the phantoms, cutting through, sometimes three or four at a time. Soon he lost track. He killed, and he killed.
His enemies must pay. Everyone must die. Destruction would reign. Will drown this world in blood and pain!
In the back of his mind, he thought he heard his brother’s voice calling to him, telling him to cease. But he didn’t want to stop. He wanted only to slay more phantoms. He wanted to dismantle everything standing between him and his gravita.
Hurt her? Hurt my woman? You won’t just die. You’ll suffer your worst nightmare first.
A weight smacked into his chest. Cold. Slight. A familiar voice called, “Shut up, Ian. I’ve got this.”
Taliyah’s voice. Roc slowed his swinging arms. She had revived?
“See? Told you I’ve got this. Right, Roc? Babycakes? Because your sweet, perfect gravita is A-okay, honest. She’s all better, so the temper tantrum can end, all right?”
Soft fingers petted his cheeks, his beard, and he slowed a bit more. “The phantoms are dead?”
“Oh, yeah. You did so good. Everyone’s real proud. There’s talk of an award. MVE. Most volcanic exterminator.”
Jumbled thoughts attempted to straighten out. “Everyone?”
“Mmm-hmm. Just your brother and a few hundred soldiers. They arrived a while ago. I’m told the army at the wall retreated as soon as you finished off the last phantom here.” She chuckled. “When you decide to make a grand gesture, you really make a grand gesture, huh?”
Roc blinked into focus and surveyed the battlefield. He stood at the altar, still punching one end. Cracks had formed. Taliyah clung to his chest. Around him, piles of phantoms lay in various stages of evaporation. Ian stood mere feet away, as shell-shocked as the few hundred soldiers stretched out behind him.
“What’s up?” Taliyah called to someone over his shoulder. “I’m with him. He’s, like, claimed me or whatever.”
Gripping her waist, he demanded, “You are unharmed?” He needed to hear the words from her mouth.
“Mostly.”
Not good enough! When he darted his gaze for a new target, she chuckled again.
“No, don’t go trying to kill anyone else. I’ll be patched up in a matter of minutes, I swear. If you want to continue murdering the altar, though, go for it.”
Was she nearly patched up? Roc cupped her cheeks with hands coated in blood. The sight bothered him. Release her, however? No. “You stayed and fought with me.”
“Of course I did.” Those icy blues watched him, open and honest...and gleaming with irritation. “I told you I would, didn’t I?”
He scanned her face, searching beyond her expression, trust budding. He called for his brother. “Ian?”
Knowing he expected a report, Ian wasted no time with incidentals, getting straight to the point. “We lost a handful of soldiers.”
He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth. A single loss was too many.
“The altar—” Ian began.
“I can fix it,” he muttered without conviction.
Needing reassurance Taliyah was all right, he pressed her against the side he’d punched, right against the cracks. After bracing her weight, he looked her over thoroughly.
She let him. Ocean-water eyes remained warm without a hint of ice, her gaze inviting him in. A soft smile stole his breath.
A handful of gashes had yet to heal, and she was smiling?
He glared. “How are you in a good mood? Before the battle, you hated my guts.”
“Let’s be clear. I hated more than your guts. Then you had to go and prove your undying love for your most precious treasure, your darling Taya. You’re so whipped.”
Too keyed up with aggression, he had no idea how to respond to her...teasing? Bragging? “I had to protect my investment,” he said, spouting words she’d once tossed at him.
“Now, we all know better than that.” Her chiding tone bore a hint of her smile. “After such a magnificent display of manly prowess, you’re only embarrassing yourself with your denials. Well, you’re also embarrassing me, since I’m the object of your desire and all. Enough chatter. We’ve got cleanup to do.” She pressed a swift kiss into his lips, hopped down and pushed past him.
He silenced a command—or a plea—for her return and faced his brother. “Assemble and prepare the armies for the next attack.” Knowing Erebus, he’d burned through a small piece of his army to make a point, proving he had other ways to reach the blessing bride.
“There’s more of these things?” Taliyah wrinkled her nose. “After all that, we didn’t just save the day?”
Roc almost closed the distance. Almost dragged her into his arms. The need to hold and touch her refused to fade.
Ian frowned at her, then Roc, then Taliyah again. His brother didn’t know what to make of what had just happened—what was still happening. Neither did Roc.
Ultimately, Ian settled on Roc. Incredulous, he thrust a small purple stone in his hand.
“What am I looking at?” he asked, rubbing the stone. Dense. Rough. Powerful. Familiar. His brows drew together as cold spread over him. “No. I cannot be holding what I think I’m holding. We destroyed the last piece thousands of years ago.”
Ian’s expression acquired a grave edge. “Apparently, Erebus found more. He hung the stones from a leather cord.”
“Someone tell the rest of the class,” Taliyah said, tossing up her arms.
“This is firstone. What trinite does to a phantom, firstone does to an Astra. It’s the reason we couldn’t flash during combat.”
Ian gaped at him. “Why don’t you make a list of the few ways to kill us and help your bride study it, brother?”
“Because he isn’t a tool?” Taliyah asked calmly. “Not all the time, anyway.”
Roc replied to neither of them, his mind whirling. Erebus had sent these hordes as a warning shot. He wanted Roc worried. Which meant Roc shouldn’t worry. He should enjoy his wife.
His brother said something else, but Roc lost track, too busy observing Taliyah, who unabashedly amassed a sizable firstone collection in a matter of minutes, stuffing the pebbles in the pockets of her shorts. She wasn’t even trying to hide her actions. When she came upon the wing-pinner, she grew rigid before bending down to gather the pieces.
She whipped around to face him, their eyes meeting. Pure defiance, she hurled the metal as far as harpily possible, daring him to complain.