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?”

  “That answer is above your pay grade,” Halo snapped. Subject closed, then.

  Good! “My sexual arrangements are above yours.”

  He stood there for a long while, slowly powering down to his emotionless default setting. “Your...necklace has been completed.” A half circle of thin, dark stone appeared in each of his hands. He marched over. “Each piece is marked with mystical runes. No matter how many times the day repeats, I’ll be able to flash them to you first thing in the morning.”

  A ribbon of his heat caressed her, and she shivered. The abilities this male wielded...intoxicating. No. Annoying. “I hope you’re not expecting a thank you,” she said, lifting her mass of hair out of the way.

  “From you, I’m expecting nothing but trouble.”

  He fit the pieces above the neckline of her sweater. A round disk hung from the edge of one of the halves, dipping underneath the top, adhering to the spot where Erebus had stabbed her as if it had been glued there.

  “There will be at least seven days between each labor.” Halo tugged the sweater aside and traced a fingertip around the disk, his knuckle brushing her skin. “I fully expect Erebus to cause trouble in the meantime. This will help.”

  His hot skin was a tantalizing contrast to the cool stone. She closed her eyes, fighting the aftereffects. A mistake! His smoked cherries and sandalwood scent registered. Mmm.

  Okay, so, Ophelia tweaked the third step. Stop breathing.

  She pried open her lids and stepped away from her companion, patting her new accessory, learning it through the cashmere. More of a choker than a necklace, without being too constrictive. Lightweight. Not bad. Of course, she would’ve driven a hundred-pound spike through her heart to block Erebus.

  Halo watched her, seemingly fascinated by what bling he could see. As his eyes grew dazed, the striations in his irises began spinning again, mesmerizing her. Maybe one more kiss wouldn’t—Nope. Not doing that.

  “Don’t we have somewhere to be?” she asked. “I’m pretty sure my two minutes expired two lustful stares ago.”

  The striations halted. Another blank mask fell into place, colder than the last. Icy even. What had the harpy in the gym said? Oh, yeah. Arctic blast. Check. This man desired no one. Ophelia mourned the transformation, feeling as if she’d lost out on something special.

  More nymph foolishness, that’s all.

  He clasped her wrist and flashed her to the palace foyer. Hundreds of harpies congregated in the area, gossiping in whispers as they stared at the hearth between the left and right staircases, where Nissa’s portrait hung. Degrees of confusion shone on their faces. She followed their gazes...

  A hand fluttered to her mouth of its own accord as she stumbled back. Nissa’s portrait was gone, replaced by a severed head. The lioness. Both of her—my—eyes were gouged out, thanks to Halo. Blood stained her muzzle. Pieces of Halo clung to her many, many metal teeth.

  I looked like this? No wonder Halo had ended her as hard-core as possible.

  Struggling to maintain a steady attitude, Ophelia said, “You, uh, killed your first beast, huh?”

  “I did.” He offered no more. He barely even moved. But he couldn’t mask a slight twitch from his fingers.

  Curiosity got the better of her. “Was the battle a challenge for you?” Careful. “I’ve heard the Astra are impossible to kill.”

  “Not a challenge, and not impossible.” He pointed to the beast’s throat, where fur appeared flattened. “During the battle, the creature wore a collar made of firstone. A poison to Astra.”

  Not a challenge. Wow. Okay. A bit harsh, in terms of feedback, but good to know. She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth. Say nothing. Offer no response.

  “Maybe the next monster will do major damage to you,” she blurted out.

  “Maybe. But probably not.”

  That one stung. A silly reaction. She wouldn’t be seeking his elimination when they battled. Not purposely. In that regard, the joke was on Erebus. Gonna get another infusion of strength, overcome the bloodlust and accept my slaughter.

  If not next time, the one after. If she gained enough power, she could take down the god himself.

  Ohhh. Now there was a heartwarming idea; a little beauty of a thought that grew legs and ran for miles. Killing Erebus was the absolute best possible ending for this blessing task. Halo would win, while Ophelia did what no one else had been able—destroy the Deathless. My first kill. A god no less. What a bucket list accomplishment!

  “So who displayed the head?” she asked. “Do you know?”

  “Chaos, I’m sure. At the end of a task, I always present a piece of my opponent to him. This task is different, however, and being done in stages. This must be a way to track my progress.”

  “Makes sense, I guess.” In a sick way.

  His fingers flexed against hers again—why hadn’t she tried to free herself yet? “I’m sorry I allowed Erebus to throw you to the beast before the battle,” he said.

  He thought she’d served as beast bait? Guilt slithered through her, a snake with venomous fangs. “Oh. Um. There’s no reason for you to feel guilt.” Truth. “You aren’t responsible for me.”

  “I am responsible. For now.”

  Wrong. “I take care of myself.”

  Beside them, two harpies launched into a quick back-and-forth conversation, cutting into theirs.

  “It just appeared,” the first said. “What do you think it means?”

  “Taliyah hired a better decorator? She has a secret admirer?”

  “Check it! Some of the Astra are here.”

  “No, you check it. I think Halo is boning the Flunk Out. Look! They’re holding hands!”

  The discussion tapered, others following suit. Silence descended upon the crowd, and Ophelia’s cheeks flamed. If harpies didn’t turn to leer at the warlords, wag their brows and give suggestive winks, they gaped at her as if she’d sprouted a second head.

  She would absolutely, probably give everyone lip about their rudeness just as soon as she finished her study of the other Astra. Before this, she’d only seen the members of the infamous nine at a distance. Up close and personal, they wowed.

  Silver, the metalworker, possessed straight black hair, bronze skin and irises like mirrors; his intensity rivaled Halo’s while his ferocity equaled Roc’s.

  Then came the one named Ian. He had black eyes and skin a shade lighter. His dark hair was styled in thick braids. Rumors suggested he had a warped sense of humor and a temper far more lethal than any of the other Astra.

  Roux, the sexy tea-drinking brute with pale hair, golden skin, and molten eyes—whoa! He was glaring at Ophelia as if he’d locked on a target for elimination, a thin red circle backlighting his enlarged pupils. Aggression thrummed from him.

  Threat! She wrenched from Halo at last, positioning for attack. Or she tried to. The Immortal held on tight and yanked her closer before slinging an arm around her hip, pinning her to his side.

  Oh, no, no, no. This wouldn’t do. Fused with him, she felt naked all over again. Warmed from head to toe. Needy.

  “Let me go,” she snapped, planning to fight her way free. But he smelled so good, and his muscles were so big... Mmm.

  She melted into him, running her hands over his chest. Other parts of him were big, too, and they were only growing bigger. And what a heady development. He might have been the one to stop their kiss, but he still desired her. Greatly.

  Ophelia dragged her gaze to his face—and flinched. Now Halo was glaring at her as if she were a target for elimination.

  “What’d I do?” she demanded, un-melting. Had she committed a grave Astraian faux pas or something?

  “Roux has informed me you are General Nissa’s sister.” He raised a brow. “That information wasn’t listed in your file.”

  Oh. That. “Yeah? So?” Why deny it now?

  The muscle twitched in his jaw once, then again. On any other man, a double twitch meant nothing more than increased irritation. With Halo...huge mad.

  “So,” he grated. “You have a reason to sabotage my task.”

  “Like Nissa is the only one I’ve got,” she quipped. “Exhibit A, your sparkling personality.”

  Jump. “I want to know why you kept this detail from me.”

  “First of all, you never specifically asked if I had a sister or who she might be. That’s on you. Second, I don’t need a reason not to tell a stranger I don’t like a personal detail about my family. That’s on me.” Let him stew over the real justification. He deserved it after that sabotage crack. As if she would ever endanger harpykind. On purpose.

  A line of blue bulged between his eyes. “You compromised my task. Those who do so usually die screaming.”

  “Well, thank goodness I’m covered then. Been there, done that.” Already bought my ticket for round three. “You remember my stabbing, right?” She buffed her fingers on her sweater, over the disk. “The night your bedroom bondage fetish prevented me from defending myself against your enemy? Ringing any bells or should I go on?”

  The slightest vibration registered, as if he’d trembled. But that couldn’t be right. Halo the Machine did not tremble. Did he?

  “We are supposedly allies.” He bent down, putting them nose to nose. “Tell me the real reason for your silence of your own volition, harpy.”

  Was she sensing a pattern to his use of nicknames? Did he call her “nymph” when he wanted some O and “harpy” when she irritated him? “Or what?”

  “Or I will be forced to extract the information another way.”

  “In that case.” She smiled sweetly. “Extract the information another way.”

  He inhaled, exhaled. “Have you aided Erebus in any way?”

  Okay, so, she rethought Operation Let Him Stew in a hurry. They had just entered super dangerous territory for her, the truth both a danger and a shield to her cause. If Halo believed her to be an enemy, he would convince Roc of it, who could convince Taliyah, who could label Ophelia a traitor. Banishment might be the least of her worries.

  “Look.” Sighing, she eased back. Distance—smart. “Am I seeking a lifelong friendship with Nissa’s killer? No. Will I destroy all Astra for a chance to strike at the Commander? Yes. One day. Maybe. I’m still debating it. But here’s what I know beyond a doubt, now and forever. I will never purposely harm my fellow harpies. Since their fate is linked with yours, you and your task are kind of important to me.”

  Halo pinched her chin in that gentle but firm clasp—Help me! It was only the sexiest hold in the freaking world. Her heart raced.

  “You love your sisters. I believe that. But Erebus is persuasive. If you decide to aid him... Do not aid him, Ophelia.”

  “I won’t, Halo.” She meant that. For her sisters in arms. For Nissa. For herself. Which solidified her decision not to blab her end game to Halo, risking a counterplay on his part.

  Cat calls sounded around them, and he released her to palm a three-blade. But there was no threat. Harpies were simply doing their thing, backing up in unison to form a wide circle around Ophelia, Halo, and the handful of other Astra while chanting, “Bone. Bone. Bone.”

  Commander Roc appeared nearby, and the cheers instantly ceased.

  Ophelia snapped to attention. The Commander. Here. This was the closest she’d ever been to him. She expected a rise and crash of emotion. Rage. Grief. Resolve. Her mind merely tossed out useless observations. Stalwart. Cropped dark hair. Gold irises encircled by rings of varying shades of gray. Proud, patrician nose. Soft lips. A thick beard. As usual, he’d forgotten to wear a shirt. The muscles packed beneath his bronze skin put highly agitated alevala on display. If she searched long enough, would she see Nissa’s face?

  “Halo,” Roc said, ignoring her.

  “Commander.” Halo wrapped an arm around her waist, not to hold her in place but to...comfort her?

  No, no. Of course he didn’t seek to comfort her. What a ridiculous notion. Halo, offer anything other than cold disdain or the promise of an orgasm without the actual delivery? Please!

  Wait. He and the Commander had lapsed into silence. Roc was studying her now. Really looking her over. His gaze got stuck on the muscular arm that shackled her against his second-in-command.

  Halo stiffened, as if Roc had said something he didn’t like. Roc probably had.

  The Astra possessed the amazing ability to speak telepathically, and it was the bane of harpy existence. Assuage a girl’s curiosity already. But, okay, fine. This conversation she thought she understood. No doubt Roc had asked three questions. Who is she? Who is she to you? Where did you find such an exquisite creature?

  Or just two questions. Whatever. They could have their secret mind-meetings. She couldn’t deny the time-out had incredible perks. More warmth. That scent. The majestic view couldn’t be beat; it trapped her gaze once again.

  Halo’s body had been built for war. Utterly jam-packed with strength. A shadow of stubble graced his strong jaw. And look at those broad shoulders. His biceps remained flexed. Ohhh. Was he tense, preparing to cause damage to something? How utterly delicious.

  Mmm, mmm, mmm. He had a chest made for her hands, didn’t he? So many ridges beneath his shirt. And the heat of his skin...she slipped her fingers beneath the fabric, touching sizzling flesh. A mewl left her. Will never get tired of this.

  “Ophelia,” he snarled, waking her from a stupor.

  Oops! She had a palm on his shoulder and a palm on his abs as she rubbed all over him. In front of everyone. Needless to say, there was a lot of staring.

  Cheeks burning, she eased away from the Astra, and he let her. She needed to give herself a stern talking to about what had just happened. And she would. After she ditched her companion.

  “Very nice to meet you, Ophelia,” Ian said. He flashed off, clearly trying not to laugh.

  The other males ranged in emotion as they disappeared on his heels. Two warlords maintained their stations, however. Roux, and the one named Vasili. A quiet, brutish Astra who wasn’t always sane. He had more harpy-fans than any other.

  The two scowled at her without cause.

  She bristled at them. “What? You want to say something?” Superior officers. Allies. Right. She pasted on a smile and added, “Because I’d love to listen, sirs.”

  Halo muttered something under his breath, then flashed her to the royal library, where a handful of harpies loitered. The kindest, most caring harpies of them all—the readers. Woe to anyone who disturbed their force field of quiet, however. Ophelia shuddered inside.

  Thankfully, no one paid her and Halo any heed.

  He didn’t release her right away. No, he held her against his body, once again enveloping her with his scent, and he stared, hard. She gulped, remembering the way she’d rubbed all over him only moments ago, losing herself. Why, why, why did she yearn to do it again?

  “Yeah. Um. Thanks for the exit.” This man was an ally to her harpy but foe to her nymph. A temptation like no other.

  Self-preservation propelled her to an abandoned table two shelves over. “So what else did your friends blab about me?”

  Okay. All right. Yes. The distance helped. She paced between the tables. Oh, look at that. A copy of 1001 Ways to Torture an Enemy without Breaking a Claw. A must read.

  Focus! Get it together—keep it together. Clear mission objective, clear path to victory.

  “Well?” she prompted.

  “They told me different things. Facts.” He crossed his arms over his chest. His power pose. “Suppositions, really.”

  What did that even mean? “Such as?”

  “Such as. You are a complication.”

  “And you aren’t?”

  A sharp noise preceded a sudden chill she recognized, ending the conversation. Phantoms.

  Halo extended his hand, and a three-blade appeared in his grip. No other weapon would help against the embodiments of death.

  On the other side of the library, a phantom floated through a wall and walked forward. Head bowed. Dragging feet. Dressed in the usual widow’s weeds; the material bagged over her emaciated frame. She winked in and out of view, a spirit one second and embodied the next. She bypassed reading harpies as if they weren’t there. The harpies didn’t notice this disturbance, either.

  The phantom chanted, “Find Halo, tell Halo, eat the girl. Find Halo, tell Halo, eat the girl.”

  No better time to make my first kill. “Throw me a three-blade, man!” she commanded, waving her fingers. Because of Halo, she currently carried no weapons of her own.

  He ignored her, flashing to the phantom and gripping her throat.

  “Don’t you dare,” Ophelia called, running for the pair. “That target is mine!”