And we’re back to Roc. He grated, “You would force me to select another to perform your duty to the Astra?”

  Roc’s eyes narrowed.

  “In this, you are not the Commander,” Halo stated. “I am. I won’t choose another, and you won’t ask me to do so. You owe me. Think back to your last blessing task. To bed your gravita, you agreed to willingly abdicate at the conclusion of the final one. Keep your rank and kill me. That is what I want from you. Then, you will do everything in your power to retrieve the Bloodmor from Erebus. You will stop at nothing.” Only then would Ophelia be completely free of the Deathless.

  Not being able to leave Harpina to hunt the blade ate at Halo.

  His hands curled into fists. Uh-oh. Not so unemotional now, fury and frustration bubbling up.

  “And if Erebus chooses your gravita as his champion?” Roc demanded.

  “He won’t.” He shouldn’t. But if he did, there was a good chance Ophelia would be transformed into Cerberus, Hercules’s last challenge. Once a hellhound selected prey, nothing dissuaded the creature from its path. And the primordial hellhound at that? He nodded. She would attack—and Halo would let her.

  He hoped the god decided to go the other route, however. The thought of abandoning her with such a horrendous memory left a foul taste in his mouth.

  An uproar outside the conference room drew his gaze toward the arching double doors—doors now bursting open. Ophelia strode inside the chamber, dressed for war with a group of similarly garbed harpies collected behind her.

  Dark hair hung in waves around her delicate features. Slitted green eyes crackled. She was magnificent.

  “You want to break up with me?” She picked up a chair and hurled it at him. “Fine. Go ahead. At least have the balls to do it in person.” Another chair.

  Halo ducked both missiles, his chest clenching. More fury and frustration bubbled up. Where was his iron control? He used to wield it so easily.

  “I’ll do what I must, when I must,” he stated.

  Another chair. “I wasn’t done talking!” she shouted. “You’re just giving up? Because a quitter isn’t worthy of being my male!” —You can take your brand and shove it.—

  The words filled his head, and he scowled. Remember the goal. Ophelia’s survival, the Astra’s victory. “You will find another male. It is possible for both harpies and nymphs. Upon occasion. Under the right circumstances.” A shout of denial rushed up his throat. He clamped his lips shut.

  She flinched a little. Then she stopped, merely dragging her claws over the next chair. “You know what? You’re right. I will find another.”

  I will tear out his heart!

  “I’m not giving up,” he informed her as calmly as he was able. “I’m doing what is necessary.” Chaos had told him to learn from the test rounds. Finally, he had. The right lessons.

  With the lioness, he’d discovered he might not be fighting who he thought he was fighting. Or rather, he should have learned it. He hadn’t. So he’d gotten schooled again with the hydra. But he’d failed to learn a second time.

  The next test had taught the same lesson from a different perspective, showing him how his past could be used as a weapon against him. Then came the boar. Another reminder that he wasn’t fighting who he thought he was fighting—and his opponent mattered greatly.

  With the stables, he’d learned to never underestimate how low Erebus could sink. The man-eating bird, bull and flesh-eating horse proved sacrifice treated him far better than vengeance. By winning Ophelia’s heart, Halo grew to understand the true prize in any war. When forced to pick between the trio of Ophelias, he’d learned to trust his instincts. They never steered him wrong.

  The apple taught him that he could withstand anything—except his female’s harm.

  You harm her now, pushing her away.

  I save her now.

  “Well, isn’t this just great? I pledged myself to a quitter and a fool.” She hurled another chair at him. The other harpies spread out through the room and cheered. “You do not leave the woman who loves you hanging. Especially on the day you think you’re going to die.”

  Sweat beaded on his brow, emotions fighting their way to the surface. “I will die. If Erebus doesn’t choose me as his champion, he’ll choose you. If I kill you, I’ll lose more than my life.” He couldn’t continue without her. If something went wrong and she died, he planned to see the Astra through their tasks and follow her. But it wouldn’t come to that. A good future awaited her. In his absence, the Astra would attend to her care.

  Another chair flew. “Ohhhh. Something more than your life. Do tell.”

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. A suddenly burning hand. Perhaps he’d handled this poorly. There were other ways to gain her cooperation. He’d learned that, too.

  “Well?” she demanded, throwing another chair.

  “I’ll lose everything I’ve come to love,” he told her. “There’s no need for you to lose everything too. So you will let me do this for you. For me!”

  “Love?” she squeaked, her eyes wide. “You love me?”

  She hadn’t realized the truth? How could he leave her without sharing everything she meant to him?

  “How else would I have the strength to keep you at a distance today?” He raised his chin. “Enjoying one more day with you is a treasure beyond measure, but it pales in comparison to your future happiness. So I will stay cold, and you will let me. I will do what must be done.”

  Chair. “Oh, I will, will—”

  A trumpet sounded in the distance, and his brow furrowed. So soon?

  He wasn’t ready.

  The conference room vanished. Suddenly, Halo stood in the center of the coliseum. He scanned the area. Most of the Astra and an army of harpies filled the stands, their confusion rampant. No sign of Ophelia. Where was she?

  Chaos stood on the royal dais, with Roc, Taliyah, and Erebus at his sides. The Commander appeared unfazed by the change in scenery. He stared straight ahead, with his hands clamped behind his back, pretending a male he longed to murder wasn’t within striking distance. To attack now would be an act of war against Chaos himself. A foolish move while in the midst of a war with Erebus.

  “The final battle is set to commence,” Chaos called to one and all, spurring cheers. “The two combatants are the only ones allowed on the field. Anyone who joins the fray will die. Erebus, as challenger, you will select first. Name your champion.”

  32

  “I choose Halo Phaninon,” Erebus called, and a collective gasp rose from the crowd.

  Knew it.

  Boos provided a nice chorus for a plethora of jeers and insults. “Cheater!” “He can’t do that!” “Suck a hairy nut sack!” “Take off your robe!”

  The god remained unmoved by the commentary, clearly gleeful over his choice.

  Fool. Halo notched his chin and fixed his attention on Chaos. This was the outcome he’d preferred. Now Ophelia’s part was done, their association over. She would live. At some point in the future, some other male would come along and win her heart—and Halo would return from the dead to do murder!

  Deep breath in. Stay cold. He wanted Ophelia happy after this. What he did now was for the best. She’d given him everything. Now, he would do the same for her.

  Where was she?

  “And you, Halo?” Chaos called. “Who fights for you?”

  He jerked his gaze to Roc. The Commander maintained his hard stance, clearly doing his best to go cold, so he could do the deed Halo demanded—stand there and do nothing while he ended his own life. Not a fate Halo would have ever chosen for either of them. The memories would haunt Roc for the rest of eternity. But what else could Halo do?

  A tremor shook the coliseum, the very ground he stood upon, and he frowned. He recognized the sensation. Had felt it every time he’d battled a beast...

  Foreboding prickled his nape. If Erebus had turned Ophelia...

  Anyone who enters the fray will die.

  Suspicions kept Halo silent. If the god had turned Ophelia into a mystical hellhound, if she burst onto the field, entering the ring of sand, and she wasn’t named as Halo’s champion, Chaos would kill her, no matter the outcome of the battle.

  What if the creature wasn’t Ophelia? Merely a trick?

  Hope bloomed.

  But he knew better. Erebus had turned her and no other.

  Hope withered, despair rising in its place. Not so cold anymore.

  The ground shook with more vigor, and Halo’s heart thudded. Metal bars exploded from the entrance to the catacombs, a three-headed dog flying out. No, the lioness. No, the hydra. The bird. Bull. Horse. She morphed again and again, until various parts of her solidified into different beasts, creating a monstrous amalgamation.

  “Ophelia Falconcrest,” Halo shouted in a rush. “I choose Ophelia Falconcrest.” Now Chaos couldn’t kill her for interfering. She could survive. She would survive. Halo would make sure of it.

  The course was now set in stone, the ending clearer than ever. But oh, how he despised this. Detested the guilt she would carry for the rest of her life. The killing of her consort and entwine. Mostly, he hated that he hadn’t spent their last hours together in bed, loving each other.

  He was the fool.

  As the beastly Ophelia charged for him, Erebus boomed with his customary laughter. Three heads, three sets of metal teeth coated with firstone. Foam formed at the corners of each mouth. Crazed black eyes locked on him.

  She stumbled and shook her head, her mishmashed face seeming to frown. But still she charged forward...

  “That’s our Lady O?” someone shouted. “So jealous!”

  Halo tuned out everyone but his harpy. Closing in...

  He lifted his sword, intending to strike himself after the first contact. Quick and easy. Halo would turn to stone and crumble for the last time.

  She dove, soaring the distance between them. Her momentum slammed her into Halo with such incredible force, he flew across the field. Bones broke, the sword falling from his grip. He hit and skidded a good stretch, enveloped by a sand cloud.

  The second he stopped, she was there, slamming a paw into his chest, thick claws embedding throughout his torso. Her massive bulk snapped numerous ribs. Just as soon as he healed, the pressure ravaged him once again. Pain ebbed and flowed in ceaseless waves.

  He could have thrown her off—maybe. He glared up at her instead. When he’d originally branded her, he’d thought to use the bridge between them to calm her in battle. Now...

  —Do it!—

  But she didn’t. She heaved her breaths, her visage once again changing from one creature to another. Her eyes darted. Throwing back her heads, she roared. The roar tapered into a howl, the howl into a grunt.

  “Why do you hesitate?” He wrapped his hands around her paw, holding them together.

  —Do it.—The burn he’d experienced earlier. It reignited, his palms so hot he expected to see flames. —Tear into me, harpy. I’m the male who abandoned you at the end.—

  She wrenched backward, severing contact. As she huffed and puffed, spittle sprayed from the corners of her snouts.

  Each set of eyes continued to dart. What did she search for?

  A stream of her thoughts suddenly trickled into his head. —Kill...won’t kill...think, think.—

  His entire body jerked with a massive spike of emotion—her emotion. Something she felt so strongly, she had pushed it across their link. Nigh mindless rage. But she was fighting the all-consuming drive to attack him...and she was winning.

  He stayed on his back, splayed before her. An all-you-can-eat buffet, with his hands lifted in a sign of innocence. Perhaps he’d handled her wrongly, by issuing commands. He’d thought he battled the harpy beneath those monsters. But he now suspected he contended with the nymph. The lover. The one who empowered the harpy, the two forever intertwined.

  The nymph didn’t respond well to cold, only warmth. And in that moment, he knew what he must do. Halo let go of the cold wholly, once and for all, embracing his love for this female. Letting himself feel everything without reservation.

  Slowly he reached for her. Though stiff and leery, she didn’t bite him. He lightly pinched one of her chins. All three sets of eyes flared wide.

  “Do the right thing, love. Please.” He smiled sadly. “Win. Pad your résumé.”

  She shook her head, dislodging his fingers. He frowned. He couldn’t be seeing what he thought he was seeing. But...he was.

  There, in the middle of her chin, on the hide of the lioness, was a glittering thumbprint.

  Stardust. Of Halo’s creation.

  His eyes widened, and he examined his hands. Yes! Stardust coated his skin, dazzling in the light.

  Primitive satisfaction warred with crushing sadness. Finally, he had provided his female with what she’d craved most. A reason to celebrate. And yet, he must convince her to kill him.

  —Elia, I know you can hear me. I know you’re fighting your instinct, love, and I need you to stop. All right? Yes? Bite me and don’t let go. Do it because you love me. This is the only way to save everyone.—

  * * *

  Kill. Won’t kill. Kill. Kill! THINK! Ophelia breathed in. Out. With a plethora of eyes, she saw So. Many. Things. Each set viewed the world from a different angle, sending streams of information to the various minds vying for dominion.

  There was Halo, her love. A crowd of cheering harpies. The stoic Commander. A grinning Erebus. A bored stranger.

  Think. Halo had spoken words to her. He’d commanded. No, he’d explained. Save everyone...but not him? For Halo to win and rescue his brothers, Ophelia had to kill him?

  Make it make sense! Halo was part of everyone, and she was supposed to save everyone.

  The beasts understood him perfectly, however, and demanded she do it, sink her teeth deep. Devour him! There, there and there. Such tender meat. But a light of sanity refused to dim as white-hot heat spread over her skin. Ophelia clung to it, fighting the instinct as she fought everything—with everything she had.

  The strangest thing happened. The beasts began to bow to her will. To surrender to the queen of the jungle.

  Without their interference, her greatest desire crystalized, growing, strengthening. A life with Halo. And I can have it.

  She couldn’t kill him. The first victim to grace her résumé would not be her consort.

  He’d tried to warn her; the mental anguish would be unbearable. Because she loved him and he loved her. She wouldn’t give up her family.

  But how was she to achieve this goal? He thought he needed to die by her hand—or teeth—to win. And if he was right?

  There were many ways to die, and not all of them permanent. She didn’t wish to kill him. However, she had demanded this Astra take one for the team time and time again. It’s my turn now.

  Decision made. Ophelia would murder her consort-entwine. His name would grace the top of her kill list. The terms of the battle would be met, and Halo would revive on his own, no mystical resurrection required. A loophole.

  Too easy? Maybe. But he’d mended and regrown organs on the battlefield before. And he hadn’t expected Erebus’s natural abilities to be negated at the end. So why would Halo’s be negated?

  If she were wrong about this? Had it been a viable option, Halo would have suggested it, yes? Would only a true and final death count?

  Trepidation perforated her calm, but she shook it off. Instinct said: You can have it all. She had to take a leap of faith—in herself. Either she believed in herself and her abilities or she gave up and accepted whatever happened.

  I will never give up!

  A monster of indescribable power, Ophelia repositioned her bulky body. No using her firstone teeth. She needed to stop his heart another, less permanent way. And there was only one way available to her right now...

  With a snarl, she lunged at Halo. He made no move against her as she swiped a paw at him, shredding his chest with her claws. Blood rained.

  “That’s my good girl.” He smiled tenderly, so proud and pleased. Blood wet his perfect pearly whites. “Don’t stop now, sweetheart.”

  Her mind screamed and her insides churned, the sight gut-wrenching. Another slash, and bone no longer blocked her path to his beating heart. Beat. Beat. Beat. She whimpered. The moment of truth.

  No going back.

  “Good girl.” He winced but still he smiled. “Now bite me, love.” Pain coated his broken voice, but so did affection, and it nearly broke her. “Bite me hard.”

  With a roar, she severed the organ with a claw, ending his life. For a moment, only a moment.

  Please be only a moment.

  Death was death, and the blare of the trumpet proved it. The match was over. Why hadn’t Halo awakened? She huffed her breaths as she peered down at her consort. He lay in the sand, still and bloody. His wound hadn’t closed. His heart hadn’t yet regenerated.

  The crowd remained silent, everyone poised at the edge of their seat, waiting. Erebus stood at the rail of the royal box, seemingly disappointed. Because playtime was over?

  Come on, Halo!

  Ophelia bellowed his name, demanding he awaken. Or she tried. One head howled. Another whimpered and the third snarled. She slammed her paw onto the Astra’s chest, pumping his heart for him. Wham, wham. Wham, wham, wham.

  She bent a head and licked his face.

  Halo sucked in a breath, his heart and ribs healing as the flesh wove back together. Ophelia nearly collapsed with relief. We won, and we live! Then she remembered. The god.

  Slowly she turned toward the royal box. Toward him. The pale-haired one. Erebus. Enemy. The time had come for a reckoning. She had an impenetrable hide, the ability to regenerate limbs in spades, an assortment of venoms and antivenoms at her disposal. The beasts had slipped free of their cages, yes, but she held their leashes. Ophelia was super everything, and she would have her revenge.