Comments rang throughout the gym.

  “I bet he drills his females until he hits liquid gold.”

  “Have you seen those arctic blast eyes? The only thing he’s drilling into is permafrost.”

  “Do you think he knows my legs make amazing earmuffs or should I tell him again?”

  The tiniest glimmer of irritation, well, irritated Ophelia. They were treating Halo like a piece of meat being carved up and served on toothpicks...and she should totally do the same. So why wasn’t she?

  “If you plan to make a move on the Ringed One, you’ll have to get in line,” a girl named Reshma called from the other side of the room, chugging away on an elliptical machine. She was a patrol mate and someone Ophelia greatly admired. If Reshma got in your face with a beef, you might as well disembowel yourself to save time. “There’s already a list. First come, first served. Next up is three hundred and sixty-eight.”

  “Dibs on three hundred and sixty-nine,” someone called.

  Ophelia’s treadmill shook as she slammed her feet down.

  “Why the sudden interest in an Astra?” Vivi asked, jogging at a sedate pace. “I know you’re not going to bag and tag him. Wait. You’re not going to bag and tag him, are you?”

  “No fair,” another cried. “You can’t put the Flunk Out on the list. Once they go nymph, others make them limp.”

  Kill me now.

  “Have you seen Halo’s concubine?” asked the harpy next to Reshma. “She’s a genuine Amazon.”

  “Do you think she’d, like, sign my chest or something?”

  Ugh. The Astra had a paid for perma-lover. Meaning, he was completely off-limits. Not that he’d ever been on limits for Ophelia. Nope. There would be zero lovers for Lady O No.

  Another hour passed, music cranking. This time, she stayed in a zone...until a new round of thoughts and worries surged. If her real life followed her dream—or whatever—she would smack into Halo on her way to see General Taliyah.

  How should she handle it? Forget what the imaginary Erebus had claimed? The Astra wasn’t going to kill her. That, she knew. One, never trust the prick who brutally slayed you. Two, Taliyah. Three, why would real-life Halo ever notice Ophelia?

  Great! She’d started slamming her feet into the treadmill again.

  Movement at her side drew her attention to a showered Vivi, who pulled the plug on the machine. Dang it! This part was a repeat, too?

  Ophelia freed the earbuds and glanced at the clock. Argh!

  “You’ve been running for five and a half hours,” her friend began.

  “I know, I know. I now have half an hour to prepare for my meeting without overthinking.” She darted from the treadmill, shooting out of the gym.

  “I guess I’m supposed to clean the machine for you?” Vivi called.

  How many other details had Ophelia correctly dreamed? Or not dreamed? Would she smack into Halo or not?

  In the locker room, she trembled as she zipped through a shower and donned her uniform. Taking the same path as before, she cleared the garden. The same impediments caused the same problems.

  Halo won’t flash into me. He won’t.

  But what if he did?

  Her breath hitched, and her tremors doubled. She soared up the palace steps, past the gold columns, across the wraparound porch and through the double doors, only then noticing there were no other harpies about today.

  She pumped the brakes, her feet stopping as her heart picked up speed. Halo. Here. He stood in the foyer, alone, his arms crossed over his chest as he showcased his terrifying narrowed gaze.

  He was here, waiting for her. Because she had lived the dream. But...

  How was that possible?

  Get ready, little girl. Your second ending will not be as tame as this. But then, I’m not the male who will wield the blade—Halo is.

  She backed up a step, caught herself, then lifted her chin. “Did you wake up this morning expecting to lose your nut sack, or will my next actions be a surprise?”

  “Harpy,” he intoned, “we need to talk.”

  6

  The harpymph lived. The day had indeed repeated.

  More and more of Halo’s strain eased, relief and hope rising from the ashes of his fury. Until his gears wound tighter, ruining everything.

  Erebus’s scheme was so clear now. Distract Halo with an alleged gravita, leading him to bomb his labors. A good plan. Let her die again? No. Halo would go to great lengths to protect her from further harm. What he wouldn’t do? Lose sight of his ultimate goal.

  Unfortunately for his enemy, he was an excellent multitasker.

  So far, the day both had and had not proceeded like yesterday. At 6:00 a.m., Halo had come to awareness in his bathroom, draped in a towel. Andromeda had been bent over his bed, reading her book. He’d asked her a few questions before sending her on her way. While he’d dressed, intending to hunt Ophelia, he’d used a telepathic link with the Commander to explain what was happening.

  He should have known Roc would summon him, ending the hunt for the harpymph before it started.

  Halo had then spent several hours debriefing the Astra. An astonishingly torturous experience. Every minute—every second—he’d wondered about Ophelia. Would she remember him? Would she forgive him for his part in her death? Harpies were not known for giving second chances.

  Now, here she stood. The little beauty in the flesh. Alive and well, her sweet fragrance saturating the air and heating his blood.

  “How is this possible?” Shock glazed her stunning green eyes. Cherry lips parted as a flush brightened her cheeks. “Wait. Did you just invite me to another chat? Because the last one worked out so well for me?” Her lids slitted. “Consider this a blanket eternal refusal.”

  So. She remembered him, and no, she hadn’t forgiven him. “I won’t chain you again unless it proves necessary.” He rubbed the center of his chest. “You have my word.”

  “Unless it proves necessary? How comforting for me.” She gave a near-hysterical laugh. “It happened. All of it. Everything I thought I dreamed, I lived. I don’t...this is...you are...” She sucked in a breath, rage pulsing from her. “You left me to die!”

  He expected an attack, welcomed it even, but she remained in place. “You are alive now. That is what matters. However, I will allow you to punish me. Go ahead. Get it out of your system. Then we will move on.”

  “Move on? There’s no moving on from this! In fact, consider me your worst enemy. You go your way and I go mine. I’ll figure out what’s happening without you. Now good day, sir.” She extended her middle finger, turned on her heel, and bolted out of the palace.

  With a curse, Halo tore off after her. Outside. Down the hill of steps. Across the front lawn, deeper into the fragrant, sunny warmth of the new-old day. The garden. Running toward the town square. Never missing a step, she wove around frozen harpies.

  The freeze had occurred right on time, then.

  Halo flashed directly behind her, close enough to see the rapid flutter of her wings through slits in her armor. He reached out...

  He snarled as Ophelia expertly evaded his grip and he clasped hold of another female.

  The harpy moved quickly. Swifter than he’d anticipated. Noted. More than that, she knew the terrain. Every tree and bush to avoid. Every divot to leap over. To catch her without harming her, he needed to predict her decisions.

  He flashed around her, cataloging her reactions to his instant appearances. Tells revealed themselves. A plan of action formed. When she geared up, as if to shift right, he teleported to the left.

  She slammed into him like a cannonball. As he flew back, he clamped her tight. Halo absorbed the bulk of the impact with only minor aches and pains. When they skidded to a halt, a cloud of dirt and debris surrounded them. He lay on his back, with the harpy draped over his chest.

  The moment the dust settled, she attempted to scramble off. Too bad. He flipped her over, trapping her with his much heavier weight.

  “Oh, no you don’t.” She clawed, bit, punched, and bucked, a living grenade—but she didn’t free herself. “I won’t be a good little prisoner.”

  “You’ll be whatever I tell you.” His control nearly burned away, torched by a flashfire of arousal. To restrain her arms above her head and disarm her, Halo had to work against her as much as his treacherous body. Pressure ebbed and pleasure flowed, until something inside him threatened to snap.

  Sweat beaded his brow. Her softness...her curves... Her passion. This female felt everything. For a moment, he longed to bask in it all.

  Snapping... “Harpy. Be. Still,” he grated. I will not thrust my hips.

  “Make me.” She bucked harder.

  I will not thrust.

  She ground against his throbbing length, and he sucked in a breath.

  Halo bellowed, “You will mind me, Ophelia.”

  To his surprise, she did, finally going still. Also panting and glaring. “You are such a douchebag. Now do us both a favor and put your chub club away. This isn’t happy ending hour.”

  Inhale. Exhale. “Trust me. I would put the...club away if I could.” Rational thought flickered on and off. “We will return to my bedroom, and I will explain what’s happening to us.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks. We can talk here. Who’s gonna eavesdrop?”

  A measure of calm trickled over him. She could be reasonable at times. A surprising development. “The palace offers better defenses against Erebus.”

  “Does it?” She smiled with pure malice. “Rumors suggest innocent harpies get chained and slaughtered in there.”

  Or not so reasonable. He closed his eyes. Tried to center. Failed.

  He needed to not touch her, but he also needed to not risk another chase. Focusing on her, he said, “We’ll chat in your bedroom.” Though her file hadn’t listed an address, he figured she lived in the barracks. “You weren’t harmed in there.”

  “Give you my address so you can pop over to borrow a cup of my sugar, wink-wink? Hard pass.” Defiant and beautiful, she scowled at him. “Now, if you don’t mind or even if you do, get off me, freak.”

  Halo ground his teeth and flashed her to the palace library, landing them both in an upright position. “I will let you go, and you will stay put. Understand?” He pried one hand from her, then the other.

  When she remained in place, he breathed easier and scanned the room for threats. Books, artifacts and priceless treasures filled the enormous, three-tiered chamber. No shifting shadows. No odd scents.

  “Well? What’s going on?” Ophelia issued the demand as if she’d waited weeks for a response. Unwilling—or perhaps unable—to stand in place, she paced between two tables. “I deserve to know. Or did you already forget today’s headline? Harpy dies due to foolish Astra’s mistake.”

  He flinched. He would never forget the horror of her death.

  Erebus will pay. “I’m not sure what you’ve heard, but here’s the full story. Every five hundred years, each Astra must complete a specific task, one after the other. If we succeed, we receive a blessing from Chaos. Five hundred years of victory. If we fail, we are cursed with five hundred years of defeat. This time, we fight for more than the blessing. We seek to ascend.”

  “Keep talking. I’m listening.” Pacing, pacing. Graceful. Fluid. Carnal.

  Halo tracked her with his gaze, increasingly...hungry. The way she moved. His palms itched, eager to explore her curves and hollows. “In the past, I’ve always been tasked with the hunting and killing of a specific god. This time, I must complete twelve feats or labors of strength and cunning. This started yesterday. Which is also today. The day will continue to repeat until the final battle concludes.”

  “Sure. A typical Groundhog Day situation.” She rubbed her wrists, as if remembering the shackles, making him flinch anew. “Why am I aware of what you’re doing? No one else is.”

  “Erebus hopes to use you against me.”

  A humorless laugh erupted from her. “That’s ridiculous. How can he use me against you? Why would he bother? We’re strangers. I’m nothing to you, and you’re nothing to me.”

  Those words. I’m nothing to you, and you’re nothing to me. Hmm. They scraped Halo’s nerves raw. Something he didn’t understand. What did her opinion of him matter? His gravita or not, her admiration had no bearing on the situation.

  “What did the god say to you?” he demanded.

  “Before he plunged a knife into my airway? Sorry, but you don’t get info from me until I get info from you. Tell me why he hopes to use me against you.”

  Admit that she might belong to Halo, body and soul?

  He ran his gaze over her curves once again and pulled at the neckline of his shirt. “When you collided with me yesterday—”

  “Hey!” she interjected. “I didn’t collide with you. You collided with me when you flash-landed. Get your facts straight.”

  “—the interaction caused my scent to coat you. Now, Erebus believes you are...mine.”

  “Yours?” Her jaw went slack, and she halted, gazing at him with something akin to horror. “He thinks I belong to you because you suck at flash-landing? Did he forget you have a concubine?”

  “There’s a difference between a lover and a mate.”

  “You’re right.” The horror faded. Thoughtful, she tilted her head. “And I am a harpy. Of course, Erebus pegged me as the cherished mate and the Amazon as the forgettable lover. Yes, this logic fully tracks.” Seeming to forget his presence, she kicked into another pace and mumbled. “Think this through. Erebus wants to destroy the Astra. He’ll slaughter innocent, hardworking harpies to do it. He’s a foe, no ifs, ands or buts. The Astra are now allied with the harpies. And Halo didn’t mean to serve me up for murder. The poor guy is probably just as dumb as a box of rocks. Erebus is bad, no matter how you slice it. Halo might have a sliver of potential. Honestly, this might be my big break.”

  Every word lashed as powerfully as the Headmaster’s whipping.

  Ophelia faced him, determination etched into her exquisite features. “Fine. You talked me into it. I’ll do you this enormous favor and help you complete your twelve labors. But in return, you’re writing me a glowing recommendation letter. And ensuring I get my first kill.”

  She thought to...bargain? “A recommendation letter? To what end?” A harpymph with no kills would not be taking down her first victim during a blessing task.

  “A promotion. I’m due. And I expect gold embossing on the letterhead. Flowing script. A poem extolling my amazing amazingness could be a nice extra. But I’ll totally deserve it. I’ll let you decide how lyrical to be after you’ve partnered with me awhile.”

  Put her on a battlefield with the Dark One and his phantoms? No. Halo did not lose what belonged to him, and a possible gravita most certainly belonged to him. But where was he supposed to stash his Lady O No while he handled things? Where would she be safest?

  Only at my side. Where she could be a distraction to Halo. The very dilemma the god had intended to cause.

  He worked his jaw. There was one thing he knew. The Astra—the blessing task—came first, always, a gravita second.

  “Hear me well, Ophelia.” He kept his tone balanced between command and threat. “We aren’t partners or teammates. I am fighting for my brothers. I won’t bow to your dictates or make bargains. I will give orders, and you will obey without hesitation. You won’t even speak a word without permission. Do you understand? Say it. Say the words.”

  * * *

  “Do you understand?” Ophelia mocked behind Halo as he stalked through the palace, pride forcing her to follow. A good soldier obeyed a superior’s orders. “Oops. I didn’t have his highness’s permission to repeat the words a second time. Bring on the punishment. Or is my time with you punishment enough?”

  She might not be a good soldier.

  He offered no response, just marched ahead, checking different rooms. He’d done this for hours, seeming to catalog everything but Ophelia’s direct location, wherever she happened to be. He seemed to have forgotten her presence altogether.

  Why not remind him? “Roc won his challenge by doing the opposite of what he normally does,” she said, trying to sound reasonable. “Have you considered doing the opposite, Halo? You know, doing the right thing and not ruining everything for everyone else?”

  A muscle twitched beneath his eye.

  Another hour passed in utter quiet.

  “Ever wondered if people admire you?” she grumbled. “Let me save you the trouble. They don’t. You’re the literal worst! I mean, nymphs admire everyone, but I would rather bury myself in ice for the rest of eternity than spend another minute in your presence. I’m not even being dramatic right now.”

  Silence.

  Hanging out with a legendary Astra sucked so hard. But guess what? She. Said. Nothing. Else. Instead, Ophelia bottled up the remainder of her speech. Outwit, outplay, outlast. Tough times never persisted, but tough people did.

  When they found an Astra frozen in a compromising position, she almost broke her silence. The one named Roux Pyroesis. Also known as the Crazed One, and the sixth ranked in the Astrian army. He was the torture master, known for excelling at his job—both with others and himself.

  He was a big guy with pale hair and golden everything else. Seated on a pillow in front of a coffee table, he held a pink teacup. At his side was young Isla, daughter of Blythe the Undoing.

  A tea party for two.

  Wearing a pink leotard and tutu, Isla was in the middle of pouring the tea.

  The rumor mill claimed Roux had killed Isla’s father—Blythe’s consort—the day the Astra invaded Harpina. Was the girl learning to poison her enemies early? Because why else would she invite her dad’s murderer to tea? And how absolutely, utterly adorable was that?