The god hadn’t lied, after all. The Astra had indeed killed her. Brutally. Pitilessly. But in Halo’s defense, the transformation had cursed her with an uncontrollable bloodthirst; she had existed only to tear into him. But still! The male hadn’t recognized her. Unless he had, and he just hadn’t cared?

  Either way, he’d slain her as effortlessly as he’d once slain Succubia. Ophelia despised him with the heat of a thousand suns for it. But she also might not despise him. She might not even blame him. Argh! How was she supposed to feel right now?

  He’d fought to protect himself. As he should have. If their situations had been reversed, she would have done the same thing. But oh! She was still so...so...livid. She’d died and now someone needed to pay for it!

  “Um. Phel?” Vivi asked.

  “I just need a minute more. I’m in the middle of a cataclysmic decision about my current mood and the one to blame.”

  “Oh. Well. Carry on. If you’re taking suggestions, I have a list of mortal enemies I’d love to see suffer.”

  Why was Ophelia flip-flopping between crazed ire and total understanding, anyway? Halo had murdered her. And what had she gotten out of the deal? Nothing. Except. Hmm. She wasn’t hungover. She kind of felt, well, good. Better than good, actually. Amazing. Different parts of her hummed with power, as if she’d plugged into an outlet.

  The more we do this, the stronger you’ll grow. We’ll charge you like a battery and you’ll overflow with every creature. You’ll be unstoppable. Yes. Soon, you’ll be ready, and we’ll do what’s needed. You and me. Together.

  Intrigue blossomed. Had Erebus told the truth about that, too? Would Ophelia continue to strengthen if she allowed him to transform her? Better question: Exactly how strong could she get?

  Dying wasn’t exactly the worst thing in the world, she supposed. She—No! She absolutely could not travel down that road, even for a dream. Endure more deaths? What if she failed to revive at some point? A boatload of newfound power couldn’t help a corpse. Better to avoid the next battle altogether.

  Did Halo know he’d annihilated her or not? Did he comprehend how ruthlessly he’d stripped her of her defenses before that?

  They needed to discuss it. But should she wait for their official meet and greet or track him down?

  Why not wait? Give herself a chance to burn off some of this newfound energy. Because wowzer! She kicked her legs over the side of the bed, stood and bounced for a minute. “Give me ten, and we’ll head to the gym. I want in a boxing ring with anyone willing to take me on. But they better not whine when I mop the floor with their faces.”

  “I gotta say. I’m really digging your can-do attitude today,” Vivi remarked.

  “Thanks.” Dying twice and mystically resurrecting with a new superpower could change a girl.

  How much to tell her friend? Or should she keep quiet? Yeah, definitely keep quiet for now. At least until she figured out a rock-solid plan of action. Tales of gods and Astra and resurrections would only spread. Not because Vivi blabbed—she wouldn’t—but because the walls had ears.

  Ophelia power-walked to the bathroom, where she cleaned her face and brushed her teeth while jogging in place. Dude. Had Nissa felt this unstoppable all the time?

  A new thought stirred, refusing to die down. What if Ophelia had nixed the dying thing too quickly? More strength for the taking...

  And what if she could help Halo win his blessing task? To become the opponent he fought over and over, ensuring he won the match, she had only to transform and willingly die. Something she could endure once more. Even twice more. As long as she avoided the twelfth battle—which she could absolutely do, if she were strong enough—she could come out of this blessing task with a new life and a stellar resume.

  –good soldier

  –died repeatedly for a cause

  –helped defeat Erebus

  –almost solely responsible for the salvation of Harpina, harpykind and the Astra

  Think about it. The fate of the Astra and harpies were forever tied. What happened to one happened to the other. General Taliyah might not be Ophelia’s biggest fan, but she could be, with the right incentive. And Ophelia might not be the Commander’s cheerleader, but she wasn’t willing to condemn her sisters to five hundred years of defeat simply to strike at the male.

  Forget her infusion of strength. Forget the glory. Couldn’t she withstand the torment of a few more deaths for the sake of her sisters?

  Well then. What more was there to dissect? The decision was made. Ophelia would beast out and power up. She grinned—until she frowned. Halo was going to protest.

  Although, he couldn’t protest what he didn’t know. Had he realized the truth about the lioness or not?

  “Something’s happening in the hallway,” Vivi called from the room. “Girls are going wild. Imma pop out to check out—” Glass shattered.

  Threat! Still in flannels, Ophelia rushed from the bathroom—she drew up short. Her friend crouched on the dresser, her fangs bared. The photos that once decorated the surface lay in pieces on the floor.

  Halo stood in the center of Ophelia’s cramped quarters, wearing the same T-shirt and leathers as before. He peered at her with chilling eyes—and still managed to heat her blood.

  So annoying. “Vivi, meet Halo. He’s the Astra we haven’t discussed yet.” Not today, anyway. “Halo, meet Vivian Eagleshield, my best friend.”

  “Leave us,” he commanded the harpire, never shifting his attention from Ophelia.

  Does he know, does he know? Or at least suspect?

  Vivi smirked at him. “Sorry, warlord, but I’m not leaving until the babe you’re eyeing like the last sliver of meat at a free buffet tells me to beat feet. Fifi?” With only a nickname, she asked a hundred different questions.

  “I’ll be fine,” Ophelia promised. “He isn’t going to harm me.” Yet.

  Waggling her brows, Vivi said, “Here to do some wet work then, Astra?”

  “There will be no wet work,” Ophelia said in a rush. An assurance for her friend as much as herself. The blueprint for more strength did not involve a sexual distraction. No matter how tasty he looked, standing in her home. Seriously. Halo was a total thirst trap right now, pulsing with raw intensity.

  Her knees trembled. I might be in a spot of trouble.

  At last, he deigned to glance in her friend’s direction, slowly craning his head. It was a deliberate power move. Intimidating and as sexy as it was terrifying.

  The harpire went sheepish, holding up her hands in a gesture of innocence. “No, no,” Vivi told him with a wink, vaulting to the floor. “There’s no need to toss me out of my best friend’s bunk, where I’m always welcome. I’ll see myself out. You two obviously have big things to discuss. Huge. I’ll mosey on out now and get all the details later.” She exited through the bathroom, shutting the door behind her with a soft snick and louder snicker.

  Halo found Ophelia again, his muscles seeming to expand. More heat emanated from him, sizzling hotter by the second, and she swallowed a groan.

  Resist! Her word of the day. “What do you want?” she asked, wishing she were wearing armor.

  “Tell me what happened yesterday,” he demanded.

  Well. There it was. Confirmation. He didn’t know. She was cleared to proceed as planned. “I’m not telling you anything anymore. We aren’t partners, remember?” Another reason to keep her secret close. “Do us both a favor and flash yourself out of my space.”

  He rooted in place, as stubborn as she was. “When you were taken from me, you appeared before Erebus, did you not?”

  Why did the Astra have to smell so good?

  What was he getting at? That she was working with his enemy? She spread her arms wide, announcing, “This is me, not telling you anything.”

  “I believe he has a mystical tie to you,” Halo persisted. “Something he gave you after your stabbing. If I’m correct, there’s a way I can stop him from taking you from me a second time.”

  A mystical tie—to Erebus? Oh...balls. A part of the equation she’d ignored. The Deathless could summon her on command, the same way Halo summoned weapons. Bile singed her throat. Give an enemy so much power over her? That, she wouldn’t allow for any reason. Not even for strength.

  Ophelia tweaked her plan. Severe the connection to Erebus. Become a beast again. Grow stronger on my own terms.

  “Do it,” she said. “Whatever it is.”

  “Very well.” Halo appeared grim, and yet his irises spun with excitement. “Take off your clothes, harpy.”

  8

  Halo struggled to retain his calm facade. By a thread...

  He had failed this female—supposedly his female—twice. At noon, everyone but Ophelia and Halo would freeze, marking the official start of the blessing task. There would be no more labors for the next seven days. But. After the freeze, Erebus could steal the harpymph from Halo yet again. Maybe. It was probable.

  Muted emotions? No longer. For the first time in his remembrance, a pot of rage simmered in his mind, spiced with other things. Guilt. Shame. Concern. Relief. Desire. Oh, the desire. At times it eclipsed everything else, making him as restless as a caged animal.

  Every time he imagined tossing this female onto a bed, an avalanche of other images invaded. Putting his hands all over her. Having her hands all over him. Kissing and rubbing. Things he’d never hungered to experience with another. But he hungered now.

  Touch her. Mark her. Claim her. Save her.

  How he loved and hated this. His strain grew worse by the minute, everything in his torso tight and stinging. And yet, as he breathed in the harpy’s luscious scent, the promise of relief had never seemed surer.

  What if she’d told the truth yesterday? What if she drew him like this without the help of a pheromone? If she were his gravita...

  What then?

  “You did not just tell me to take off my clothes.” She sputtered for a moment. “Unless you assume you’re getting laid right now?”

  “I do not.” But maybe he should try. Why not give them both a reset? He’d never attempted to pleasure his concubines, but he didn’t think he wanted to release the nymph until she had reached her own end. To see her climax...

  Yes. At the very least, he should learn Ophelia’s full effect on his body as soon as possible. An uncompromised strategist would insist on it. How else could he mount a proper defense against the constant distraction she presented?

  Rationalizing your way to defeat?

  Perhaps. But he didn’t think he cared right now. “Take off your clothes, Ophelia,” he said. A softer request. “I’m going to check you for a brand.”

  She sputtered a bit more, then pointed an accusing finger at him. “I’m perfectly capable of using my own two eyes and a mirror to check myself, thanks. There’s no reason for you to—”

  He flashed a whisper away, crowding her personal space. Her scent saturated his being, razing already fried nerve endings, and he rationalized even more. Having sex with her would not equal defeat. It would be a temporary distraction, nothing more. The long-term results could sway in or out of his favor, but he wouldn’t know until he knew.

  “Some brands can be etched into muscle or bone. So. I will peruse every inch of you, harpy, and you will let me.” With a quiet but lethal tone, he vowed, “One way or another, your clothes are coming off before we leave this room.”

  Ophelia glowered at him...but she also exuded excitement. “You’re a secret pervert, aren’t you, H-bomb? You come in here, swinging front tail, thinking you can command a peek at my goods. The nymph is easy, right? Well, you picked the wrong nymph. This one is future General material.”

  H-bomb? “Nothing about you is easy.” He traced his fingertips along a lapel of her flannel top, the action unstoppable. “Why is so much of you covered?”

  Some of her animosity faded, and she shivered. “I’m cold all the time,” she admitted, leaning into his touch. Then she narrowed her eyes, raised her chin, and revved back up, stepping away and tearing at the buttons on her top. “You want to see what you’ll never have? Fine. Go right ahead. Take a good, hard look, Astra. Because I will resist your allure.”

  His allure? His? He went on instant alert, determined to get answers about his...about her...about... The top slipped to the floor, revealing plump mounds with amber peaks, and his thoughts derailed.

  Those magnificent beauties jiggled as she shimmied out of her bottoms and kicked the material aside, revealing lacy black panties. As she straightened, those long sable waves danced around her delicate features. Exquisitely prideful, she put her nose in the air and rolled back her shoulders.

  She should be proud! He almost couldn’t comprehend the perfection of her body. This female was flawless. A masterpiece of peaks, dips, and hollows. Miles of the lightest brown skin offered a visual feast.

  Carnality in its purest form.

  He met her gaze, and his breath caught. Emerald irises glittered, daring him to reach out. To take whatever he desired.

  Heat collected in his muscles, forging his bones into steel. Pressure magnified, gears cranking in the opposite direction. “The panties,” he said, almost embarrassed by the huskiness of his tenor. “Remove them.”

  Head nocked higher, she hooked the fabric in her fingers and wiggled. The garment slid down her legs. She kicked, sending the material flying. With lightning-fast reflexes, he caught the panties midair.

  Damp. With arousal. For him. The knowledge robbed him of sense. Perhaps the reason he stuffed the panties into his pocket.

  “Told you,” she said with a smirk. “Secret pervert.”

  “Perhaps I am.” His eyelids grew heavy as he followed a flush down the elegant column of her throat...over those mouthwatering breasts. Lower... A tiny thatch of dark curls held him enthralled.

  Temptation itself...

  “Well?” she prompted with throaty command. “Do you see any brands on me?”

  “Still searching.” Because he hadn’t started. “The process takes time.”

  “I’m sure.”

  He focused on her adorable toes, with their pink nails, peering past the natural dimension, into the mystical. He raked his attention up one leg, then the other. One arm, then the other. Up her abdomen...between her breasts—there. The spot where she was stabbed. There was a faded star-shaped smudge, like spilled ink she’d tried to wipe clean. Not a brand, exactly, but definitely something.

  In that moment, Halo burned to end his enemy once and for all. And he would. Soon. Once he ascended, he would live only to deliver the god’s final demise.

  For now, he thought he knew how to preclude Erebus from summoning Ophelia a second time.

  —How quickly can you forge a trinite collar?—He projected the question into the mind of Silver Stilbon, a gruff Astra that history touted as the Fiery One. When Silver reached anhilla, a mindless state of violence achievable by all Astra, literal flames crackled over his skin.

  The dedicated metalworker responded within seconds. —For a harpy? Not too long. Roc requested one for Taliyah only to change his mind before I finished. I need only to etch runes into it.—

  —Add a two-inch chain in the center and attach a coin-size trinite disk.—That disk would adhere to Ophelia’s skin, just over the smudge, preventing Erebus from reaching out with spiritual hands and latching on to the harpymph. In theory.

  In reality...the thought of Ophelia wearing a special band Halo secured around her throat proved shockingly gratifying.

  He told Silver —I require it as soon as possible.—

  The warlord asked no questions. —Give me ten minutes, and I’ll flash it to your hand.—

  He licked his lips. Ten minutes? He might as well search Ophelia for more marks...

  “Turn around,” he croaked.

  A husky chuckle teased his ears. “Can’t get enough of me, Astra?”

  He could not. Later, he would not let himself even consider her. He would scrub this image from his mind. He would. Until then... “Turn around,” he repeated, a little too eager for his liking.

  Another, softer chuckle. With languid grace, she obeyed.

  “Your hair. Move it.” Let me see every inch of you.

  “Are you always this bossy with naked females?” Again, she obeyed him, sweeping the glossy mane over one shoulder.

  Look at her. Made for pleasure. Made for my pleasure. Those small, delicate wings fluttered; as they shimmered in the morning sunlight, they looked like cutouts of lace. She possessed an elegant spine. The most sublime curves.

  The firm body of a harpy paired with the lushness of a nymph. A combination clearly lethal to his common sense.

  “Halo?” she purred.

  Her question. Right. “I’m always this bossy, period,” he said, pulling at the neckline of his T-shirt.

  “Well. That is very good to know.” Her tone and scent deepened. “Very, very good.”

  His nostrils flared. Had she grown more aroused? Halo wiped his mouth with his palm. “Yes. Very, very good.”

  With her face in profile, she smiled as if they were playing a game, all feminine power and seduction. “Do you like what you see, Halo?”

  Perhaps they did play a game. “I do.” He couldn’t deny her beauty, and he didn’t want to. “Do you like me looking, Ophelia?”

  Her smile widened, pure confidence. Maddening. “I might. I might like a hands-on inspection, too. Best to be thorough, don’t you think?”

  “Thorough,” he echoed. To maintain strength, nymphs required regular orgasms. The reason many of the species worshipped pleasure. Did this one?

  When I get her into bed, I won’t stop until she collapses from exhaustion.

  The thought jolted him. When? Not if?