The Warlord Gena Showalter (primary phonics TXT) 📖

but he’d always adored the fire-warmed rooms in his parents’ palace. His older sisters had read him bedtime stories before a popping hearth.

Chest clenching, he shut down any thoughts outside the present. Securing Taliyah Skyhawk as his bride mattered, nothing else.

“Wedding?” she choked out.

He waved away her question. “You are part snakeshifter, yes?” Every time he’d come to Harpina, he’d looked for her. While he hadn’t come across her a second time, he had caught a thread of gossip about her. Well respected among her peers and highly protective of her family and friends. Bloodthirsty to the extreme.

“Wedding?” she repeated.

With the exception of phantoms, snakes were his least favorite species. Born liars with a seducer’s nature, all of them. Usually cowardly when pressed. Flattery spilled from their tongues without cease. They tempted and lured, happiest when they inspired misery. However, Roc was willing to tolerate this snakeshifter on a temporary basis. Hardships and all.

“Wedding,” he finally affirmed. She would be his most hauntingly beautiful bride yet. A shame he must sacrifice her to his god in thirty days. “Ours, in case I wasn’t clear.”

“Me? Marry you?” The harpy bristled. “I would rather—Oh...no. No, no, no.” She paled and whispered, “Say yes? Really, Neeks?”

Neeks? “You will agree, Taliyah.” For multiple reasons. Mostly because he commanded it. Roc expected absolute compliance from everyone at every moment. If someone refused to obey him, he quickly taught them the error of their ways.

He never received a second refusal.

“You really don’t want to marry me,” Taliyah told him with gritted teeth. “I have a temper only a consort can calm.” She flared her claws. “Want to guess if you’re my consort?”

Calm her? Roc had never calmed anyone from anything, not even himself. “Want to guess if I dread your temper? Harpies might be stronger than giants, but only as long as their wings are free. Pin them, and you’re all as weak as wee pixies.”

Oh, she didn’t like that bit of truth. She bared her fangs and snapped, “I will never marry you. Not even for the honor of making myself a widow.”

Where was the cowardly side of her snakeshifter nature? “When you say yes, and you will, I’ll grant you thirty days to kill me. An honor no one else receives. Succeed, and you’ll become Commander of my men. When you fail, and you will, I’ll sacrifice your virgin body to my god.”

“Sacrifice? You’re a killer by nature. How does ending your wife qualify as a sacrifice?”

She had no idea. More than anything, Roc wanted a family of his own. Wanted to protect his loved ones. To provide for them.

He proceeded as if she hadn’t spoken, ready to get this done. “Don’t think to seduce me or another warlord to disqualify yourself. I’ll kill you anyway, and your people with you.” Let there be no misunderstanding between them. He wasn’t a good man.

The muscles in her shoulders knotted with aggression. Not an unusual occurrence in his presence. Despite this, she did something no other prospective bride had done. She pressed a hand against her heart and fluttered her lashes. “Murderous threats against my people? Finally! The romance my life has been missing. Should I say yes now or wait until you describe exactly how you’re going to kill everyone? You know, to really flood me with desire.”

Were her wings fluttering? He wondered how they’d feel against his flesh. He barely stopped himself from running a hand up the ridges of her spine. “At some point, you will beg me to take your virginity. It’s only a matter of time.”

“I’ll beg you for nothing!” she spit.

That was her only point of contention? “Your attempt to seduce me will only waste your time and erase my respect.” Brides would do anything to disqualify themselves from the sacrifice. But then, they didn’t know the truth.

Roc didn’t actually need a virgin. He preferred them.

Sacrifice his bride, and he and his men received a mystical blessing to win every battle they waged for the next five centuries. Sacrifice his virgin bride, and they received a mystical blessing plus a powerful weapon. Of course, he couldn’t claim either prize until the other Astra Planeta had successfully completed their own tasks. Everything from finding lost cities to crafting powerful weapons.

Neither Roc nor his men required the blessing. If they fought, they won. Period. Unless they were cursed.

He straightened his shoulders. If a single Astra botched his task, a curse came automatically upon the entire group, ensuring they lost every battle they waged.

“Right,” Taliyah said with a nod, exchanging fury for wry humor. “Because boning the man who injured and imprisoned my people is super high on my bucket list.”

“I’ll be sure to remind you of these words the first time you crawl into my bed.”

“Darling, if you find me in your bed, you’ll be too busy dying to remind me of anything.”

Did she ever back down?

“I will resist you,” he continued, “because I have a higher purpose.” Long ago, the god Chaos created his own personal army. Demigods with the potential to ascend, becoming gods themselves. To do this, he’d purchased twenty children from his fellow Greeks. Young boys he’d raised with a stern hand, teaching the ways of the ancients. Might makes right.

Roc and his biological brother were part of the twenty, and at first, they had despised Chaos. The male had seemed to enjoy the pain he’d inflicted upon each of his charges...

To be remade, you must first be broken. To shed weakness, you must defeat the pain you fear. I’ll break you in ways you can’t imagine and hurt you in ways you’ll never forget. For centuries to come, you’ll curse my name, but when you look back, you’ll thank me for it all. You’ll be stronger than you ever dreamed possible.

Chaos had kept his word. Under his tutelage, Roc had strengthened in a thousand different ways. He was still strengthening. Now he protected the people under his charge by any means necessary.

No one took what belonged to