The Warlord Gena Showalter (primary phonics TXT) 📖

Not the least bit bothered, she curtsied, saying, “Yes, Commander. Your every whim is my greatest desire.”

He nodded with irritation. Which irritated him further. All of their so-called conversations flowed in this direction: he spoke, she agreed, and that was that, just the way he liked it. No part of him wished she would call his bluff.

“Just...return them to their quarters,” he instructed Ian.

Ian huffed before sending the females away. “How are you able to ruin my fun so quickly?” he asked before vanishing.

Roc walked to a tall, arching windowpane bordered by stained glass and surveyed Harpina. The palace overlooked a garden maze filled with bushes and statues of past Generals. A meteorite graced the center. With it, he would construct Taliyah’s altar.

Beyond the garden, in the center of the market courtyard, a massive tree bloomed with red flowers, shading every shop.

When he’d first arrived, the streets had brimmed with chatty females going about their day. Now those streets were empty, his men stationed behind the wall. By sunset, patrols would march about town.

The scent of frostberries had faded, he realized with a jolt. Meaning, he didn’t carry the perfume on his clothing. Meaning...what? Taliyah was nearby, watching and listening?

What ability did she wield? Was Taliyah here, casting an illusion of invisibility, as only the strongest of snakeshifters could do? If he could catch her...

Excitement—

—Commander?—

—crashed. Roc sighed. He knew Roux requested an audience. The hunt for Taliyah must wait.

—You may enter.—He glanced over his shoulder, nodding at Roux in greeting when the warlord appeared. A beast with pale hair, golden skin, and yellow eyes with striations of pink, gray and brown—until his temper sparked and red took over. He gripped a kneeling wolfshifter by the hair. The beast held on to Roux’s wrists with razor-sharp claws, but he didn’t fight.

Well. The wolf had figured out the strategy to possibly surviving an encounter with the Astra: remain calm.

Roux muttered something about seeing and not seeing a woman, his gaze darting for a moment. Though he appeared somewhat crazed, he was the most intelligent Astra. Too intelligent. The way his brilliant mind worked often staggered everyone else.

Once he’d figured out whatever mystery currently plagued him, the muttering would cease.

Unlike other Astra, Roux didn’t possess moving alevala outside of battle. In fact, his alevala did the opposite. For some reason, the images moved only during battle.

Face-to-face, Roc preferred speech to thought. “You’ve brought me a present?”

“Yes.”

Roux must have caught the shifter attempting to free the harpies from their cell.

Wolves were a dangerous species. The essence of their beasts rose from their bodies, like a demon exiting a host, the thick shadow transposing itself over their features.

“He’s a consort, I’m sure.” Roc faced the window again, peering out. Perhaps he’d keep this world after Taliyah’s death. “Put him with—”

“What do you plan to do with the harpies?” the shifter demanded, cutting Roc off. “Tell me! They are—”

Without turning his head a second time, Roc palmed the small crossbow sheathed at his side, extended his arm and nailed the male in the center of his throat, severing his vocal cords. Then he turned his head, his body following the new direction at a slower pace.

As the shifter gasped for air he could no longer catch, his face darkened to a deep purple. Blood leaked from his mouth.

“Had you let me finish speaking,” Roc calmly explained, “you would have heard me instruct my warlord to put you in the cell next to the harpies.”

He watched, uncaring, as the wolf fell over, twitched, then sagged onto the floor.

To protect your people, you maintained order. To maintain order, you took decisive action. Exactly as he’d done since dispensing with his first bride. Precisely what he’d do in thirty days.

He met Roux’s gaze. “Before you return to the prisons, display his head on the front lawn.”

Roc ain’t here to mess around. He’s here to murder brides and slay wolves. And he’s all out of wolves.

Taliyah gaped at the male she’d married. She’d entered the throne room with just enough time to scope out a couple of the concubines. Then he’d murdered someone’s consort without a shred of remorse—without even looking at the guy—because of an interruption. No, he’d struck because the shifter had disrespected him.

Honor and respect mattered to Alaroc to an insane degree. And his power...

Am I turned on by the thought of besting him...or by the man himself? Because hello, exhilaration. Her veins fizzed like never before.

She had no business desiring the dude who planned to kill her. The “monster” who’d already conquered her world and imprisoned her people.

Floating closer, she studied him more intently. He remained alert, his eyes brightening. Something had excited him, too. The kill? Or something else?

What would the brutal male do next?

What would she do?

Alaroc wandered about the throne room, silent. Ugh. Did he have to move so seductively? Muscles flexed. Despite his incredible size, his motions remained as fluid as water.

Again and again, he switched directions, closing in on her, as if he sensed her. Wait. What if he sensed her?

To gauge his reaction, she gathered her resolve and walked through the warlord. Upon contact, he grunted and planted his feet.

Oh, yes. He sensed her. Did he suspect the truth of her origins?

A minute passed. Two. He scanned the room, looking past her. His excitement remained. Well. That answered that. If he suspected the truth, he would project hatred.

Finally, he gave his beard a couple of strokes and flashed.

Where had he gone now? Did it really matter? In thirty minutes, he’d be in the dining hall. Why not join him? The man clearly enjoyed a type, his concubine basically Taliyah’s doppelganger. She could resume her inquisition. He was too smug to guard his words. If she asked nicely enough, he might even tell her where he kept a key to the duplicate realm.

Another win for the bride.

Her exhilaration redoubled, keeping her usual dissatisfaction at bay as she raced to the bedroom reserved for special guests.