The Warlord Gena Showalter (primary phonics TXT) 📖

His gaze dropped to her wrist. “What makes you think you’ll become General before the other harpy? The one I first selected. She has more stars.”

Annoyance prodded her. “That might be the dumbest question you’ve ever said. Mara fought General Nissa and lost. She’s out of the running until the new General is crowned.”

Taliyah figured those with nine stars would battle it out. Once she herself completed her sacrifice, she’d challenge the winner. Not to brag, but she could beat Mara while blindfolded, with both hands and feet bound.

“Why do you wish to become General?”

“I’m the best woman for the job.” Truth was truth.

“And what makes you think you’re the best?”

Curiosity layered his tone, nothing else, but for some reason she reacted as if he’d thrown a gauntlet, sputtering and shifting. No one had ever asked her a follow-up question about this. “For starters, I’m strong.”

“So are the others.”

“I’m—” Argh! “I was born to be General, so I’ll be General.” And your constant dissatisfaction? What of that?

Alaroc’s head tilted to the side, his gaze moving past her. She glanced over her shoulder, following his line of sight. Nothing jumped out at her. No changes. Oh, wait. He must be communicating with his men.

He jumped to his feet as if he’d been ejected and held out his hand. “Come.” A shocking mix of anger, arousal and excitement emanated from him, electrifying the air. “I have a special gift you will accept.”

Beyond curious, she almost accepted his help to stand. “No, thanks. I’m ready for dessert.” He would get nothing he wanted today.

With a grunt, he hefted her to her feet and restrained her against his chest.

Her heart drummed as they peered at each other, silent. Rebellion blunted, desires switched and honed. “Are you my dessert, Astra?”

He cursed and flashed her from the dining hall, an unfamiliar bedroom forming around her. Less space than the master suite, with fewer valuables. The canopied bed, claw-foot tub before the hearth and desk with golden turtles anchored beneath the legs suited her tastes.

Alaroc released her, separating from her so abruptly she stumbled.

Okay, so she could add flashing other people to his résumé of skills. She glared up at him, only to lose her train of thought. The silver striations in his molten-gold irises were spinning.

“Now,” he said, unveiling a sardonic smile. “We do this my way, nice and easy, or we do this your way. Not nice and easy.”

Different parts of her quivered as she scanned the bedroom, on the hunt for what could possibly cause this kind of reaction in—Oh, screw that! A beautiful but treacherous chastity belt waited on the mattress. She recognized the design.

A thin metal band decorated with swirling symbols fit around her hips. Two flat links of chain hung from the band’s center, one in front and one behind, both delicate in appearance. They held a small, curved metal sheet in place.

No wonder Alaroc exuded sizzling excitement. With this “gift,” he better secured his investment, ensured his bride remained untouched and punished Taliyah for taunting him at dinner.

Anger glimmered within her. Definitely anger. Not an excitement comparable to his. “You need help to resist me? How sad for you.”

He paid no attention to her words. “For once, harpy, I’m hoping to do this your way.”

Hot shivers trekked her spine, pings of exhilaration—er, hotter anger singeing every nerve ending. “How do you feel about regifting? I think the belt will really make your erection pop.”

“Either I put it on you with your cooperation, or I just put it on you.” Guttural tone, unwavering resolve. “Decide.”

Her mind raced. Man, she’d really poked the bear with her jealousy comment, huh? He’d been itching for this fight ever since. Accepting the belt would discombobulate him, but giving up a personal freedom without a battle wasn’t her style.

Why waste an opportunity to witness his combat skill?

She toed up to him. “Looks like you’re getting your wish, Astra.” His delectable scent muddled her thoughts, but she forged ahead. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

A slow grin bloomed. “With pleasure, bride.” In a motion too swift for her to perceive, he swept her into his arms and threw her atop the bed, right next to the chastity belt. Before she even stopped bouncing, he lifted her skirt and ripped off her minuscule panties.

She gasped as cool air kissed her heated core. “Well, well, well. You have moves. Not bad.”

“There’s more to come.”

“I’m sure there is.”

To her consternation, he didn’t pounce. He moved to the side of the bed. Gaze locked on her, he rolled his head left and right, popping bones in his neck. Preparing. Muscle and tendon flexed, and she gulped. All that carefully banked power was doing strange things to her concentration.

Inner shake. Taliyah propped her weight on her elbows, smiled with invitation as he leaned toward her—and kicked his face with her six-inch stilettos.

He caught her ankle, but only after she’d cut his cheek. Blood trickled from the wound already healing.

“I have moves, too,” she said.

“I’m sure you do.” He grazed his thumb over her heel, tickling, popping the shoe off. “Have you ever worn a chastity belt?”

Do not moan. “Only in nightmares.”

A husky, sardonic chuckle met her answer. “You’ll wear mine.”

How could a voice remind her of sandpaper and silk at the same time? “You’ll have to subdue me first. Can you?”

His gaze dropped to the apex of her thighs as a bead of sweat trickled from his temple. “I think you like the idea.”

She didn’t. She couldn’t. The madness! “I like the possibility of your defeat,” she said, her voice hoarser than usual. How humiliating.

No more conversation. Erupting, Taliyah kicked him with her other foot. Harpy speed allowed her to nail him once, twice, thrice. Could he have stopped her? Probably. But he didn’t even try. He held her stare, the stiletto’s heel sinking into his shoulder with each strike.

“The way your breasts jostle...” Pulling himself from his stupor, he plucked the shoe from her and pitched it behind him.

When he