The Warlord Gena Showalter (primary phonics TXT) 📖

Taliyah must be payback.

Roc didn’t understand how he’d found her. Why now? Why her? What had broken past his defenses and summoned the stardust to his palms? The sight of her in that slinky black dress? Finally getting his hands on her curves? Conversing with her as equals, enjoying her wit and flavor? The nipple ring? Those wings? Was it the way she melted for him while challenging him?

Whatever the reason, something had changed for him. The second he’d flipped her onto those pillows and run his hands over silken skin fevered by his touch, he’d simmered with heat like never before. To cool down, he’d needed to overcome more of her chill. To touch more—all—of her. But everywhere his fingers had traveled, a sheen of something glittery remained behind.

He’d marked her, staking an undeniable claim. Yet he must kill her. Were he to save Taliyah, the way Solar had saved his siren, he’d only delay the inevitable. The second he received the curse, he lost the ability to protect her from phantoms. Ascending ceased being an option. For five hundred years, they required hibernation to survive. And when they awoke? What then? The wedding and killing of another woman? What about the wife who lived?

No couple was more doomed.

To confess to his men or not? There might be no need. Stardust faded with time. The scent dulled. Roc had only to keep his distance from the temptress to make it go away. But the thought...didn’t settle well.

He stalked around a corner and punched a wall. On impact, his knuckles split. Blood trickled over the stardust, hiding it.

He’d never acted so volatile before. Usually, he remained calm, regardless of the situation. But then, his carefully crafted world had never teetered on the brink of total collapse before.

Though his excess energy remained unchanged with his second punch, a flicker of common sense prevailed. Why worry about this? He was a warlord first and foremost, a gravita bride still just a bride. A sacrifice. A gravita bride was the greatest sacrifice of all, perhaps even the tipping point necessary for his ascension.

For the first time, he must part with something...precious. Future happiness with the woman destined to rule at his side. The family he’d so badly craved.

Punch, punch, punch. Upon his next turn, he spotted Ian. His brother toiled over a section of wires protruding from the wall. Undoing one of Taliyah’s traps?

He wouldn’t tell his men about the stardust, he decided. Not until he’d worked up a plan. They had enough to deal with at the moment.

So altruistic, Commander.

His brother noticed him and leaped to attention. “Phantoms have arrived?”

Roc looked ready for battle? “Not yet. I’d...like to speak with the prisoners.” Yes. That. He had questions about Taliyah, and they had answers. “Continue with your duties,” he said, then flashed to the dungeon.

In an instant, cold replaced warmth. A scattering of torches lined the wall, providing the only source of light. Like any well-used dungeon, centuries of torture and abuse stained every visible surface.

He stalked down a darkened corridor, cells on either side of him. Other hallways branched off here and there, offering more cells, but he remained on his current path. At last, the lockup at the end of the corridor came into view. The harpies roamed about in varying stages of undress. As some washed their clothes in a tub of water and snacked on fruits, breads and cheeses, they debated whether Mara qualified as a General. Taliyah’s doing?

Roux paced in front of the cell, mumbling again. What puzzle plagued him? He usually figured things out by now. “Why don’t I remember? What don’t I remember?”

“Be at ease, warrior,” Roc told him, using his gentlest voice.

The male jerked and stopped, then slowly turned, facing him. Their gazes met, those red irises haunted. “Some of the invasion is wiped from my memory. What did I do? Why did I do it?”

“You fought at my side.” At first. Minutes before the harpies issued their surrender, Roux had frozen, doing nothing, saying nothing.

“What are these thoughts?” Roux pulled at his hair. “They aren’t mine.”

Were he anyone else, Roc might suggest he showed signs of a phantom possession. But no phantoms had been present during the battle. Nor did a phantom possess the power to penetrate an Astra’s shields, not without time and never without the warlord’s awareness.

The harpies stopped what they were doing and approached the bars. Voices rang out.

“Are you our new warden? Bummer. I liked the last one. He struggled to form a complete sentence. The best quality in a man, I always say.”

“Let’s see. We’ve gotten to interact with the brainless Scarecrow and the heartless Tin Man. Does that make you the Cowardly Lion?”

“Have you ever wondered what it’s like to have your skin ripped off your body in one piece, turned inside out, then shoved on?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m here to learn more about Taliyah Skyhawk.” Why not bargain with these prisoners? Surely they desired other amenities.

“Oh, what perfect timing!” a female called. “I was just telling the girls how much I’d love to help you get to know our T-bomb better.”

“Having trouble intimidating your new bride?” another cackled. “I hope she gags you with your own testicles.”

They snickered at each other, as if he were a fool for coming here. He absolutely was.

“Do I have nothing you want?” he asked.

“I’ll give you a Taliyah fact free of charge.” The only redhead smiled slyly at him. “She’s the one who stopped the great zombie apocalypse in our nineteenth century.”

He’d caught up on the world’s history before invading Harpina. “There was no zombie apocalypse.”

“Exactly.”

“Did you know Taliyah—”

Roc lost track of her words as Silver’s voice boomed through his mind.

—We have the first phantom trapped.—

“Stay here,” he commanded Roux, wiping all thoughts of his gravita from his head. Using the mental link between them, he unearthed Silver’s location and flashed.

Halo stood at the warlord’s side. Ian appeared next to Roc. They occupied a midsize building.