The Warlord Gena Showalter (primary phonics TXT) 📖

Broody silence heralded minutes of reflection for them both.

Impatient, she led him into the realization she sought, a teacher with her student. “He did it so that you’d...what? Stop messing around with me.”

Another bout of silence passed before he nodded. “That’s true.”

Success loomed! “I mean, really.” She simpered at him, just to drive the point home. “What kind of warlord follows his enemy’s plan for his life?”

Maybe she’d driven a wee bit quickly. He narrowed his gaze on her. “I know you’re manipulating me.”

“So? Truth is truth.”

He narrowed his eyes further... Holding her gaze captive, he reached for the waist of his leathers. After working the pants from his legs, freeing that impressive erection, he eased onto the shower bench, getting comfortable, Roc-style. In other words, he sat as rigid as stone and glared.

Her wings buzzed, the rest of her fluttering. Well, not all of her. Hunger pangs twisted her stomach.

“If you think I’m ever kissing you again,” she said, turning toward the water, pretending to luxuriate in the stream, “you’re dumber than a box of Rocs. I’m here for conversation.”

He started making those huffing noises again. Didn’t like being denied? Too bad. She’d learned her lesson when it came to the Commander.

“How old were you when Erebus turned you into a phantom?” he asked.

Cautious, she replied, “I was very young when I realized I was a phantom.” To him, very young might mean two or three centuries, minimum.

“What do you mean, you realized? You didn’t know the moment he’d turned you?”

She understood his astonishment. Though she’d never witnessed a turning firsthand, she’d read varying accounts from those who had. Erebus ingested some or half or most of the other person’s soul, then used his fangs to inject a special death toxin into their vein; what remained of their soul supposedly rotted out of their body, leaving a husk capable of mighty feats, controlled by he who carried what remained of the soul.

Rather than supply an answer to Roc, Taliyah asked another question. “What makes you hate Erebus so much? What has he done to you guys?”

“Many things,” he said, sounding distracted.

She glanced at him over her shoulder, intending to chide him. When she caught him rubbing the bare spot over his heart, she stayed quiet. She’d clocked this action before. A tell of some kind. One linked to a specific memory, judging by the tightening of his features.

“Such as?” she finally prompted, reaching for the soap dispenser. Yes, she’d already soaped up. As long as she washed, she had an excuse to prolong the conversation and learn more about her ruthless companion before he changed his mind. “Pro tip and subtle hint—girls like examples.”

He sighed before admitting, “He turned several Astra into phantoms, forcing us to murder our own.”

Ouch. “That’s tough. I’m sorry,” she said, and she meant it. Losing fellow soldiers sucked, but it sucked more when you had to oversee the deed.

He bowed up, as if to accuse her of more trickery, then settled down and nodded. “Yes. It was tough.”

“You know I had nothing to do with any of that, right?” she asked, just in case he needed a reminder.

“I know. In that, you are innocent. I...” His voice trailed off, and he gulped, watching as suds sluiced between her breasts. His pupils contracted, glittering like dying stars.

Layer by layer, his calm veneer stripped away, revealing a harsher, rawer, expression. He exuded such intense heat, she trembled.

He sat up straighter, his heels remaining planted on the floor, his hands white-knuckling his knees. Had he grown even harder?

She gulped. Ribbons of thicker steam curled around him, turning him, this moment, into a midnight reverie. Had he ever looked sexier? Water darkened his hair, droplets clinging to his lashes and beard.

When he rubbed his palms together, she suspected he’d produced more stardust—and she wanted it. As his gravita, she deserved every speck. Not real? Try again, Astra.

“I want to do bad things to you.” The gruffness of his voice made everything better and worse.

She’d thought to curtail this part of their...relationship. His mid-and post-coital glow sucked. But, as she breathed him in, she couldn’t stop herself from rasping, “Yes.”

He required no other permission. He lunged for her, clamping her waist, then settling in his seat, pulling Taliyah between his legs. The firmness of his grip suggested the Big Bad Wolf had his Red Riding Hood at long last, and he wouldn’t be letting her go anytime soon. But...he did nothing else. He simply held her in place as tension thrummed from him anew.

Trying to talk himself out of this? Too bad. What he started, he finished. Commanders weren’t quitters.

Taliyah suspected she knew a way past his defenses. A risky gamble. Dangerous, even. If it backfired...

Whatever. She was going to attempt it anyway. Though Roc was Commander now, he’d once been a soldier, expected to obey the dictates of another. Hadn’t his own brother mentioned being his boss in the beginning? What if she told Roc what to do to her? Things he already wanted to do?

Had any other female dared? Probably not. Why would they? They’d held no sway over his emotions. But she did. Despite her origins.

Taliyah placed one knee outside his lap, then the other, straddling him. Slooowly she sank down, gliding her wet sex over his. He uttered no protests. No, he tightened his grip, his gaze rapt on her lucky, lucky nipple piercing.

Emboldened, she pinched his chin and forced his attention up. Again, he allowed her command of his body without protest. “I want your hands on my breasts. Touch me there.”

He searched her gaze, anger clearly rising. But still he peeled his fingers from her waist and dragged his hands to her breasts. As commanded, he cupped and kneaded her. With his thumbs, he teased the piercing.

Satisfaction beckoned, within her reach once more. This big, strong brute of a man had just acquiesced to a phantom’s command. How he must be castigating himself right now! And yet he