The Warlord Gena Showalter (primary phonics TXT) 📖

Someone does need help. “Say goodbye to my pants.” She stood and shimmied out of the fur-lined leather as he pretended to resume his work. Wearing only the wing-pinner and the chastity belt, she launched the leather at him.

He caught and dropped the garment without glancing up, lightning flashing. “Must you?” he inquired with a sigh.

“Yes, Roc, I must. I’m preparing for the wet-skin contest.” Resettling on the murder stone, she said, “Ah. That’s even better than better.”

“You lie. You’re already freezing. Your nipples are as hard as diamonds.”

“Thanks for noticing.”

The first raindrop splashed on her belly, and she gasped. He groaned. This might not be a terrible day after all.

Taliyah spent the entire night tucked against Roc, warm, relaxed and utterly miserable. Her eyelids weighed as much as boulders, but she refused to sleep. Which wasn’t easy. When he’d manhandled her into bed last night, she’d anticipated another orgasm. He’d drifted off instead. With a hard-on! She’d expected his bad dreams to return and keep her awake while granting her deeper insight into his personality. But the big lug slept soundly, one arm under her nape and the other draped over her belly. Basically, the giant spoon swallowed the tiny spoon.

What was she going to do about him?

When the sun dawned and chased away the remnants of yesterday’s storm, she crossed another day off her mental marriage calendar.

She needed to figure out a plan of action, fast, but a film of grogginess shrouded her mind. In this condition, she couldn’t possibly decide what to do about Roc.

Shucking off his arms, she lumbered to an upright position, then twisted to glare down at him. His chest! The spot over his heart had filled in.

She leaned down to inspect...

He slapped a hand across the writhing image and jolted from the bed. After swiping a dagger from the boot sheath he’d dropped on the floor, Roc stomped into the bathroom.

“Drama queen,” she called.

“Stay in bed.”

Hardly. She followed him. “You said we had to stick together at all hours of the day and night.” Why had the alevala appeared in his skin overnight? What did he plan to do with the knife? “What kind of captive disobeys a direct order?”

“The kind I’ve been dealing with from the beginning,” he retorted, sealing himself inside the stall and erecting two trinite posts to keep her out. It wasn’t long before the steam coated the glass, blurring his form. “Go away, Taliyah.”

“What’s your problem?” she grumbled. “You got a good night’s sleep.”

“I never slept. I communicated with my men. Since I’ve refused to listen to Erebus’s last two messages, he sent phantom hordes to visit my warlords every hour, telling them my stardust is genuine, you are my gravita, and they should lock me away until the day of the sacrifice.”

“In all fairness, it is, I am, and they should.”

“I can’t disagree. I...don’t want you dead, Taliyah.”

Stunned, she faltered. He was falling for her. He must be.

Mind. Blown.

A squelching sound came from the stall. A sound she recognized. Was he removing that section of alevala?

Her eyes widened when the metallic scent of blood wafted to her nostrils. He was. But why? What didn’t he want others to see?

She opted not to ask him—yet. In his current mood, he’d only refuse to respond. Pick your battles.

As she padded out of the bathroom, he called, “How are the phantoms getting past the wall, Taliyah?”

She stopped, his flat tone sending a chill down her spine. Yesterday, she’d thought she’d made headway with him. That he’d accepted her claims of independence. At least partially. Apparently, she’d been wrong.

“I don’t know. Want me to ask Erebus about it the next time he ambushes me?”

A vile curse served as his answer. “How often do you need to feed?”

The change of subject threw her, but she hurried to recover. “Usually daily. Why?”

“Do you need to feed now?” He didn’t even try to mask the thrum of hope.

Again, she took great satisfaction in telling him, “Nope. I promise you, I’m quite good.” Truth. Whatever she’d taken from him had done the job and then some.

As he huffed with either relief or disappointment, Taliyah kicked into gear, leaving him to his shower. She had better things to do. Like practice removing her ring. Just for a second.

A naked, soaking-wet Roc with a newly healed patch of skin above his heart materialized in front of her. He grabbed her and flashed her to the shower, where he removed all of her hardware before leaving her alone.

Such an underhanded warlord. But oh, she loved being free!

He remained in the bathroom, dressing as she soaped up and pondered what might drive him to remove an entire hunk of flesh. Guilt? He wasn’t the type. Fear? But fear of what? Embarrassment? But why?

“What’s on today’s agenda?” she asked as she shut off the water and toweled off.

“The same thing as yesterday.”

Ugh. More altar-chiseling.

“Out,” he commanded.

“I can’t exit the stall until you remove the trinite.”

“Why don’t I come to you?” Once again, he appeared before her. He was shirtless, wearing leathers and combat boots. The same as usual, mixed with a different expression: chilling determination.

In his hands, he held all the metal, and an ice-blue tank with matching short shorts.

“Hard pass,” she said, barely able to stop herself from retreating. “Metal is so last season. I’ll take the outfit, though, if you promise not to drool all over me.”

His eyes blazed. “This is happening, Taliyah. I can’t trust you, and I can’t watch you. I’ll be busy doing other things. Accept it.”

Never! “Want to know something? Before this, I played with the possibility of us being a team. A real one. Me and you, out to conquer the world and save everyone’s day. That is now officially off the table. Do this, and I become your enemy, our truce over for good.”

He flinched as if she’d slugged him. He also stood his ground. “So you plan to fight me again?”

“What do you think?”

Though he