The Warlord Gena Showalter (primary phonics TXT) 📖

the barrier and come inside her with no thought to the blessing or his men.

A mistake he couldn’t make a second time. Because he would slip again. He knew this. Why deny it? One day, Taliyah might say yes.

No virginity, no General. If she lived past the month.

A barbed lump grew in his throat.

“Uh-oh. I sense some drama coming on,” Taliyah said, before kissing the pulse at the base of his throat. “What’s this about?”

“My men aren’t going to be happy with me.” But he wouldn’t stop this. He must prepare for every eventuality, even sex with his gravita.

“Well, go get the conversation over with. I’m staying here to practice removing my ring. Any protests about leaving me on my own?” she asked, lifting her head to meet his gaze.

“No protests.” Never again. “But I hate the thought of you in pain.”

A relieved, teasing smile lit her face as she sat up. “Are you sure you don’t like me in pain? Because I specifically remember a time when you held my wrist and—”

“We don’t talk about that moment in history,” he interjected, guilt and shame colliding again.

“Uh, that doesn’t sound true at all.” Those ocean-water blues glittered down at him. “I defeated you that day. I’m going to brag forever.”

Minx.

“Are you sure you want to forgo the ring before the month’s end? If we’re attacked again and you’re incapacitated...” If she were gravely injured, unable to protect herself...

“I’m sure.” Seemingly timid, she asked, “Are you afraid you won’t desire me anymore if I remove the ring and you ice over?”

Roc came up fast, pressing a swift kiss into her soft lips. “I enjoy everything you do to me.” Even that. He got to melt them both. “Will you feed before I head out?”

“No. I probably won’t feed later, either.”

He sighed and forced himself to rise to dress before he gave in to the urge to flip her over and feast, tempting her to do what he wanted.

After donning a clean pair of pants and boots, he weaponed up, then returned to the bed. He smoothed a lock of silvery hair from Taliyah’s brow. With the touch, slight though it was, a rosy shade spread over her skin.

Perhaps crawling back into bed—No! “I’ll be thinking of you while I’m gone,” he admitted. “Will you be thinking of me?”

She wrinkled her nose the way he liked. But then, he was beginning to suspect he liked everything about her. “Roc, darling. I’m going to be screaming. Of course I’ll think of you.”

He almost grinned. There was none braver or more resilient than his woman.

Pride straightened his spine and puffed his chest as he flashed to the throne room and eased onto the cathedra. He broadcasted a message to his men, even those in the duplicate realm. Only two would be left out.

—Vasili, watch the wall in the duplicate realm. Ian, watch the wall here. The rest of you assemble in the throne room now.—

Silver and Halo appeared first. Then Sparrow, the Peacemaker. Bleu, the Spymaster. Azar, the Memory-keeper. Roux materialized last, his red-rimmed gaze clear.

Could the other phantom be in there, as Taliyah suspected? Everything Roc knew of Astra and phantoms told him no. But he understood so little about Taliyah and her kind.

He looked over the rest of his men. None appeared confused by the summons. A few evinced concern. Most revealed dread. Only Halo conveyed anger. Roc’s second feared a repeat of the past, with good reason.

Despite their array of emotions, no one spoke. The honor of beginning the conversation fell to the Commander, and they awaited his first words. He suspected they cared more about the problem of Taliyah than Erebus’s stone.

Very well. “Long ago, Solar refused to sacrifice his bride. Each of you witnessed my response to his failure.” Roc pounded a fist against the patch of bare skin above his heart. With his next words, he gave voice to the worst memory inside a head filled with countless wars, cold-blooded murders, vicious deeds and vile decisions. “I killed his bride. I’m also responsible for the death of Commander Solar himself. But even still, I was too late to stop the curse. We were condemned to five hundred years of defeat.”

No one moved an inch.

“I want to be with Taliyah,” he announced. “If she’ll have me, I will be with her. In every way.” Let there be no mistaking his meaning.

When many of the men opened their mouths, he raised a fist. A bid for silence. Lips sealed shut, warriors awaiting his words.

He nodded in acknowledgment of their restraint. “I know if I do this, we’ll lose the weapon and Erebus will gain it, as he gained the Blade of Destiny. That’s why I seek a unanimous agreement from you first. In return, I’ll willingly accept...the last rank.” His decision solidified. “I won’t challenge Commander Halo for five hundred years.” He would do this. He would exchange less for more—for Taliyah.

Halo’s anger dissipated, replaced by bafflement. “You want her that badly?”

If the way inside Taliyah Skyhawk was five hundred years as this man’s errand boy, so be it. A small price to pay. “I do.”

His second-in-command assumed a battle stance. “In twenty-five days, you’ll do your duty? You won’t hesitate to slay the phantom?”

He...couldn’t answer that question honestly. Because he didn’t know. What he could promise? “I will always do what I believe is right.”

“A phantom is worth this?” Silver asked.

“This one is.” Taliyah was so much more everything than Roc had ever expected for his gravita. Matching wits with her wily mind was a drug. Her unshakable will astounded and humbled him. He was never not aware of her scent and taste. Every time he warmed her, he thrilled. The mere thought of her ignited a fire that burned through his control in record time.

She had done the impossible. She had brought the most powerful Commander in existence to his knees. And he was willing to stay there.

“So I ask you,” Roc said. “Who agrees?”

Taliyah gave herself