That gleam... Why did he like it so much? “Many.” Perhaps he wasn’t finished humoring her after all. He beat a fist into his shoulder, saying, “I wear their deaths in my skin.” The alevala acted as an outward sign of his inner commitment, his unwavering determination and his willingness to cross any line to achieve a goal.
He regretted nothing.
Except one.
He fisted his hand to stop himself from rubbing the patch of perfectly healed flesh above his heart, where he’d removed a fist-size circle of skin just this morning—as he did every morning. The patch was beginning to stain again. Sometime in the night, a full image would appear, revealing the worst of his crimes.
“Lucky,” she muttered, shocking him.
He raised his chin. “In thirty days, I’ll wear your death, too.” A warning, challenge and promise. “Unless you defeat me, of course. Or shall I offer this gift to another harpy?” As soon as the bluff registered, he had to bite his tongue to stop from reversing himself.
A part of him had hoped to avoid Taliyah today, but here she was. If he must wed the woman he wanted most, he must wed her. What if she agreed to let him pick another?
“Let someone else have a crack at you?” In her irises, sunlight glinted off the ice. “Your death will be my honor, and mine alone.”
He exhaled with relief and fought a smile. The desire to mete justice was the downfall of every bride. Of any species, really. Did she have a right to feel this way? Absolutely. He’d harmed and imprisoned many of her kinsfolk today, then threatened her life and touched her without permission. But right or wrong, Roc couldn’t, wouldn’t, change his plans.
“Do you accept me, Taliyah Skyhawk? I’ll hear the words.”
Still she resisted, saying, “If I do, you must free the harpies.”
Bargaining wasn’t uncommon among his brides, either. In the beginning, they pushed and pushed to learn his limits. It was a smart move—with anyone but an Astra.
Reach my limit and die screaming.
“You have no power and no leverage.” Already he’d made a major allowance. Usually when he conquered a new world, he killed the soldiers who attacked him, only imprisoning those who stood down. Those he could later mold. For her and her loved ones, he’d merely injured and tossed. Just as he’d claimed.
He owed this woman no other favors, yet he added, “Give me no trouble today, I’ll let you see the captives.” He did this because...just because. He wanted this over and done as quickly as possible, and this presented the swiftest route.
As believable an excuse as any.
A pause. Then a grated, “What are the rules of engagement?”
His relief returned. She engaged rather than taunted. Progress. “The rules are simple. I will show you the same respect you show me. A room of my choosing remains designated as neutral territory. In it, you are to commit no acts of violence. You won’t speak to my men. You’ll limit your attacks to me and only me. I’ll sleep with anyone I desire, anytime I wish. You’ll practice the art of abstinence.” Something he would be helping her with...
The corners of his mouth began to lift. A smile? But why?
She flicked her tongue over an incisor, staying silent, and smiling ceased being an issue for him. She would say yes now. Allowing her to drag this out smacked of weakness.
“Do you agree to wed me, Taliyah? I won’t ask again.”
Finally, she offered him a curt nod. “Yes. I agree to wed you.”
Roc bit his cheek to silence a shout of victory. And a flash of...was it grief? No, couldn’t be. All was going according to plan. For better or worse, Taliyah Skyhawk would be his bride. Guaranteed she tried to kill, seduce and guilt him, in that order. For thirty days, Roc had only to defend, resist and ignore her. And try not to enjoy the battle between them, as he had during this first encounter.
Despite his...stronger reaction to her, he wouldn’t waver in his objective.
A beautiful female with blue-green hair and brown skin etched with glowing, starlike symbols appeared beside Roc and Taliyah. The witness, his sister Aurora. As always, this rare glimpse doused his internal organs with acid.
They spoke to each other every five hundred years, when he wed, when they saw each other at the sacrifice and occasionally when he visited Chaos’s realm. Something he could only do by invitation.
He missed his two sisters more than a limb, remembered playing games and huddling together for warmth...remembered his inability to save the pair from being sold by their parents.
His hands drew into tight fists. If not for Chaos... The god had saved the pair, winning them from the males who’d originally bought them, accepting them as acolytes.
Aurora wore typical acolyte garb: sheer scarves as black as a starless night, the hem dancing at her bare feet despite her stillness.
“Who are you?” Taliyah demanded, and Roc tensed. “Because I just watched you passively observe another woman’s murder.”
“You will watch your tongue, harpy, or you will lose it.”
His soon-to-be bride didn’t flinch at his harshness. No, she studied his sister with new intensity. Trying to put pieces of a puzzle together?
With a frown, Aurora removed the blade from his thigh. Oh, yes. He’d forgotten it was there.
“My thanks.” Dear one. When he extended his palm, she offered the hilt and a quick, private smile, and his stinging chest clenched.
Voice as wispy as wind, she said, “You may begin.”
“What?” the harpy shrieked. “This is happening now?”
“Now.”
A bit hysterical, she called, “But where’s my toaster? My barely remembered bachelorette party? Where are the strippers?”
She teases me? He clamped his large fingers around her small wrist, then lifted her palm to the light; she remained stationary, opting not to fight him. Not by word or deed did she react as he ran the blade from the base of her index finger to the middle of her wrist.
Blood welled and pooled. “You’ll regret that,” she said with a cold smile.
“Why? Because you are a venomous snake?” He sliced open his palm next, then linked their fingers, mixing their blood. “I’m immune.”
She gasped as if he’d singed her. Maybe he had, the difference in their temperatures startling. She tried to wrench away, but he held on, her strength no match for his own.
Determined to finish this, he gazed into her frosty eyes. “I take you as my bride, Taliyah Skyhawk, the Terror of All Lands. You are mine.” His voice had heft and carried throughout the room, lingering long after he’d spoken. As Commander of the Astra, he needed to say nothing more to cement this union. He merely required her acceptance. “Repeat the words,” he instructed, tightening his grip.