She didn’t repeat the words. Not right away. She glared up at him and huffed, “I’m going to enjoy killing you. So you know what? Yeah. Let’s do it. Let’s War-of-the-Roses this sitch. I take you as my bride, Alaroc Phaethon. You are mine...to murder.”
Aurora accepted the words, calling, “The marriage is acceptable to Chaos. The clock starts.” She cast Roc a final glance before vanishing.
He couldn’t halt a familiar pang of loss. Focus.
Taliyah smiled up at him, the tone of it different from her others, rendering him momentarily mute. If ever evil had a face... “This is the moment we kiss, right?” If ever seduction had a voice...
He dropped his gaze to her lips, the action automatic and unstoppable. So plump and pink. A heart-shaped masterpiece, with a center dip in the bottom one. Impossibly lovely. He cleared his throat. “There’s no reason to kiss. Our word is our bond.”
A gleam of calculation appeared in her eyes. “I disagree. I’m not married until I’m kissed.”
True in some cultures, but not his. “My blood runs through your veins,” he grated. “You are very married.”
“No kiss, no marriage.” All simmering seduction, her eyes swirling and mesmerizing, she glided her free hand up his chest. The snakeshifter had decided to work her wiles. “Stop me when it’s too much for you...”
Her temperature shocked him into immobility. That must be the problem. He did nothing to dissuade her when she freed her other hand from his and twined her fingers at his nape... nothing to stop her when she hauled her body against his, jumping up and winding her legs around his waist.
No, he reached up to ghost his fingers over her wings. They fluttered swiftly, brushing his knuckles again and again. His lungs squeezed.
He would set her on her feet. He would.
“Practically begging for it,” she muttered, leaning her face toward his. Slow, so slow. Giving him time to protest as her gaze challenged his.
His shaft throbbed harder. Rebuke her. End this.
He remained quiet. She had something to prove—but so did he. She expected him to turn away. He would not.
Would she?
Almost upon him... Contact. She pressed her lips to him, and he sucked in a breath. She jolted.
Wanting consumed him as they lunged in unison. Their mouths crashed together, tongues thrusting. A moan left him. How sweet she tasted. How sweetly she tasted him.
As the seconds, minutes, hours ticked on, neither willing to stop, he thought he might be losing his mind. When the first flame of a wildfire ignited, he fisted her hair. He loved the way the soft strands felt between his fingers. Angling her head, he deepened the kiss. She let him.
Want more of her. Must touch. His control wavered.
No! Heartbeat thumping, he peeled Taliyah off his body and set her on her feet, ending contact. Her frostberry scent clung to his skin, and her sweetness lingered on his lips. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He needed her sweetness gone immediately.
“Never do that again,” he snapped. “You have thirty days left to live, Taliyah. Anger me at your peril.”
5
I’m...married? It was a state Neeka had urged Taliyah to accept. A state she’d never planned to be in, outside of a joke. Maybe a dare. But she’d kinda sorta done it for real.
To be honest, she’d expected her ninth star to appear right after the vows. Getting hitched to the big bad in order to save harpykind was a huge sacrifice, right? Apparently not huge enough. The star remained invisible.
Now she had thirty days to figure out the perfect game plan and murder her husband. The game plan was optional.
I can do it. I must. She had to. The second Alaroc breathed his last, she could instruct the Astra to free the harpies. Did she believe the towers of beefcake and hostility would actually follow her orders once she proved victorious against their leader? No. But also yes. She didn’t know! Some of the more ancient warriors honored their word, no matter the cost.
What she did know? The warlords could use her people against her at any time. Therefore, she must find and free the harpies as soon as possible.
Her goals realigned. Harpies forever.
The fact that this guy thought to sacrifice her? A secret phantom? Good luck. She’d just resurrect. Maybe? Probably? What if he utilized some kind of special weapon? She remembered reading about a powerful blade the Astra employed against all phantoms. Although, Taliyah wasn’t some mindless being. She was royal, practically a goddess. Maybe she’d still resurrect.
She feigned nonchalance. “Do make sure there’s a vegetarian option at the reception, darling. Did you remember to order a cake?”
His pupils pulsed, and it was the oddest thing she’d ever witnessed. Perhaps one of the hottest, as well. What did it mean? Fury? Passion? Or both?
Maybe she shouldn’t have kissed him. But oh, he’d been so smug. She’d needed to oversee his defeat. Any kind of defeat. And yes, she was the kind of person willing to impale herself on a pole, as long as she impaled her foe, too. Alaroc hadn’t wanted the kiss, so he’d gotten it. But this... She hadn’t expected to like it. Her lips tingled from the softness of his. His taste proved as amazing as his scent, all spiced rum and melted sugar. Like the piña colada she’d once sampled. Something she thought she might...crave.
“There will be no reception.” Alaroc maintained a blank expression. No big deal. He’d never be able to erase the memory. Whether he admitted it or not, a part of him had liked the kiss, too. “You’ll wish to settle in and plan your first attack, I’m sure. Allow me to escort you upstairs, so that you may begin.” A polite request that wasn’t really a request.
No time to respond. He grabbed her healed hand and marched her across the throne room. The executioner and his prize. His men dived out of the way. The harpies watched her with envy.
To her bafflement, the warlord’s grip remained firm, never bruising. They entered the hallway, the guards she’d spotted before standing in place. Should have killed them while I had the chance.
Alaroc led her around a corner, and she noted the blood-splattered walls. The blood of her kind. Furnishings were overturned, priceless vases broken and scattered over a cracked marble floor.
Fury reignited. Harpies might be a bloodthirsty lot, but they valued their treasures. “How did Harpina draw the short stick? What made you decide to wed a harpy?”
“I’m always mystically drawn to the world I must conquer.”
Mystically drawn? “By whom? Your god?”
“Perhaps him. Mayhap fate.”
He has drawn his cards...
“Well, fate dealt you a bad hand this go-round.” Taliyah wanted so badly to study Alaroc’s tattoos and learn from the mistakes of past victims. But she resisted the urge, knowing the distraction would cost her. “Hey! How do you know your way around the palace?” Men like him were never allowed inside. Plus, he’d arrived today.