The phantom, p.30
The Phantom, page 30
“I’ve already caught my harphantom, and I’m not letting her go for any reason.” He slid a hand down her spine and squeezed her backside. “But I am willing to give her more of those orgasms.”
Her eyelids grew heavy, and her smile softened, turning wanton. “Perfect segue for my second rule. You give me pleasure where and when I want it. And Roux?” she said, wiggling against him. “I want it here, and I want it now.”
30
THE RETURN
Mmm, mmm, mmm. Blythe did like watching Roux work. After a night of pleasure, whispers, and swimming, they’d napped as the sky cleared of smoke, then woke to bright, golden sunlight. That sunlight now bathed the decimated land and framed the Astra’s powerful body.
He stood at the shore, shirtless, his alevala on display and moving. Sweat slicked back his hair. Glistening muscles bulged with every action. To create his door, he literally shredded one dimension after another with his claws.
“Try not to damage my new world too badly,” she began, stretched out on the sand in a brakini, her arms lifted, her fingers intertwined under her head. “I’m planning to offer authentic escape-realm tours of Ation. For a hefty price, immortals can stay here and solve a series of riddles that lead to your exit portal. If they fail to crack the riddles, they’ll die here. Yes, yes. I’m liking this.”
He frowned. “My portal is a bust. The layers repair themselves before I can get to the last.”
“Use the dragon fire.” Small flames lingered at the palace. “See if the heat cauterizes the layers. I mean, we know the flames can’t burn through the layers themselves, but they might halt any regrowth for whatever’s torn. And if that fails, I’ll create a door like Isla did, and use her key. I mean, I watched her do it and everything, so how hard can it be? And if that fails, we just wait until she opens one.”
Blink. He hovered over her, his hands near her temples as if completing push-ups. “I like the way your brain works.” With a smile, he descended, kissed her quick, then vanished before she could get her arms around him.
With a laugh, she sat up. He appeared only seconds later, on the shore, a lit torch in hand. Dragon fire, the ends flicking a bright, neon red. He attempted to create another door. As he shredded and burned, burned and shredded, tension seeped from him. He looked over his shoulder and winked at her. “I like having your gaze upon me.”
“You like having any part of me on you.” And she more than enjoyed his reaction to her.
“You aren’t wrong.” He continued shredding, asking hesitantly, “The feeling is mutual, yes?”
“Oh, yes,” she assured him, hiding a grin. She even enjoyed his vulnerability with her.
She hastened to dress in a T-shirt and jeans, knowing he’d give a victory shout any moment.
Perfect timing. He stopped. His smile faded. “Lyla! Come.” He tossed the torch. “We go now.”
Excitement warred with disappointment. The honeymoon had come to an end. Time to tackle life’s problems.
After swiping up their packs, she teleported to where he stared and followed his gaze. The once blue sky looked burned in spots, with a curtain of air ripped down the center, revealing a dark, shadowed expanse beyond it. “Where does this lead?”
“The heavens outside of Ation’s orbit.” He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Remember what I told you. We are together now.”
“Together,” she agreed, and dang if she didn’t beam him a schoolgirl-with-a-crush smile. “Trust me, babe. I have plans for you.” For starters, she would teach him how to have fun. Give him the laughter he’d been missing most of his life. A new purpose for both of them!
He led her through the opening and suddenly they were weightless. An empty void offered no light or sound. Before she could adjust, the Astra flashed her to her bedroom in the harpy palace. As easy as that.
“Momma!” Isla called, scrambling from the bed where she drew a key in a sketchbook, rushing over to hug Blythe. “You came back without my door.”
“We sure did.”
Roux’s blank mask descended, his tension returning. He squeezed her hand before releasing it, and said, “I’ll give you two time.” Then he was gone.
Blythe heaved a sigh and ruffled her daughter’s hair. “Hey, sweetheart. Let’s sit down and have our talk, okay? Just like I promised.”
“Mind if I join you?” Erebus’s voice filled the room, and she gasped.
She darted her gaze to her most hated enemy. “You.”
Isla merely waved, saying, “Hi, Grandpa.”
The current bane of Blythe’s existence stood on the other side of the room, leaning one shoulder against the wall. Dressed in a familiar black robe, pale hair in its usual disarray, while he displayed his customary smug grin. “Our little Issy defied the Blade of Destiny, adding a fork in the road of our lives. A true surprise, I must admit. Perhaps I’ll allow her to live, after all. What a shame to waste so much power.”
“Sweetheart,” Blythe grated to her offspring, “go find your Aunt Taliyah and let her know Grandpa Bus is here.”
“Are you gonna kill him, Momma? Please, don’t! Please!” Isla tugged on her arm. “He always talks like that. And I know he did something bad, but he’s gonna apologize.”
“I told you to find your Aunt Taliyah.” Blythe gave her daughter a nudge toward the door. “That’s what you’re going to do. Now go.” The girl didn’t need to witness what was about to go down.
“Yes, yes,” Erebus cooed. “You should go, child. We wouldn’t want you to learn of Roux’s need to kill your mother to complete his task. Or hear how the Astra hopes to become your new daddy.”
“Go!” Blythe’s cold tone left no room for argument.
“Fine!” Isla stomped her foot as fat tears welled. “But I’ll expect your apology later, too.” With that, she flashed away, leaving Blythe flabbergasted. Teleportation was a skill she hadn’t mastered until the age of sixteen.
“The real surprise,” Blythe told her father, picking up the conversation as if there’d been no lag, “is you coming here to face me on your own rather than sneaking in one of your phantoms to deliver a message.”
The taunt missed its mark. He merely grinned, unabashed. “The last phantoms I sent gave Roux a message meant for you as well. What fills your life and empties it at the same time? You, my dear, know the answer mentally. Today, you’ll experience it firsthand.” He extended his palm, a length of chain twined between his fingers. Of course, Laban stood at the other end of the links.
Laban stood with his shoulders back and his head high, but his gaze downcast.
“This trick is old,” she snapped.
Her first consort finally lifted his gaze, and her chest squeezed. He projected something she’d never detected from him. Guilt and shame.
Unease skittered down her spine, dousing her rage. Without that rage, new realizations registered. Being in the same room differed from being on opposite sides of a doorway in two faraway realms. Here, now, a familiar scent wafted to her nose. His scent. Laban’s. What if...
Roux appeared at her side, radiating concern. “I heard Erebus—” He spotted her guests and growled.
“Erebus was just attempting to convince me that my first consort is alive,” she stated.
“Blythe,” Laban croaked, and tears welled in her eyes. Such desperation. “I’m real. I’m here.”
“No.” She gave her head a violent shake. “No!”
“I assure you,” Erebus purred, “he’s telling the truth. Go ahead. Touch him. You know you want to...”
She halfway expected Roux to grab her arms to prevent her from making contact. He didn’t. He glared at the manticore with blazing red eyes while huffing his breaths. His hands remained fisted. The blank mask he usually donned in front of others was gone. Torment etched his features, and all she wanted to do was fall into his arms.
“Laban.” Erebus gave the chain a tug. “Go on. Give your mate proof of life.”
Heart jumping, she whipped her attention back to the male she’d never thought to see again. Torment etched his features as well. Peering at her, he tripped forward, approaching.
“Touch me,” he beseeched when he stood mere inches away.
Though shaking and hesitant, she reached out with a shaky hand. Contact. The pads of her fingers met the warmth of his cheek, and she gasped. He was solid. Real. Not a phantom or illusion.
But, but... “I don’t understand.” Her mouth floundered open and closed. Her vision blurred. Two consorts. Here. Together. She didn’t...she couldn’t...
She looked to Roux for help. What was she supposed to do? What was she supposed to feel?
Still he glared at the manticore.
“How can this be?” she asked Laban, the words broken. “I watched you die.” Had thought his spirit lived on in Roux’s head. But he didn’t. Which meant both Laban and Roux were her consorts. And...and...and...she could make sense of nothing.
“I’ll explain while I hold you.” He reached for her, only to dart his gaze to the Astra and lower his arms. His lips pressed into a tight line. But, as he returned his attention to Blythe, vulnerability overtook his expression. He opened his arms. “Please, love. Let me hold you.”
Please, love. The same two words he’d spoken the day he’d died. Or she’d thought he’d died. A day that had changed the course of her life forever. But here he stood before her, alive and well.
A sob sprang from her aching throat as she fell into him. He enfolded her in his embrace, his warm breath fanning the top of her head. How she’d missed this male. How she’d loved him. How—wait. Had she truly just thought of her feelings in the past tense? Surely her affection for him hadn’t changed so quickly, along with everything else?
“Why don’t we give these two fated mates time alone?” Erebus cocked a brow at Roux. “They have much to discuss. And you have a mystery to solve. If the prisoner in your head isn’t Laban, who is it?” Laughing, he vanished. The chain, no longer in his grip, clattered to the floor.
“Roux,” Blythe croaked, pulling from Laban. Whatever she did or did not feel for her original consort didn’t change what she felt for Roux. Affection. Admiration. Love? She knew she liked him. Greatly. Knew she hungered for him wildly.
She reached for him, but he sidestepped, avoiding her touch for the first time. Her stomach sank.
“For once the Dark One is right. You require time. Together. Alone.” He pivoted, presenting her with his back. Then he was gone. But, but...
Laban offered her his hand. For several agonized heartbeats, she offered no response. The urge to hunt down Roux and force him to discuss this with her proved strong. Suddenly she reminded herself of a rope in a vicious tug of war.
In the end, she slipped her hand into Laban’s and allowed him to lead her to the bed. The chain dragging behind them.
He sat at the edge and attempted to pull her onto his lap. Blythe resisted and eased beside him. Things were...complicated. No need to complicate them further by encouraging one male over the other.
“Explain what happened while I get you free of this,” she said. She pulled and clawed at the metal collar locked around his neck. No hinges. No give. Tears burned her eyes. Give up? No! There had to be a way; she had only to find it.
“Don’t worry about the collar, love.” He clasped her wrists, forcing her to stop. “What I have to tell you...just know that I’m sorry. So very sorry.” Guilt and shame filled his eyes once again.
“What is it?” Her stomach churned. “Tell me!”
He breathed deep, as if bracing for a blow. “More than a decade ago, Erebus came to me. He told me he could make me a phantom and remain unbound to him.”
“He. Did. What?” Fury burned through her. “And you accepted?”
“No!” His irises blazed with menace. “But he did it, anyway.”
Yes, that sounded like Erebus. She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth. Grandpa Bus has much more to answer for than I realized. “Why didn’t you tell me before this?”
“Admit to my strength-loving female that I was too weak to defend myself against her father?” He gave a clipped shake of his head. “No.”
His words sank in, and she blinked. “You kept quiet about this, ensuring I grieved your loss? Do you know how selfish that is?” Her fury blazed hotter. And hotter. To become a true phantom, one must die first. Without knowing it, Roux had delivered the death blow that had turned the manticore into a phantom.
All the grief on Blythe’s part had been for nothing. Isla’s anguished tears—for nothing. Roux’s guilt—for nothing. The once terrible chasm between them, born of her pain, could have been avoided.
Claws extended from her nail beds. Would she have done anything differently if she’d known the truth? Yes. But which things? Could she regret, even for a moment, the time spent with Roux? Witnessing his wonder as he experienced his first taste of pleasure. Teasing him from his stoic masks. Hearing him cheer as she battled on. But even still...
“If I could go back...” A ragged noise slipped from Laban. “But I can’t.”
“No, you can’t. And neither can I.” Laban’s pride had caused this, plain and simple. Yes, Erebus carried blame. A lot of blame. But her former consort carried so much more. He’d been a partner. An ally. Yet he’d betrayed her trust in the worst way.
“We can move forward.” Maintaining his hold on her, he said, “We can move forward stronger than ever, love. I know we can.”
Could they? After a betrayal of this magnitude?
Did she want to? She could have spent the past two months helping him adjust to becoming a phantom. Searching for him. Focusing her rage on her true enemy—her father. Instead, she’d blamed an innocent man. A treasured consort.
She licked suddenly dry lips. “You don’t understand, Laban. Some things have happened.”
“I don’t care. Nothing has to change what’s between us.” He adjusted his grip and squeezed her hand. “I’m different, yes. But my love for you hasn’t dwindled in the slightest.”
He still didn’t understand. Heartache doused her anger. He’d hurt her with his actions, yes, but she had no desire to hurt him back. And she was soon to destroy him. Guilt flooded her, and she bowed her head.
“I want to be with you,” he stated. “We can return to our life. Raise our daughter. Together. Think of her joy when she sees me.”
Pressure joined Blythe’s guilt, the two nearly flattening her lungs. He didn’t know she’d slept with Roux. Or that the Astra was her consort, a fact that hadn’t changed simply because of Laban’s return. And the manticore definitely didn’t know she might not want things to go back to the way they were pre-invasion.
During the final battle of the tournament, when Penelope had begun to drain her, Blythe had chanced a glance up at Roux, perched beside her daughter, on high alert for any perceived threat to the girl’s life. She’d thought, My family. In that moment, she’d let go of the past in favor of grabbing hold of her future. Nothing had ever felt so right. Nothing.
“Laban. I must tell you something, and you must hear me. All right?”
He ran his tongue over his teeth. “If you intend to explain the Astra’s blessing task, don’t. There’s no need. Erebus told me Roux is set to take your heart with trinite, ending your life. But I don’t want you to worry over what’s to come, love. I’ll kill him before he has a chance to try. You’ll be safe with me. I swear it.”
The guilt delivered a series of punches, stealing her breath. Her first consort intended to protect her even though she’d betrayed him. But, at the same time, protective instincts surged. “You won’t kill him. Or harm him. Or even go after him.” She didn’t mean to snap the words, but she definitely snapped. “He’s a good male.”
“Good?” Stiffening, he leaped to his feet and spun to face her. “You dare to defend the one who murdered me?”
“He’s never lied to me!” she shouted as an avalanche of emotions tumbled through her. Anger. Frustration. Confusion. More guilt, now tinged with sorrow. More fury, too. They fed off each other, magnifying. Deep breath in, out. “A lot has happened since you died. What I’m trying to tell you is... Roux... He is... We...”
Laban’s nostrils flared. “No. Don’t say it. After everything I’ve been through.”
“You’re not the only one who suffered,” she pointed out, her tone bleak, knowing she must hurt this man who loved her.
“I’m not sure I can bear to hear this from your lips as well as Erebus’s,” he whispered.
So her father had already taunted him with the information? Yes, Grandpa Bus is gonna die bad.
Laban scrubbed a hand over his face, his burst of temper fading. “Just don’t say it,” he repeated.
“I must. Because you do need to hear it from my lips.” Without truth, what did they have? Deep breath in. Out. “Roux is... He is my consort. Something I still don’t understand. It is impossible. Beyond impossible. But it’s also true.” A harpy shouldn’t be able to have two mates, and yet she did. “Even without answers, I... I’m with him now. I can’t turn off what I feel for him just because you’ve come back.”
“But you can, love.” Eyes bright, Laban dropped to his knees between her legs. “You only think the Astra is your consort.”
As gently as possible, she told him, “I know what I feel.” And yet, despite the strength of her feelings for the Astra, Laban drew her still. Yet, it paled in comparison to what she felt for Roux.
How?
He gave his head an emphatic shake. “I’ve been with your father for weeks. Sometimes he forgets I’m there and mutters to himself. Again and again, he’s cackled about the trick he’s played on you. How Roux isn’t your consort. How you are his downfall.”
Heart in her throat, Blythe fought for air. Was he right? Erebus had proven the deceitfulness of his character again and again. She just, she didn’t know anything anymore.
