The phantom, p.7
The Phantom, page 7
Blythe fumed. She, a former assassin with nine stars branded in her left wrist, had been rendered all but helpless.
Her gaze landed on the wraith and narrowed. “You’ll pay for everything I endure.”
“Sure. Okay.” With a parting wink, the wraith faded until only a transparent outline lingered. And only for a moment. Both the outline and the beast vanished in a rolling white fog.
“This is really happening,” someone behind her whispered. “In a matter of seconds, a man will enter Ation. A real, live man with a penis and everything!”
“Be quiet,” Sheena snapped. “Be ready.”
“I am ready,” the whisperer replied.
The murk drew closer. Closer still. Would she find Roux inside it? Heart thumping, Blythe squinted into the miasma. Searching, searching...
Closer...
Blythe braced for impact. The vapor enveloped her, scented with cedarwood and spiced oranges, and air hitched in her lungs. Her eyesight hazed.
For several seconds, no one moved or spoke. No one dared to breathe. And it wasn’t because of fear. Oh, no. Anticipation crackled all around, hot enough to burn off the haze.
Suddenly, Roux towered before the troops. He stood roughly thirty feet away, his formidable body laden with enough weapons to equip an army of fifty.
He’d come prepared for war.
Blythe’s wings shuddered, relief and hatred converging inside her. A confusing mix. Of course, her link to the wraith instantly reactivated, causing fresh weakness to pour through her limbs.
Deep breath in, out. She did her best to concentrate on the relief. The Astra was here, and he was killable. Her trip and subsequent suffering had been worth it. Forget her present state. It was temporary and subject to change. Vengeance could and would be had. Soon. And who knows? She might find a way home to Isla afterward.
A wave of homesickness nearly crushed her chest.
A god assured of his power, Roux examined the women around her without moving a muscle.
How she longed to snag another kidney. Perhaps his liver as well.
The softest breeze rustled locks of his pale hair over his brow. Per usual, he was shirtless. Finally, his alevala moved again, jumping to another location on his flesh. Unfortunately, now wasn’t a good time to lose herself in his past.
Around her, the small army of nineteen whistled, catcalled, and offered lewd suggestions.
“The things I’m going to do to you, Torture Master,” Sheena purred.
Silent, he slid his attention to Blythe. A blink, blink followed a languid perusing of her see-through nightgown. As if he couldn’t believe what he’d seen, he did it again. Warmth suffused his irises. A lot of it. A telling reaction.
He liked the look of her. Good. Knowledge to use against him.
Finally the supposedly savvy warrior noticed the dagger poised at her neck, the ruby above her sternum, and the chains constraining her wrists. Flickers of red filled his golden irises.
Didn’t want anyone else being responsible for her torment?
“Love those jumping tats...” With a dreamy sigh, a shifter glided from the formation, sashaying toward Roux. “Gonna get me a closer look.” But she stopped and yelled in agony midway.
The others shouted commands to return.
Falling to her knees, grunting and moaning, the shifter clawed at her face. Blood streamed from her eyes, nose, and ears. Wasn’t long before she toppled the rest of the way, going still and quiet. Dead?
The others quieted, too. Were they reeling with confusion like Blythe? What just happened?
“What did you do to her?” the other shifter snarled.
He ignored the female, his focus unwavering on Blythe. “You are unharmed?”
“I’m going to carve you open from nose to navel and pluck out your organs with my teeth,” she purred at him. “I’ll bypass your record for sure.”
The zipper of his leathers pulled taut. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Whoa, whoa, whoa. There was liking the look of her, and then there was getting turned on by her threats. One she could use to her advantage; the other she wouldn’t tolerate. He shouldn’t be allowed to enjoy a moment of his defeat.
A vampire noticed his reaction, too, and shouted, “I’m going to use you as a pin cushion for my swords.” Her shoulders rolled in after his zipper retracted. “That didn’t do it for you?”
Okay. All right. His erection must have been a delayed reaction to the bounty of femininity before him, not some War of the Roses fetish.
Unfazed, he shifted his gaze to Sheena. “Release my harphantom.” The words emerged calm, pleasant even, but there was no mistaking his note of command.
Uh, his harphantom? Blythe bared her teeth at him. “Not yours.”
“I’ll keep her, thanks. Here is what’s gonna happen,” Sheena announced. “You kill any more of my soldiers, and I will slice through her trachea. You attack us, and I will slice through her trachea. You drop to your knees and vow to do whatever I ask, or yes, I will slice through her trachea. Questions? Comments?”
“Go ahead and slice,” he grated. “I’ve seen ordinary phantoms recover from far worse. She’ll heal, I’ll make sure of it, and you’ll die.”
Glaring at him, Blythe licked her teeth. “I don’t need your help to heal.”
“As if you’ll be allowed to heal.” The queen kissed her cheek before stroking the tip of the dagger over the ruby. “You see the jewel embedded in your female’s skin? It came courtesy of a wraith. Her strength is being drained as we speak, her ability to recuperate supernaturally suspended. She will die a mortal’s death, and not even a warrior like you can bring her back. But I have a way to revive her.”
“I’m not his female,” Blythe snarled. Harpies received one consort in a lifetime. No more, no less. She wouldn’t claim Roux in any way, shape, or form.
“Perhaps I have the means to cure her, perhaps I don’t. Yet,” Roux said to Sheena, acting as if the bound harpy he strove to “protect” hadn’t spoken. “Either way, your guards will die before you find out. You, I’ll save to kill later.”
With her free hand, the Amazon fanned her cheeks. “Anyone ever tell you a battlefield isn’t the place for sexy talk?”
His lids slitted. “You make light because you do not understand with whom you deal. My name is Roux Pyroesis, and I am an Astra Planeta. Many refer to me as the Crazed One. Right now the harphantom is the only thing standing between you and the destruction of this entire realm. Harm her at your peril.”
“Oh. I see what’s going on here.” Sheena tsk-tsked. “You make light because you believe we should fear you. You’re so big, bad, and mad, after all. But soldier, we defeated the dragons who once ruled this world. You are nothing but a tasty meat stick.”
He dropped a backpack at his feet and unsheathed two short swords, then motioned the females over with a nod of his chin. “Know this. If the harpy is injured, I will ensure your end becomes infinitely more humiliating than currently planned.”
Being defended by the Astra was even worse than being restrained by the Amazon. Blythe’s every nerve sang with resentment.
“You just made your next mistake.” Sheena gave another tsk-tsk. “You consider my boast empty. Allow me to teach you a difficult truth, Astra. I say what I mean and mean what I say.” She bent her head, kissed Blythe’s cheek—and struck, slamming the blade through her windpipe, exactly as promised.
Sharp, piercing pain. Instant dizziness. Blood filled her mouth in a rush, spilled down her throat, and choked her.
Can’t breathe. Spots of black grew over her vision. In the distance, she thought she heard Roux roar with unholy fury. Then her knees gave out, and she knew nothing more.
7
THE DECISION
Pure, unadulterated rage deluged Roux. The Amazon had dared.
He altered the unnaturally sweet-scented atmosphere, intending to put everyone to sleep. Again. For some reason, the lot remained alert and upright. Was his ability failing or were they immune to the gases? Something to ponder later. For now...
Threaten someone under his protection and suffer.
Roux ran at his foes, his plan clear. Incapacitate the Amazon with the crystal crown, the queen he’d come for. Dismember and slay everyone else. Afterward, he could feed Blythe his blood, or at least try. If she sickened, he would find another way.
Once she healed, and she would, he would return to Harpina with both the harpy and the Amazon. Then he would torture the Amazon for the allotted thirty days’ wait, then present her heart to Chaos. Task complete, vengeance acquired.
Just before he breached the queen’s perimeter, a manticore struck her from behind, cleaving her head from her body.
The Amazon toppled, the crown tumbling across the grass.
“No one touch that crown!” the manticore shouted.
Confused, Roux paused. His mind reeled. The new queen, gone. According to Roc, another being would be named ruler. The permanent one, or would she come next?
Perhaps he should kill every female but one? Warrior’s choice became queen. Yes. He liked this plan.
The remaining immortals rushed to surround Blythe, forming a wall around her. A siren began to sing the harpy to...health? Death?
Can’t risk it. Lurching into action, Roux lunged and swung his swords, intending to take out a shifter and the siren at once.
The group surprised him, banding together to block and defend each other, rendering his strike unfruitful. Hmm. They were willing to murder their queen but also loyal to others? Or only disloyal to she who bore the title of sovereign?
A macabre dance ensued. The gorgon utilized the snakes attached to her scalp, attempting to mesmerize him. The vampires bit to weaken not to kill. The manticore endeavored to sting and inject him with a paralyzing toxin. The sirens not singing to Blythe hummed a seductive melody meant to propel him into a sexual lather.
Despite their best efforts, he evaded every tactic and capability, taking down two sirens, a vampire, two Amazons, and the final shifter. But he didn’t do it quickly. Minutes passed between each death, irritating him greatly. The females were more skilled than expected. Had they attempted to slay him rather than subdue him, they might have done major damage before losing.
And lose they would. Astra weren’t like any other opponents. They’d lived too long, experienced too much, and labored too extensively, eradicating any disadvantages. But. No matter the losses or injuries the females incurred, they maintained a stalwart wall around the General’s sister. As a unit, they proved more skilled, organized, and disciplined than ninety-nine percent of the armies he’d faced.
Must get to Blythe. If she couldn’t tolerate his blood, maybe she would recover with his soul.
Can’t fail her. Can’t fail my Commander...
Growling, Roux delivered a series of painful blows to an Amazon, shredding different parts of her. Down she fell, now missing a throat, a heart, and her intestines. Before the other combatants could stop him, he stomped, the spikes on the bottom of his boot removing her head and finishing her off.
“We wish you no harm, Astra,” the gorgon panted, doing her best to hold his gaze. Her species possessed the unique ability to look into another’s eyes and turn flesh into stone. Fables claimed the metamorphosis transpired in a matter of seconds, but even the most talented of gorgons needed hours.
“Your wishes mean nothing to me.” Swing.
She jumped back, his claws grazing her belly. Panting worse, she said, “Don’t be so sure. Agree to bed each of us, and we’ll let you have the phantom. Think of it. Your end goal is achieved, with hours of pleasure as a bonus.”
He opened his mouth to refuse, but snapped his jaw shut before a single word escaped. To end the battle sooner rather than later and get Blythe in his possession? Perhaps he could bargain.
Needing a moment to consider his options, Roux halted his next blow midswing and moved out of the strike zone.
The females maintained their defensive positions around the harphantom, watching him with varying degrees of lust, hope, and satisfaction.
This bouquet of femininity hoped to use his body. He supposed he should be flattered? Ian would’ve been. Many other Astra as well. And ever since Roux had spotted Blythe in her transparent gown, sparking the heat, he’d ached for...something. Every cell in his body felt alive with purpose. For the first time in his life, he was curious about sexual matters.
How soft might a woman’s curves feel against his palms? Would he react to the opposite sex as the other Astra did, always hungering for more? Would the heat flame out of control, remaking him? But to what end? Curious Roux might be, but tolerant he was not. Physical contact had never not bothered him.
So what would he offer these females instead of what they currently desired? Wait. What was he doing? He was a legendary warrior. A killer—a god. He fought until his challengers died, always, without exception.
“Do you agree?” the gorgon asked, hopeful.
“I’d rather rend each of you in half.” He retracted his claws and withdrew the shiniest of his swords.
She held up her hands, palms out, and rushed to say, “Whoa. Hold up there, hot stuff. Do you refuse because you think your phantom is already dead? I assure you, she’s alive and well.”
The women parted, revealing Blythe at long last. Though the black-haired vixen lay on the ground, unconscious, her wound had closed, and her chest was rising and falling with her breaths. His breath came easier. Unfortunately, the ruby still glinted in the sunlight.
“We know you require an Ation queen to complete your blessing task. Well, you require her heart, anyway,” a harpy said. A shapely beauty with rich brown hair, flawless skin a shade lighter, and big eyes a shade darker. “If you refuse our oh, so generous offer, the crown will go unclaimed until your clock runs out. And Astra? The crown means nothing unless it is willingly claimed. But, if you agree to our terms and sign the Oath Stones, we’ll give you the phantom as a token of our goodwill. She’ll be yours to do with as you please.”
Oath Stones. His gaze slid to the circle of strategically placed boulders in the distance. He knew how they worked. Whoever chiseled their symbol in the stone, spoke a vow, and sealed it with their blood would be forced to keep their word. Zero exceptions. A practice once used by the oldest of the gods to circumvent betrayal. Not even an Astra could break its compulsion.
Roux needed someone to claim that crown. Thankfully, the females had just provided a way to force the issue. Far different than the females expected.
Halo might be the strategist, but Roux was an excellent problem solver. He had to be. Have other people trapped in your mind? Lock them up. Black out occasionally? Train yourself to instinctively shield yourself with electrifying power. Today’s solution seemed obvious.
“Here is my offer,” he said, sheathing his weapons. “You will place Blythe the Undoing into my care, as promised, but you will also hold a to-the-death tournament.”
A tournament served multiple purposes. Rallied the competitive spirits of these alpha warriors, kept them occupied mentally and physically, and provided a queen for his task. If they took each other out in the process, leaving him with fewer bodies to cut down on his way out, even better.
He continued, “The winner will claim the crown, and I’ll spend the night with her without killing her. I’ll also escort her to Harpina.” Where he would remove her heart, as ordered. If she revived afterward, as many immortals could, he might kill her again just for grins. He had no mercy to spare for the females of this world.
The group’s lust, hope, and satisfaction morphed into excitement, suspicion, and cold calculation.
“My, aren’t you a clever one, offering something we would kill anyone to acquire,” the manticore said. The others chirped their agreement. “Give us a moment to discuss the particulars.”
They rushed together, forming another circle around Blythe, once again shielding her from his view. He barely silenced a second roar. Nearly flashed closer to shove everyone aside. He wanted the widow in his sights.
Frantic whispers erupted from the group before they broke apart and faced him.
He almost smiled. He’d won. He knew it.
Once again, the harpy spokeswoman stepped forward. “We agree to your terms. With certain caveats, of course. We host the tournament and make the rules, not you. You can do nothing to affect who wins or loses. The games begin in ten days and last ten days. This gives us an opportunity to alert the masses. Gotta give everyone a fighting chance, you know? Also, while you’re on Ation, you will live at the palace. The phantom can stay in your chamber, if you like, but you cannot stray far from royal grounds...unless you are on a date, then you must only remain near your date. Speaking of, you must spend at least six consecutive hours with each member of your welcome party, and you cannot commit murder during these times.” She winked at him. “The order you choose to be with us is up to you. So is what happens.”
Why let the masses participate, risking the crown? Or did these females have no wish to carry the title, despite its new perks? Perhaps they thought to use their wiles and lure him from his task, keeping him here.
Soon they would learn the error of their ways.
“Agreed,” he stated. Ten dates and ten days of the tournament. One night with the queen. Nine days to find a way into Harpina with Blythe and the queen at his side. Perfectly doable.
A celebration erupted, an assortment of high fives, whistles, and victory shouts. One voice rose above all others.
“Sausage for everyone!”
He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “Let’s get this done.” With a thought, he teleported to the closest Oath Stone.
