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He flashed to his feet and dressed. Sunlight streamed through the balcony window, highlighting a chamber he once believed he’d designed for Lore. She might have liked the gold furnishings, but she would’ve disdained the vivid color scheme, preferring a plainer palette. As she’d proven, she lacked the taste to appreciate the intricacy of the mosaic. If he’d truly known the goddess—the version of her she’d pretended to be, at least—he would’ve realized this space reflected his tastes...and Neeka’s.
Had he understood he belonged with the harpy, even before he’d met her?
As he flashed throughout the palace, on the hunt, eager to see her, to speak with her, to be near her and breathing her in, he imagined her redecorating every room to her specifications. Possessiveness grabbed him by the throat and refused to let go. Not just directed at the female herself, but the future they could—would—have together. He couldn’t wait to have pink walls, unnecessary beaded pillows, and velvet recliners she’d never allow him to utilize.
The scent of sweet almonds and tart cherries drew him closer and closer. Muscles heated and hardened as he tracked her outside. A waft of smoke invaded his nostrils, and he stiffened. Fire?My female is in danger.
Rathbone balled his fists, urgency lashing him. He flashed into the cloud of gloom, materializing as a bird, scanning every direction at once. He squawked a denial. Neeka and Maximus, who lunged to strike at her ex. The very warrior Rathbone had killed on day one. The ill-timed and poorly executed assault failed, allowing the Phoenix to deliver a strike of his own. Neeka threw herself in front of the boy, taking the blow. Soot now streaked her breastplate.
Rathbone dove down, down, shifting into a dragon. But the oracle got swept up in a vicious battle with the Phoenix, and though blood poured from multiple wounds and she wobbled on her feet, she held her own. Protective instincts saturated everything, demanding immediate action but he pulled back, flying a circle around the pair.
The warrioress lacked self-assurance in some areas. If Rathbone stepped in and took over, he might bruise her hard-won confidence.
As he watched, wonder and pride filled him. She took as many hits as necessary to protect Maximus. Again and again, the Phoenix made a play for the boy, but the oracle always stopped him.
Rathbone scanned, aggression rippled through his feathers as he searched for any traps the Phoenix might have planted.
What do we have here?Phantoms blocked every path of escape, forming a circle around the combat zone. The apparitions were as bad as demons, able to embody at will and constantly starved for immortal souls. Created by Erebus, they remained subject to his will, able to do what he ordered and nothing else.
These particular phantoms were females dressed in black widow’s weeds. Their milky-white eyes surveyed the battle as they walked in a circle, chanting with monotone voices. “Watch the brawl, hurt anyone who interferes, give Rathbone the message, return to Father. Watch the brawl, hurt anyone who interferes, give Rathbone the message, return to Father.”
Erebus had another message for him, did he?
Anytime Neeka, Maximus, or the Phoenix got too close to the group of phantoms, they erupted into shrieking war machines.
Rathbone flew a circle around the phantoms. Sensing him, they tilted their heads in unison to follow him as he circled above.
Still monotone, they said, “Last chance to save yourself. Kill the oracle or suffer the consequences. The choice is yours.”
Rathbone blew a stream of fire on the entire pack. Even doused in flames, burning to ash, the females walked and chanted. Those specks of ash vanished before ever hitting the ground.
“Let me handle this, Maximus,” Neeka snapped, saving the boy from a fiery wing. When she tripped and crashed, she sprang up quickly. Fresh blood trickled into her eyes, blurring her vision.
“If you were any good at battle,” the teenager snapped back while leaping to a stand, “the bad guy would be dead already.”
She wasn’t in a spot to read his lips. Was too busy huffing and puffing, kicking a fallen syringe when the Phoenix reached for it. As it soared across the clearing, landing with a thump near a tree, she proclaimed, “You aresogrounded when this is over.”
“Andyouare tiring, wife,” the Phoenix said. “Surrender now. Take the injection like a good little submissive. Perhaps I’ll show you mercy. Eventually.”
“This is an A and B conversation between family, Dan, so why don’t you C your way out.” Going on the offensive, she threw herself into the Phoenix and swung her body behind his, clawing out his throat.
The lord healed swiftly. So swiftly he maintained his stance, reaching back to grip Neeka by the nape and yanking her overhead. As she landed with a heavy thud, Rathbone spotted her melted, blistered flesh, and the sight nearly undid him.
“The remaining doses, administered at once,” the Phoenix promised with a toothy grin, earning her fiercest glare. She wasn’t healed yet, her flesh rejuvenating slower than usual. Too slow. She needed Rathbone’s blood.
The Phoenix dragged her across the clearing, heading for the syringe. “We’ll know if you survive in a matter of minutes.”
Rathbone flicked his tail.Step in?
With a screech, Neeka ripped a wing from the male’s back while kicking his feet together. She hit the ground, and the howling Phoenix toppled beside her.Good girl.
“Weapon me, Red,” she called as she clambered to her feet.
With pleasure. Rathbone flashed midflight, appearing in her grip as a spear. The same spear the dragon shifter Kanta had used on Rathbone.
Neeka offered her opponent a delighted grin of her own.
Maximus raced their way with his claws bared. The Phoenix lunged for him. The oracle spun into the boy’s path and shoved the spear through her ex’s chest cavity. Flames scorched Rathbone, but he endured, ejecting metal spikes into the Phoenix’s bloodstream. The same metal the dragon shifter had wielded against Rathbone.
