The Phantom – Rise of the Warlords Read Online Gena Showalter

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 110080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
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Roux reclined in his chair, firelight crackling behind him. With narrowed lids, he looked her over. A muscle jumped in his jaw.

Um, did he not like it? Because, for the first time, he was looking at her the way he looked at everyone else.

She’d chosen her outfit with care. A scanty, scarlet dress reminiscent of the “bait” Penelope had forced her to wear, with off-the-shoulder spaghetti straps, a deep vee to showcase plenty of cleavage, and slits that stretched from her hips to her ankles. A bejeweled belt cinched the scandalously sheer material at her waist.

Eerily silent, he eased to his feet. His hands balled and opened, then balled again. Whoa! His eyes. They flickered with sparks of crimson. She gulped. Before, he’d been a volcano soon to erupt, with molten lava seething beneath his skin. Blythe had blamed sexual frustration. Now she wasn’t so sure. Never had he looked more capable of committing cold-blooded murder.

All this because she’d avoided having a chat about their expectations?

He flicked the tip of his tongue against an incisor. Finally, he spoke. “You look lovely, Blythe.”

His tone. It was one she’d never heard him use before. Not with her. It sent icy shudders down her spine. And why hadn’t he called her Lyla?

Disappointment set in. She’d expected heat from her Astra. Maybe a suggestive comment or twelve. A series of illicit touches, perhaps. Definitely a new application of stardust.

She tossed her arms up. “That’s all I get from you?”

“Yes.” He said no more but waved his fingers at her. “What more would you like me to say?”

So formal. She didn’t appreciate it one bit. Had he somehow learned of Erebus’s visit? Or discovered her father’s evil plan to use a fake Laban against her? She still hadn’t told him. Hadn’t known how to broach the subject in the short minutes between heats. Should she do so now?

Maybe he resented her for leaving Carrigan and Lucca alive. He’d asked about the pair after every round of the tournament. Except today. Blythe just...well, she didn’t want to murder the women who’d helped her until she knew beyond any doubt that they were working with her father.

Had Roux grown tired of her? In the space of an hour? Did she even want a consort so changeable?

Every day she’d felt herself soften toward the male. But what if the opposite were true for him and his feelings for her?

No. Surely not. The remnants of his stardust sparkled on her skin. He’d claimed her. For now, she’d claimed him. Whatever was going on, they would work it out.

Determined, Blythe strolled over, exaggerating the roll of her hips. His eyelids slitted further. Pressing against him, she glided her hands up his chest. She might not know how she felt about him, but she knew what she wanted—more pleasure. And she planned to get it.

“I crave you,” she rasped. “That’s what else I want to hear you say.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I’d give you those words, but there’s no time to talk. You made sure of that, didn’t you, Lyla?” Suddenly colder than ice, he clasped her waist and flashed her to the third-floor conference room, the table piled high with a plethora of dishes. From a succulent bird stuffed with a mix of fruit and nuts to creamy potatoes and buttered vegetables.

Roux released her and stepped back at the first opportunity.

The savory scents made her mouth water, but her stomach only roiled in protest. All her life, she’d been confident in her feelings and her decisions. Become General. Give up everything for Laban. Lay the world at her daughter’s feet. Kill the Astra. Now she knew nothing, and the uncertainty sucked.

Focus on the party. The welcome party as well as the other combatants were dressed to the nines, too, and already seated. All conversation ceased as the crowd noticed Roux and Blythe.

“Sit, sit, and we’ll get started,” Tonka said, motioning to the empty chair at the head of the table.

Thankfully—or not so thankfully?—they hadn’t attempted to put Blythe at the other end. Nope, they’d saved her the spot next to Roux’s. He escorted her over and even held out the seat for her.

She pasted a smile on her face. Brittle? Probably. But it was the best she could do.

Roux stared straight ahead...and anger began to overtake her uncertainty. She scanned the room’s occupants, skipping over everyone but Carrigan and Lucca. They peered at her with expectation and maybe concern.

What? she mouthed.

Arena, Lucca mouthed back. Midnight.

Should she attend a meeting with possible foes? Yes, she decided only a moment later. She needed to know why they’d helped her. Or finally kill them. The real question was: Should she tell Roux about the meetup or keep quiet? In his weird, awful mood, he might protest. But could she sneak away without detection?

She chanced a glance at him. His eyes were now fully red.



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