Frost and Flame

by Showalter, Gena

  “Bane,” she whispered, peering at him with wonder. “You heard me and responded. How? I have to know! And why ignore me for so long?”

  “I couldn’t speak with you. You blocked me.”

  Really? “How?” she asked again.

  “Don’t know.” He cataloged the terrain while gripping two daggers.

  No doubt he’d taken in every detail.

  Well, she cataloged him. Locks of pale hair stuck out in tangled spikes. Contempt glittered in his amber eyes, stronger than before. No big deal. I don’t care. Dirt streaked his skin, and caked under his nails and around the edges of his shoulder wound. He was shirtless, of course, his only clothing a pair of ripped camo pants. On his feet, scuffed combat boots.

  Wait. He wore boots. Plural.

  “Your foot,” she said, easing into an upright position. His foot had grown back, just as she’d commanded—Heal. Grow a new foot as quickly as possible.

  The first order—heal—should have encompassed every injury, even the shoulder one. Still. He’d regrown a freaking foot and teleported! Because she’d given an order. The implications of this were mindboggling. Wonder enveloped her.

  “Your shoulder,” she said next.

  “A mystical sword gave me a wound that cannot be mended.”

  “That sucks!”

  “I will find a way.”

  So would she!

  But first, she wondered if he would obey all of her commands, no matter what. Would others?

  Nola squeezed her eyes shut and whispered, “Appear before me, Vale.”

  Moments passed in suspended anticipation. She pried open her eyelids and... Nope. No Vale.

  Disappointment settled over her. Maybe the ability—or whatever it was—worked only with Bane.

  “Since we were last together, the foot grew back and I clawed my way out of a mountain. I also saw your sister,” Bane said, dragging his gaze over her. “As of three hours ago, she was alive and well.”

  “Thank God!” A thousand pounds of worry lifted. “And a thousand thanks to you for telling me.”

  “Don’t thank me. Inform me. Where’s Zion?” Even before she responded, he made a show of sheathing his weapons. With his gaze locked on Nola, he dropped his chin to his sternum and crossed the distance like a total predator. Crouching in front of her, he smoothed a lock of hair behind her ear, uncharacteristically gentle. “Tell me, Nola.”

  “I don’t know where he is,” she admitted, stretching her arms overhead. As her spine arched, her breasts thrust forward. She let her head drop back, and a wealth of tension seeped from her muscles. A slow smile bloomed. So good!

  Little growls rumbled from Bane. “Cease moving about. Wipe that rapturous look off your face.”

  Why would he... Unless he... Did Bane find her attractive? He must. He just didn’t want to want her.

  “I have a better idea,” she purred. “I keep moving around however much I wish, and I wear whatever look I choose, and you deal with it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m parched. Bottoms up.” She toasted him with Zion’s canteen of water, then drained the contents.

  Once her thirst had been satisfied, she dunked a rag in the pond and cleaned her face. She brushed her teeth and anchored her hair into a messy bun.

  “Going to pretend I’m not here? Wonderful.” Bane pinched her chin and tilted her face this way and that. Rage darkened his features, frightening in its intensity, yet his touch remained gentle. “You’ve lost weight. Has Zion starved you?”

  “I told you. I’ve been sick,” she said, and this time the admission embarrassed her. Bane was a warrior to his core, who admired strength in others. Therefore, he would never admire her. I don’t care. I don’t. Whether human or alien, all people were inherently flawed, including Bane. Why should his opinion matter more than her own? “Strangely enough, I feel better—healthy—when you’re around.” And hungry. Where could she find chocolate? No, sour gummies. No, butterscotch.

  He grated, “You draw strength from your warriors, just as we draw strength from you.”

  Wait, wait, wait. Hold up. “My warriors?”

  A muscle jumped in his jaw. “I will explain everything, but only when you are safely tucked inside my lair. Here, we can be overheard. Trust me when I say Zion will desert you if ever he learns about your origins. Other combatants will want your head.”

  She shook her head. Zion already suspected something was amiss, yet he’d still aided her. “You’re wrong. I stabbed Zion, and he never retaliated.”

  Bane arched a brow, all the little mortal gave the big, bad warrior a boo-boo? How adorable. “A combatant saves a human for one reason, and one reason only. The human can be used to win the war.”

  Maybe, maybe not. “Is that why you’re interested in me?” Either way, Bane and Zion would fight to the death when Zion returned, and she would be at fault.

  Guilt torched her calm, leaving her shaking.

  “In part,” he replied. “But again, you’ll get no explanations outside of the lair.”

  “Good thing we need to leave, then.” And yeah, okay, she was serving Zion a big bowl of steaming crap pie, and he deserved better. He might not have been an A+ host—he hadn’t spent a whole lot of time with her, or answered her questions, or aided Vale—but he’d hadn’t been an F-host, either. He’d kept Nola safe. But Bane kept her pain-free, so there was no contest.

  He brightened.

  “But,” she added, and the light faded. “Let me clue you in to a little not-so-secret secret. I’m going to stay with the man who helps me find and save Vale. Nothing matters more, not even my health.”

  “Your sister,” he said, his voice laced with concern. Looking as though he’d aged twenty years, he scoured a hand down his face.

  Her stomach bottomed out. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

  “Vale killed a combatant and joined the war.”

  Horror crept down her spine, plucking at her nerve endings. Vale...forced to fight others to the death...forced to fight Bane and Zion... “No!”

  “I am sorry, Nola, but her fate is sealed.”

  Colder and shakier by the second, she shook her head.

  “Now, combatants will come after you,” he continued, “hoping to use you as bait against her.”

  “I don’t care about me.” She grabbed his hand and clung for dear life. “Vale is my everything, Bane. My reason to keep fighting, to keep living. We met in a foster home for troubled girls. She was the first person to love me. Please,” she beseeched. “Promise me you won’t harm her.”

  At “please,” he flinched. “I can make no such promise,” he groused. “Nor can Zion.”

  Not good enough. Maybe, if she ordered him to protect Vale, he would be forced to obey? There was only one way to find out, but the thought of making him do something—anything—against his will left her uneasy.

  How many times had a foster parent forced her to eat foods she hated, or clean her plate when she was full to prevent waste? On the other hand, she needed to know what she could and couldn’t do.

  “Bane,” she said, a slight tremor in her voice.

  He sucked in a breath. “Do not issue a command, princess. I will hate you for it.”

  “I’m not responsible for your emotions. Besides, you already hate me. And I don’t care!”

  “You should. I’m willing to keep Vale safe until we are the final two.”

  Not good enough. But maybe good enough for now?

  Before she could render a verdict, he straightened and pulled her to her feet. “Come. We’re leaving.”

  Considering she’d vomited everything she’d eaten for two days straight, her legs proved surprisingly steady.

  Rather than opening a portal, her golden god eyed her like the last slice of cake in a baker’s display case and stalked a circle around her, unhurried. When her sho
ulder brushed his chest, a bolt of electricity shot through her. He must have felt it, too. He startled as he stopped directly in front of her.

  Their gazes held, her senses heightening. Awareness of him magnified. His delectable heat engulfed her, bolstering his tantalizing scent, making her belly clench. The warmth of his exhalations fanned her face, teasing her skin, her lips.

  Touch...

  Desire rushed through her veins. Her nipples beaded, and she shivered. But the more aroused she became, the angrier he appeared.

  He said nothing. She said nothing, speech beyond her skill set. The need for contact eclipsed the need to protect herself from yet another rejection. And he would reject her. That disdain...

  Giving him a chance to rebuke her, Nola lifted her arms as slow as molasses. His shallow breaths quickened, but he remained silent. Finally, she flattened her hands over his pectorals, skin to white-hot skin. Muscles jumped, his heart racing beneath her palm.

  “Such strength,” she muttered, entranced.

  “Such beauty.” He wrapped his fingers around her wrists, holding her in place as if he couldn’t bear to let her go?

  A thousand desires bombarded her at once. Kiss him. Pet every inch of him. Tear off his clothes. Shove him to the ground. Impale my body on his massive erection.

  Oh, no, no, no. Sleep with Bane, a (kind of) stranger and a killer? No! Yes! Maybe? If she could be with him without sickening...

  What are you doing? Vale came first, sex deliberation second.

  Panting, Nola stepped back and wrenched from Bane.

  He stepped forward, keeping her close. A volcano of violence threatened to erupt in those golden eyes. “Have you slept with Zion, princess?”

  She lifted her chin, refusing to cower, and forged ahead. “Why? Are you jealous?”

  His nostrils flared. “I’ve never been jealous.” He took another step closer, consuming her personal space. “I’ll never be jealous. It’s a childish emotion, for petulant people.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” Watching his expression for a hint of emotion, she said, “As for Zion, no. I haven’t slept with him.”

  Some of Bane’s tension faded.

  Then she added, “Yet,” and he scowled.

  Do not grin. No one had ever been jealous over Nola before.

  He dragged his fingertips down the length of her sternum...around her navel. The thin cotton T-shirt offered little protection from all his blistering heat. “So fragile,” he said as she shivered. “Easily breakable. You would do well to curry my favor.”

  Fragile. Breakable. “That never gets old,” she grumbled. “Shouldn’t you curry my favor? I speak, and you’re forced to obey.”

  “And so the transformation begins,” he muttered, then bared his teeth at her. Were his chompers sharper than they’d been last time she’d checked him out?

  “What does that mean?” Transformation—into a queen? At least he hadn’t denied her skill. Lightbulb! “Is that why you hate me? Because I have a strange ability to control you—an ability I don’t even understand? Well, guess what? You’re a total hypocrite! You condemn me while reveling in your own power over me.”

  He bowed up, gearing for a fight.

  Why do I remain unafraid?

  But he didn’t strike at her. He switched topics, saying, “Your sickness. Tell me about it.”

  Her cheeks heated. “I suffer from three conditions. One causes overactive nerves. One causes inflammation. Both of those cause tremendous amounts of pain, so I take pills to help me function, but they are addictive. Without them, I get a million times sicker.”

  Pensive, he rubbed two fingers over his jaw. “If I acquire these pills, you’ll feel better even when we’re apart?”

  “Yes. But you’ll expect something in return, yes? Like, I have to agree to your final two deal with Vale?”

  “Nola?” Zion called her name, his voice reverberating through the jungle.

  Bane stiffened and reached for a dagger.

  Crap! “You’re right. Final two. Let’s go,” she rushed out. “Now, now, now.”

  He grinned slowly, his anticipation palpable. “We will go. After I deal with Zion. His war has come to an end.”

  “Just leave him be. He’s a good guy.”

  “He is an obstacle to my vengeance. Obstacles get mowed down,” he snapped softly, fiercely.

  Ah! Finally, a clue about the mysterious Bane of Adwaeweth. “What vengeance?”

  He scowled again. “He owns a wand, and I want it. I won’t leave this place without it.”

  Had she ever encountered such malice? “You want it. So what? Wanting something doesn’t mean you get to have it. You will take me from this dimension without argument.”

  A vein bulged in his forehead, the volcano in his eyes about to erupt. Still he snagged her by the waist with one hand, and opened a portal with the other.

  Oh, sweet goodness, she did have authority over him. Laughter bubbled up.

  Bane stalked through the portal, into an empty house with boarded-up windows. He released her and gave her a gentle push toward a shadowed corner, remaining at the portal and palming two daggers. A single overhead bulb provided light, glinting off the blades.

  The moisture in her mouth dried. “Where are we?”

  “We won’t stay here. The portal will stay open for sixty seconds. I know Zion won’t let you go easily. If he’s fast enough, he’ll—”

  Zion dove through the portal, slamming into Bane. Nola gasped as the two men rolled over a concrete floor and savagely, brutally grappled for dominance.

  When they made it to their feet, Zion threw a punch. Bane ducked, the fist going through the wall, plaster raining down.

  Staying low, Bane punted the back of Zion’s knee. At the same time, he shoved Zion’s head through the wall. More plaster.

  Upon her next inhalation, Nola breathed in the particles and coughed.

  The noise distracted Bane. He whipped around, his gaze concerned.

  With a war cry, Zion punched his wounded shoulder—no, he punched through Bane’s shoulder, a bloody fist coming out the other side. Nola gagged as blood sprayed.

  Bane threw back his head and roared a beastly sound of agony.

  Afraid for his life, she shouted, “Leave, Bane. Leave now, heal and stay away from the other dimension.”

  Again, he faced her. This time, he was snarling, evincing betrayal. A second later, he vanished.

  The aches and pains returned in a rush, and she whimpered. Her stomach grew queasy. The sensation worsened until she hunched over and vomited bile.

  Ugh. She should have gone with Bane. She’d wanted to go with Bane. But, by staying with Zion, she could keep him from giving chase, granting Bane time to heal.

  “Bane obeyed you,” Zion said, crouching at her side. “Why?”

  “Don’t know,” she replied, and it was the absolute truth.

  To her surprise, he let it drop. “Did he hurt you?”

  Taking a page from Bane’s playbook, she ignored the question and said, “Need my pills.” Ragged moan. “Get my pills. Please, Zion.”

  Welcome to life with an addict.

  He thought for a moment. “I know nothing about human medicine. You must tell me where to acquire the pills, and you must accompany me. Are you healthy enough to travel?”

  “I’m not healthy enough to breathe.” Despite an influx of pain, she labored to an upright position. The world spun, and the nausea worsened. “Carry me?” she asked, refusing to be embarrassed by her need for aid.

  Zion gathered her in his arms and stood. What he didn’t do? Open a portal. He remained rooted in place, rocking her back and forth, lost in thought. Then he nodded, as if he’d just come to a major decision.

  “You know, little dreki. You once asked about my prophetic dream. Still wish to know what I s
aw you do?”

  Ohhh. A bedtime story. “Yes, please.”

  He pursed his lips. “You clutched a dagger and stepped up to a combatant. Then you smiled—and shoved the dagger into his heart, killing him. A feat no one else could manage.”

  She murdered someone and smiled about it? “Who?” Zion had already given her two clues. A feat no one else could manage—like, say, taking down a dragon shape-shifter? And his heart—the victim was male.

  “Who do you think?”

  She gulped. The fact that he wanted her to make the kill...well, the victim had to be Bane, who would (probably) want her dead if ever he heard about Zion’s dream.

  Her dark side stirred, awakening. She whispered, Strike first, die last.

  Apparently, Dark Nola was a real bitch who liked to hibernate, only coming out to play at the most inconvenient times. And she wasn’t done talking.

  He speaks the truth. You will kill Bane, and you will like it. His death is the key to obtaining everything you desire—health, happiness and incomparable strength.

  Killing Bane would be the equivalent of going through a fast-cure drive through? Oh, the temptation.

  In the end, she gave a violent shake of her head. As if she would ever listen to her dark side. Bane’s death wasn’t the key to anything. No one’s was.

  “Go to him, then, and see what happens,” Zion said. “He’ll die sooner rather than later. I’ll be happy either way. But, if you stay with me, I will protect you from him and save your sister. The choice is yours.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Stalker shocker!

  HE’D FOUND HER! It had only taken a day.

  When Nola had dared dismiss Bane, he’d thought she hoped to save Zion from his wrath. Then he’d realized she feared for Bane’s life—which was far worse. A sickly royal lacked confidence in his skill. The indignity! He would teach her better. Soon.

  Bane had used their connection and her incredible scent to track her to a mountainous land known as America.

  He fumed. Had he used the word incredible to describe honeysuckle? He’d meant despicable. Of course. Although, sometime during his centuries away, he’d begun to associate honeysuckle with home. How he missed Adwaeweth. He’d met Meredith there, trained with fellow soldiers and planned a future.