Wait. She frowned. What was that? A glint of...metal? Oh, wow. Yes, metal. From a section of a plane.
“Where are we?” she asked, glancing at Bane.
“Another dimension sometimes accessed by humans.” He positioned his goggles, hiding his eyes—and emotions—behind their pitch-black lenses. “Zion has a talent for finding lost dimensions within any world. Long ago, I followed him here.” As he spoke, crimson rivers poured from his gashes.
A bone from his ribs had cut through his skin and hung at an odd angle. She winced with sympathy, her stomach churning.
He looked himself over and said, “Tell me to heal quickly, Nola.”
“Sorry, but no. You can’t have it both ways, Bane. You can’t hate me for being your boss, then demand I use my position to aid you. Don’t worry. Girls love scars. You’re welcome.”
“Tell me to heal,” he insisted.
Argh! “If I do, you have to vow you’ll never again complain about my royalness.”
A muscle pulsed beneath his eye. “Patch me up the old-fashioned way.”
Stubborn fool! “Is there a first aid kit hidden somewhere?”
“There is. It’s in a trunk buried under this tarp. Dig it out while I search for bombs and other traps. Someone found my lair. They might have found the island, too.”
She wanted to respond, but a strange scene rose to the surface of her mind. A little movie she couldn’t turn off.
In it, a couple drove a midsize sedan down an abandoned road, a toddler strapped to a car seat in back. The driver had close-cropped black hair, dark eyes and pale skin. The passenger had dark blond hair, brown eyes and tanned skin. Variations of gold. Adwaewethian gold.
So beautiful...so familiar. My parents, she computed with a gasp. A single photo had survived her chaotic childhood, and it featured a younger version of these two.
This was a memory, then? But Nola couldn’t be more than a year old. So young. Too young to remember this.
As the couple argued in hushed tones, Nola picked up individual phrases. “A monster.” “Must hide.” “The others.” And “How much.”
Monster—had they seen a beast? Hide—baby Nola?
Suddenly, a tall, muscular man with pale hair and a circle tattoo similar to Bane’s appeared in the street. Had he used some kind of invisible portal, or teleported? A sword hilt rose above each shoulder, leather sheaths crisscrossing over his torso. An Adwaewethian and a combatant, but how?
Nola’s father jerked the wheel, and the vehicle swerved, barely missing the other-worlder. Tires squealed, and smoke billowed. The car flipped, once, twice, again and again, the sound of crunching metal assaulting her ears.
Finally, the flipping ceased. The car was upside down, seat belts holding everyone in place. Baby Nola didn’t have a single scratch, yet a metal spike impaled her dad’s neck. His head lay at an odd angle and his eyes stared at nothing.
Sobbing, struggling for freedom, her mother continually glanced at the shattered windshield. No, not the windshield, but the scuffed leather boots approaching the vehicle. Boots attached to the man who’d appeared in the road.
This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t have happened. This couldn’t be the way they’d died.
The man crouched next to the passenger side, reached through the opening, and grabbed her screaming mother by the arm.
“No!” real-life Nola shouted. “Leave her alone. Don’t you dare—”
“Nola?”
Bane’s concerned voice yanked her from the dark mire of her thoughts. Panting, unable to catch her breath, she blinked into focus. The images in her head faded, revealing Bane. He crouched in front of her, his hands on her cheeks. While she’d gotten lost in a memory she couldn’t have retained, he’d braved the sunlight to whisk her to the tarp.
Tears swam in her eyes. Can’t deal. Not yet. Too much had happened today. Bane had saved her from a mercenary, kissed her without causing sickness, rejected her, insulted her and saved her again. And she hadn’t processed any of it!
Now, she didn’t want to. She erected blocks around her mind. Maybe they were real, maybe they were imagined, but either way she would puzzle out answers later. The next time she was alone, probably. Or never. Yeah, never was good. Her chest felt as if someone had replaced her organs with rocks. And dang it, she needed to stop leaning into Bane’s touch, needed to stop seeking comfort from a man who considered her scum.
“What’s wrong, princess?” He pressed two fingers against her throat, gauging the quickness of her pulse. “For several minutes, you became mist. You were here, but not here.”
“Mist? Me?”
“A royal ability, I’m sure, unique to you.”
So he didn’t know what had happened to her, or if it would happen again.
Puzzle it out later, remember? “Forget the mist thing. You’ve got to check the island and I’ve got to unearth a first aid kit.”
Seeming to realize the intimacy of their pose, he released her and staggered to a stand. “Shout if you need me.” He strode away, his limp actually improving.
He stuck to the shadows. Before disappearing in the jungle, he cast her a glance. Shivers raced down her spine and contradictory urges hit her, one after the other. She wanted him to rush back. She wanted him to stay gone and never return. She wanted everything. She wanted nothing.
Why am I so conflicted about this man? Nola recalled what he’d told her immediately following their kiss: I prefer warrior women.
Translation: You, Nola Lee, do not even qualify as spank bank fodder.
The hurt she’d experienced... While he’d found her lacking, she’d found him irresistible. When they’d kissed, she’d lost control. Sickness hadn’t been a blip. For a moment, Bane had become her reason for breathing. But she would never be his reason for breathing. The honor would always belong to his beloved wife.
Jealous of a dead woman?
Seriously, one kiss and a little light groping, and Nola turned into a sex-starved fatal attraction wannabe?
The thought resurrected a good mad—at Bane. How dare he make her crave him like this!
With a huff, Nola went looking for the first aid kit. She found it partially buried beside a fallen trunk, complete with rags, bandages, different ointments and clean clothes. Also present, a set of daggers. Nola slung a dagger to her calf, hidden by her pants.
Struggling and straining, she rolled a large rock under the tarp, so Bane would have a chair while she doctored—and questioned—him. The stubborn man would chat with her whether he wanted to or not.
When he returned at last, she drank him in. Too gorgeous for his own good. Her body came alive, heating, tingling, needing; he had awakened a sexual beast inside her. Maybe because he looked crazed with lust, his gaze glued to her as he prowled closer, a predator intent on running his prey to ground.
He’d taken a dip in the water. His hair was drenched, blood and dirt washed away.
“No bombs or traps,” he said, his voice a harsh lash. A few of his injuries had already healed, his broken rib among them. But fresh blood trickled from his shoulder. “No sign of any recent visitors.”
“Good. Now sit.” She waved to the rock, then blinked with surprise when he obeyed. Must remember to phrase my words as a suggestion, not an order. “I’ll patch you up, and we’ll get to know each other better. If you’re to think the worst of me, you should get to know me first, so I’ll start.”
He gave a clipped nod, but remained silent. His crazed edge had dulled, as if her nearness had soothed him. Things were changing between them.
Where to begin? “Something specific you’d like to know?”
“Tell me anything, everything.” Tension emanated from him. “I find I am...curious about you.”
Oh, yes. Things were definitely changing. As Nola used a rag to rinse the blood and dirt from Bane’s wounds
, trying not to drool over his muscles, she said, “I’m twenty-two. I bake the best donuts you’ve ever tasted, I have a singing voice Vale calls Cats Being Murdered and the dance moves of an angel...on crack.”
The barest hint of an almost-smile teased his lips, enchanting her.
Nola had wanted to see a real one so danged bad. A mistake. With only a small lip-quirk, he’d stolen her wits and reminded her body of all the pleasure she’d missed throughout her life...the pleasure she could have with him.
I prefer warrior women.
He had a type, and Nola would never qualify. Got it. Or, was his taste in females changing?
She trembled, but continued on, saying, “I only graduated high school because a kind foster mom homeschooled me when I was too sick to attend class.” Her heart squeezed inside her chest. “All right. Tell me something about you.”
“I was twenty-two over twenty-two centuries ago.”
“Yes, we’ve already established that you’re as old as Father Time and should be wearing diapers. What else you got?”
He thought for a minute. “In Adwaeweth, males are removed from their homes as young children to begin training for war. At sixteen, our beasts awaken and we train another ten years, learning to control it.”
Such a sad life. He’d been raised for war, never asked how he envisioned his future. She sympathized. Lupus and fibro had negated her sense of choice, too. “Look at that. We have something in common. We both grew up without parents, our lives preplanned for us.”
“I suspect your life might have been...tougher than mine.”
What? Had Mr. Hate Weak and Fragile just acknowledged her trials and tribulations, maybe kinda sorta admitting there were different kinds of strength?
“Tell me about your wife.” On her knees, with her body situated between his legs, she applied salve to the wounds on his torso, and the one in his shoulder. “How’d you meet her?”
He cast his gaze somewhere far, far away. “Every Adwaewethian belongs to one of five factions. The royals, the warriors, the breeders, the scholars and the laborers. Meredith and I were both warriors, part of the same military unit. For many years, we fought side by side. Later, we realized we loved each other.”
“What caused the realization of love?” she asked.
Another slight quirk. “During training, a soldier knocked down Meredith and stomped on her ankle. She got up and continued to fight. He knocked her down again, but again, she rose. I couldn’t look away. Such an indomitable spirit and unbending strength humbled me. When I offered aid, she punched me in the face.”
His words punched Nola. And kicked. And stabbed. “She sounds fierce, like the heroine of a romance novel.” Nola loved to read. Alpha males and sizzling sex, everything her own life had been missing.
Her eyes widened. “Had been.” Past tense. She was kind of living a romance novel right now, with Bane playing the role of hero.
“If ever someone broke my ankle,” she said, “the first thing I’d do is sob. And if you offered to help me, I’d probably hug you.”
“I wouldn’t be able to offer you aid, I’d be too busy murdering the one responsible.”
Be still my beating heart.
He canted his head. Seemingly entranced, he reached out and rubbed locks of her hair between his fingers. “Tell me more about you.”
His curiosity emboldened her, and she decided to delve a little deeper, reveal a little more. Admit things that impacted the woman she’d become. “Most of my life, I’ve been found lacking in one way or another. Countless foster parents and siblings complained about my sicknesses, accusing me of faking. Teachers considered me a nuisance, and classmates made fun of me for everything from heritage to poverty.” She ran her hands up and down his arms, seeking contact, comfort.
He stiffened, his muscles hard as rocks. “I’m sorry for the past you suffered, Nola.” She thought he added, “And the strength I overlooked,” but he’d turned down the volume, so she couldn’t be sure.
“You’re forgiven,” she said, reeling.
“Have you ever been in love, princess?” He clasped her wrist and lifted one of her hands to his pec, then repeated the action with the other. His heart drummed against her palm, every beat sending a surge of heat through her body.
“No one has ever measured up to my dream man,” she said in jest. Yet, the words hit too close to home, painting a bull’s-eye on her soul.
“And who is your dream man?”
She mimed locking her lips and throwing away the key.
His eyes narrowed as he returned her hands to his chest. “Keep your hands where they are,” he said, then released her to slip two bejeweled gauntlets from his pocket.
He secured the bottom end to her wrists, and secured thin links of chains to her fingers. The tips were pointed, like claws.
Magnificent. She marveled over the sparkling jewels in the center, saying, “I don’t understand. You’re loaning me a pair of gauntlets because...?”
Their gazes met, the air between them simmering. Always simmering. He looked enthralled and utterly amazed. A trick of the light?
Voice gruff, he said, “I’m giving you a pair of gauntlets to thank you for patching me up.”
But he’d saved the jewelry before she’d patched him. Before the explosion even. “I...you’re welcome. I’ll treasure these.” Forever.
“Now. Tell me about him.” There was a command hidden in his tone.
“My dream man?” she asked, and he gave a clipped nod. Tell him that he was the dream man? No, thanks. So, she decided to describe the man she hoped to end up with. “He’s not a pretty boy who’s never known pain. He’s been through trials, so he has an appreciation for the trials of others. He’s tall and handsome. Kind and gentle. All the usuals. But, most important, he absolutely, positively must have a massive...”
Brow arched in intrigue, Bane leaned closer to her and said, “Muscle mass? Kill list? Bank account?”
“A massive cock, of course.”
As his own tongue seemed to strangle him, she fought a grin and failed. Nice to know she could shock the stoic brute somehow.
He stopped abruptly, his gaze on her mouth, his features stripped of any calm. “Your smile,” he croaked.
She gulped, shivers trekking down her spine. “Yes? What about it?”
He licked his lips. “I want to taste it.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
What his scars reveal
BANE BATTLED A raging hard-on. Again. But then, “raging hard-on” was a semipermanent condition whenever Nola neared. She had a smile so bright it could be a beacon in the darkest night, a heart more dazzling than any diamond and a past more tragic than his own.
He’d sorely misjudged this woman, and his abysmal treatment of her would forever haunt him. Guilt would forever eat at him...but neither doused his desires. No, unease settled in and did the honors.
All his life, he’d tended to his own wounds. He and Meredith had agreed: only the weak required such “pampering.” Nola had fussed over him and...he’d liked it. Liked it enough to look forward to his next injury.
The sheer lunacy of the situation panicked him.
He wanted Nola too much. The beast wanted her too much. But she yearned for a kind and gentle man, something Bane could never be. Never mind that he’d once been that way with Meredith, and the lovers he’d enjoyed before meeting his wife.
Aveline’s actions had changed and hardened him. And yet, Nola made him want to try. Especially when her angelic rosebud lips uttered the word cock.
Her eyelids seemed to weigh a hundred pounds, dipping low as she said, “You want to taste my smile? Too bad, so sad.”
“A denial? If I shoved my hand into your panties, you’d be wet. Soaked.”
A flush warmed her cheeks. “So what?”
“So. We should find out if
I’m right.” Before he realized he’d moved, he’d used one hand to urge Nola closer and the other to pin both of her arms behind her back. She remained on her knees, her breasts smashed into his chest. Just the way he liked. The feel of her against him, all softness and heat, the scent of her skin, all sweetness and wicked delight...he had no defenses.
With his free hand, he tenderly smoothed a lock of hair from her cheek. The inky color of the strands—so different from a typical Adwaewethian—mesmerized him.
Nola leaned into the caress, snagging his gaze. Her lips parted, freeing a moan.
The beast faded to the background as Nola permeated his senses, her vulnerability like a mating call. Except, the song had a resonant frequency strong enough to shatter glass—and any resistance he’d built. A ferocious need to bed her invaded his every thought.
“Your nose is burned.” But not blistered. Perhaps Aveline had created her super-beasts at last, able to tolerate the sun.
He bent his head and sniffed the column of Nola’s neck, and had to cut off a groan. The sun had scented her skin and hair, warmth pulsing from her body.
He grew harder. “You are not sensitive to sunlight.”
“I’m not, no, though I do burn easily.”
Oh, yes. Aveline had her super-beasts. Too bad she would lose them to the new queen. “That’s an Adwaewethian trait.”
“Good to know. But, uh, I believe we had other business matters to discuss?”
She seeks pleasure? Resist!
Damn it! She was temptation made flesh, forbidden fruit, and he’d never been so ravenous. “I want to slide my hand into your panties, but I won’t,” he said, praying he had the strength to follow through. What he wanted wasn’t what either of them needed. Instead, they would stay focused and complete their tasks.
Kill Zion, win the wand. Train Nola in self-defense. Save Vale. Perform Nola’s Blood Rite. Win the All War.
He thought he’d found a way to save the sister, but he needed her cooperation.
Disappointment flashed over Nola’s features. Then she rallied, leaning into him, pressing her new claws into his pectorals.
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