Frost and Flame

by Showalter, Gena

  He thinks to escape me? To fight again another day? To threaten Nola another day?

  As Bane’s control disintegrated, the beast roared and clawed, more determined than ever to break free. Soon, he would succeed.

  Bane tossed his sword and goggles aside. Just in time. The transformation had already begun...

  * * *

  NOLA WATCHED THE brutal battle while undergoing a fight of her own. Her opponent? Fear.

  She feared for Bane’s life as much as his future. Whether he admitted it or not, he cared for her...yet, she had a huge secret—Dark Nola.

  The instant he learned about Dark Nola, he would go back to hating Nola, certain she would morph into a cold-blooded monster. He would consider her a too-risky investment.

  To him, I’m a bad bet.

  Her stomach flip-flopped as Bane transformed. Bones elongated, and green scales grew over his flesh. His teeth...

  Oh, sweet mercy. He’d turned into a nightmarish Godzilla-type being with wings, and her mind threatened to shut down. Aliens, she could believe. Supernatural abilities, too. But this...

  Knowing he could transform was one thing. Actually witnessing it was another thing entirely.

  She’d seen his wings before, of course, but never the full monty, and she didn’t know whether to be awed or horrified by them.

  Smoke curled from its—his—nostrils. He turned away from Union, who stood in place, daring him to attack, and centered his attention on the water. Why put his back to an enemy? So foolish!

  The beast sprayed a stream of fire over the ocean’s surface. A man’s screams pierced the salt-and-blood-scented air. Nola frowned. The beast lunged, snatching—

  The real Union.

  The Union standing on the beach was an illusion, just like those giant scorpions. Real-Union thrashed around, trying to escape the beast’s jaws of death. After shaking the male with enough force to snap his neck, the beast dropped its bounty and flinched, in obvious pain. Did he share Bane’s injuries, or have ones of his own? Or both?

  Union crawled away, exerting so much energy a vein popped up in his forehead. Despite the beast’s gargantuan size, he proved shockingly fast. In a blink, he mauled Union’s torso, ripping out his rib cage.

  As she peeked through the foliage that shielded her from the fighters, a horrified gasp escaped. The slightest noise. And yet the monster whipped his head around, his large black eyes zeroing in where she crouched. Fathomless, deep, endless, terrifying eyes, with no hint of Bane’s passion, only his fury. Blood splattered the creature’s face, and viscera hung from its razor-sharp teeth.

  Holding her gaze, he blew another stream of fire, setting Union ablaze. A scream brewed in the back of her throat. Union was dead, utterly eviscerated. I’m clearly next on the menu.

  Teleport. Teleport now!

  The creature turned his whole body in her direction, preparing to attack. She reared back, tripping over a tree root. Heart galloping, she toppled to her butt. Frantic, Nola scrambled up and ran. Fast. Faster. A cowardly move? Probably. But no sane person would stick around to challenge that...that thing.

  She wracked her brain for a place to go. Back to Zion? No way. Someone had already found their hideout. Try to teleport to Vale?

  Heck no. If the beast were to follow her...

  What about going home?

  Home! Yes! As she ran, she pictured the small, two-bedroom house she and Vale rented in Strawberry Valley, Oklahoma, the tornado and flood capital of the world. She adored the house’s shabby chic furnishings, even though said furnishings were way shabbier than chic. They’d spent all their extra money on bills, Vale’s business degree, and the trip to Russia, so interior design had taken a back seat.

  Seconds passed. Nola remained on the island. Crap! Her stupid panic must have stifled her stupid ability.

  The beast gave chase, the entire island shaking. Trees crashed behind her. Bile churned in her stomach, panic threatening to give way to hysteria.

  Quickening her pace, she dared a glance over her shoulder. So close. Too close, murder gleaming in the endless abyss of his eyes.

  By the time she faced forward again, the beast was almost upon her, the steam from his nostrils charring her shirt and blistering her skin. As she whimpered, he slammed his snout into the middle of her back, lifting her off her feet, sending her body flying through the air.

  A tree trunk stopped her flight, its bark like razors, flaying off a layer of flesh as she slid to the ground.

  Pain reverberated along her nerve endings, her world going black. Blink, blink, blink. When sight returned, she realized the beast loomed over her. He lowered his face to hers, and pressed one massive foot against her thigh, pinning her in place. His claws sliced her pants, her skin and embedded in her muscle. Hot blood trickled from the puncture wounds, pooling in the dirt.

  A new lump grew in her throat, this one barbed, ensuring only a mewl emerged.

  Huffing and puffing, the beast stared at her with malice and aggression, a look she’d gotten used to seeing from Bane. But, with the fiend’s nose a mere inch from hers, his breath was like fire, blistering her chin. Gristle splattered his face and dripped from his teeth—teeth he displayed in all their horrifying glory when he peeled back his lips. On his shoulder, between a cluster of scales, was a bleeding gash the same size as Bane’s.

  Do not make any sudden moves.

  With every fiber of her being, she wanted to command him to back off, leave, something! Would the beast be forced to follow her orders, like Bane? Maybe. Probably. Her golden god certainly believed it. But deep down, Nola suspected she would do more harm than good. If she survived this encounter, of course. I will, I must. By ordering the beast around, she would be no better than the queens he despised.

  So, all Nola said? “N-nice dragon. My name is Nola Lee, and I come in peace.” Ugh. How cliché. She tried again. “I’m in the market for friends, and I’d love to get to know you apart from Bane. What do you think?”

  Steam curled from his nostrils, and she gulped.

  “Do you go by the name Bane as well, or do you have your own?” she asked, determined. “Are you an extension of him, or a separate being entirely?”

  His eyelids closed for a moment. One set of eyelids, anyway. Another set blink-blinked, and the end result was freaky. But the creature never made a peep.

  Since he hadn’t burned or chomped on her yet, she figured she’d chosen the right track. So she tried again, saying, “I could call you Bane Junior, Junior for short. Or Puff. Oh! I know. What do you think of Drogo?” Of all the movies and TV shows she’d watched with Vale, one character had intrigued her more than any other—Khal Drogo from Game of Thrones.

  How fitting, considering Drogo’s love interest was known as the Mother of Dragons...and at the end of the series, she’d gone off the deep end, becoming the Mad Queen.

  Preach.

  Not that Nola wanted to be the beast’s girlfriend or anything. Bane’s girlfriend, however...

  Maybe I could, I don’t know, help his heart heal, the way I helped his body heal?

  “H-how do you feel about being petted?” Doing her best not to startle him, she slowly reached up. The closer she got, the more her hand trembled. Finally, she achieved contact.

  He jerked, but he didn’t punish her or move away.

  Nola rewarded him, stroking his snout. Marveling. His black-and-green scales were as smooth as glass, as hard as steel and as hot as the sun.

  “Drogo,” she whispered. “I don’t mean to complain, okay, but you’re hurting my leg.” To be honest, the pain caused by his claws and crushing weight didn’t compare to the agony she’d endured again and again during flares and opioid withdrawals. “If you want me to stay here with you, I’ll stay here. You can free my leg. Okay?” she said, always stroking, hopefully easing the fiend. “Give me a chance to prove I won’t run.
Please.”

  When his gaze slid to her leg, she knew he’d understood her words. If she succeeded in winning Drogo over, well, what couldn’t she do? Save Vale? Surely! Save Adwaewethian hybrids? Of course! Ensure Bane’s vengeance? Without a doubt.

  “Earlier, you winced. What’s hurting you?” she whispered, searching his gaze. “Maybe I can help you the way I help Bane, and order you to heal.”

  He snarled. Rather than easing off her leg, he applied more pressure, watching as she panted, squirmed and wheezed. Once again, the world began to blacken.

  Okay. Friendship was out, and an order to heal would be met with certain death. Got it.

  Just as she’d instinctively known he’d hate her if she issued an order, she knew he’d never respect her if she begged for mercy. Too weak, too fragile? Never again!

  “Well,” she squeaked. “If this is the end for me, I have one last thing to say. Congrats! You are officially as bad as the queens you’re forced to serve. They hurt others, and so do you.”

  Before she passed out, he did it. He plucked his claws from her thigh and stepped back. The pressure eased, but the pain amplified as blood flooded back into her limb.

  To her shock, his expression seemed to project, Go, before I change my mind and eat your head like a cake ball on a stick.

  “Thank you,” she breathed. Though she’d failed to teleport only minutes ago, she closed her eyes and pictured her home in Strawberry Valley. An-n-nd yes! Without a tidal wave of panic—and perhaps a stronger link to Drogo?—her ability had worked.

  She experienced extreme weightlessness. Cool night air turned warm and musty, and excitement bloomed. When she opened her eyes, she stood in her living room, dripping blood on the carpet.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Relationship blues got you down?

  GETTING AWAY FROM Bane proved easier than getting to Bane. Maybe because she didn’t have hours of vomiting in her rearview? Nola scanned the living room she hadn’t seen for a month.

  Home sweet home.

  All was as she’d left it. The same shabby chic furnishings remained: a floral print couch, a coffee table with peeling white paint, papered walls that displayed different kinds of birds and a rug with frayed edges. Christmas lights hung from the ceiling year-round. Framed photos of Vale and Nola making funny faces covered the side tables, intermixed with vases of dried flowers and a lamp shaped like a pair of rain boots.

  Nola and her sis had created a beautiful, quirky environment with limited funds, and she was proud of everything they’d accomplished. One day, she hoped to buy designer drapes and—

  “Nooo!” Without Bane’s presence, withdrawal symptoms thundered to new life. Instant aches and pains, flop sweat and shakes so violent she probably looked like she was having a seizure. On top of everything else, she got to deal with the beast’s parting gift.

  Eyes watering, stomach roiling, she stumbled into her bedroom...her private bathroom. Every movement a special kind of agony, she liberated the first aid kit from the medicine cabinet. Through sheer force of will, she found the strength to peel off her ripped, bloody clothes, drape a towel over the toilet lid and plop down. The sight of her leg...

  Like ground hamburger meat. Bile surged, and she gagged. Since she was a royal, her word law to Adwaewethians...since she was part Adwaewethian... “I command you to heal,” she told her leg.

  One minute, two. Nothing happened.

  Dang it! As she cleaned and bandaged each puncture, darkness infiltrated and battered her mind, threatening to pull her into a sweet oblivion. She needed a date with 9-1-1 and stitches.

  Problem #1: no money to pay the bill. Problem #2: she was a drug addict, the use of prolonged opioids in her file; emergency doctors would most definitely assume she had injured herself for more pills. They had in the past. Problem #3: paramedics would ask questions she couldn’t answer.

  How was she supposed to explain a dragon/phoenix shape-shifter? Claim a wild animal attacked her? Authorities might go hunting. What if they killed an innocent creature? Just the thought upped her stress level. What’s more, her “natural-born instinct” would erase any words about Bane. Not that she wanted to tell strangers about him.

  My warrior, my secret.

  What if someone had reported her and Vale missing? People would want proof Vale still lived. And what if Erik monitored nearby medical facilities? He’d track her down to use her against Vale, Bane and Zion. Three for the price of one.

  So badly she yearned to return to Bane. Craved his arms around her, holding her close. Desired his breath fanning over her skin, and his scent filling her nose. Longed to tease and please him, and be teased and pleased in return.

  Nola doubted she had the strength to teleport again. And what if he was still in beast form?

  Her heartbeat sped up. Just before he’d transformed, he’d commanded her to run, wanting to save her from harm. She’d failed to comply, remaining nearby in case he needed her, and now she suffered the consequences. Her fault, not his.

  Besides, despite the awful condition of her thigh, she didn’t regret meeting Drogo. Better to know what you were up against than to forever wonder. At least she hadn’t peed herself during the introduction. Gold star for me.

  Once the punctures were clean and sealed with butterfly bandages, she removed and stored the jewelry she’d taken from Bane’s cave, and tied a plastic bag around her thigh. Then, she showered off the blood and grime.

  Her pain hit jacked up, and she hurried to come up with a decent plan. Rest, if you can. Weather out the worst of the withdrawal. Figure out your next move.

  She exited the stall and removed the bag. Exhausted, she brushed her teeth and changed into a T-shirt that read Careful, I Bite, a pair of short shorts and fluffy bunny slippers.

  Clutching a bucket like a life raft, she limped to bed and eased under the covers. I’ve come full circle. The trip to Russia had begun and ended in this room. Here, she and Vale had lain beside each other and planned every detail. They’d talked, laughed and dreamed, unaware of the trials awaiting them.

  Tears gathered and fell, wetting the sheets. Unfortunately, sleep did prove impossible, her pain simply too great. A fever ravaged her insides, using her organs as kindling. She alternated between sweating and shaking, a wildfire and an ice storm tormenting her at alternating intervals. A moan slipped from her compressed lips. Her heart pounded faster and far too hard, then fluttered and squeezed. Her chest constricted, flattening her lungs.

  In an attempt to distract herself, she charged her phone and checked her email. Lots of messages from her bosses, asking where she was. She replied, apologizing for the lack of communication and asking for more time off. The bakery owner and the magazine editor responded in minutes—to fire her. Her landlord had also reached out to inform her that rent was late, and she had one week to pay or he’d kick her out.

  He’d sent the message three days ago. So, she had four days left. Unless he’d meant one business week, in which case the time got cut in half.

  Lose her house? She gazed around the bedroom, and tried to see it as Bane might. The walls were pale pink and covered with framed photos of Vale and Carrie. Pang. Makeup littered the surface of the vanity, and romance novels dominated her nightstand. Wispy white lace draped the bed’s four posters.

  Too frilly and feminine for Bane’s tastes?

  Tragic and sexy Bane, who she wanted more each day. Before, she’d considered doing something to help mend his broken heart. Now she wasn’t sure she could guard her own in the process.

  Footsteps thudded, shaking the entire house. Wishing she’d held on to her dagger as she’d run from Drogo, or that she’d thought to keep a kitchen knife in her nightstand, Nola tensed. Had Erik found her? What about Bane and his beast? Zion? Vale? Should she try to teleport or hide?

  Less than an hour ago, she’d faced a dragon and survived. Why run no
w? Why be afraid of a person, other-worlder or even death?

  “Nola?” An armed Zion entered the bedroom, his stride long and strong. Spotting her curled up in bed, he sheathed his daggers and exhaled with relief.

  “I’m happy to see you,” she said, and she meant it. Yet, part of her wished Bane had been the one to walk through the door. “So glad you survived the attack.”

  “How did you escape the closet without disengaging the door lock?” he asked, getting right down to business.

  “I’m happy to see you, too, Nola,” she said, doing her best impersonation of him. At some point, she’d kicked off the covers, providing him with a direct line to the crimson stains on her bandage.

  He went motionless, fury exploding in his eyes. “Who hurt you?”

  No way she’d allow him to retaliate against Bane. So what could she—should she—tell him? Think! But her muddled, sluggish brain refused to work.

  Why not tell the truth? “I can’t explain. Literally, I can’t. Something always stops me. But I’ll be fine,” she said, then hurried to change the subject. “How did you find me?”

  He slitted his lids, a silent promise to return to the original subject—soon. “I found the cabin in the mountains, the one you and your sister inhabited after you got lost. I ransacked the interior and unearthed a small, hard paper with your picture and an address.”

  Ah. Her driver’s license. She and Vale had left their IDs on the kitchen counter alongside a note, requesting aid.

  Zion eased beside her, leery. “I come bearing news. While we were parted, Erik abducted your sister. But, with Knox’s help, she mounted a successful escape.”

  Nola’s heart plummeted, then soared. “That’s wonderful—”

  “In the process, hundreds of humans were killed, and Terran enforcers took Vale captive.”

  “—and terrible.” So many people slaughtered, victims of a war they knew nothing about. Had law enforcement treated Vale like a perpetrator or a victim? “Is—is she locked up?”