For job number one, she sold baked goods to employees around town. For job two, she wrote a how-to column, dishing out romantic advice for Oklahoma Love Match. Oh, the irony.
Crap! “I forgot to write this week’s article.”
“Chuck it in the fuck it bucket,” Vale called. “The time for work is over, and the time for play has come.”
If only she could chuck it. “I promised my boss I wouldn’t leave him high and dry, so I’ve got to draft something up.” Call her old-fashioned, but Nola believed your word was your bond. When she made a promise, she kept it, always.
“What’s this one about?”
“How to win any man you desire.” Her boss always picked the subject matter, and Nola usually had fun researching the answer.
“Two words—get naked. There. Done.” Vale peeked her head from the doorway. “Does that mean I get 50 percent of the profits?”
A laugh slipped from her. “Sorry, but the electric company gets 100 percent of the profits.”
“Boo. Hiss.”
“Ready for another meme from the queen?” she asked her sister. “How do you make millions as a writer of articles? You start off as a billionaire.”
Vale howled with amusement.
—I need you, princess. You know where I am. Come find me.—
Nola gulped. The daytime delusion had just doubled down and jacked up the volume. Which meant the need to reach Russia jacked up, as well.
She wondered...what if her golden god was actually real?
What, like some gorgeous blond guy had the ability to speak telepathically? No. Not possible. Would she make the trip and search for him, anyway, just in case? Yes. Except, a new fear took root.
Would she have anything else to live for when she returned?
* * *
MIRACLE OF MIRACLES, Nola strengthened as soon as she reached Sweden. Her pains faded, the sense of fatigue vanished and she started resting well, her brain free of fog. While she no longer dreamed about the golden god, he continued to speak inside her mind with an increasingly snarly tone. She’d heard:
—Please, take your time, princess. I don’t mind being tortured for another thirteen hundred years.—
—Useless royals.—
—Do you want someone else to rule your world?—
Every day she endured a new mental tug-of-war. He couldn’t be real, but he had to be real, but he couldn’t be, but he had to be. On the plus side, his aphrodisiac voice kept her body in a state of sexual arousal without a hint of sickness, no matter how often he complained, and she loved and hated the wonderful, terrible sensations.
Nola had tried to respond to him, and failed. Clearly. Not once had he ever answered her questions.
What’s your name?
Why did you stop showing up in my dreams?
Will you do a striptease for me?
She wanted to enjoy every day, hour, minute in Sweden, but every day, hour, minute, the desire to reach Russia magnified, until urgency ruled her thoughts.
Finally, though, the day, hour, minute arrived. She and Vale rented a car and hit the road, with Vale at the wheel, and Nola in charge of navigation.
Now, excitement ruled her. Golden god—GG—here I come!
“You are practically foaming at the mouth,” Vale said with a little laugh. “What’s going on?”
Selective mutism wouldn’t let her spill the truth, so she’d have to approach this a different way. As Carrie used to say, If you can’t go up, go down. If you can’t go down, go around. If you can’t go around, kick that mofo to the ground.
“I have a weird question.” While Nola loved to read romance novels in her spare time—she might have given up on love, but baby, she sure did like to read about others taking the plunge—Vale watched sci-fi movies and went gaga for all things supernatural.
“Shoot,” Vale said. “You know you can ask me anything, any time.”
Here goes. “Do you believe telepathy is possible?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Vale responded without missing a beat. “I believe there’s a grain of truth in every myth, legend and ability, and that we can do anything we can imagine.”
“Why do we have no irrefutable proof of... I don’t know, aliens or something?” Wait. What if people with supernatural abilities couldn’t admit the truth? What if they experienced, say, selective mutism? “Let me rephrase. If superpowers are real, why aren’t mutants taking over the world?”
“Maybe we are.” Vale wiggled her brows. “I mean, I don’t want to brag, but I have the power to make grown men cry.”
Nola snickered.
“What brought this on?” her sister asked.
Tell her. Open your mouth, say the words. Simple, easy. She opened her mouth...but no sound emerged. Dang it! In the end, she shrugged and said, “How awesome would it be to go through a fast-cure drive-through to order a healing and a side of Hulk-smash strength?”
“Dude! Yes!”
As they lapsed into silence, a sinister presence seemed to awaken inside her mind and whisper, Forget healing and strength. Order the ability to kill with a glance.
Kill with a glance? What? Where had that come from?
Chills crept down Nola’s spine. For a moment, she felt like her body wasn’t her own and some previously unknown dark side had overtaken her. Who was she kidding? She’d never felt like her body belonged to her.
Reeling, she sank deeper into her seat and peered out the window. Mountains with rocky plateaus, a plethora of lush trees and a babbling brook. She could almost smell crisp pine and dew-kissed wildflowers. Unfortunately, the breathtaking view failed to calm her.
—Find me, princess. I need you.—
Mmm, his voice. So sexy! But dang it! He was a figment of her imagination and the source of her predicament. Why did he calm her?
Soon, she and Vale would reach their destination and go on the hike. Nola would look for GG. Once she’d proven he wasn’t real, she could finally lay him to rest and move on with her life.
And sob.
* * *
THE HIKE DIDN’T go as planned.
Nola and Vale stood in a picturesque valley, taking pictures. Their guide remained nearby. So far, there’d been no sign of GG. Of course.
Suddenly, a sense of weightlessness hit her, the world going dark. She blinked, and light came back. Only, their little threesome wasn’t in the valley anymore. They were in a wasteland, surrounded by a sea of snow, fierce winds howling.
“What just happened?” Nola had to shout to be heard.
“I don’t know,” Vale shouted back, her voice tinged with fear.
Their guide raced around, frantic, shrieking in Russian.
Though Nola wore a fleece jacket, hat and gloves, hiking pants and trekking boots, the frigid temperature chilled her to the bone. “Look!” She pointed to a spot up ahead. “Footprints.” Help could be nearby.
They followed those footprints to a small cabin, with an already lit hearth. Thank goodness! Heat!
Once they got inside, the guide stole a coat and boots and went out to check the perimeter for signs of life.
As warmth washed over her, Nola sank to her knees, overcome by relief. But where was the owner?
I could really use your help, GG.
“My phone is dead.” Vale plopped down beside her. “How about yours?”
“Dead.”
“Crap! We forgot to bring a charger. No worries, though. The guide will come back with the cabin’s owner, and all will be well.”
But fourteen worry-filled days passed, and neither the guide nor the owner ever came back.
Early on, Nola and Vale had raided the pantry. They’d eaten conservatively, but the limited food supply dwindled fast. So did her medication.
Nola dreaded the coming withdrawal. The aches and pains, the flop swe
at, the constant shivers. Muscle spasms. Feeling like she’d come down with a nuclear flu. Crying over everything and nothing. Vomiting and diarrhea would be a forgone conclusion. Yay me.
On the fifteenth day, Vale said, “If we stay, we die slowly. If we leave, we’ll find help or die quickly.”
“If I’m going down, I’m going down swinging.” No way Nola would stay here and watch her wonderfully vibrant sister starve to death. And what about GG? The search could begin again!
Stop! Just stop. He isn’t real, and you know it. You’re only setting yourself up for disappointment.
“Then it’s settled.” Vale squeezed her hand, pulling her from her musings, and offered her a sad smile. “We head out in the morning.”
Nola tossed and turned that night, desperate to hear GG’s voice. Alas. He’d ceased all communication.
Because I’m taking less medication than usual.
Tears welled. So, he’d been a product of her medicines all along, just as part of her had feared.
When morning came, she put on a brave face and donned the survival gear they found in the closet. They packed two backpacks with essentials and set out, and it didn’t take long for hypothermia to set in. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably, an earthquake in her jaw. Despite goggles and a full face mask, her nose and lungs burned every time she inhaled.
But, through it all, instinct urged her to turn here, go there. Then, a miracle happened. As the sun set, silvery moonlight falling over the terrain, Vale discovered a large cavern tucked inside a hill of ice. They had to climb twenty feet to get inside, but...worth it. Even as Nola’s knees buckled, that instinct shouted, Yes! He’s near.
Uh, what the what? No way! Just no way.
“Stay there. I’ll get us warm.” Vale extracted logs and matches from a backpack and built a fire, then used climbing rope to create a hanging-line for their wet clothes.
“Thank you, thank you, a thousand times thank you.” Nola removed her hat, goggles and face mask, even the gloves. Delicious warmth licked each newly exposed patch of skin.
She scanned the cavern, finding carved images on the far wall, featuring a horned monster and a headless corpse. Nice. “Is that ice graffiti?”
“Let’s find out.” Vale stripped out of her gear and crossed to the other side of the cave. Her jaw dropped, excitement radiating from her. “Someone has to live here, or at least visit upon occasion. We could be close to civilization. I’ll look around for more clues.”
“Be careful.” Whoever had carved those images might be a wee bit...disturbed.
“I’d rather be armed and ready instead.” Vale winked, palmed a climbing ax and disappeared around a corner.
—I sense you, princess. You are close. Get closer. I’ve waited so long.—
His voice! She’d heard it again, and it was sexier than ever, all smoke and sensuality, heating her blood. Her belly quivered. Just a figment of your imagination. Manage your excitement.
She tried to stand, but her legs refused to support her weight. Frustrated by her weakness, she banged her fist into the ice.
Helpless? Me? No! She would eat something, and regain a bit of her lost energy.
She trembled as she extracted a small copper pot from a pack, as well as the last can of fermented herring. Do not gag. Beggars couldn’t be choosers. As a baker extraordinaire, Nola would utilize the one skill she possessed in this type of situation: turning an unpalatable dish into something that wouldn’t murder anyone’s taste buds.
After bringing a chunk of ice to a boil, she readied the fish. Another five...ten minutes passed, but her sister never returned.
Nola choked down a couple of bites and finally called, “Vale?”
No response. Her ears twitched, picking up other noises. Whispers...cracking ice... Foreboding skittered down her spine. Had something happened to Vale?
Nola drew from a hidden reservoir of strength, and lumbered to unsteady legs.
Putting one foot in front of the other required great effort, but somehow she did it. Step. Step. Step. Tremble. Step. Step. She snaked around a corner, entering a larger chamber, with a higher ceiling and over twenty pillars of ice, all cracked. Vale stood on the other side, staring at one of those pillars as if it held the secrets of the universe.
Voice drenched with relief, GG said, —There you are. Come closer, princess. Let me get a good look at you.—
Wait. He was here here? He wasn’t a figment of her imagination? Hope rippled through her, as glorious as a warm summer’s day. Where are you?
An invisible rope seemed to wrap around her middle, drawing her deeper into the room. Deeper still, bypassing pillar after pillar.
Instinct spoke up again, saying, Not this one. Not that one. No. No again. Yes! This one.
She stopped and gasped, her hand fluttering over her heart. The pillar...it... She squinted and edged closer. There was a man inside it. An honest to goodness man, shockingly lifelike, glaring at her through the ice. He wore a black shirt, black leather pants and combat boots...just like the golden god she’d seen in her dreams. But more importantly, he had the golden god’s face.
I’m not delusional. Her heart pounded, and her skin heated. But, but...how was this possible?
Did it matter? She’d felt his presence for so long, now here she stood, inches away. It was fantastical. Shocking. All she could do was marvel. He was real, and he was here, and he exuded primitive animal magnetism.
She thought, Perhaps I gave up on romance too soon.
He was big—huge—both tall and muscular. The most powerful male she’d ever beheld, and the most beautiful, golden from head to toe. While he had long, thick lashes, and soft, plush lips, a broad jaw and strong chin gave him a hard edge.
A realization hit her, something that should have computed already, and her heart began to race. He’d spoken to her. That meant he was alive. But he couldn’t freaking be alive. He was encased in ice.
“Vale!” she squeaked. “Are people trapped in here?” Can’t be real, can’t be real. I must be wrong.
“Nah. They’re statues,” Vale replied with an easy tone. “Some kind of tourist attraction, I think. Men and women will come from all over the world to view these frozen sexcakes.”
“Statues. Yeah, that makes sense.” A relief. A disappointment. A...mistake? “Statues” didn’t explain the golden god. Of course, Nola couldn’t talk about her experiences, so she forced a laugh. Maybe, if she laughed enough, she’d begin to find the situation humorous. “But sexcakes? That isn’t the word I’d use.”
“Why, Nola Lee. You’d rather call them life-size lady-boner figurines? Well, good call. I like that description better. Take a gander at this one.” Vale hiked her thumb at a dark-haired man with blue eyes. “Grade A filet.”
Were all the males alive, haunting people’s dreams?
—You are everything I expected.—
Was that disdain she heard in his tone? Yeah. Must be. An answering disdain shone in his eyes.
Her chest tightened.
Had he hoped to torment someone prettier? Someone stronger? Was he disappointed in her? Well, so what! She was disappointed in him for being too foolish to recognize her amazing amazingness...buried underneath her layers of disease, weakness and addiction.
She was a delight, dang it! Honest, kind and fiercely loyal. Rare qualities in this Dumpster fire of a world. She had so much love to give!
“Sexcakes is absolutely right.” She pointed to another dark-haired warrior. “I just made eye contact with this one, and I’m pretty sure I’m pregnant. With twins.”
Vale approached, her hazel eyes wide and dazed, her pupils blown. Well. She wasn’t as blasé as she’d sounded.
—He is nothing to you. Nothing! I am everything.—
He was...jealous? Nola rejoiced at the possibility.
She met his gaze through the b
lur of ice, about to smile. Then a new sense of foreboding stormed through her, stronger than ever. “I don’t know why I’m feeling the things I’m feeling, or what’s real and what isn’t,” she whispered, “but I have a sinking suspicion something terrible is about to happen to us both.”
CHAPTER THREE
What to do when your dishy dreamboat is also an assassin
AT LAST! THIRTEEN HUNDRED years of confinement. Thirteen hundred years of listening to the beast throw a temper tantrum. If the fiend wasn’t sighing, he growled; if he wasn’t growling, he roared. Always he enjoyed kicking and clawing at Bane’s skull, leaving him half-mad, his patience forever eroded.
Nothing but a broken shell, the cracks filled with grief and fury.
Worth it. The Terran royal had arrived. The woman Bane planned to use mercilessly to avenge Meredith’s death and destroy Aveline.
Something terrible is about to happen to us both.
Something terrible had already happened. One look at her, and Bane had wanted to bed her.
Me? Bed a queen? He’d rather die. And he would tell her so, just as soon as he found the strength to look away. Such exquisite beauty. She stole his breath, sucking the air out of his lungs.
I can admire an object without “wanting” it sexually, damn it. And yes, he considered her an object. A means to an end. Besides that, she was too delicate for his tastes. Too fragile. The slightest gust of wind might cause her to shatter. Had she ever wielded a sword? Probably not. As useless as the other royals.
During his endless imprisonment, Bane had trained his gaze to see past the ice. Now, he slowly perused Nolalee’s slight frame, absorbing every detail.
She had lovely skin as pale and flawless as porcelain, a rarity among Adwaewethians, even the hybrids. Other rarities included dark eyes with pinpricks of light, reminiscent of a starry night sky, and hair so black and shimmery the strands appeared cobalt. But the crowning glory of her physical beauty—bloodred, rosebud lips. The kind of lips a man yearned to have all over his body.
The hybrids would be utterly enraptured by their queen, willingly—foolishly—risking their lives to fulfill her every ridiculous whim. Not Bane. He knew what the hybrids did not. One day, one day soon, she would become a monster, the same change Aveline underwent. The same change every queen underwent.
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