Frost and Flame

by Showalter, Gena

  Desire sharpened inside him. She placed her mouth over his ear and whispered, “Someone is all smolder and no action, huh?” When she pulled back, she nipped at his earlobe. Then she trekked her gaze down his abdomen and lingered on the erection strangling the fly of his pants. Another dark passion-flush spilled over her cheeks. “Or do you want to hear me beg?”

  Resist her allure. Ignore the challenge of her words. Bane plucked her metal claws free of his skin—a travesty—stood and took a step back. “We mustn’t do this.”

  The disappointment returned, the stars in her eyes dulling. “Who’s the weakling now?” she taunted, and came to her feet.

  Resist! Ignore! But damn her, she played with fire. “I don’t want to be with someone I know. Someone I’ll see again. I want someone I can use, who uses me in turn. Easily had, easily forgotten. A relationship isn’t for me. If I were to care for you and lose you...no. I won’t suffer another loss. We will stay together as...temporary friends. You’ll keep my beast as calm as possible, and I’ll keep you healthy. No more.”

  Now the flush drained away. “Message received. No nookie hooky. Got it. So. Tell me about the All War. Please,” she added, gathering the medical supplies and returning the bundle to the trunk he’d left here yesterday. “Do combatants spend their days hunting and killing each other?”

  “Or setting traps. Once a month we attend an Assembly of Combatants.”

  “Mandatory, I assume.”

  “Yes. It forces hiders out of hiding and speeds up the war. Speaking of the assembly, the next one takes place in two and a half weeks.” Time ticked away without pause or mercy, his self-imposed deadline closing in fast. The end of the war, the end of Aveline.

  The end of his life.

  Not ready to die. So much left to do...things I’m desperate to do with Nola.

  His hands curled into fists. Focus up. Would her sister be ready for the assembly?

  The muscles in her shoulders tangled with tension, and he knew she’d wondered the same thing. Without aid, Vale would most certainly be killed in one horrific way or another. A fact Bane could use to advance his agenda.

  Terrible of him? Yes. Did he care? Not a bit.

  “I have an idea,” he said. “If Vale takes the Mark of Disgrace, she can exit the war without death.”

  “Mark of Disgrace?”

  “A symbol will be carved on her forehead, telling the other combatants to leave her be. Usually, deserters are returned to their sovereign for punishment. She’ll simply stay here.”

  Nola’s shoulders rolled in. “I know her well. She’ll refuse. She’ll want to win the war to protect the world from invaders.”

  “Then you can order me to guard her at the assembly. At every assembly,” he said, preparing to bargain. “However, as Aveline will soon learn, there’s a difference between what a willing warrior will do to achieve a goal versus an enslaved one. One lets your sister get hurt, while adhering to the order to keep her alive. The other ensures she emerges unscathed. Guess which is which.”

  She licked her lips, and damn it to hell, he couldn’t stop himself from clocking the action with his gaze. “What do you want in exchange for your cooperation?”

  “I’ll protect Vale from harm and death at every assembly except the last one. Unless and until we are the final two combatants, I won’t strike at her, even if she strikes at me.” The beast, however... “In return, you will agree to complete the Blood Rite whenever I deem it necessary.”

  * * *

  NOLA’S MOUTH FLOUNDERED open and closed, choked sounds leaving her. Should she accept right away, lest he change his mind? Should she refuse and try to hold out for something better? Was there something better? Should she slap him for being so stubborn, sexy and infuriating all at once?

  The third option had the most appeal.

  He’d gone from looking at her as if he planned to devour her at his earliest convenience, to claiming he wouldn’t be kissing her ever again, to caressing her like she was the most precious person in his life. One moment, he’d incited the sweetest, wettest ache between her legs, the next he’d roused frustration, hurt and anger.

  The anger didn’t last long. The man had resisted her attempt at seduction for legit reasons, and she couldn’t fault him for it. He wasn’t looking for a relationship; she was. He’d suffered enough loss in his lifetime; Nola had, as well, and she’d once shared his outlook. Now, she disagreed. Shutting down to prevent pain never actually prevented pain. It just made you miserable before the pain hit.

  Nola had even given up on romance...not knowing a man was on ice, waiting for her. Had she not crawled out of her sickbed and gotten on that plane, they might not have ever met.

  Life happened, whether you gave it your all or only a half effort. Though she and Vale had planned for every eventuality during their vacation, they’d gotten lost and almost died. Nola was ready to live!

  “Well, princess?” Bane unveiled a glorious, sardonic smile. He knew he had her by the lady balls. “If nothing else, the bargain buys you time to figure out a better plan.”

  Finally! A full-fledged smile! It made her weak in the freaking knees.

  Concentrate. If Vale somehow won the All War, Aveline might come to Earth to execute her. What would happen to the hybrids if their beasts never awoke? Did they know they differed from other humans? Did they feel like something was wrong with them? Were they sick, like her?

  “Fine. I’ll agree to your terms, if Vale does, too,” she said, a familiar crackle of energy pricking her. She frowned and whispered, “Do you feel that?”

  Literal flames crackled in his golden eyes. He jumped to his feet and unsheathed his sword, the tendons in his neck pulling taut from strain. That strain flowed down, down his arms, ending in his fists. His nails blackened, then lengthened into claws longer and sharper than her own. His muscles expanded, no doubt deluged with adrenaline.

  Lines of molten gold forked through his skin—no, not liquid gold, but actual lava. Had to be. Heat flowed from him, his body like a furnace. Plus, she’d witnessed him blowing fire out of his mouth, an image branded into her mind.

  Nola marveled at him. A real-life superhero.

  Before her trip to Russia, she would have cowered before a man like this. Such fury! Here, now, the beastly warrior enthralled her. He is mine to command.

  No, no, no. Stupid dark side! I’m no one’s master. He’s mine to admire.

  “A combatant has just arrived on the island.” He scanned the beach. “Stay here, and stay hidden. I’ll deal with the threat.”

  Her blood did that flash freeze thing. What if Zion had come here looking for her, thinking to save her? “Did every combatant attend the same ‘how to put the little woman in her place’ seminar? Never mind.” Words left her in a rush. “I agree to your terms. With one—two exceptions. You must agree we can revisit our negotiation at any time, and for now, you can’t kill Zion or Knox until the end, either.”

  Slowly, with lethal precision, Bane turned to face her. Those flamed-filled eyes promised pain and death, his body vibrating with aggression. “You make me want to kill Zion faster.”

  All doubts fled. He was jealous. Smiling, she twisted a lock of hair and rocked from side to side. He might not want to like her, or care for her, but he already did.

  “What?” he demanded, staring daggers at her. Then splashing sounds registered, and his attention whipped toward the water. Snarls left him. “Our visitor is Union. He casts illusions, so you cannot trust anything you see. He wears a belt that doubles his strength, allowing him to break multiple bones in your body with a single punch. You aren’t to approach him.” Giving her a little push toward the jungle, he said, “In this, there is no reason good enough to disobey me.”

  Nola dug in her heels, saying, “If he casts illusions, how will you know what’s real and what isn’t?”

  He tapped
the goggles perched atop his head. “With these, I can see through anything. Now go. Hide. And Nola? If I transform into the beast, you are to teleport from this island. I will find you, I swear it.”

  Had she been strong like his wife, he might have asked her to fight at his side. They could have protected each other! But Nola wasn’t that kind of warrior woman, and she’d never rushed headlong into anything, especially danger.

  These guys were trained to kill. Heck, they lived to kill. Her skills revolved around a three-week self-defense course. She would be a hindrance, maybe even a distraction, endangering Bane further. On the other hand, if she hid, he would think her weak again.

  Did it matter? Trying to fight a trained assassin would be the epitome of stupid. Know when to hold ’em, know when to fold ’em. Live to fight another day.

  “Please be careful, Bane. If anyone hurts you, I’d prefer it be me.” Nola refused to glance in his direction; she didn’t want to know what emotion shone in his expression. She didn’t want to listen to his response, either.

  She sprinted to a thick bed of foliage as fast as her feet would carry her, and crouched behind a cluster of gnarled limbs, and palmed the dagger sheathed at her ankle. Every time a tremor swept through her, the leaves and branches surrounding her clapped.

  Less than an hour ago, Bane had gashes all over his body. He’d lost multiple pints of blood. If he got hurt...

  The moisture in her mouth dried. Why hadn’t she insisted he heal? Why had she used his injuries to make a point?

  Thoughts fled as a man—Union—emerged from the water and stalked up the shore, where he shook out his bright red mane. He was shirtless, water droplets sluicing down pale, marble-ish skin. His muscle mass...duuuude. He resembled a bodybuilder who’d been bitten by a radioactive steroid. The guy bulged. He wore leather pants and combat boots. A thick metal chain wrapped around his waist. The belt of double strength? Spiked leather cuffs circled his wrists, and swords rose over his shoulders.

  The man had come ready for war.

  Bane stepped to the edge of the tarp and moved his goggles over his eyes. How much would his sensitivity to light weaken him?

  “You made a mistake, coming here,” he called.

  The other man noticed him and grinned. He spread his arms, all come and get me. “You should surrender and let me take your head. The more you fight me, the more I’ll hurt you.” He wiggled his fingers as he spoke. Graceful motions. Odd motions. Then, cat-size scorpions crawled from the sand, each one focused on Bane.

  Nola swallowed a screech of terror. Just an illusion, just an illusion. Right?

  Must be. Her golden god yawned, as if bored. “I hope you enjoyed your day, Union, for it was your last.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  How to be his badass babe

  UNLEASHING AN EARSPLITTING war cry, Bane charged across the beach. Along the way, he unsheathed his sword. Thanks to his goggles, he knew Union had created an illusion of murderous insect-rodents. Creepy, but harmless. Still. Focus mattered. He tried to banish Nola from his mind, an impossible task.

  Kill Union, return to Nola. Protect her, whatever the cost.

  Whatever the cost, yes. A frenzied need to stand between the world and his woman—no, no, his princess—consumed him. Fury surged with new force, spilling out, sweat beading over his skin. If anything happened to the current “bane” of his existence, he would not rest until everyone paid.

  Only minutes ago, he’d confessed the truth to Nola: he wanted a release without a relationship. But he’d lied to her, too. Every time they conversed, he grew to like and admire her a little more, and crave her a lot more. Part of him already...cared about her.

  Can’t lose her. Not today. Rip out Union’s heart, and all will be well.

  Having researched the combatants, Bane knew this particular male enjoyed bruising and breaking the fairer sex. A crime Bane could not abide.

  Nola, in this bastard’s crosshairs. My future queen in danger...

  More adrenaline fortified his muscles with strength. At the same time, beams of sunlight scorched him, allowing the strength to drain away. Though he could breathe fire and walk through literal flames, he would forever melt in daylight, those harsh sunrays causing some kind of chemical reaction deep inside him. No matter. He’d trained for this.

  Union charged across the beach as well, and they met in the middle, crashing together. In unison, they swung their swords. Clang. Whoosh. Clang. Metal hit metal with crushing might, vibrations rushing up his arms, cracking bone; those cracks turned his bones into tuning forks, unearthing more and more fury. The wound in Bane’s shoulder opened up and lengthened, flesh and muscle tearing.

  Roars echoed inside his head, loud and long. The beast wanted blood, wanted to drink every drop and feast on Union’s remains. Soon...

  Never! But the farther away from Nola he got, the more he had to struggle to maintain control. If he unleashed the beast, the belt would be destroyed.

  Must have that belt! After he won the war, Nola would be able to activate any weapons he retained. She could wear the belt and double her strength the day she met Aveline.

  Clang, whoosh, clang. Bane lunged, swung, slashed and blocked, then blocked again, intermittent grunts, groans and growls peppering the silence. Never before had he fought Union one-on-one. Now he could say with utmost certainty that the belt did its job. Every time their swords clanged, a multitude of damage occurred in Bane’s body. Muscles tore and bones cracked worse.

  All the while, those insect-rodent illusions inched closer. He wondered if he’d been foolish to dismiss the critters. What if they could cause genuine harm?

  Not much was known about Union’s ability, his people relatively new to the alliance.

  Amid a whirlwind of violence, Bane alternated between swinging his sword and swiping with his claws. During a swipe, Union blocked and twisted his blade to sheer off three of his fingertips, severing an artery in the process. Streams of crimson spurted in a continuous rush, propelling the beast to new levels of malice.

  Pain is simply weakness leaving my body. Pain is simply—

  Screw it. Pain is a bitch.

  Considering he had yet to fully heal from the explosion, he should have grabbed Nola and run, leaving Union in their dust. But he’d decided to win the belt now, not later. By waiting, he risked losing it to another. And yes, there was a chance he’d also hoped to show Nola his battle skill and incomparable strength, proving he could protect her better than Zion. Or any male.

  Breaths heaving, Bane herded Union toward a cluster of trees. Shadows spilled over him, offering a measure of relief. Still the insect-rodents followed, drawing ever closer.

  Union dodged the next blow and pivoted, his gaze darting over the island. “I sense a female. A tasty one, at that. The one who visited us in the ice prison.” Dark intrigue radiated from him, mingling with darker anticipation. “Once I finish with you...”

  Do not react. In battle, emotion makes you stupid. “Now you will die badly,” Bane said, his voice so rough the words scoured his ears. He lunged, extending his sword.

  Union expected the action and blocked, only to pause and gape when wings burst from Bane’s back.

  With a powerful flap, his entire body lifted off the ground. He kicked out a leg, nailing the underside of Union’s chin. On contact, the blade attached to the toe of his boot ejected, cutting through skin, muscle and tongue.

  Crimson rivers trickled from the corners of Union’s mouth. Eyes wide, he stumbled back. Like Bane, like every combatant, he’d trained to fight no matter the extent of an injury, so he didn’t run. He even blocked Bane’s next strike.

  The insects-rodents—insectents—reached Bane at last, crawling up his legs. Biting his legs. Mild pain, wicked aftershocks.

  He cursed as his vision clouded. Damn it! The illusion did incite true harm, tormenting him. Weakness invad
ed his limbs, and he wobbled on his feet.

  If they harmed him this severely, what would they do to Nola?

  Union laughed. As Bane flicked and flung the insectents off his body, the bastard plunged a blade into his shoulder wound. Searing agony. Black dots in his vision. The beast roared louder, scattering his thoughts. All but one. Don’t transform, don’t you dare transform.

  Another thought aligned. Nola hadn’t teleported away. Her scent hadn’t faded. Why had he ever encouraged her to stay put unless things got bad? Things always got bad.

  “Go!” he shouted to her, even knowing he would transform the moment she obeyed. “Now!”

  Damn it! He heard no telltale sounds to signal her departure. No whoosh of air, no rustle of clothing. Fury graduated into rage, slashing through his calm veneer.

  Like any good soldier, Union used Bane’s distraction to his advantage, planting a foot on his thigh, stepping up and wrapping a leg around his neck. Intending to rip off his head? Big mistake. Huge.

  Even as the male whaled on his face, Bane made no move to defend himself. Retaining a tight grip on Union’s legs, Bane purposely fell back and rolled, flipping over his opponent. The male expected the action and lashed out with lightning speed, stabbing him in the side—a countermove Bane anticipated.

  He endured the newest flare of pain and blood loss with a cold grin, just to execute his next strike. As he unfolded to his feet, he slashed his sword up, up, raking the tip from Union’s groin to his sternum. The shallow slice didn’t nick an organ or bone; it delivered a paper-thin cut across his flesh, as hoped.

  Bane’s grin widened. The wound would never heal. And, with every action the warrior made, the cut would deepen. Welcome to hell.

  Union bellowed and jumped up, blood trickling from the cut. He must have lost the ability to power his illusion; the insectents vanished.

  To force the male into motion, Bane swung his sword wildly. Union dove across the sand and—

  No, no, not Union but his illusion. The real Union had rendered himself invisible—to anyone but Bane and his goggles—and now raced toward the ocean, hoping to swim away.