Frost and Flame

by Showalter, Gena

  Both beasts sprinted in her direction, the injured Drogo a little slower. To her shock and delight, Micah obeyed her, focusing solely on Nola.

  Red alert! Incoming dragon with murder on his mind... She stood her ground, chin up, shoulders squared, her stomach churning with more dread. Closing in... The closer they came, the more she smelled soot and ash. The better she saw murder in their eyes.

  Had she made a terrible mistake?

  For this to work, Drogo had to want Micah dead more than he wanted to end a princess’s reign. Almost within striking range... If he still wanted to end her reign?

  Micah tilted his head back, preparing to roast her alive. If the Blood Rite kicked off, the Blood Rite kicked off. She had to believe Bane would find a way to destroy Micah and finish the job, ensuring her survival. But, just before Micah could expel a single ember, Drogo clamped his tail in his jaws of death and used his entire body to fling the beast across the sky, away from her.

  Yes! Her plan was working! Drogo was free to attack at his leisure, without any resistance.

  He dropped down, landing several feet in front of her, his every action stiff and lumbered, without a shred of grace. The look he gave her...ferocious, anguished. Her heart stuttered, then skipped a beat.

  Micah regained his footing and pawed at the ground, spraying hunks of dirt behind him raging bull-style. Then, he charged at her once more.

  Drogo charged him, the two colliding halfway. Again, to her utter delight Micah paid Drogo no heed, even when Drogo...

  Oh, good gracious. Drogo—utterly—unleashed. Blood sprayed, and bones snapped. Hanks of muscle plopped to the ground. An eyeball rolled away from the body. As he bit off Micah’s hands—yes, these dragons had scaled hands—he used his razor sharp tail to slash the male’s vulnerable underbelly.

  Despite his growing list of injuries, Micah did his best to fight his way to her. But, no matter the damage Drogo sustained, he always blocked, safeguarding her.

  Another swipe of Drogo’s claws maimed Micah’s remaining eye, blinding him. The beast swiped his stumps at his bleeding face, and her dark side thrilled, adoring the view.

  The male who killed my parents suffers. As he should.

  Nola began to wonder if she had more in common with Dark Nola than she’d ever realized; she wondered if they maybe...balanced each other? If Dark Nola was a type of beast she had to learn to control, the same way Bane had learned to control Drogo.

  With an animalistic roar, Drogo restrained the other beast, pinning him on the ground and slamming a fist through Micah’s chest cavity to remove his beating heart.

  Just like that, the battle ended.

  Upon death, Aveline’s soldier returned to his humanoid shape, scales falling away, bones shrinking.

  Once the metamorphosis completed, a naked man covered in blood remained.

  Nola swallowed a rush of bile.

  Drogo stumbled back and fell, and this time he didn’t rise. Dismayed and worried, she rushed over, skidding halfway. As she gently maneuvered his head in her lap, he issued a low growl, but he didn’t bite her so...win!

  “Be at ease, beasty-boy.” He was in pain, and she hated that.

  What had Carrie used to say? If you want a different outcome, you’ve got to do something different. Rather than resisting Dark Nola, she drew from her confidence.

  Ta-da! The answer—the “something different”—came to her in a flash. She needed to issue a command. That hadn’t changed. But if she changed his outlook...

  Petting his snout, she said, “In a moment, I’m going to heal you. But, as you know, I’ve got to issue a command to do so.”

  His whole body jerked. He huffed a shallow breath, then another, his large dark eyes wild and deluged with fury.

  “I need you to listen, okay? I am your queen. Or I will be,” she continued as gently as possible. Petting, always petting. “I guess that makes me your pre-queen. So get ready, because you won’t like what comes next. A pre-queen doesn’t make herself less powerful because others are afraid of what she might order them to do. No. A warrior rises up and does his duty. So, I’m asking you to show yourself strong, so I can do the same. Do not nurse a bruised ego or throw a dragtrum—that’s a ‘dragon tantrum’ to the layperson. Rather than lashing out at every royal, get to know us as individuals. Let me prove myself worthy of your scorn or respect.”

  He huffed another breath, this one deeper, but he didn’t attempt to flee. He might not like her tone or her words, but he was listening.

  “You earned these wounds saving me. It would be my honor to help you heal. My way of saying thanks.”

  Again, he didn’t flee.

  Deep breath in, out. Here goes. “I command you to heal quickly and painlessly.”

  Big, swiping shudders shook him, missing scales growing back. His wings straightened and realigned. Torn flesh wove back together. Even the shoulder wound healed somewhat, shrinking in both length and width, assuming its original size. Sweet! But also—dang!

  “There,” she said. “Isn’t that better?”

  Smoke curled from his nostrils, yet he projected little malice. What amazing progress for them both! She even felt her bond to Bane and Drogo amplifying.

  When two layers of air peeled back a few yards off, she tensed. A new threat? Or Zion? As Nola jumped to her feet and unsheathed Bane’s sword, Drogo hopped to an upright position and roared at volume “earsplitting.”

  Tall, dark and stalwart, Zion stepped through the portal. Warm relief cascaded over her, only to chill when he spotted her and the beast. The color drained from his cheeks. “Move away from the beast, Nola, and I will—”

  Drogo leaped between them and roared with more aggression, dotting Zion’s upper half with spittle.

  “No!” She raced between the two, extending her arms. “Please, don’t hurt each other. We’re allies, remember? We guard each other’s back—not stab!”

  Zion glanced between her and the beast, his eyes widening. He didn’t make a move against Drogo, and Drogo didn’t make a move against him. The beast did enfold her with an arm, flatten his claws against her belly, gentle so gentle, and tug her against him. A possessive action that shouted, She’s mine, and I would rather kill you than share.

  Dude. I tamed a beast who usually despises royals. Me. Pleasure blended with more feminine power, rushing straight to her head. Delicious.

  “You came,” she said to Zion. “Thank you.”

  He kept his gaze glued to Drogo, the bigger threat. “There’s a tracker in Bane’s boots. Erik had planted them on a corpse, in a cave, where he once trapped you. That’s how combatants have located Bane at every turn.” He switched his attention to Nola. “You’ll be pleased to know I passed the phone to Vale.”

  Oh, thank goodness! Now, when Zion and Bane informed everyone about Nola’s “death,” Vale would ultimately conclude Nola lived.

  “More combatants are on their way,” Zion finished. “I would have been here sooner, but I had to stop others from arriving first.”

  Nola told Bane, “You should throw the boots into a portal that leads to a seriously dangerous place.” Any combatants chasing Bane deserved what they got.

  Through their bond, he told her, —Go with Z. I must dispose of the body, so that your people do not launch an investigation or learn aliens walk among them.—

  I don’t want to leave you, she replied. Wait. Bane’s voice had whispered through her mind, not Drogo’s. Bane had remained at the helm, despite the transformation? She grew in might, and so did he. Because they were connected, the queen and her chosen warrior.

  Drogo-Bane nuzzled the back of her neck. —Do it anyway. When I finish, I’ll come to you. Be ready, for I plan to finish what we started.—

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  How to kick a third wheel to the curb

  BANE RETURNED TO humanoid form an
d spit out a mouthful of blood. Drogo snarled in the back of his mind the entire time. But...he and the beast seemed to be...one. One being. One conscious mind, with one objective—Nola’s protection through Micah’s obliteration.

  With a cloud of smoke collecting overhead, protecting his skin from the too-harsh sun, Bane hacked the male’s body into small pieces. “May your screams of pain echo into eternity.”

  He opened a portal above those shark-infested waters—a location he’d flown over before and after his imprisonment—and tossed the pieces inside. His boots received the same treatment.

  A feeding frenzy erupted, water splashing, the scent of salt heavy in the air.

  He ransacked his backpack, dressed in clean clothes and considered sticking around to ambush any combatants foolish enough to chase him.

  More time away from Nola? Not happening.

  When his little beauty had faced off with Micah, Bane had nearly dropped to his knees to worship at her feet. Warrior woman? Better. Warrior princess. Stronger than he’d ever realized. Braver, too, with courage to spare. Witty, fun and brilliant. Formidable. Loyal. Honest.

  And right.

  Once she’d told a very harsh truth. Only a hypocrite would admire strength in himself, but disdain those who were stronger...and only a hypocrite would despise her for having authority over him while making use of that authority anytime he required help.

  When he considered how terribly he’d treated her, how he’d once thought her no better than Aveline... Bane dropped to his knees and threw back his head, roaring to the skies until his lungs emptied and his voice broke.

  He’d been a fool, blinded by his prejudices. Her abilities, the very abilities he’d hated her for wielding, would help keep her alive in the endless years ahead. He could have her—he could keep her, death unable to easily steal her away.

  Bane could have everything he’d ever wanted. A loving woman at his side. A family to love and cherish. Forever.

  Dazed, he leaned back. A family. With Nola. Want that so much.

  What did she want?

  Frantic with need, Bane jumped to his feet. He used their link to peer through her eyes. He saw...a cloud of steam?

  Hard as steel, he opened a portal and stepped into a spacious bathroom, with chrome fixtures and black-and-white tiles, Nola’s dirty clothes piled on the floor. Inside the shower stall, water poured from an overhead spout, mist fogging up the glass door. The scent of honeysuckle and jasmine threatened to fray what remained of his control.

  “How are you feeling, dove?”

  “Bane?” She smoothed a hand over the door, wiping away a layer of mist. Relief pulsated from her. “I wasn’t as sick this time. I’m getting better.”

  Or the link between them had strengthened, allowing her to take more from him at greater distances? “Where are we? Where’s Zion?” He trusted the other man, in part, otherwise, he never would have placed Nola’s life in the other warrior’s hands.

  “We’re in Los Angeles,” she said. “A fancy penthouse suite in an even fancier hotel. Isn’t it glorious? Oh, and Zion mentioned he has some sort of present for you.”

  You are the only present I desire. “Don’t care about Zion. Want company?” he asked, even as he yanked his shirt overhead.

  “You’re not angry with me?” she asked, hesitant.

  He tried to hide his flinch. She expects me to return to my default setting and punish her for issuing commands. “I’m grateful to you. You patched us up. Am I happy you teleported back, putting yourself in danger? No. My life is expendable. Yours is not.”

  Her eyes widened. “Your life is not expendable, and if I ever hear you speak such a disgusting lie again, I’ll do damage!”

  The way she defends my honor. His chest bowed with pride. He knelt on one knee and lowered his head, saying, “Many times in many ways I did you wrong. From this moment forward, I will do what’s right. You might be a princess, but you are my queen. I trust you, Nola, and your command is my privilege.”

  “I... You... What?” Just before mist returned to the door, shielding her face—a travesty he could not bear—she gaped at him, openmouthed. “Okay. You are absolutely, positively invited to attend my shower. Fair warning, I expect you to put out.”

  Put out...a fire? His translator supplied her meaning a moment later. Get laid. Nookie. Horizontal mambo. Sex. Ahhhh. His lusty royal desired him still, and he felt the urge to bang his fists against his chest. “I’ll put out for you, dove, but you’ll owe me.”

  She snorted. “Hey! You’re getting our roles switched. In this relationship, you’re the hot piece of beefcake, and I’m the funny, smart, gorgeous one.” Her eyes widened. “Uh-oh. I just used the R word. Are you about to freak? Or maybe you kinda sorta...like the idea?”

  “I love the idea.”

  His words earned a reward. A bright and happy smile he longed to view every day for the rest of eternity. “I’m yours, and you’re mine? I get to keep you?”

  “You say get to... I say must.” He shrugged. “I won’t be letting you go.” He stripped the rest of the way, kicking off his leathers, and entered the stall. Heat and steam enveloped him. “I hope you’re ready, dove. I’m about to put you through an assembly line of orgasms.”

  Nola stood on the other side of the water, leaning against the wall, naked, flushed and damp, exquisite beyond measure, watching him watch her.

  “If I get an assembly line of your orgasms, you get the show of a lifetime.” She cupped her breasts, then slid one hand down the flat plane of her stomach.

  As her fingers teased the tuft of inky hair between her legs, he swallowed a groan. When a droplet of water dripped from her nipple, the groan escaped, anyway.

  Voice raw, dark seduction, she said, “I’ve never gotten dirty while getting clean. This should be fun.”

  The barest hint of a grin appeared. “Did you miss me?”

  “More than I’ve ever missed anything.” He stalked under the hot spray of water and pulled her against him. “Does it please you to know I hurried to reach you?”

  “Mmm.” She traced her hands up his chest. “It does, yes. But it surprises me, too.”

  Rock hard and throbbing, he fit his nose in the hollow of her neck and breathed deeply. Like inhaling sex. “I don’t like that you put yourself in danger,” he said, combing his fingers through her wet hair. “But I’m pleased with the outcome. Your bravery is commendable.”

  She beamed at him. “Well, I’ve come to like Drogo. I’d totally swipe right for him. And you! Two for the price of one.”

  According to his translator, “swipe right” meant she found both Bane and beast sexually attractive. He smiled, nipped her earlobe and whispered, “That pleases me more.”

  Playful, she teased, “All I ask is that you don’t fall in love with me. Got too much on my plate to deal with an immortal stalker.”

  The words were spoken in jest, and yet, that smile...

  Comprehension. I’m halfway in love with her already.

  Dazed, Bane washed every inch of her. Her curves maddened him. The throbbing in his shaft worsened, but he made no move to assuage it. He owed this woman so much. He didn’t want to take this time; he wanted to give.

  Breathing through the frenzied heat of desire, he shampooed and conditioned her hair, vacillating between ecstasy and agony.

  As she washed him in turn, he clung to his fragile control. Then her slippery fingers stroked his length...

  Perhaps he’d take a little.

  With a growl, he pressed her against the wall and slammed his mouth to hers, thrusting his tongue against hers.

  She kissed him back, rubbing and clawing, holding nothing back. “You make me feel so good,” she breathed against his lips.

  “You make me better.” He spun her, putting her back to his chest, his erection resting in the cleft of her ass. Kneading
her breasts, he turned his head to receive another kiss.

  She ground her backside against his shaft. An invitation. He glided one hand down, down, to cup her mound. As she mewled, the tone of the kiss changed. Control fraying. He slid a finger deep into her hot, slick core. Her inner walls squeezed him, then stretched to accommodate a second finger.

  “I will do anything you command,” he breathed into her ear, “but you will do anything I ask. Won’t you, dove?”

  “Let’s find out.” She arched her back and threaded her fingers in his hair. “Ask me for something. Anything.”

  “Not this time. Tonight, I give you whatever you desire.” He thrust his fingers in and out, in and out. “So hot. So tight. So wet.”

  Panting, she glanced at him over her shoulder, her bottom lip pouting. “What I desire is your fantasy.”

  “You are my fantasy.” Earlobe—nipped. Mouth—licked and sucked. “Do you have a fantasy you’d like me to fulfill?” To punctuate his words, he scissored the fingers inside her.

  Her head fell back, and she moaned. “So good!” But she whirled around, radiant, and rested her palms on his pecs. With a gentle push, she urged him to walk backward.

  His knees hit the bench, and he sat. The wicked gleam in her starry eyes set his cells on fire.

  “If you won’t tell me your fantasy,” she said, peering at his length, “I guess I’ll have to enact mine.” She licked her lips.

  Breathe. Her fantasy...did she long to suck him, as he’d always craved? Manage your hopes. She desires something else. Surely!

  Wicked intent gleamed in her eyes as she knelt between his legs and pressed his knees apart.

  She did. She intended to do it. Her fantasy is mine.

  Bane reeled. Tenderness swept through him, eroding whatever shields he’d managed to build around his heart. A heart now exposed to the world.

  Protective instincts told him to stand, to run, to portal away and never return. If he continued on this path, he would experience gut-wrenching anguish, turning his past into a vacation and his future into misery. But...