Frost and Flame

by Showalter, Gena

  A warrior who’d stripped away his defenses. I’m falling in love with her.

  No, no. He couldn’t love her. Not until she’d survived the Blood Rite and Aveline was dead. If he let himself love her, and she died, he would not survive her loss.

  You think you’ll survive anyway? Fool!

  Desperate for a distraction, he said, “Ready to view the battle through our link?”

  She traced a heart over his, well, heart. Clench. “I am,” she said.

  “Fair warning. It’s bloody.”

  “The very reason I need to see it. I want to witness what you and the others go through at these assemblies.”

  * * *

  BANE PLACED HIS hands on Nola’s temples, and closed his eyes. When he exhaled, she inhaled, and vice versa. Tingles grazed her mind, their link heating. Gradually, images appeared and brightened. In an icy valley between two mountains, over twenty warriors, both male and female, stood in a circle, Bane among them. A legit grim reaper loomed off to the side, dressed in a black robe and clasping a scythe. Where was—

  There! Vale. A beautiful warrioress with a cocky smile. No, a warrior, period, and Nola whimpered with relief. The last time they were together, Vale had been starved, freezing and frightened. Now, her sister wore black leather, appeared fit and healthy, and ready for anything—anything but an announcement about Nola’s death. Vale crumbled, and the sight broke Nola’s heart.

  Minutes later, some kind of starting bell sounded. The warriors leaped into action, attacking each other. As Bane had warned, there was blood, and a lot of it. There was violence and pain. To her awe and amazement, Vale held her own against every opponent. Anytime she needed help, Bane rushed to the rescue. Not that she or Knox realized it.

  Moving with the controlled grace of a jungle cat, Bane took out anyone who locked their sights on the couple, even when he had to injure Knox to remove him from the line of fire. Even when his own life was endangered, with different warriors making a play for his head and an army hidden on the mountaintops, firing long-range rifles. As bullets ripped through Bane and Zion, Nola’s stomach churned.

  “Erik rallied another army,” she said, appalled.

  “Yes,” Bane replied, his teeth gritted.

  In the memory, Bane plowed into a man who was sneaking up on Zion. The two fell, the wound in Bane’s shoulder deepening. Blood loss slowed his reflexes and erased his control.

  A glowing whip wrapped around his wrist and yanked him backward. He shuddered, looking like he was trapped in a grand mal seizure. The whip had an electrical charge.

  Nola had to remind herself Bane had survived, and he was with her now. But oh, if she could dive into the memory and kill the one with the whip, she would do it with a smile. The pain her beasty-boy must have experienced as he’d fought his way free.

  When that wreck-causing witch Petra challenged Bane and Vale, things got dicey. Knox sprinted over to help her sister, but Petra slammed her sword into the ground. An ice tower grew, blocking his progress. Unfortunately, the tower served double duty, hiding Ronan, who shadowed Knox’s every move, waiting for the perfect time to strike. Bane saw him, though.

  Merely pushing Knox out of the way would do no good; the guy was far too strong. So, Bane did the only thing he could. He slashed Knox with his claws. The wound sent the warrior crashing to the ground, Ronan’s sword swinging over his head.

  Vale raced around the tower, saw what Bane had done and assumed the worst. Unleashing a battle cry, she stabbed him in the gut. And he let her. Because the alternative was hurting her.

  Nola groaned, a hand fluttering to her mouth. “Oh, Bane. I’m so sorry.”

  “There was some kind of poison on her blade. I went motionless for several seconds, unable to move.”

  Yes, she watched as Knox lifted a sword of his own, intending to remove the motionless Bane’s head. But Zion saved the day, knocking Bane out of harm’s way.

  “Colt escapes,” past Zion said, vaulting to his feet. He, too, bore countless injuries.

  Colt wasn’t the only one escaping. Two warriors dragged an unconscious Erik, who left a trail of blood in their wake. Someone had amputated one of his feet.

  “I got the foot,” real life Bane said. “Would have gotten more if a male—Pike—hadn’t focused on your sister.”

  “Thank you,” she repeated. She owed him a debt she might not ever be able to repay.

  No, not true. She could repay. With Aveline’s heart.

  And she would.

  Past Bane’s paralysis proved temporary, as he’d assured. He lumbered to a stand. “Go. Take him out, and win the bots.” He ducked, a blade narrowly missing him. Without missing a beat, he stabbed his attacker with a quick jab, jab to the throat. “I verge on turning. I must get to Nola.”

  The images faded, real-life Bane lowering his hands and rolling to his back.

  “I hate that you have to go through that every month.” She shuddered and snuggled closer, resting her cheek in the hollow of his neck, tracing her fingers around the scab left by Vale’s sword.

  He kissed her brow. “I wish I’d made more progress. Wish I’d won more, done more. We’re running out of time. I...sense her, Nola. I sense Aveline. I suspect she’s done the unthinkable and come to Terra, but pray I’m wrong.”

  Panic and urgency collided, tangling in her muscles. “We can’t wait, then. We must perform the Blood Rite.”

  “No.” He shook his head, adamant. “No.”

  “What if she wakes the hybrids?”

  “She can create blocks, like yours. She won’t awaken the beasts until and unless she wants to. And she won’t want to until the end of the war.”

  “We can’t wait,” Nola repeated, sitting up. “Let’s do the Blood Rite today. Now.”

  “No,” he grated. Torment etched every line of his face. “You’ve been sick. I need your body at its strongest.”

  “Tomorrow, then.”

  He looked agonized. “Twice in my life, I’ve lost everything. As a younger male, I loved Aveline. We courted. I thought we would wed. Then she underwent the Blood Rite and became the monster who murdered the woman I did marry.”

  “Do you still think I’ll change?” she asked. Croaked, really. “Do you still think I’ll become a monster?”

  “Not even a little. But you are all I have, all I want, and I refuse—refuse!—to lose you, too. I told you I was keeping you, Nola Lee, and I meant it.”

  Beautiful words, lovely sentiment. But, if Nola didn’t defeat Aveline, she and Bane would become a modern day Romeo and Juliet. Doomed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  How to love him and leave him

  AS NOLA DRIFTED to sleep, Bane clutched her close.

  —Bane!—Aveline’s voice boomed, making him jerk with shock and fury. —Stop whatever you are doing and come to me.—

  Familiar words. This could not be happening.

  —Now!—

  He hissed a foul curse. The only way to communicate with him, sans the ring...

  She’d come to Terra, as he’d feared, bringing a thousand consequences with her. Or she’d strengthened exponentially. Either way, his fury murdered his shock. His hopes for a better tomorrow imploded one by one.

  No. No! She’d spoiled centuries of his life. Enough was enough. She would not take Nola from him, too.

  Using his bond with Nola, he crafted an internal block, just as his princess had so often done. Must have worked, because he ceased hearing Aveline’s voice.

  What should they do about her? If the murderess had come to Earth...

  Nola was right. He needed to perform the Blood Rite. A prospect he found as exciting and dreadful as his lo—like for her.

  He would begin hunting Aveline. He would find her, and he would secretly spy on her. Somehow, he needed to test her power over him.

  Sin
ce he had cut off her communication, he knew her hold over him had weakened considerably.

  Enough to let me strike her down?

  He could pick a time and place and summon her, testing the waters. When the time came, he could make his move. Nola wouldn’t have to be involved.

  The thought calmed him. All would be well.

  He put his nose in her hair and breathed her in, then drifted off, content...

  * * *

  NOLA AWOKE A short time later, her mind in turmoil.

  She knew how desperately Bane wanted to be the one who killed the queen, but instinct told her only a royal could kill another royal. She and Aveline would fight.

  She had to prepare for war. Bottom line: Bane’s fate rested in the hands of the winner.

  Her dread amplified. What if she performed the Blood Rite on herself?

  Nola considered what little she knew about the ceremony. 1) Must wear the blood of an enemy. 2) Must burn to ash. 3) Might rise again.

  Enemy...enemy...who qualified, other than Aveline? Uh, try lupus and fibromyalgia.

  Wait. Could she use her own blood without, you know, killing herself? Her heart began to pump with more force. Lupus and fibromyalgia had been her worst enemies for years. And burning to ash would be agonizing, but it wouldn’t be difficult to do. Rising again...yeah, that one came with serious snags. Would it occur automatically, or did something specific have to happen first?

  Did it matter? Once she initiated the Blood Rite, no one could stop it. In fact, Bane would be forced to finish it. If she started it, then alerted him, he’d have to finish it or watch her die.

  Already thinking like a cold, callous queen.

  The sad thing? For the first time, she couldn’t distinguish Dark Nola from Original Nola. They were morphing into one person.

  I can figure this out. With no conscious knowledge of Adwaeweth, she’d linked with Bane, teleported and misted into memories. I can do anything.

  Nola’s stomach gurgled, shattering the veil of silence.

  After I eat. Before this, she’d been too sick to hold down water.

  Careful not to wake Bane, she disentangled their limbs, surely one of the most difficult things she’d ever done—so warm!—and climbed out of the bed.

  She dressed in a long T-shirt, clean panties and sweatpants. But she didn’t head for the door; like an addict, she returned to the bed for another hit of her morphine.

  The sight of Bane left her gobsmacked. His golden hair was tousled, his features soft, his tension gone. He was almost...boyish.

  If her stomach hadn’t gurgled again, she would have crawled back into bed, just to be close to her love. Instead, she tiptoed to the kitchen...and found Zion seated at the table, sipping a glass of whiskey. A single-bulb lamp hung above, bathing him in golden beams. He wore a black shirt and leathers, his hair damp from a recent shower. On his hand was a ring she’d never before seen—Colt’s ring. It was metal, with a rounded silver top the size of a quarter.

  “I’m surprised you can walk,” he said, his tone dry.

  Heat infused in her cheeks. “You jealous of my sexcapades?” When a muscle jumped underneath his eye, she laughed and said, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  He waved her words away, downed his whiskey and poured another shot. “I’ve been waiting here, hoping you’d emerge alone. We must talk.”

  Her foreboding returned and redoubled, her empty stomach filling with acid. Needing a moment, she stalked to the minibar, selected a candy bar and bag of peanuts, then poured a cup of water before plopping into the seat across from him. “All right. Hit me,” she said, and popped a handful of nuts into her mouth.

  “Hit you?” He blanched. “I will do no such thing.”

  Gah! The language barrier was still a serious nuisance. “I meant, tell me what you need to tell me.”

  He sighed. “My dream—” he downed the newest shot “—it will come true...” Poured. Downed. “Very, very soon. In a matter of weeks. Maybe days.”

  “Wrong.” She shook her head. “Your dream prediction is a dud this time.”

  “My dreams are never wrong, sweet dreki.” He gave up pouring shots and drank straight from the bottle. “I have never lied to you, and I won’t start now. You will murder him.”

  She continued shaking her head, adamant. “I won’t hurt him, ever.”

  Gaze bleak, he said, “At first, I needed more time with him, time to defeat Erik. Now, I’ve come to like and admire Bane. He’s a fierce competitor, very strong, and he’s good for you. As good for you as you are for him. I...” He scoured a hand down his face. “You know I refuse to fight females, yes?”

  “I do.”

  His expression acquired a bitter cast. “I’ve won three All Wars, a feat few understand, since I’ve never killed a female. No one knows I dreamed of the ones who would fight and kill the females. I just had to put the killer in their paths.”

  Light bulb moment. Or rather, new logs tossed on the fires of her rage moment. “That’s why you rescued me. So you could use me as a weapon against Bane.” Breathe, just breathe.

  While she’d been busy falling in love with Bane, Zion had been busy overseeing his eventual murder.

  The bastard offered another nod. “In my dreams, you pick up a dagger. The blade catches fire, and you stab the Adwaewethian in the chest. He falls, and he does not move.”

  Her brow wrinkled. “Bane is impervious to fire.”

  “On the outside, yes.”

  Her hopes soared, then crashed. But what about his internal organs?

  If not for Dark Nola, she would have brushed away Zion’s concerns. But she and her dark side were one now, and it was getting harder to resist the littlest temptations.

  She shuddered. “Bane isn’t a man who lets someone come along and stab him all willy-nilly. He defends himself, always.” Violently.

  Unless she ordered him to remain motionless. Then he couldn’t defend himself.

  She’d entertained the thought before, but this time, she couldn’t dismiss it. Because deep down, Dark Nola, Original Nola, instinct agreed.

  I will do it. I will command Bane to remain motionless and stab him with a fiery blade.

  For the sake of my reign, I will kill.

  Blood whooshed out of her head and roared in her ears. Could she really take a chance with Bane’s life?

  Her shoulders rolled in. “I’ll leave and I’ll stay far away from him.” Bane wouldn’t willingly let her go. His promise echoed—I’m keeping you. He’d meant it...at the time. Once he found out about the knifing, he might change his mind.

  Might? Ha! Although, he had reacted to her confession about Dark Nola in the sweetest, kindest way possible.

  At the time, Dark Nola hadn’t been a life-or-death situation.

  Everything had changed.

  “I’ll take you to your sister and Knox,” Zion said. “You’ll be safest with them.”

  “Yes. Okay.” Bad news: she would sicken again. Good news: the link with Bane would be blocked as soon as she did. He wouldn’t be able to look through her eyes, or talk to her. Or visit her. Or touch her.

  Don’t you dare cry. You are a royal. Act like one! Rise above for the greater good!

  “You don’t have to worry. I’ll work with Bane until the final battle. I’ll protect your sister.” Zion stood, the barest hint of pain flashing over his features.

  “Are you injured?” she asked, concerned.

  “Knox stabbed me, and I have yet to heal. Bastard must have poisoned his blade.” He traced his thumb over Colt’s ring, saying, “I tagged your sister with a bot. I can find her anywhere, anytime.”

  Then her time with Bane was over. Why put off the inevitable? “Just...give me a minute.” Nola combated those stupid tears as she tiptoed into the living room area, hunting for a piece of paper and a pen. She’
d stick with highlights.

  As she scribbled a goodbye note, she almost broke down about a thousand times. Several teardrops escaped, wetting the paper. Once again, life had changed in a blink, and not for the better.

  Though she longed to return to the bedroom and be with Bane one last time, she returned to Zion. One look at the love of her life, and she might not have the strength to leave.

  “Ready?” her friend asked.

  He was her friend, wasn’t he?

  Rustling sounds spilled from the master bedroom. Bane was waking. Crap! She whisper-yelled, “Let’s go, let’s go.”

  Zion opened a rift into an unfamiliar bedroom, with a brass bed, colorful quilt and crystal chandelier. On the wooden floor, a pretty pink rug.

  A tall, trim woman with black-and-white hair stood in a windowed alcove, studying the lavender field below.

  Vale! Nola’s heart tripped inside her chest.

  Zion stepped deeper into the room, and Nola followed, throwing a final glance over her shoulder, wondering if she would receive a final look at Bane. No such luck. The second the rift closed, aches and pangs erupted.

  “Hello, Vale.” Zion’s voice echoed through the room.

  Vale dropped a cell phone and swung around, palming a sword. Then she paused. “Zion? What are you doing here?”

  “He’s with me.” Nola gathered the strength to step out of the big brute’s shadow.

  Vale’s eyes widened as they filled with hope. “Nola? You’re here? You’re really here?”

  Even as her pains intensified and her limbs grew weak...weaker...she offered a wobbly smile—just before darkness swallowed her whole.

  * * *

  NOLA BLINKED OPEN her eyes and took stock. She lay on an unfamiliar couch, in an unfamiliar living room, with country chic furnishings. Vale sat beside her, color high and healthy, beautiful in every way, and smelling like the best dessert in any bakery. No sign of Zion. No doubt he was searching the house for traps.

  “There you are,” Vale said with a wide, toothy grin. She reached over to squeeze Nola’s hand. “I’ve missed you so much.”