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.