At the other end of the tarp, two layers of air peeled back, revealing a live glimpse at the bedroom. The scent of honeysuckle and jasmine wafted to his nostrils, tainted by the metallic tang of blood.

Fury exploded through him, his muscles tensing. Ready to do murder, Bane marched forward...

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Does he want more, or are you fooling yourself?

ONE SECOND NOLA conversed with Bane, the next she heard a wealth of noises. Shattering glass. Pained grunts. A whistle of metal, a heavy thud and a loud crash. Animalistic rage electrified the air. What had—

Realization: Zion had stopped whatever he’d been doing to her mind, and now engaged in combat. With Bane, who’d gone quiet?

Oh, yes. Definitely with Bane. His scent cocooned and calmed her. He’d rushed to her defense, her safety a priority to him, just as he’d claimed, and she lo—liked him for it.

Such a fool. He hadn’t saved Nola; he’d saved the Terran royal who would deliver his vengeance. Would he ever want her more than vengeance?

By the time the world came back into focus, her aches and pains had faded. Bane, my sickness and cure. Her bedroom lay in shambles, furniture overturned, hunks of plaster and glass scattered everywhere. Blood stained the tattered comforter.

Window curtains were wadded on the floor, streams of sunlight infiltrating the room. Wow. The night had passed. Zion occupied the light, while Bane remained in the shadows. They were inches apart, panting and bloodier than the blanket, in the midst of an epic staredown.

Pulling her gaze from Bane proved impossible, the sight of him soul-searing. And concerning. The perma-gash in his shoulder had worsened, spreading over his collarbone. If he and Zion fought again...

Who was she kidding? They would fight again, guaranteed. Bane projected fiery rage, his intensity making her heart flutter, while Zion displayed icy determination. Soon, they would erupt. This time, they wouldn’t stop until someone ended up dead.

“Enough,” she called, vaulting to her feet. Miracle of miracles, her legs held steady, the puncture wounds healed. Not even scabs remained. Zion’s doing, or her own? Always before, her cuts and bruises had undergone repair at a normal rate.

Am I becoming immortal, my body preparing for the Blood Rite? How am I supposed to feel about that?

Figure it out later.

Nerves jacked, heart galloping a mile a minute, Nola moved between the warriors, arms outstretched to push the two rabid predators apart.

“Enough,” she repeated, glancing from one male to the other. “Back off. And don’t even think about arguing with me.” Every time she refocused on Bane, another layer of his fiery exterior burned away. Soon, only raw sensuality would remain.