“James?” she asked, stalling. Deep breath in, out. If she had to spill the deets in order to move on, she would spill. “He’s my coworker’s cousin. He came to see her one day. Neither of us knew she’d invite him simply to introduce us. We talked, laughed and he asked if I wanted to grab something to eat. I said yes.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“What else did he do?”

“Nothing,” she said, her brow furrowing.

“But you are a royal. You are beautiful, smart, courageous and witty. You are a prize. Did he not give you gifts, courting you properly?”

His praise echoed inside her head, the sweetness intoxicating. Before she could respond, a portal opened up in the road, only a few feet away, revealing a shadowy forest. Horror punched her. Too late to swerve!

Horror must have punched Bane, too. He shouted her name. She screamed his as the car shot through the portal—

And slammed into a bank of trees.

Metal crunched and glass shattered, gnarled limbs forcing their way into the vehicle. Impact threw her forward, the seat belt preventing her from being ejected. An airbag deployed, stopping her face from banging into the steering wheel.

Though adrenaline surged through her, dulling the effects of whiplash and pain—for now—one side of her face blistered, as if she’d rested her cheek on a hot plate. Chemical burns from the airbag’s detonation, no doubt. A loud ringing sound clanged in her ears, and her vision blurred.

“Nola!” Bane’s voice sounded far away, but ragged concern clanged loud and clear.

She opened her mouth to let him know she had survived, for now, but blood spilled down her throat, choking her. Darkness invaded, mucking up her thoughts...

Blink. Suddenly, she was seated in the back seat of a sedan, healthy, whole and in her right mind. Her parents were up front, talking in hushed tones. Beside her was a car seat holding toddler Nola. Was she relieving the other crash again? Dang it, no! She needed to return to Bane. What if he was hurt?

“She’s a monster,” her father whispered. “We must hide from her, not with her.”

She who? Not baby Nola. No way, no how...right?

“She played in fire without burning,” her mom replied, glancing back at Nola with a worried expression. “That doesn’t make her a monster.”

Wait. They were talking about her, weren’t they? Monster... Her stomach sank.

Her father gripped the wheel so tightly, color bled from his knuckles. Voice shaky, he whispered, “She loves drawing blood from others. She loves playing in blood. She’s evil, honey, and you know it.”

Don’t cry. Don’t you dare.

“She’s my baby,” her mother said.

Protective, despite Nola’s faults. There goes another piece of my heart.