He needed more time to get his thoughts straight. “First, I must train you to fight.” Problem: if he trained her the way he’d been trained—the best way, in his estimation—he would have to break her bones again and again, so that she would learn to push through the agony. A roar of denial brewed in the back of his throat. “For now, get the rest you need. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

She closed her eyes, mumbling, “You stop my withdrawal and temper the effects of the diseases, but only when you’re close. I wonder if the next warrior will do the same.” Heavy sigh, muscles relaxing. Drifting away...breaths evening out.

The words destroyed him. He felt as though Zion had punched into his chest and squeezed his heart. Emotions are fickle, remember?

Never meet Nola Lee? Bane gave a violent shake of his head.

Confused by the conflicting deluge of emotions pouring through him, he continued stroking her hair. Though he wanted to hold her and never let go, he forced their conversation from his mind, a man on a mission. He extracted himself from the tangle of their limbs and stood.

After tucking the covers around her and smoothing a lock of hair from her damp cheek, his heart nothing but a hollowed-out cinder block, he stalked to the vehicle’s designated living room.

Time to respond to Aveline’s call.

Dread skittered through him, and the beast growled a protest. He couldn’t lie to her, but he didn’t wish to admit the truth, either. He’d have to be smart about this and guard his words.

Bane pressed his thumb against his communication ring. Light spilled from it, and Aveline appeared. The bitch had ordered her men to slay parents and children, yet she looked angelic, a white gown molding to her curves.

She glared at him, snapping, “You ignored me. Something you are only permitted to do if you are caught up in a battle. Yet I’ve heard no reports of a combatant’s death.”

The beast sharpened his claws and rammed against his skull.

Bane struggled to maintain a neutral expression. “Not all battles require bloodshed.” Truth. “What do you want, Aveline?”

“Micah contacted me. He was being held prisoner by a viking named Erik the Widow Maker.”

Bane cursed, but only in his thoughts. “How did Micah escape?”

“About an hour ago, a memory of a hybrid princess seemed to download straight into his mind. He bellowed curses about her, vowing to murder her, and Erik decided to let him go.”

Apprehension blended with foreboding, choking Bane. Micah had “remembered” what Nola had done when she’d traveled back in time. Aveline, too.