“Stay away,” Nola shouted at Micah, relish in her tone. It was clear she wanted to hurt him, that she craved vengeance...like a true queen. Bane wasn’t sure what to think, or how to feel, his every thought upside down and inside out.

The beast hovered above them, watching, no doubt trying to make sense out of what he was seeing: a comrade in arms guarding an enemy.

“You cannot stop him with your commands. You merely slow him,” Bane said, shoving her behind him. “Your orders contradict Aveline’s. As a queen who’s killed hundreds, thousands, she’s far stronger than you. As a warrior dedicated to her cause, Micah isn’t like me. He’ll have no desire to align with you, so you’ll have no real sway with him.”

Micah’s beast had a longer-than-normal snout, and an extra row of teeth, his scales red rather than green. Black claws tipped both his front and back paws.

As the bastard tilted back his head, preparing to spew fire, Bane computed facets of the other male’s plan. The fire would do no damage to Bane. But Nola...

Wings burst from Bane’s back. In a storm of fury, he grabbed a bag of weapons and Nola, and flew up, up, out of the decimated RV. They landed several feet away—and got kicked back into the air when the entire conveyance erupted in flames.

When they landed again, Bane palmed the first weapon he could get his free hand on—a machine that shot small, sharp pieces of metal known as “nails.” He hammered at the trigger, aiming for the beast’s mouth to discourage another fiery stream.

The bastard darted through the sky, zigzagging to avoid further injury, but Bane never stopped firing. The beast had nowhere to run. Or fly. Bane had chosen this spot for its lack of cover. No cover, no hiding places.

Despite a hot flood of adrenaline, Bane’s shoulder radiated pain through every inch of his body. Still, he kept hammering at the trigger. “Teleport. Now! I must transform.” Even as he fought it, he felt the urge to change migrating to his bones, his body preparing. Would rather die than hurt Nola. “You’re in danger.”

“So? I’ve been in danger since the moment we met. I can help you,” she insisted, then screeched as Micah spewed a twenty-foot circle of fire around them. Sweat trickled from her brow. “His fire won’t kill me, right?”

Sweat trickled from Bane’s brow, too. Over every inch of him, pouring in rivulets as tendrils of smoke thickened the air, shielding his sensitive eyes and skin from the harsh rays of sunlight. “His flames will begin your Blood Rite, weakening you so he can more easily kill you. Once it starts, it can’t be stopped. Go. Please.” He opened a portal through the flames.