“Can you use the wand to heal my shoulder?” he asked Zion.

“Of course.” Zion didn’t hesitate to jam the stick into Bane’s shoulder.

He hissed, pained, but remained in place. Head back, hands fisted, enduring. Hoping. Any blood left by the human would not affect him.

When Zion jerked the weapon free, Bane looked down...

Nothing had changed. He spewed a stream of curses.

Zion glanced at the wood, then the wound, and frowned. “That should have worked.”

Would he be forced to deal with the gash forevermore? With the danger to Nola heating up, weakness of any kind could no longer be tolerated. “Forget the shoulder. Once we’ve raided the warehouse and dispatched the army, I’ll turn my sights to Gunnar of Trodaire.”

“Gunnar is dead.” Once again, Zion crouched to clean the wand. “Killed by Knox.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll pick another weapon, then.” But which one? Emberelle’s time-traveling wrist cuffs still topped the list. But, like Nola, he now feared mucking around in the past.

A strange noise caught his attention, his ears twitching. Was Nola...singing? Bane had never before heard her sing, but he remembered she’d claimed Vale liked to refer to her voice as Cats Being Murdered. An accurate description.

Bane pressed a hand over his mouth to silence a laugh. Warmth spread through his chest. This must be joy.

Fingers snapped in front of his face, and he blinked. Zion stood before him.

He scowled. He’d gotten lost in his musings in the presence of a combatant. Yes, he trusted Zion—to an extent—but they were two men with the same goal. Survival. As things currently stood, only one of them could win.

“When you scanned his brain before, did you see outside the warehouse?” Bane asked.

“I did. For a split second.”

“A split second is long enough.” He scoured a hand over his weary features. “We will portal nearby, then.”

Zion nodded in agreement.

“Be ready. We’ll leave in one hour.” With that, Bane stalked off to join Nola. He meant to chat with her, but when he walked into the bedroom and saw she’d stripped down to those lacy undergarments, those plans changed.

He shut the door and turned the lock with an ominous click. Zion could wait.

“Don’t you dare try to talk me out of accompanying my guys,” she said. Her back was to him, her ass on magnificent display.

“Guy. Singular,” he all but snapped.

She pivoted, facing him, spied his straining erection and fanned her cheeks. “Well, well. My golden god isn’t here to argue. He’s here to seduce me into staying put.”

“No. He’s here to seduce you, period,” he said. And then he did.