Palms dampening, she stumbled back and reached for her gun. The movement caught his notice, and he palmed and aimed a semiautomatic. While her hand shook, his remained steady.

Where was Dark Nola when she needed her?

Was this it? The end? Denial screamed inside her head. There was so much more she’d wanted to do. With Bane. With Vale. With her freaking people. She had beasts to awaken!

Finally, Dark Nola stepped up to the plate and seized her tongue. “Put the gun away—before I make you eat it.”

He bared his teeth. “I know you. You’re with them. The ones trying to overtake our planet.” That said, he pulled the trigger.

Nola braced, expecting pain. Bane appeared out of nowhere, the bullet nailing him in the chest. As his body jerked, she screamed into the cold night.

Took a bullet for me. Would die for me.

As she reeled—a common occurrence in his presence—he clawed the shooter’s neck. Gut. Groin.

So brutal. So savage. The man collapsed. Blood pooled around him...and she loved the sight. So pretty.

Her mouth actually watered.

“You think to hurt my woman?” Bane spit on the corpse.

So fierce. So mine.

Zion appeared next and assessed the situation with a visual sweep. “Good work.” He opened a portal and tossed the body inside, saying, “Partners.”

Her adrenaline crashed, and her teeth chattered. “We can go now?”

“We can.” Bane gathered her close.

An alarm screeched to life.

“We relocated their weapons,” he said. “Now, we only have a thousand more things to do.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

How to survive the big day

FOR THE NEXT two weeks, Nola played house with her gorgeous barbarian protectors.

Every morning, they switched hotels and often states. Sometimes they even switched countries. They preferred extended-stay locations with kitchens.

While being on the move had already lost its appeal, Nola enjoyed cooking for her men. Whatever she made, they devoured. Especially casseroles. The rest of the day, Bane and Zion would hunt combatants, strategize and set traps.

Erik would make trouble. He and his allies had a hankering for roasted beast.

In the evening, Bane and Zion would train Nola tag-team style, teaching her how to fight with her fists, swords, daggers, guns and any innocent object that happened to be close at hand. Like pens, pillows and cups.

All went smoothly, until Zion accidentally elbowed her in the chin, causing her to bite her own tongue. Blood had trickled from her mouth, and Bane had nearly shattered glass with his roar, almost transforming into Drogo right then and there.

Calming him had involved kisses, stripping, sex and hours of snuggle time. The man who’d taken a bullet for her had a major jones for cuddling.