Holding his gaze, she whipped her hips again. And again. The pleasure intensified, pressure building. They stared at each other, lost, never wanting to be found.

He took her hands in his, linking their fingers, and lifted his arms overhead, stretching her atop him. The rest of the world faded from his existence. Her warm breaths stroked his skin. Breaths that came faster and faster, increasing in tempo to keep pace with his thrusts.

“Bane...baby...” Her nails embedded in his skin as she threw back her head and screamed. Her inner walls milked his length, demanding his surrender, and he gave it.

Every. Last. Drop. He came in a rush, praise spilling from his lips.

She collapsed atop him, panting faster, shaking harder, her cheek resting on his uninjured shoulder. He released her hands and lay back, then maneuvered them both to their sides.

They cuddled for a long while, silent, letting their bodies calm. Although, he wasn’t certain his body would ever calm again. Everything he felt for Nola amplified—attraction, tenderness and affection. She fit him in every way. Even her delicate appearance. It was her armor. No one suspected a warrior lurked beneath.

A warrior who’d stripped away his defenses. I’m falling in love with her.

No, no. He couldn’t love her. Not until she’d survived the Blood Rite and Aveline was dead. If he let himself love her, and she died, he would not survive her loss.

You think you’ll survive anyway? Fool!

Desperate for a distraction, he said, “Ready to view the battle through our link?”

She traced a heart over his, well, heart. Clench. “I am,” she said.

“Fair warning. It’s bloody.”

“The very reason I need to see it. I want to witness what you and the others go through at these assemblies.”

BANE PLACED HIS hands on Nola’s temples, and closed his eyes. When he exhaled, she inhaled, and vice versa. Tingles grazed her mind, their link heating. Gradually, images appeared and brightened. In an icy valley between two mountains, over twenty warriors, both male and female, stood in a circle, Bane among them. A legit grim reaper loomed off to the side, dressed in a black robe and clasping a scythe. Where was—

There! Vale. A beautiful warrioress with a cocky smile. No, a warrior, period, and Nola whimpered with relief. The last time they were together, Vale had been starved, freezing and frightened. Now, her sister wore black leather, appeared fit and healthy, and ready for anything—anything but an announcement about Nola’s death. Vale crumbled, and the sight broke Nola’s heart.