“Come on!” she snarled. Slam. Scrape. More tears. “I can do this. I can...” Her vision blurred. A sob bubbled up from deep, deep inside, unleashing a toxic flood of frustration, fear and everything else she’d buried while trapped in the mountains with Vale. All the panic. Hysteria. Uncertainty. And regret.

With her head bowed and her shoulders shaking, she allowed new sobs to overtake her. If she were stronger, if she’d fought harder, she could have saved Vale already. But she wasn’t, and she hadn’t. Worthless. Helpless. Good for nothing. Insults foster parents and siblings had lobbed at her throughout the years.

Well, they were wrong, and she would prove it! Trap Zion, and get to Bane. Just get to Bane.

A wondrous sensation washed over her, as if she’d injected extra potent opioids. Aches and pains faded. Sweat dried, and her heartbeat slowed. Nola luxuriated. This was the way she was always supposed to feel, wasn’t it? This had to be what “normal” people experienced on a daily basis.

She wanted to dance and sing, laugh and play...until the jungle vanished, walls of rock and crystal now surrounding her, different odors saturating the air. Old pennies, limestone, exotic spices and masculine musk.

Nola clutched her stomach. Do not vomit. What just happened? And why did four dead bodies occupy the far corner of the cavern? They were fresh kills, their blood only beginning to congeal.

Somehow, she’d traveled to another location in a blink, without the use of Rifters. How?

She was a baker and a writer, and these impossible things kept happening to her. No doubt a freak-out was imminent. But not here, and not now. Though terrified, Nola stood to surprisingly steady legs, gliding to her feet with a grace she’d never before displayed.

A low growl drew her gaze to the left. Bane!

Seriously. How is this possible?

He was awake, slumped over...and totally and completely naked. Blood and dirt smeared his bare skin while fury, pain and contempt blazed in those golden eyes. Mud clumped in his hair and crusted around the angry, oozing gash on his shoulder. Row after row of muscle cut his glorious chest, creating a bona fide eight-pack. Am I drooling? Like Zion, he had circular tattoos on his torso. A tree of life, a cluster of stars and an ocean wave.

Her cheeks heated as she skipped her gaze over his groin. His extra large groin.

Oh, hello. No way, no how his penis could be that big. Right? She supposed she needed to take another peek, just to be sure.

Back up her gaze went. Sweet goodness! Look at that thing. A Jumbotron galore, with—

No! Bad Nola!

Shivers cascaded along her spine, her blood warming as if...no way. As if she experienced sexual arousal without an upset stomach. Another impossibility, right?