Buildings knifed to the sky. Waning sunlight glinted off strange rolling boxes with humans seated inside. Bane’s eyes burned and watered. He fastened his goggles in place, welcome darkness weaving through his sightline. Last night, he’d visited his lair, happy to discover his treasures untouched by time.

Bane turned a corner, losing Nola’s innate fragrance. The beast unleashed another roar.

Quiet. Bane paused to sniff. An awful deluge of aromas clogged the air. Some type of oil, sweat, clashing perfumes, pine and—there. Honeysuckle, jasmine and lavender. His blood heated, and his guts tightened. His shaft swelled in an instant, throbbing painfully. For sex. Any partner would do.

Gritting his teeth, he crossed the street and turned another corner. Her sweet scent intensified. So close! Impatience frothed inside him, and he feared he would begin foaming at the mouth.

Remain on guard. Bane had scented six combatants in the area, Erik the Widow Maker, Knox and Vale among them. Like the others, Nola’s sister had to die. But Bane wouldn’t—couldn’t—take a shot at Vale, or Nola would punish him.

Next time they were together, she could order him to die for Vale, and he would be forced to obey. She could demand he never seek revenge against Aveline.

Even after Bane had offered Vale a final two deal, Nola had chosen to remain with Zion. Because she didn’t trust Bane. He started to stiffen, but fought it. I am the only one she should trust.

How did he convince her to switch allegiance? Answers were beyond him, his mind a chaotic mess, the beast continuing to protest his actions.

Bane slammed his fists into his temples and snaked around another corner. Finally! The beast quieted.

Nola was close.

His gaze darted. There she was, his princess, exiting a building across the street. He drew up short, his wits abandoning him, different parts of him experiencing different reactions. His mind—relief and a crazed need to yank her into his arms. His heart—an ache. His cock—the most intense throbbing of his life. Harder than steel.

Pale and shaky, she leaned against a brick wall. Above her hung a sign. Pharmacy.

His translator supplied a definition. A place where medicines are sold.

Fury chiseled through a layer of Bane’s calm. The male courted her, procuring her medicine.

Could he truly begrudge Zion this victory? Nola had lost weight she couldn’t afford to lose. Half-moon bruises marred the flesh beneath her eyes, her cheeks ashen. One hand clutched her stomach. The other rubbed her temple to ward off an ache.

But the pills harmed her as much as they helped her. So, yes. He could begrudge Zion. Nola needed Bane.

His chest puffed up with pride. He made her feel better. Him, and him alone. But, damn it, why was she sick? There had been many hybrid sovereigns over the years, yet none of them had ever battled disease.