Suspicions confirmed. Dread and aggression surged. “I’ve already done my duty for Adwaeweth, Hivetta and even you, winning two new worlds.” In return, he’d gained scars, nightmares and a deep distrust for others. “I have earned my retirement.”

“In one week, you will journey to this new realm,” she continued, merciless. “You will act as my representative and fight in the next All War. You will win Terra.”

Throughout the galaxies, there were thousands of other-worlds, realms and dimensions. Homes to different species, immortals and creatures of lore. As these worlds had vied for domination, wars had erupted, leaders eager to gain more territories and slaves. The more territories and slaves, the greater the likelihood of winning the next war, and the next. But, in the process, many of those other-worlds, realms and dimensions had been destroyed, rendered uninhabitable. In a bid to save future worlds, leaders formed the All War Alliance, and birthed the All Wars.

Each participating realm sent a representative to the newly discovered land, where they battled to the death. The whole planet became a gladiator-type arena. But there were problems.

As more and more planets were found, more and more representatives were sent to fight. And, because scribes kept records, prospective combatants were able to learn from the mistakes of their predecessors, becoming harder to kill. The result? A single All War could last decades rather than days.

Bane’s second All War had taken thirty-three years. By the time he’d returned home, his betrothed—Princess Aveline—had been crowned queen and decided she didn’t want him anymore.

At the time, he’d been devastated. He’d loved her dearly, had missed her with every fiber of his being. Then he’d noticed the changes in her personality and rejoiced, thinking, Dodged a bullet.

If Aveline ordered another warrior to pursue Meredith during Bane’s absence...

Fury morphed into white hot rage as corrosive as acid while raw panic hollowed out his chest. Another problem: Bane used sex to control his beast, bedding Meredith twice a day. At least! If he journeyed to Terra, he would have to go weeks, years, decades without a lover. He would rather die than betray her.

“In this war, my combatant will be at a terrible disadvantage,” Aveline said, unconcerned about the brutal storm brewing inside him. “The Terran sun is brighter than most, and shines for longer periods of time. With our sensitivity to light, measures must be taken.”

“Why not fight this battle yourself?” he snapped, his blood like fuel, every cell a blazing match. “Are you too weak? Too cowardly?”

Tone brittle, she told him, “Careful. I can make you cut out your own tongue.”

“I’ll grow a new one in a matter of days.”

“Good point. I’ll cut out Meredith’s tongue instead.”

Damn her. The price was too steep.