Nola’s father jerked the wheel, and the vehicle swerved, barely missing the other-worlder. Tires squealed, and smoke billowed. The car flipped, once, twice, again and again, the sound of crunching metal assaulting her ears.

Finally, the flipping ceased. The car was upside down, seat belts holding everyone in place. Baby Nola didn’t have a single scratch, yet a metal spike impaled her dad’s neck. His head lay at an odd angle and his eyes stared at nothing.

Sobbing, struggling for freedom, her mother continually glanced at the shattered windshield. No, not the windshield, but the scuffed leather boots approaching the vehicle. Boots attached to the man who’d appeared in the road.

This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t have happened. This couldn’t be the way they’d died.

The man crouched next to the passenger side, reached through the opening, and grabbed her screaming mother by the arm.

“No!” real-life Nola shouted. “Leave her alone. Don’t you dare—”

“Nola?”

Bane’s concerned voice yanked her from the dark mire of her thoughts. Panting, unable to catch her breath, she blinked into focus. The images in her head faded, revealing Bane. He crouched in front of her, his hands on her cheeks. While she’d gotten lost in a memory she couldn’t have retained, he’d braved the sunlight to whisk her to the tarp.

Tears swam in her eyes. Can’t deal. Not yet. Too much had happened today. Bane had saved her from a mercenary, kissed her without causing sickness, rejected her, insulted her and saved her again. And she hadn’t processed any of it!

Now, she didn’t want to. She erected blocks around her mind. Maybe they were real, maybe they were imagined, but either way she would puzzle out answers later. The next time she was alone, probably. Or never. Yeah, never was good. Her chest felt as if someone had replaced her organs with rocks. And dang it, she needed to stop leaning into Bane’s touch, needed to stop seeking comfort from a man who considered her scum.

“What’s wrong, princess?” He pressed two fingers against her throat, gauging the quickness of her pulse. “For several minutes, you became mist. You were here, but not here.”

“Mist? Me?”

“A royal ability, I’m sure, unique to you.”

So he didn’t know what had happened to her, or if it would happen again.

Puzzle it out later, remember? “Forget the mist thing. You’ve got to check the island and I’ve got to unearth a first aid kit.”

Seeming to realize the intimacy of their pose, he released her and staggered to a stand. “Shout if you need me.” He strode away, his limp actually improving.