New curses burst from him.
Meredith struggled...at first. Then black lines—death lines—branched over her face, beginning where Aveline’s hands rested, and she stilled, utterly subdued. Blood leaked from her eyes and poured from her nostrils.
Fresh tears streaked down his cheeks. The Touch of Death. Aveline’s unique ability in action.
As his precious wife gasped for breath she couldn’t catch, her mouth flailing open and closed, blood painted her teeth and dribbled down her chin. Still he fought. Get to her! Just have to get to her, and she’ll be all right. He would transfuse her with his blood. Every drop, if necessary. His life for hers. A worthy sacrifice. Muscles and tendons tore, the pain excruciating. Stars winked through his vision. And yet, the compulsion to remain in place never wavered.
Then Meredith’s head lulled forward, her body going lax.
“No!” Was she de—gone?
Aveline punched a fist through his wife’s chest cavity, ripping out her heart. Micah released her body, and Meredith crashed to the floor, the pop of breaking bones ringing out.
She was. She was gone. Dead. Guilt, grief and betrayal stabbed Bane, leaving his heart in ruins. Meredith was dead, and Aveline had done it. The woman he’d once loved, once planned to wed, had killed the woman he did love and had wed. She’d treated their shared history like garbage. Treated Bane as nothing. Less than nothing.
The queen met his gaze, grinned and bit into his wife’s heart. As she closed her eyes, savoring the influx of strength, he threw back his head and shouted to the rafters until his lungs threatened to collapse.
“Be quiet,” Aveline snapped.
Helpless to obey, panting, he dropped his hands to his sides and sagged to his haunches. He’d failed his precious wife, and he didn’t...he couldn’t...
The queen finished off the organ and approached him, just as graceful as before. With two fingers under his chin, she forced his attention up. “Do you wish to strike at me, warrior?” Blood stained her teeth.
“I do.” Rage blistered him, the need to lash out stronger than ever before, her every inhalation an unforgivable offense. He would give anything to strike at her. And, if he couldn’t end her himself, he would find another way.
Or another queen.
Forget the toxic cycle. Bane would serve anyone but Aveline.
Even the princesses on Terra, whoever they happened to be. When one came of age, he would be able to pick her from a crowd of thousands. He would find and protect her until he won the All War. Just before Aveline arrived to claim her prize, he would perform the Blood Rite, awakening hybrids. The High Council would assume Bane had sired them during his years of combat, which was perfectly legal.
The new queen could fight and kill Aveline.
Ramifications? Yes. He wouldn’t be the one to deliver the deathblow.
Did it matter? One way or another, Aveline had to die.
Hope kindled, a flame in need of fuel. “You’re right,” he said, glaring. “I’ll go to Terra, and I’ll win the war. One day, my smiling face will be the last thing you see before a sword is driven into your black heart.”
She patted his cheek and smiled, pleased. “I look forward to your attempt.”
CHAPTER ONE
How to melt his icy exterior!
—Nola Lee, Oklahoma Love Match Magazine
AD 701, human timeline
103rd All War, Month 2
Terra
KILL. NO MERCY.
On the trail of his next target, Bane skulked through a Terran jungle. Sweat drenched him, draining his strength, but a rush of adrenaline kept him going, feeding his ravenous muscles. Massive trees abounded, their interwoven limbs forming a leafy canopy, blocking the sun’s too-harsh rays. A blessing and a curse. Those gnarled limbs also placed intractable walls in his path, slowing his progress.
Hurry! As he maneuvered around another tangle of vegetation, menace accompanied his every step. He did his best to remain in the shadows. Monkeys watched him from the trees, wary and frightened. Did they sense a predator greater than themselves?
An ever-present fury clung to him like a second skin, worsened by the sweltering heat and thick veil of humidity. Beneath his fury, the need for vengeance remained unflinching. A lifeline. His only friend. Maintain your focus. Do not think of Meredith.
Gloriously strong Meredith.
He bit his tongue, tasting blood, and forced his mind on the hunt at hand.
He carried no weapons; he had no need. I am the weapon. His target owned a mystical sword known as The Blood Drinker, able to cause unfixable wounds. To strike at Aveline with such a blade...to hear her screams...to watch her writhe in agony...
I must have it! According to one of three All War rules, each combatant was allowed to bring a single item from home. Thirty-nine warriors meant thirty-nine weapons to claim. To activate a weapon, you had to kill its owner. Since Bane had known he could steal from combatants as well as native dwellers known as vikings, he’d brought a pair of goggles to protect his eyes.
So far, he’d killed a single soldier, winning a dagger able to turn its handler into mist. But the beast had burst from its cage, and shredded the metal like paper.
Today, he would kill a male named Valor, acquiring and activating The Blood Drinker.
Bane would have to remove Valor’s head or heart, or burn his body to ash. The only ways to end a combatant. Even the fire-breathers like Bane could be burned, one blaze not always equal to another.
When he came upon a wall of gnarled limbs, he traced a fingertip over the Rifters on his left hand. Every combatant owned Rifters, three crystal rings able to create a one-minute portal anywhere within the Terran realm. As the rings vibrated, he waved in the direction of the limbs. Two layers of air split apart, creating a doorway through the obstacle.
Animals and insects created the perfect soundtrack as he walked to the other side. Birds squawked, frogs croaked and locusts buzzed. A jungle cat roared. The beast shoved an answering roar past his lips, the animalistic sound echoing from the trees. The rest of the forest went silent, and he paused to listen for any sign of his enemy’s approach.
Nothing. Inhale, exhale. Good, that’s good.
Beneath the scent of earth and foliage, Bane picked up his target’s distinctive musk. So close! Anticipation drove him forward. Soon, the morning sun would rise, putting him at a major disadvantage.
Kill the combatant, return to my mountain lair.
He yearned for the day he could slay every combatant and return to Adwaeweth. First, he had to find a Terran princess, ensure she reached her eighteenth birthday and train her to fight. Which meant the All War had to motor on, even if he had to start saving combatants. Therefore, he would contain the beast, however necessary. Even if he had to obtain a lover.