Page 4

IRIS

Desperate to force the imprint, Vhex invades.

Lips. Hands. Tongue and snaking silks.

He’s good.

But Vhex would have better luck lassoing a cloud than imprinting my forever seventy-five percent ass.

His silks fight to weave mine into the fabric of his soul, but I don’t have to resist. I slip his grasp like my magic comes pre-lubed.

As his emotions shift from god-complex euphoria to stupid confusion, I work my side of the Guide-Sentinel bond and calm his chaotic magic.

I ignore the addictive, love-at-first-brush entanglement of our super-friendly souls.

It’s the same with every Sentinel.

Even though the connection is a false high, guiding always feels so fucking good .

I love knowing how desperately Vhex craves my healing. Even better—I love feeling him react.

Realizing I’m helping with his pain.

Anchoring into my body, more and more desperate to claim and keep by permanently tying our souls.

I remind myself not to believe the lies.

I’m just doing my job.

Iris Ashbourne, disposable multi-tool.

It takes a while before Vhex realizes he’s failed to bind our souls.

“Why?” he asks, so confused that his eyes fade from crimson to bubblegum.

I pinch his ear between my nails.

He jumps, and his hands slide, giving me a window to wiggle out of his arms.

“Such a good question.” I’ve been with Kevan and his obedient Deathguard Sentinels for so long that I forgot what happens when a rogue Sentinel sniffs me out as a match.

Instant cling . “Why would you try to imprint a Guide you’ve never met before?

And without asking? We’re not compatible like that. ”

“Bullshit.” Vhex follows my attempt to retreat, splashing bits of kobold. “You were fucking made for me.”

I keep him at arm’s length. “Do you even remember my name?”

“Wife.”

I shudder. “It’s Iris, and I’m not made for you. I’m made for everyone.”

“ Iris ,” Vhex rolls the name around his mouth, ignoring all the important parts of what I just said. “Wife. My Guide .”

The red of his eyes deepens as his magic pulses.

I wince.

Is it too late to transfer to a different guard?

I dodge Vhex’s reach. “If you’re the reason I spend my first day writing reports, I’m never guiding you again.”

“You’re new?” He asks, tilting his head like a cobra. The deep raspberry shade of his scattered hair promises he’s toxic.

I lick my lips, trying to erase his lingering flavor. Dark berries and smoke. He needs more guiding, but for now, he has to get it somewhere else.

After forever on that train and a fire-bath in magic, I’m sweaty and drained. I need a nap and a long shower before I can deal with Satan’s sexiest unicorn.

“I’m transferred. Not new.” With Vhex on my heels, I go after the backpack that I tossed. “Where’s your unit?”

“What unit?”

Sighing, I pull my pack off a rubble pile. “Your Guide handler? Your support Sentinels? Didn’t base dispatch a team when you radioed to report the kobold attack?”

When Vhex grins, a single fang pops past his lip on the right-side corner of his mouth. “You’re my handler now.”

Instincts compel Guides to like the Sentinels they’re compatible with—in my case, all Sentinels. Now that Vhex is off his rampage bullshit, I’m happy to report that this one is too bananas to squeeze out any more of my compassion. “Tell me that you have a radio.”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

Vhex wears standard combat boots, but his black cargo pants are as ragged as his smoking T-shirt. Other than the daggers holstered in the half-melted harness crisscrossing his ribs, he has no armor and no supplies.

“In here,” he says, tugging his belt buckle. “Help me look.”

Next time, I’m letting him die.

We’re saved by the sound of boots on the cobblestones. A squad of Sentinels and Guides in proper, caped military uniforms tears down the street.

Vhex steps close to my back.

Ignoring him and the greedy tug of his silks, I stride to meet my new teammates.

Please let them be normal.

I have to figure out how to make a place for myself here. I can’t let Vhex have me stumbling at the starting line.

None of my theory books taught me how to deal with an S-class like Vhex.

Experience fails me, too.

Outside missions and scheduled guiding sessions, Kevan and I led parallel lives. He did some of his duties, while I did the rest of his duties, along with all of mine.

I guided the Deathguard Sentinels plenty, but they’d never dare to cross my boundaries.

The bastards barely spoke to me.

“Uh…” The Guide who’s nudged forward from the squad looks like a total badass with two long-poled axes strapped to her back and dozens of metal pieces that must be war trophies clipped to the ends of her dark braids.

Her world-conquering vibe only slips when her wide, brown eyes dart between me and Vhex. “Sorry, Duke Trezzoran. We wouldn’t have followed the energy pulse if we knew you were in the field.”

Duke Whathefuzzoran?

I whirl to face the traitor. “You’re from the ducal house?”

There are only four ducal families—all Supreme bloodlines that produce S-class Sentinels generation after generation.

Kyorgos. Azrid. Mirta.

And Trezzoran.

The Devils of the West.

Trezzoran is more powerful than Kyorgos. It rules and protects a larger territory, and the family is much more prolific, producing dozens of dukes in every generation, while Kyorgos only has Kevan.

Vhex grins, flashing that fang. “Want to be my duchess?”

“No.” I clench my left hand, hyper-conscious of the dent from the ring-that-isn’t-there.

Duchess is a bullshit title, anyway.

It just means spouse to an S-class who inherited the family’s monster bloodline. You do all the duke’s paperwork and get none of their power.

But if my mother finds out I’ve spoken to a Trezzoran, she’ll be rabid, trying to sell me off.

Not to Vhex.

Probably to one of his rich, ancient uncles with better connections for Ashbourne to exploit.

I shudder.

Transcendents hate title-chasers.

I’m not doing this again .

I step around the devil in my way.

The woman with the double axes wears a shield-shaped badge pinned to her coat, marking her as the Farguard’s Warden.

My soon-to-be superior.

I swallow a mouthful of flutters. “Sorry for the lack of protocol. I felt the Sentinel distress and instincts took over. I’m Iris Ashbourne, S-class. Formerly of the Eastern Legion’s Deathguard.”

I don’t bother mentioning my old rank.

Even though I did all the duties of a godsdamned Guardian —the highest rank a Guide can achieve without joining Faervaine’s imperial family—Kyorgos kept me registered as Kevan’s consort.

Ugh.

I’d be mad, but yet again, the neglect worked out for me.

The bureaucrats wouldn’t have let me run away to the Northern Legion if anyone had ever taken the time to properly test and register my power.

“Right. The transfer. My mistake.” The woman scratches her forehead. “I thought that was a joke?”

“Not a joke.”

“Well, once you’re here, you’re ours. Don’t even think about leaving.” Offering a broad and seemingly genuine smile, she reaches to shake my hand. “I’m the Farguard’s warden, Cherise Dell, A-class Guide. Just call me Cherise. Welcome to the chaos.”

“Thanks. I hope I can be helpful.” Her smile eases a little bit of my tension.

She’s A-class, so her aura is weaker than mine, but raw power isn’t enough to rank up as a Guide.

Especially not out here.

You have to put in the work.

Cherise must’ve killed enough monsters and saved enough Sentinels to earn the Warden’s badge.

I’m happy to serve her tea or fight at her side.

As long as there’s a place for me.

Cautiously optimistic, I reach to return her shake. Before our hands touch, Vhex clamps my wrist.

“Your Grace?” Cherise asks in a pinched voice.

“She’s not for you,” Vhex says, dangerously low. The hellfire I worked so hard to tame reignites as his soul-silks bristle in red-hot porcupine spikes. “She’s mine .”

My heart skips, but I’m better than my biology.

I don’t care if Vhex is an S-class and a duke.

I’m an S-class, too, and I’m here to fight.

Not to be an accessory.

“Let. Go .” I pry off Vhex’s fingers as I wrench away my silks.

It goes against all my instincts to pull away from a Sentinel who needs me.

But look what happened the last time I didn’t protect myself.

Until Vhex learns to behave, he’s not getting one wisp of my help.

Forced to let go, Vhex looms between me and Cherise. His eyes darken to crimson as he scans the Sentinels in her squad. “Stop looking at my Guide. We’re exclusive.”

“We are not.” I push past Vhex as flames pool underneath his boots.

The squad backpedals so fast, this can’t be their first time getting singed.

The Trezzorans hail from the devils’ supreme bloodline. They’re apex-tier predators, just like Kevan Kyorgos, who bears the power of a lich king.

With Sentinels that strong?

Blink wrong and you’re gone.

Vhex is as volatile as he is powerful, and he’s probably running their guard ragged, dominating lesser Sentinels and draining Guides like he’s sucking down juice boxes.

That’s over if he wants to work with me.

I turn to Cherise. “How many S-Classes are assigned to the Farguard?”

“Three Sentinels,” she answers quickly. “One imprinted. We lost our only S-Class Guide to a wyvern spawn.”

My gut tightens. “You’re fighting wyverns with only three S-Classes?”

No wonder the other Guide died.

“It’s not as bad as you’re imagining,” Cherise insists. “The dukes are their own army.”

Dukes.

Fantastic. There’s more than one of them.

I rub between my eyebrows. “So, I’ll be responsible for guiding Vhex and?—”

“ Only Vhex,” the man in question snarls.

Cherise swallows. “Also our Sword Major. Duke Remington Azrid.”

Azrid. The Vampires of the North.

I’ve never met Remington, but I’ve read his name in my history books.

He used to be a legendary general.

Now, there are only rumors of his decline.

People say he feeds on monsters.

And on Guides…

If I’d realized the Farguard was his guard, then maybe?—

No.

Nothing would’ve changed.

I have nowhere else to run.

Ashbourne has no ties to Azrid.

This is the only guard isolated enough to guarantee that I’ll never cross paths with anyone from my old life.

Now that I have a better grasp on the situation—and my fate—I nod. “Can you spare someone to lead me to the base? I’d like to swear my oath today.”

I squeeze my fingers.

I won’t be able to relax until it’s done.

I’ll even volunteer to make my pledge in blood.

Vhex steps into my path. “Your duty is right here.”

He watches me and only me, as if no one and nothing else exists. His intensity has my skin blushing blue, my soul itching to come out and give him that full-body service.

Down, girl.

He has to earn it.

I keep my soul to myself, only speaking to Warden Cherise. “Can you arrange compatibility tests for me and all the Sentinels in the guard? My match data wasn’t put on my record.”

“Re-testing is standard out here. We can’t access the central data bank.” Her gaze flicks to Vhex. “But…”

“Who kept you from me?” His voice roughens. The pressure of his building magic makes my ears pop.

“My family didn’t want it spread, but I match every Sentinel at seventy-five percent.” I finally turn to Vhex and hit him with an eye roll. “It’s not just you.”

After a pause of a breath, I think I’ve gotten through to him.

Then he summons a smile from the seventh circle of hell. “It’ll be me. After the others are gone.”

I shudder.

Sentinels inherit the monstrous traits of their bloodlines. Like Kevan, the cold, cruel lich.

I lived with his coldness, but at least he mostly kept his cruelty to the battlefield. “Being a devil doesn’t give you a free pass for mass murder.”

“Who asked for a pass?” His soul-silks graze my skin, trying to draw out a response.

I rub goosebumps, turning to Cherise. “Should we head to the base?”

“Yeah. The major will take care of...” She gestures in Vhex’s general direction.

I hope that means Sword Major Azrid has a way of handling the human-shaped pile of possessive bullshit that I just stepped in up to the thigh.

The warden efficiently splits her team. Half the force stays to clean up Vhex’s splattered kobolds before the scent attracts something worse. She and the other half escort me beyond the empty town.

Vhex follows close enough to read my sweater tag. He smells like smoke and sweat with that sweet, distracting hit of raspberry dipped in ash.

The more I fight the incessant pull of his soul, the more his energy nips at me.

His psychic touch drags like hundreds of little mouths, all over my body.

All . Over.

I shift the straps of my backpack to stop my nipples from giving my new squad a full salute.

Vhex is a ticking bomb that my entire body aches to defuse.

And honestly?

I’m banking on the brain-melting power of devil-sex. I need something to overwrite my memories of icicle dick.

Kevan always looked me in the eye while he fucked me, whispering “ Mine .”

I swallow a sudden lump.

I’ll never believe another Sentinel is sincere.

I don’t need to be wanted like that.

I just want to prove that I’m worth keeping around.

“You’re ignoring me,” Vhex says, sounding confused. He follows so closely that he kicks my heel every few steps.

Not ignoring.

Training.

I look away from Vhex’s temptingly glistening chest. It’s more important to watch out for monsters hidden in the crumbling buildings around the fringes of the town.

After a hike down and up the slope of a long-ruined highway underpass, the base comes into view. The main building is a generic, four-story office tower that looks totally out of place, surrounded by barbed wire and magic-enforced perimeter walls made of solid stone.

My gaze snaps to the corner near the roof.

A strange feeling wiggles past my shoulder blades, speeding up my heart. “What’s on the top floor?”

“Nothing,” Vhex says and cracks his knuckles. “It’ll be empty soon.”

“The gate’s opening,” Cherise calls from ahead.

I hurry through the overgrown grass.

I hope Duke Azrid is easier to handle.

He can’t be worse than Vhex.