by Ivy Asher
Awakened and betrayed
The Lost Sentinel Book 2
Ivy Asher
Copyright © 2019 Ivy Asher
All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the author, except in cases of a reviewer quoting brief passages in a review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Edited by Denise Krekling
Edited by Robin Lee at Rainy Day Editing
Cover Design by Nichole Whitholder at Rainy Day Artwork
Created with Vellum
For everyone who got back up, after the world tried to break them.
Contents
Authors Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Thank you for reading
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Authors Note
This book is a Reverse Harem story,
that means the main character ends up with multiple mates.
This book contains swearing, graphic sex, and violence.
1
The last of the forest’s untamed trees flash by my window, suddenly replaced by manicured landscapes and the brick visages of Solace’s town center. On my previous visits to the heart of this caster town, I found it idyllic and homey. Now, I don’t find any comfort in the tidy images left behind in the wake of our moving SUV. Knox squeezes our interlaced fingers, the supportive action his attempt to break me away from the melancholy of my thoughts.
“What should we do when we’re done with the elders?”
The guys all shrug their shoulders at Knox’s question, but Valen’s eyes find mine in the reflection of the rearview mirror. We stare at each other for a couple seconds before he refocuses on the road, leaving Knox’s question hanging unanswered in the air.
It’s been three days since the lamia attack. Three days since I lost Talon. I’ve spent every second of those three days holed up in my room with the guys, avoiding everyone else at all costs. I’ve been unfazed by the visitors, or their banging on the door. Unmoved by the words and apologies shouted through the wood and stone barrier. Everything outside of my room has been met with silence.
That is, until yesterday when a summons was slipped under the door demanding my presence at a meeting called by the Elders Council. It seems their patience has finally run out at my offering zero answers and my refusal to see anyone but the guys. The summons didn’t exactly say be there or else, the wording was more flowery and embellished, but the underlying message was obvious.
The SUV dips down a ramp and Valen navigates into a parking spot. We pile out of the vehicle, our movement and the shutting of car doors echoing throughout the underground parking structure. The guys circle themselves around me, as we file into a stairwell and start to make our way up.
I don’t know if their positions are a conscious or unconscious decision, but it makes my bruised heart swell with tender affection. Valen and Bastien fall in behind me, Ryker is to my left, Knox to my right, and Sabin leads the way. Based on how they’ve surrounded me and the looks on their faces, there’s no question that I’m being protected. Everything about their countenance shouts, you’ll have to go through me to get to her.
I activate the runes on my sternum to allow how I feel in this moment to flow into them. This is the first time I’ve activated these particular runes since we discovered what they could do on the night the guys got their Chosen marks. But I need them to feel all the affection and gratitude I have for what they’re doing, for what they’ve been doing for me.
From the minute I was lifted out of the blood and ashes in the back of the car, I have been cared for, patiently listened to, and supported in ways I’ve never experienced before.
I’ve spent so much of my life picking myself up off the ground when the world got in a solid hit. With the exception of Talon, it’s been me relying on me. But that’s changing now. I’m learning that I can share my grief and heartache. That it doesn’t have to be me against the world. Not if I don’t want it to be.
Letting the guys in on what I’m feeling right now, seems a million times better than any words I could string together to express what they’re coming to mean to me. Acknowledging smiles sneak across everyone’s faces, but each of us stays quiet and alert.
We make our way out of the stairwell, and I quickly deactivate the runes.
A solitary caster awaits us. He gives a slight nod in greeting, then instructs us to follow him. I take a deep breath and slip my game face on. I’m not looking forward to what’s about to go down. I don’t want to fucking describe what happened, or answer any questions they may have about it.
I relive it enough every day.
I’m sure the elders have gotten detailed accounts from the others that were there that night. I’m not sure why my version of events is so necessary. What is it they think I’m going to add that they haven’t already been told?
The guys and I figure that this has less to do with my version of events and more to do with the Elders Council wanting details about my abilities. Unfortunately, there’s a strong possibility that they could want more information about what a Sentinel is, too.
As much as I’d hoped that the binding on my reading would keep what I am under lock and key, I’m pretty sure the fucking lamia just blew that hope right out of the water. If Enoch and the others were paying attention, the questions will start piling up for them. I suppose there’s a slim chance that the Baby Sentinel nickname Faron was throwing around in that cellar will stay buried down there, but I’m not holding my breath.
Between the weird pet name, Talon’s dying account of where I come from, and the display of some of my abilities, I doubt any of that is going to stay in the shadows like I want. Enoch looks like the kind of guy who doesn’t keep secrets from dear old dad. It just sucks that his dad happens to be a council member, and the jury’s still out on just where I stand with that lot.
The caster that’s leading us pushes through an ornate set of black doors, and we follow him into a room that seems to be an odd combination of courtroom and amphitheater. To my left, seated in a row of elevated desk-like tables, is the Elders Council. I recognize the thr
ee that I’ve already met.
Elder Balfour, portly and balding, looks back at me with an air of I’ve got better things to do. Elder Nypan’s smile is friendly and gleaming, and the overhead lights wink at me from his completely bald, ebony head. He really needs to have a talk with Elder Balfour about embracing the bald is beautiful movement. While Elder Nypan looks like Seal and makes bald look good, Elder Balfour looks like a plumper version of George Costanza.
Elder Cleary watches me as we all settle in, his bright blue eyes accentuated by short, expertly styled, dirty-blond hair. I see pieces of Enoch in his father’s face, but it’s just touches here and there, and it makes me wonder what Enoch’s mother looks like. There are two other elders I don’t recognize; one is Elder Kowka and the other Elder Albrecht, but I couldn’t say which one is which.
I pull my gaze from the raised position of the elders and find Lachlan and his coven of paladin seated in a type of jury box off to the side. It’s the first time I’ve seen any of them since they clustered around the back of that black suburban. My eyes connect with Aydin’s and Silva’s fixed stares, but I’m quick to look away and shut myself off. Enoch, Nash, and Kallan sit in a matching jury box on the opposite side of the room. Enoch gives me a head nod, and I answer the gesture with a slight lift of my chin.
The guys and I are escorted into the room until we’re standing dead center in front of the elders. Everything about this setup oozes intimidation and power. I’m forced to look up at the elders on their raised throne-like chairs that are tucked neatly behind a long table. There’s no doubt in my mind that they want us to feel small and less significant in this room. It’s all mind games, I tell myself, as Elder Balfour instructs the guys to have a seat behind me.
“Welcome, Vinna. We are glad you could make it and that you are looking much better than the last time we saw you,” Elder Balfour offers in greeting.
We assess each other for a second before I decide he’s waiting for me to respond.
“A summons is a summons, or so I’m told. I’m sorry the blood and ash weren’t to your liking. Here I was thinking I pulled it off,” I deadpan.
A couple of chuckles bounce around the room, and Elder Nypan starts to cough. I catch the smile on his face before he brings a fist up to his mouth, covering it up. Elder Balfour isn’t as amused, judging by the way the skin around his eyes crinkles when he narrows them at me.
“Vinna, we’ve requested your presence here today to address an issue that was brought to our attention.”
He pauses dramatically, and I wait for him to elaborate.
“Would you please tell us why you were found walking on the side of the road with no shoes, means of transportation, or a way to contact anyone?”
I tilt my head to the side as I stare blankly at Elder Balfour and process why he’s asking this question. My eyes flit to Enoch of their own accord, and I conclude that he or his coven are the source of these insignificant details. Enoch suspiciously avoids looking at me.
“I had a couple of flat tires and only one spare. I didn’t have my phone, so I was walking back to get some help.”
“And how is it that you found yourself driving around with no shoes and no phone?” Elder Balfour asks, leaning forward a little too eagerly in his chair.
“I’m sorry, is that illegal here?” I ask, confused, my eyes bouncing from one elder to the next. “Who cares why I didn’t have a phone or shoes? What would any of that have to do with you, or what happened with the lamia?”
“Vinna, we’ve been made aware that your current living situation may not be safe for you. What Elder Balfour is asking will help us determine whether that is the case or not.” Elder Nypan calmly informs me.
His smile is kind, and he folds his hands patiently in front of him while I contemplate what he just said. I look at Lachlan. I’m not sure why it matters, but I want to see just what he thinks about this line of questioning and the accusation that now hangs heavy around his coven’s necks. His posture is stiff, and his focus never wavers from the elders. A mask is in place, hiding any emotion, but I can sense the anger rolling off of him in waves.
He has to feel my eyes on him, but he doesn’t turn to meet them. I don’t know why for the briefest of seconds I thought he would. Maybe it was the glimpse of compassion I saw in him in the back of the death-soaked SUV. The way he looked at me that night, with empathy and brutal understanding, it’s been fucking with the unredeemable category I have him in.
“Two days ago, did you contact a Lucy Barton, and request her assistance in finding and purchasing a property?”
My head snaps to Elder Cleary at his question. How the hell does he know that? I sense the shifting bodies behind me, and I’d bet the guys are wondering the exact same thing.
“Yes,” I answer, offering no additional information.
Aydin shoots up out of his chair. “Vinna, please, you have to hear us out!”
“Quiet!” Elder Balfour bellows across the room.
Aydin looks pained and beseeching, but he sits back down and does what he’s told. The look on his face stings. The hurt that I see there calls to me, but I try to ignore it as I brick up my defenses even more. No matter how I look at things, analyze them, hold them up to the light hoping there’s more that I’m just not seeing… The truth is, I can’t trust them, and without that, there’s no hope to remedy anything.
His pleading eyes look for cracks in my armor. What right does he have to look at me that way? Like I’m the one inflicting injury. Fuck him. Fuck them.
“You are underage Vinna, and until you’ve had your awakening, you are not allowed to be on your own,” Elder Nypan politely tells me, pulling me from my thoughts.
Fucking hell, not this again! I’m twenty-two, an adult in the eyes of the country we live in, shouldn’t that be enough?
“I’ve been on my own for a long time now; I can take care of myself. I have the means and ability to do it, and I don’t see what the problem is. The situation with Lachlan and his coven has become… complicated.” I look at each of the elders imploringly. “No matter what you say, I’m not planning to stay there much longer.”
The room goes silent with my declaration. The elders look over to Lachlan. “Will you rescind your claim on her?”
As soon as they ask Lachlan that question, my hope that the elders just might see things my way crumbles into nothing. Lachlan growls out a resounding “No,” and it’s punctuated by the frustrated sigh that escapes me. Why can’t he just let me go?
2
“We challenge Lachlan Aylin’s claim on Vinna Aylin, and ask to submit our own.”
Valen’s smooth voice fills the room from behind me. I look back at him over my shoulder, and a small smile sneaks across my lips at his declaration. I track Valen as he steps up to my side, his new proximity causing warmth and comfort to wash over me. It’s like lying in a pile of clean clothes fresh out of the dryer.
“My coven and I would like to submit a Bond Claim. We know the council likes to wait until all parties have achieved their awakening, but exceptions have been made in the past, and we request an exception be made today.”
Valen briefly looks at Silva and takes in a deep fortifying breath before continuing.
“My coven and I agree that living with Lachlan and his coven is not a good place for Vinna to be.”
Valen barely finishes that sentence before Silva, Lachlan, and the rest of them are on their feet shouting at him. The guys answer the attacking indignation with their own, and aggression floods the room. I watch my guys defend me and shout out the coven’s offenses against me. I’m grateful that they have my back, but I also feel shitty that this is what it’s come to.
I can’t grasp why Valen’s statement bothers them so much. Lachlan and the others are delusional if they think they haven’t earned this. Yeah, this Family Court scenario with the elders is extreme, but how did any of the paladin think I would stay and keep putting up with their shit?
Shouts reverberate thr
ough the room, and Elder Belfour’s demands for quiet aren’t having any effect. Other paladin have rushed into the room, in an attempt to reclaim some semblance of order, but their sudden presence is adding to the chaos.
The large Polynesian-looking elder, whose name I still don’t know, stands up and snakes out a hand towards the upheaval. A white rope of magic shoots out of his palm toward Lachlan and his coven, and it wraps itself tightly around each of their necks. They immediately fall silent. The elder lifts his other hand and sends out another rope of magic, this one moving quickly towards my guys.
“Oh no you don’t,” I mutter, as I reach out and grab the rope of magic as it attempts to flash by me. The thought of someone choking my Chosen into submission—which is exactly what is happening to Lachlan and his coven—pisses me the fuck off.
I yank on the cord of magic in an attempt to get a better grip on it and surprisingly the white cord snaps from the elder’s palm. It whips back towards me and then winds itself snake-like up my arm. I stare at it, waiting for the magic to move up to my throat and start choking me too, but it’s still.
I shake my arm around like I’m trying to get something icky off, but the super badass move doesn’t budge the milky coil. I look up to the elder responsible for my new magical cling-on. I’m about to ask him to get it off, but the whiny question sticks in my throat when I take in the look on the elders’ faces.
