by Ivy Asher
The Marked and the Broken
The Lost Sentinel Book 3
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 Polished Perfection
Cover Design by Nichole Witholder at Rainy Day Artwork
For the Badasses.
Contents
Prologue
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
Thank you so fucking much For Reading!!!
Also by Ivy Asher
About the Author
Prologue
I rush to insert myself in front of Knox and Bastien as they’re pulled back, and when I see the looks on their faces, it scares the shit out of me. I’ve never seen them so angry.
“You fucking shit bag liar, I’m going to kill you!” Knox bellows over me as he struggles to get out of Aydin and Sabin’s hold.
It’s a good fucking thing he has no idea how to use his Sentinel strength yet, or we would be in some serious trouble. I spin around, focusing on a swollen-eyed, bloody-lipped Enoch.
“What the fuck is happening here?”
“I swear on everything, Vinna, I have no idea how it happened. They just showed up.”
I’m confused as fuck about what Enoch is rambling about. They just showed up? Who showed up? Enoch swipes at the blood on his lip, and everything inside of me plummets as I take in the black marks on his finger.
No. Fucking. Way.
I spring for him, my bloodlust demanding action. The betrayal I feel screaming through every part of me. I catch him with a right hook to the cheek, and he falls back, avoiding my follow up hit. I’m raging inside, but I say nothing as I pounce on him, ready to smash his face in. Kallan steps in front of me, and I move to go around him until I spot what’s on his hands, too. My seething gaze find his, and the only thing that keeps me from killing him is the terror in his eyes.
“How the fuck do you have runes, too?!” I demand.
Arms wrap around me from behind, yanking me away from the people who need to give me answers right fucking now. My Chosen may not know what they’re capable of yet, but I sure as fuck do, and I push magic into all of my limbs and fight to get away from whoever is holding me back. I writhe and flail and do everything short of hitting and stabbing my captor, but fuck they’re strong. Lips press close to my ear.
“I can do this all day, Witch. But if you’d stop rubbing yourself all over me for just a second, I’d like to point something out.”
Torrez’s arms tighten around me, and the shock of his deep voice makes me pause. He pushes a hand out in front of my face and nuzzles my neck.
“They’re not the same.”
His words and silky tone reverberate through me, and it takes me a minute to figure out what he means. I stare at the dark-tan tone of his skin and the runes that mark his entire ring finger. The second rune, the one marking him as mine, sits black and prominent. Its presence pushes the other runes representing my Chosen down, the last rune resting on his knuckle. He moves his palm slightly, and I look through his large splayed fingers, honing in on Enoch’s hand.
He’s right... The runes on Enoch’s finger aren’t mine. So, whose the fuck are they?
1
My eyes run over the runes on Enoch’s middle finger. I trace the details over and over again as if staring at them long enough will somehow unlock their secrets.
What the fuck is going on?
Torrez nips at the lobe of my ear, and the feel of it pulls me from the hundreds of questions surging inside of me. As much as my vagina is stoked that I’m wrapped up in Torrez’s arms, I’m going to need her to keep her greedy hopes to herself so I can focus on the war that’s trying to break out in the living room. I push to break Torrez’s strong hold so he’ll let me go, but his arms around me don’t budge. All I really manage to do is grind my ass against his obvious erection, and unfortunately, the generous bulge in his pants is not what I need to be paying attention to right now. I feel Torrez’s growl of approval rumble against my back, but I refuse to acknowledge what that sound is currently doing to my body.
Not the time or the place, Vinna.
I’m very aware that I need to address the fact that I have a new addition to my Chosen, but I don’t fucking know where to start with that either. I have no answers, a shit ton of unknowns, and more questions than I can keep track of anymore. Maybe I should just focus on Torrez’s hard-on; at least that’s something I can handle…I think. I smack my libido across the face and get my head in the game. I need to deal with Enoch and his coven first, and then I can sort out my new Chosen.
The word Chosen echoes through my jumbled thoughts, and worry tumbles through me like a drunken gymnast. I see my mark, Torrez’s mark, and my other Chosen marks on Torrez’s ring finger, but his rune is nowhere to be seen on me. I turn to my guys and search for any new runes on their hands, but there’s nothing. My stomach sinks. I press down the unease that crawls through me.
Did I mess up somehow and not complete the connection with Torrez?
“Vinna?” My name on Enoch’s lips is both a question and a demand for answers, but I still don’t have shit that I can say that explains any of this. I don’t know how he has runes. Or why they’re different or what the fuck any of it means for me or for them.
I scrub at my face, my hands cold against my fevered skin. I’m fucking tired and reeling from everything that’s going on. I turn back to Enoch and the unfamiliar runes that he and his coven now have.
“I don’t know,” I admit unhelpfully, and the room explodes into a giant argument again.
Aggression and fury whip out from the guys, snapping toward Enoch, Kallan, Nash and Becket. It hits its mark, but Enoch and the others just ball it up and throw it back. Aydin and Evrin are trying—and failing—to get control of either side. Their calm words volley back and forth, only to fall to the ground and get trampled by rage and insults.
“Could they be from another Sentinel?” I toss out, but I’m pretty sure no one besides Torrez—who is currently way too interested in sniffing my shoulder right now—can hear anything I’m saying over the yelling that’s going on.
It’s possible somehow that their runes aren’t mine. I have suspected in the past that my Last Sentinel status might not be completely accurate, but there’s no way of knowing if these mystery runes are proof that I’m right. Well, not unless the hypothetical mystery Sentinel knocks on the door right now with a “my b
ad, let me just take these guys off your hands.” That would be pretty definitive.
Or, my exhausted mind counters, maybe the mystery Sentinel can’t come knocking on the door because they’re not nearby? I don’t know the ins and outs of selecting Chosen, but if I can mark Torrez or others simply because I want to, can other Sentinels send their magic out into the world and have it mark the best match for them?
Can selecting Chosen work like some kind of primitive Sentinel Bachelorette? Only instead of a rose and a sham engagement, the Chosen get a lifetime commitment—whether they want it or not—and a fuck ton of new magic and abilities? Did I somehow magically facilitate a match? An image of me holding a clipboard, wearing a Chris Harrison-esque suit, while women sing “Matchmaker, Matchmaker” to me, flashes through my mind. I shake away the weird ass picture and focus on the here and now.
I need caffeine or, better yet, sleep. I’m on the verge of going bat shit crazy.
Knox and Bastien are spitting out threats and struggling against Aydin, Evrin, and the rest of my Chosen, trying to get to Enoch and his coven. I take a deep breath and let the tension and fight leak out of my body. I relax in Torrez’s arms, and on my second deep exhale, he lets me go, clearly trusting that I’ve now gained control of myself. I step into Bastien and Knox’s line of sight, and Knox looks at me as I square off with him and the rest of my Chosen. Bastien doesn’t seem to see anything other than Enoch, Nash, Kallan, and Becket, who he very clearly wants to rip apart. Indignation and hurt flash through Knox’s eyes, and I want to punch my magic hard for making Knox feel that way.
I activate the runes that allow all of us to speak mentally, and shout, “Stop!” The guys cringe at the invasive volume of my command, but it has the desired effect, and they turn their attention to me. Frustration and anger radiate off each of them in thick waves, and before I can even open my mouth to say anything, Knox cuts me off.
“Don’t you fucking say it, Vinna.” He shakes his head vehemently. “I won’t accept them.”
His gray eyes have gone from stormy to solid stone, and I’m shocked by the venom in Knox’s tone and the finality in his statement. I can’t really blame him for feeling that way. I did just try to rip Enoch apart too. I probably would have if Torrez hadn’t pointed out my shitty attention to detail. “You don’t want me to tell you that they’re not Chosen? Is that what you don’t want me to say?”
Knox opens his mouth to argue but stops as my words register.
“Wait, what?” Bastien and Valen ask at the same time.
“The runes are on the wrong finger. They’re not Chosen runes. They’re not even my runes from what I can tell.”
All of the guys drop their gazes to my hands, and then their eyes flit behind me to take in the marks on Enoch and the others.
“These aren’t mate marks?” Enoch asks, confused, and Knox takes a step forward to go after him again. Sabin stops his advance, but Knox stares daggers at Enoch, and his whole body vibrates with anger.
I turn to face Enoch and step in front of Knox slightly. He’ll have to go through me to get to them, but hopefully it won’t come to that. Enoch’s eye is swelling, and from the look of Kallan’s bruising cheek and the cut on his eyebrow, he clearly took a couple of hits to the face, too. I suddenly feel like shit about the fuck-ton of attack first, ask questions later that’s floating around the room.
“No,” I answer.
I step toward Enoch and his coven, and I don’t miss when Kallan tenses at my approach. I look at him and hope that my lapse in judgement hasn’t fucked up our friendship beyond repair. I’m not sure what the standard time for friendship-recovery is when one person tries to kill the other, but I don’t push him. I stop a few feet away and hold up my hand, my fingers splayed and my palm facing me.
“My Chosen runes all run down the lines of my ring finger. Your runes are on your middle fingers,” I point out.
Kallan and Enoch aren’t the only ones to look at their hands, and I try not to feel even more unsettled when I see that Becket and Nash are marked too. They all stare at their runes, and the room grows quiet for a couple of seconds.
“Wait, but these ones look the same,” Enoch announces, and he twists his hand so that I can see the side of his middle finger and the small symbols etched there.
I step closer to him and grab his hand, moving it so I can see the symbols that run up one side of his finger and down the other side. Sure enough, I have the exact same runes there. Well, that sure as fuck complicates things. I guess there goes my I didn’t do this theory. I look at the others’ hands to double-check. The runes on each side of their middle fingers match the runes I have in the same place, symbol for symbol.
For whatever reason, I’m just missing the symbols that they have running up the center of their fingers. The first rune, the one that starts just below Enoch’s nail, is a black circle. Inside the circle, it looks as if an eight-pointed star has been cut out. Below that mystery rune are four others that I’ve never seen before. My thoughts drift to Torrez and the same issue we seem to be having of missing runes.
Is this the same problem? Did I somehow mark them but do it wrong?
I’m not sure why I keep asking myself any questions; it’s not like my magic has a habit of explaining anything that it does. I reach for Kallan’s hand, and a surge of relief washes through me when he doesn’t flinch away or stop me. I run my eyes over the same marks on his hand. Oddly, he has an extra mark on the side of his palm. It’s a twin to the mark that showed up on me when I magicjacked Elder Kowka the day the elders took me away from Lachlan. I hold up his hand and then look at his coven.
“Anyone else get this rune?” I ask, pointing at it, and they all double-check before answering no.
“We all have more marks on us, but each of them is different,” Enoch informs me, and a new wave of frustrated confusion flashes through me, but I mask it. What the fuck does he mean that they have more marks, but they’re all different?
Enoch turns around and pulls up the back of his shirt. He has two lines of runes that run down his spine. Runes that I would know anywhere because they’re for my long sword and my staff. Nash pulls up the side of his shirt, revealing the runes for my short swords on each side of his ribs. I look at Becket expectantly, and that’s when reality slams into me like a fucking freight train.
Shit. Does he know what just went down with his dad?
I give him a small smile, and he offers me a tentative one back. I can’t help the tinge of suspicion that seeps into my thoughts as I watch him, waiting for him to show me which of my runes he somehow ended up with. I think back to the day the elders were testing my magic. Becket and his dad seemed close, closer than I thought Enoch and his dad appeared to be. Could Becket have been in on what his dad was up to?
I look over to find Torrez leaning against the wall. When my eyes meet his, he immediately pushes off and strides over.
“Yes, Witch?” he asks me, his voice deliciously growly and momentarily distracting.
I shake away any reaction I have to his tone, and I lean into him, dropping my voice. “Can you do that whole smell the truth thing that you do?” He nods, and I sneak a deep comforting pull of his scent before turning back to Becket.
For a quick second, I wonder if he already knows about his dad and what happened tonight. It’s been hours since everything went down, plenty of time for someone to fill him in, but looking at him now, I have a sinking feeling that I’m not that lucky. I just don’t see him handling the I killed your dad because he was a massive piece of shit news this well.
Becket pulls the neck of his shirt to the side to reveal runes on the top of his shoulder. It looks like he now has some of my shields and my bow and arrows. “I have a rune that showed up on my toe too,” Becket announces, and I nod absently, as I try to figure out how to say what I need to say to him.
“Becket,” I pause. “Um…I had a run in with your dad tonight,” I clear my throat unnecessarily. “Has, um, anyone told you an
ything about that?” I blurt awkwardly and then hold my breath and wait for his response.
I send out a silent plea to the universe, hoping that somehow he already knows what happened and really is just taking it all in stride. But that hope shrivels up into a nasty ass raisin as confusion stretches across Becket’s face. Yup, looks like I’m about to be the one to tell him that I killed his dad.
Fuck.
“Did you…know anything about what he was planning or what he’s been up to?” I ask vaguely, and Torrez steps into me, his body just barely skimming mine. I feel the rest of my Chosen step up behind me in support, and gratitude washes through me.
“What do you mean?” Becket asks, and he looks even more uncomfortable and confused by the wall of Chosen that just formed behind me.
“Did you know your dad was working with a lamia named Adriel?” I ask Becket, and I scour his reaction for any hint of deception or recognition.
Becket slowly starts to shake his head. “No, but what’s the issue with that?”
“Adriel was the lamia responsible for at least one group of paladin—that we know of, anyway—going missing. He was also the lamia responsible for our abduction,” I explain and gesture toward the rest of Becket’s coven.
Understanding dawns on Becket’s face, and then confusion takes over again.
“My dad wouldn’t have worked with him if he knew that’s what this Adriel guy was doing,” Becket states. His tone is filled with such certainty and conviction that it squeezes at my heart for what I’m about to tell him.
