Ranger (Elemental Paladins Book 4) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-THREE

  THIRTY-FOUR

  THIRTY-FIVE

  THIRTY-SIX

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  EPILOGUE

  A note from MONTANA

  Also by Montana Ash

  Meet Montana!

  Copyright statement

  Ranger

  ELEMENTAL PALADINS: BOOK FOUR

  MONTANA ASH

  This is an IndieMosh book

  brought to you by MoshPit Publishing

  an imprint of Mosher’s Business Support Pty Ltd

  PO BOX 147

  Hazelbrook NSW 2779

  http://www.indiemosh.com.au/

  Copyright 2017 © Montana Ash

  All rights reserved

  Licence Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the author and publisher.

  Disclaimer

  This story is entirely a work of fiction.

  No character in this story is taken from real life. Any resemblance to any person or persons living or dead is accidental and unintentional.

  The author, their agents and publishers cannot be held responsible for any claim otherwise and take no responsibility for any such coincidence.

  Dedication

  To my wonderfully patient, outrageously loyal readers.

  This one’s for you!

  Knox thanks Louise.

  ONE

  Screams. Shouts. Grunts. Cries. Lark closed his eyes in order to block out the images but he couldn’t block his ears and stop the sounds from penetrating his eardrums. The sounds were familiar to him, having been the soundtrack of his youth and a testament to the cruelty of the man that was his father.

  “Yo, Lark! Get your head out of that book and come help us. The women-folk are slaughtering us,” Axel’s voice penetrated his somewhat maudlin thoughts at the same time a ball landed perilously close to his head, sending sand into his hair – and very annoyingly – into his ear.

  Ah, yes. The beach volleyball game. The images he had been attempting to save his retinas from had been those of his fellow male soldiers getting their arses whipped shamefully by the females. The screams? Not screams of helplessness but screams of delight; the shouts weren’t shouts of rage, but of teasing and fun; the grunts weren’t the result of flesh pounding flesh to illicit pain, but were grunts of satisfaction from a ball making it over a net. And the cries? Not cries of fear, of sorrow, of torment. No, they were cries of laughter, of glee, and of fun.

  Oh, how the times change, he thought, letting the satisfaction roll over him.

  “Hey, bookworm! Are you listening to me? Put it down and come play. It’s not like it’s going anywhere.”

  That part was true at least. The copy of the latest release in his favourite series was all his and had even been signed by the author. Mine, mine, mine, he chanted gleefully, running his hands over the brightly illustrated cover. But just because he could pick it up anytime he wanted, didn’t mean he wanted to put it down. He still couldn’t believe one of his favourite authors was letting him read her newest book a full month before it was even due out. Luna Rose was a graphic novelist, writing and illustrating all of her own work. She wrote all things paranormal and supernatural and her stories had literally saved his life.

  For all his father’s faults – and they were many and unforgivable – he valued intellectual strength almost as much as physical strength. As such, books had been an integral part of his education. Not that such trivial things as fiction had been a part of his forced curriculum, but Lark had managed very successfully to sneak into the library and read books of his own choosing from the hundreds of shelves, as well as download an extensive collection of e-books. It wasn’t the same thing as holding a book in your hands, turning the pages, and smelling the paper but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Besides, it was darn convenient.

  He still remembered the first time he had lost himself within the magic of the written word. The wonder and the freedom of it. His mind had been taken on a journey to Terabithia and his emotions had run the gauntlet from happiness, to shock, to sorrow and back again. As far as he was concerned, books were transportation devices. His father could mess with his body all he wanted; discipline, training, sparring … torturing. But he couldn’t touch him where it really mattered – his mind. His mind was his own and thanks to that very first magical book and the countless he had read since, he could escape into his own mind and enter fantastical worlds whenever he chose. Books were magic. Full stop.

  And this particular author – Luna Rose – had ensnared him with her assassins, her humour, and unexpectedly – her warmth. As one of those quirks of fate would have it, Luna Rose also happened to be the pen name for his very own liege. Despite the fact she was now a recognised goddess for all intents and purposes, Max still insisted on earning an income and contributing to the household expenses – that was her practical excuse for her continued writing anyway. But Lark knew the real reason – she was a storyteller, a tale-spinner, and an artist. She could no more stop writing and drawing than he could stop reading.

  So lost in his own thoughts, he didn’t see the ball heading his way again until he heard the thunking-splat sound by his knee. Sand sprayed up, covering his precious book and making him gasp in outrage; “Will you barbarians be careful! You’re ruining the precious!”

  Grumbles, mutters, and snickers answered his cry, “You know Max has a box of those stored in the study, right?” Ryker queried.

  “It’s not the same thing. Those aren’t mine. This one is,” Lark assured him, firmly.

  Ryker threw his hands up in the air in a classic ‘I surrender’ gesture. The man may not share his infatuation with the written word but Ry still respected it. Lark really had to give the man credit; he was a fine Captain. He was strict, strong, and disciplined but also compassionate, respectful, and fair. If you did something wrong, the big man would be the first to kick you in the butt – and hard. But he was also the first person to congratulate you or pat you on the back when you did good too. He treated everyone equally – if he liked you, that is. And he was fiercely protective of everyone he considered his responsibility – which was prett
y much all of them. But then, that was why he was the Captain and being born a potentate, he was quite literally born for the role. Potentates were basically super paladins. They had a little something extra in their DNA that enabled them to maintain and regulate the link within an Order. They were absolutely integral to it.

  Usually, only a warden was able to create the psychic bridge that bonded all the individuals within an Order and allowed them to talk telepathically. It meant that when the link wasn’t open they were unable to talk to each other – only to Max because she was their liege. She was, of course, able to talk to any of them at any time. However, paladins who were born potentates were also able to maintain that link. That was why they were highly sought after and inevitably ended up as the commanding officer within an Order. It was one of the reasons why Ryker had been given the position of the head trainer at the training lodge when his first liege had been tragically killed. There was also the fact that Ryker was a paladin associated with the element of life. They were very few and far between these days. So, despite his less than stellar attitude of ‘fuck the world’ and his lacklustre personality of growls and curse words, the council had ensured the man didn’t get lost in the bottom of a bottle. Lark could only be grateful for that, for the man was the sole reason he was even here in the first place.

  Dusting off his graphic novel, he made a show of tsking and shaking his head. He knew he was holding up the game but he figured some patience would be good for the bunch of heathens. Picking up the ball, he eyed it thoughtfully, procrastinating a little more, “Who wants it?” he yelled.

  “Bring it with you. You can serve,” Axel offered.

  But Lark merely shook his head, “Reading, Axel!”

  “Team sport, Lark!” was the surfer-boy’s rebuttal.

  “Don’t wanna. Besides, you know I’m not the athletic type,” he said, tongue in cheek. They were all the athletic type. But a flicker in the expressionless face of their newly acquired ranger, made him think she didn’t see the joke.

  No doubt, he sniped, internally. The truly badass female seemed to have a very low opinion of him, though he had no idea why. It was something she was going to have to get over soon, however. Lark lobbed the ball back, perhaps a little harder than the moment called for given the way Axel grunted when he caught it. Was he really trying to show off in front of the woman? Boy, he hoped not. That would be totally lame … right?

  Other than himself, Ivy was the only other person not joining in the game. Well, there was also Cali but that was due to her newly rounded stomach. She was now fifteen weeks pregnant and there was a subtle bump on her slender frame that hinted at new life. Lark was completely thrilled over the little hitchhiker. Not that he’d had any experience with babies before. In fact, he was pretty sure none of them had. But the thought of being an uncle? It made him practically glow with pride. He had already called dibs on teaching the little guy to read.

  And it was because of the little guy she was harbouring so securely, that no-one was allowing her to do much in the game – especially Dex. She had grumbled and complained until they had reached a compromise; Cali was deemed to be solely in charge of the serves. Watching her serve and spike the ball powerfully into the back, left quadrant, scoring another point for the girls, Lark was sure the men were regretting their insistence that she serve. The woman had a frightfully good arm on her.

  Casting just his eyes to the left without moving his head, Lark was able to surreptitiously scrutinise the – ha ha – lone ranger. Ivy appeared to be watching the game and ignoring it at the same time. As if she felt the recreational activity of hitting a ball over a net in the sand was somehow beneath her. Or maybe he was being unkind because, well, he was wildly attracted to her and had been since he had first laid his eyes on her months ago. The woman was outrageously beautiful with gleaming straight, black hair and almond-shaped brown eyes which were a testament to her Asian heritage. She was short – not as short as Max – but definitely more petite and fragile-looking with her much slender frame and subtle curves. She looked decidedly feminine and almost dainty. But looks could be deceiving, Lark knew. Ivy was nothing of the sort.

  Groaning, he threw himself backwards onto the sand, covering his face with his hands. The attraction was stupidly inappropriate on a plethora of levels. For one, she was a Ranger. Rangers were like police, enforcers, and assassins all rolled into one lethal package. They were notorious within their society for their ruthless nature and take no prisoners attitude. They were absolutely terrifying to the general populace – and rightly so. Rangers made a very forbidding image with their long cloaks of dark, forest green with hoods that obscured their features. And then there was their weapon of choice. He and his fellow knights used handheld scythes – the small but lethal blades were portable as well as effective against chades for protecting their lieges. But the rangers? They used the big brothers of the scythes – full-length sickles. He was talking Grim Reaper style sickles. They were wicked and deadly and sexy as hell.

  Wait, sexy? Since when was he so kinky? He was seriously losing it. A loud laugh had him refocusing back on the game. Beyden was offering his giant paw to a downed Dex who looked like he had just face-planted into the sand. Lark couldn’t contain his wince as he looked at his friend … and also his second reason why Ivy was off limits; she was Bey’s sister.

  The beast paladin and he were the closest in age and anywhere from sixty years up to a thousand years younger than their fellow knights. It had given them something in common and they had become incredibly close over the past three years. In fact, Lark considered the beast paladin to be his closest friend. At first, having a friend was a novel experience for him, having never had friends in the past. His father was not supportive of such ‘wasted’ relationships. The only relationships that mattered were the ones you could use, exploit, or manipulate to profit from. But Beyden – and the rest of the crew – offered him companionship with no strings attached. So, it would be a fine way to repay his selfless friend by panting after his sister, wouldn’t it?

  And the last reason he shouldn’t be picturing the female ranger naked? He was going to be partnered with the woman. Just days prior, Max had asked him if he would go on a reconnaissance mission to identify the chades who had the potential to be healed. Max was set on the course of healing the wretched creatures – well, the ones who still clung to their souls anyway. At first, he and everyone else in the Order had been dead-set against any such endeavour. But after seeing the proof of Max’s beliefs it was hard to argue with her now.

  Rolling his head to the side, he allowed his gaze to travel over the newest member of their ragtag family. Dex was smiling and laughing as he slapped his brother, Darius, on the back before he tripped Ryker over – even though they were on the same team. Dex was a rangy six-foot-three, his body packed with leanly cut muscles, his face glowing with health. The man in front of him now was the polar opposite of the one he had met mere months ago; thin, pale, lank black hair, hollow cheeks and even hollower eyes. He had been condemned as a chade forty years ago and all but forgotten about. That was despite his impeccable and noble history as one of the most revered wardens in their society. But when one gave up on their domains they were condemned without a trial and wiped from the history books.

  So hard, Lark thought, so hard on the ones left behind.

  As he watched, he saw the would-be chade scold his new fiancé for running after the volleyball before it made its way into the surf. Cali rolled her eyes, serving the ball directly at his head. Dex raised a hand and the ball stopped mere inches before his face, hovering in the air. As a (kind of) warden of the air domain, he could pretty much do anything with the invisible element. Dex sent the ball flying back towards the others so the game could resume but ran for Cali, scooping her up and planting noisy kisses against her neck as one large hand splayed protectively over her lower stomach.

  Lark felt himself gulp down the lump in his throat; This, he thought, this is what we could have
taken away from the world if it wasn’t for Max and her stubbornness. He didn’t want to think about what a waste and tragedy that would have been. So, even though he had been sceptical about saving the chades, he wasn’t any longer. Max said she wanted him to search for redeemable chades, so he would do it, no questions asked. He only wished his partner in crime wasn’t fated to be one short, exotic, stoic ranger with sultry eyes and a mouth he wished he could make smile.

  TWO

  She wasn’t hiding, Ivy assured herself as she sat in the darkened kitchen at two in the morning. She was merely seeking some privacy – potentially the last moment of privacy she was likely to experience for the foreseeable future. She groaned, twirling the spaghetti onto her fork in a thick swirl of carbohydrate bliss before shovelling the entire thing into her mouth. Her cheeks puffed out as she chewed and she wondered idly if perhaps she had bitten off more than she could chew. She barely restrained the self-deprecating snort; she had well and truly gotten in too deep here and she wasn’t talking about the pasta.

  She was a ranger, the boogeymen of their society. Rangers were notoriously lone wolves, working within their five-man unit only when absolutely necessary to track, capture, or kill chades – the plague of their society. They were also responsible for policing and punishing the paladins and even wardens when they committed a crime. As such, they were not viewed in a kind light. Not that Ivy cared. She was an anti-social loner who preferred her own company and found the social airs of their society tiresome and distasteful. So, being feared and avoided suited her right down to her very marrow.

  The other perk to being a ranger instead of a sworn knight was that she didn’t have to share her vitality if she didn’t choose to. Vitality was what they called the life-giving energy all wardens required to maintain their elements. Being a paladin, she produced the unique energy in a continuous loop but was unable to harness the power of it. Without wardens, who could not produce it but could utilise it, the precious source of energy would be wasted and nature would be unable to thrive. The world would basically come to one big crashing halt – not ideal, even to a grouch like her.