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  REVOLUTION

  ELEMENTAL PALADINS: BOOK SIX

  MONTANA ASH

  Published by Paladin Publishing

  REVOLUTION

  Copyright © 2019 by Montana Ash

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of Montana Ash, except for the use of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Formatting and cover design by: LKO Design

  DEDICATION

  For my Moon Goddess and my Elf Queen.

  Hyde thanks Marie.

  Revolution (noun); a forcible overthrow of a government or social order in favour of a new system.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

  BONUS from THE ELEMENTAL COLLECTIVE: Vol 1

  Also By Montana Ash

  Meet Montana

  Follow Montana

  PROLOGUE

  “Max?” he croaked.

  Beyden couldn’t believe his eyes and literally found himself blinking and shaking his head, telling himself to wake up. Squeezing his eyes shut, he held them tightly closed for a few seconds before opening them again. The visage in front of him didn’t change and his disbelieving gasp ended in a sob. He moved forward with a burst of adrenaline and hope, so intent on getting to his lost friend that he completely forgot about his cursed leg and found himself crashing painfully to the ground. His mouth opened in a silent scream and his body instinctively curled into a ball, trying to protect itself from the agony streaking through it. He gritted his teeth against the pathetic sounds that wanted to escape, grateful when he was able to suck in a few deep breaths moments later.

  Once he had breathing mastered, Beyden uncurled himself and looked up, his brain finally computing that Max hadn’t rushed to help him. She was right where she had been before his clumsy moment, head cocked to the side. He pushed himself up so he was seated on his butt. No point trying to stand yet and making even more of a fool of himself. He groaned a little but accomplished his goal, taking a closer look at Max and wondering why the hell his liege and friend didn’t offer so much as a hello.

  It was then he saw the look in her eyes and he felt himself shiver; something wasn’t right. He felt a trembling furry body press up against his side and he knew something was definitely off. Zombie should have been racing around his master in joy right now instead of shaking in Beyden’s arms.

  “Max ...” he tried again, pushing himself up on his crutches and standing. He hopped around sloppily for a second before he found his centre of gravity and got the crutches comfortably under his arms. Looking in his liege’s direction, he felt his stomach sink when she seemed to brace herself for flight. “No!” he shouted, cursing himself silently when she flinched and took a few steps away from him. “I’m sorry, but please don’t go.” He tried a gentler voice this time, wondering if she could hear his pounding heart from there.

  “Bey? Are you okay, man?” Ryker’s voice had him turning his head and he saw the moment his Captain noticed their intruder.

  “Max ...” he breathed, before taking almost a running leap in her direction.

  “No, Ryker! Don’t” Beyden warned.

  But it was too late. Ryker had Max scooped up in his arms in what looked to be an unbreakable grip. Beyden could hear his Captain’s shuddering breaths from where he stood. The absolute silence and statue-still form of Max was almost obscene in its dichotomy. Obviously taking note of Max’s lack of response, Ryker finally pulled back and Max made her escape, stumbling back a few awkward steps. Ryker’s indrawn breath was painful to hear.

  “Max ...?” The man questioned.

  Max licked her lips, familiar turquoise eyes darting back and forth between them rapidly. “Who are you?” her voice came out softly and raspy from disuse but it was the words that had Beyden and Ryker freezing in their tracks. She tilted her head to the side, her eyes now clouding with confusion and fear. And then she spoke again and Beyden felt his heart drop into his stomach;

  “Who am I?”

  ONE

  Beyden sighed, rubbing his forehead as he recalled the night of Max’s return. It was a little over three weeks ago now but that didn’t matter. The whole mess replayed in vivid detail over and over in his mind – and the minds of his family too, he was sure.

  “Who are you?”

  “Who am I?”

  The fear and uncertainty in Max’s voice was something he could never un-hear. And what was worse? They mimicked the memory Max had shared of her and Dex from all those years ago when she had been scared and alone and so very sick. It was enough to break Beyden’s heart. And he was darn sure those few words had decimated what was left of Ryker’s.

  After a turbulent initial few hours filled with raised voices, tears, threats, and bleak looks, Jasminka had placed her fingers between her teeth and whistled loud enough to be heard halfway across the ocean. After gaining everyone’s attention and threatening them all with medical dismemberment for acting like a bunch of children, she had marched over to a terrified and cornered Max and ushered her into the house. Max had gripped the doctor like she was an anchor in a storm, and Beyden had felt conflicting emotions of shame and jealousy. Shame that they had all scared their liege and friend so badly. And jealousy because Max hadn’t so much as blinked at the doctor. She had simply followed her, no questions asked.

  In the three weeks since, the house had settled into a somewhat decent – albeit stilted – rhythm. Max still had no memory of the events leading up to the revolutionary battle – and nothing about where she had been since. But Beyden liked to think they were all moving in the right direction. Well, most of them anyway, he thought bitterly, glaring down at his injured leg.

  “Pain meds not working?"

  The voice didn’t startle him, and although it made his heartrate increase a little, Beyden chose not to acknowledge why. Instead of replying with the first sarcastic comment to enter his head, he simply grunted instead; no, the damned pain meds definitely weren't working.

  "The acupuncture, the remedial massage, and the physiotherapy don’t seem to be helping much either," Jasminka continued, dark eyes assessing behind her violet glasses as she stepped further into his bedroom without invitation.

  Beyden clenched his jaw as fire streaked through his ruined leg, "No," he spat out. One of the perks of being a paladin was rapid healing and an almost indestructible immune system. It was built into their makeup, making them ideal soldiers and ensuring they were readily available to their lieges no matter their personal hardships. But thanks to evil-doer, Emmanuel, Beyden wasn’t healing quickly – if at all. The unique nature of Emmanuel’s inception as a chade had enabled him to poison the bodies and minds of wardens to an alarming degree. Paladins were even being tu
rned. Beyden had no doubt those subsequent mutations were to blame for his lack of recovery.

  "Hmm, well, we could always have sex."

  Beyden stilled, sure he had heard wrong from being lost in his thoughts. "Excuse me?"

  Jasminka tilted her head, her expression serious. "Sex. It causes the central nervous system to release the body's natural pain killers. Endorphins. It's about the only thing we haven't tried."

  Jasminka stared at him expectantly and Beyden had no idea how he was supposed to respond. Was she being serious? It was so hard to tell. If Ivy's ranger persona was hard to read, then Jasminka was downright impossible with her unblinking eyes and flat voice. His dick didn't seem to be afflicted with the same confusion though. No, it seemed to think the good doctor was onto something if its surprising sudden hardness was anything to go by. He cleared his throat;

  “Um, I’ll pass. Thanks anyway.”

  Jasminka shrugged, “Well, consider it an open offer.”

  Beyden eyed her for a long moment before replying, “Oookay.”

  Jasminka continued to stare at him for a disconcerting moment before finally cracking a small smile. “You have no idea what to think of me, do you?”

  Beyden shifted his leg, hoping for a more comfortable position as he considered his response. Feeling too weary to be concerned about his wording, he simply said; “No. I don’t. I’ve never met anyone quite like you.” He failed to tack on that he hadn’t had much contact with ordinary humans anyway and therefore not much to compare her to. Besides, it was a moot point; he rather liked her uniqueness.

  Jasminka’s shoulders gave a negligent shrug, “Don’t feel bad. You’re not the only one. I’m not great in social situations. A remnant from my childhood,” her lips quirked – but not in amusement.

  There was a story there, Beyden thought. The old Beyden, the one who actually gave a shit about the people around him, would have delved deeper into the lingering pain he could make out behind the purple-framed glasses. But this new Beyden, six weeks after the biggest battle their society had ever seen, well, he was just too focused on his own woes to find the compassion he had always had so innately. He wondered if it had abandoned him when Max’s memory had, or whether it was when the twisted chade had dug its claws into his flesh. He supposed it didn’t really matter what the underlying cause of his persistent funk was. The outcome was the same. He didn’t give a shit. And with that happy thought, Beyden turned to face Dr Jasminka Winchester once more;

  “We all know my leg is useless. Why don’t you make better use of your time and go and check on Max? You’re the only one she can stand to be around longer than five minutes anyway,” he muttered the last part, wincing at the bitterness in his voice and hoping the lovely doctor didn’t pick up on it.

  Jasminka studied him, her shrewd gaze making him squirm a little, before she finally spoke; “Do you know why Max feels so comfortable around me and not you – any of you? Even though she has no memory of me either?”

  Her dress swished about her ankles as she moved away from the bed and stood silhouetted in the early morning light of his window. The filtered sunlight caught and enhanced her subtle curves to perfection. She was very slender, with hardly any curves to speak of, but with the constant wardrobe of floaty, vibrant dresses, she was entirely feminine – her frame appearing soft instead of lanky. His fingers twitched, wanting to explore the dark softness of her skin, but instead he answered her question; “Why?”

  It was definitely something he and his fellow knights wondered. Max seemed so hesitant and uncomfortable around them all now, when the connection between them should have been instinctive. The ease and trust between them had been there from the moment they had met Max the first time, when she had been wary and clueless about their world. Hell, she had trusted them enough to get into a car with three male strangers and be driven into the bush. But now it seemed that inherent bond had not survived her going supernova and her subsequent disappearance. They were using the word disappearance instead of dead to describe Max’s time away, despite the entire Order feeling her loss like a death. But death held too much finality and pain. Besides, Mordecai had assured them Max was the original Max, despite the amnesia. There were no traces of death surrounding her – lingering or otherwise. They took him at his word – he was the expert on death energies. Though, it did not explain what had happened to Max, nor where she had been.

  Jasminka turned back to him, pushing her glasses from her nose and onto the top of her head. Her dark eyes were piercing and direct as she answered him, succinctly; “You’re hurting her.”

  Beyden felt the words like a physical blow. They were hurting their liege? No, it wasn’t possible for them to do so. She was everything to them; their loyalty, their honour, and their vitality was hers, given freely and without reservation. They would do anything to see to her health and happiness. He opened his mouth to reply, only to close it again with a snap when Jasminka raised a hand for silence.

  “Don’t deny it out of pure reaction. Listen first. Think. Process. Then answer me,” her words were gentle but also scolding.

  Beyden couldn’t deny he had been about to vehemently refute her claim. But her words managed to sink in and he settled a little more on the bed, nodding in her direction for her to continue.

  She gave him a small smile, “Max is empathic. She is perhaps the most sensitive soul on the planet. She can’t help but feel; the wind rustling in the leaves, the fish swimming in the ocean, the critters scuttling beneath the surface of the earth. And emotions – the feelings and emotions of every human surrounding her. Even in her sleep she gets little respite from the constant bombardment. Even with those shields of hers – which seem to be stronger than steel now – she cannot escape who she is. She is a pure soul, forced into flesh and blood, charged with the burden to do naught but feel.” Jasminka’s eyes bored into his, “You are all suffocating her with your pain and expectations. You want so badly for her to remember you, for her to be the same person she was before. But willing it so is not enough. She is back; safe and whole and healthy. You should be bombarding her with your joy and happiness, not your fear and regrets. You. Are. Hurting. Her.” Jasminka repeated again.

  Beyden swallowed, her words hitting their target and causing him to bleed internally. “We’re hurting her,” he acknowledged.

  “You are,” Jasminka confirmed. “Stop it,” she stated easily, before beginning to make her way from his room. “Oh, and by the way ...” she turned back to him from the doorway, “My earlier suggestion was serious.”

  Despite the seriousness of the situation, Beyden felt heat rush throughout his body as he took in the doctor’s heated eyes and the way her pink tongue licked at her lips in a purely sensual way. Before he could formulate a response, she was gone in a swirl of colour, leaving him with his riotous thoughts ... and a hard-on. He blew out a puff of air, noting that his hands shook as they ploughed their way through his newly shorn locks. He had asked Diana to cut his hair two weeks ago because the long strands kept tangling in a sweaty mass during his pain-filled nights in bed. Diana and Cali had both been a little devasted for some reason, but Diana had dutifully cut his shoulder-length hair into a mimicry of Darius’s military cut. It still felt a little odd to him but it was much more manageable.

  His thoughts swirled with Jasminka’s revelations and he felt like a dense fool for not realising Max would be absorbing their tumultuous emotions. The human was right; Max was like a sponge. No wonder she could barely stand to be in the same room with them or cringed whenever any of them made physical contact with her. It was a wonder she hadn’t run away from them yet. Feeling like he had some direction for the first time in weeks, he decided to get ready for the day and call a house meeting. The others needed a verbal spanking too. A shower was needed – and likely a cold one. Though a cold shower would do nothing to help his injured leg, it would do a whole lot to reduce the swelling in his crotch, so Beyden limped his way into the bathroom he shared with Lark.<
br />
  Stripping off his loose track pants and plain tee, the job of getting naked was done. He never wore underwear. Opening the shower screen, he yanked the cold tap to full blast, his skin promptly erupting in goosebumps from the chill. Taking a deep breath, he bravely stepped under the freezing spray, only to choke back a scream the second the water hit his bare flesh. Stupid, Beyden thought. This was a stupid idea. Especially considering the iciness of the water pelting his back had done nothing to alleviate the persistent hardness of his dick. Frowning down at himself, he wondered just what the hell the thing was thinking. He hadn’t gotten hard since the night of the battle – a fact he had been more than a little concerned about. He’d done his best to ignore that alarming little fact, given they all had more important issues to contend with. But one little offhanded comment from the strange – though beautiful – human, and he was apparently all systems go.

  Reaching down, he gave himself an almost experimental tug. Inhaling sharply, his eyes fluttered shut when nothing but pleasure coursed through his system. Maybe the Doc was onto something with all her talk about endorphins, he acknowledged silently. Admitting defeat and not wanting to waste a good hard-on, he reached around, making the water warm but not hot. He also got a decent amount of shower gel in his hand before bracing himself against the tiled wall and palming his erection once more. This time, there was nothing experimental about it as he grabbed his shaft and began to pump. Groaning, he let his head fall back, conjuring up the image of his go-to fantasy woman; long, dark hair, slender hips, and delicate, almost non-existent breasts but with the most perfectly peaked tips ...

  Wait, what?! Beyden’s eyes popped opened and he frowned, wondering how the blonde, busty woman he usually thought about had suddenly morphed into a slim African American. Then the new woman gave him a flirty smile, tipping her glasses down and winking at him over the rim. He let go of his dick quickly, completely mortified to realise the mystery woman was none other than Jasminka. What the hell? Shaking it off, he conjured the golden-haired sprite once more, only to find that fantasy-Jasminka was just as stubborn as real-Jasminka. Instead of disappearing from his cerebral cortex, she slowly lifted the flowing sundress she was wearing, exposing long, smooth legs that he was sure would wrap perfectly around his hips. No, Bey! No leg-wrapping, he scolded. But it seemed his body had a mind of its own and he was already palming his cock once again.