VEILED BY SMOKE

NATURE HUNTER ACADEMY SERIES

BOOK FIVE

QUINN LOFTIS

Copyright © 2025 by Quinn Loftis

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

For all those who feel they’ve been forgotten. You are not alone.

CONTENTS

ARC Readers

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

Epilogue

ARC READERS

Hello, wonderful pack mates who are joining me on this journey. Thank you so very much for taking your time to read Veiled By Smoke. I truly hope you enjoy the ride! Please watch for grammar errors, continuity errors, and consistency. Y’all know I’m bad to forget how to spell someones name, or what color hair they had in the last book. It’s sad, but it’s true. I am what I am and I own that crap. I am so thankful for each and every one of you! God bless and happy reading!

Ally my love,

Quinn

PROLOGUE

“Hell is empty and all the devils are here.” William Shakespeare, The Tempest.

There was a time when Nasima believed in the predictability of chaos. Air, after all, was everywhere—ever-moving, never still–but at least it followed rules. Circulation, pressure, current, cycle. But as she stood on the hill, beside the notorious Hollywood sign, high above the city, and watched the world unravel, she realized that whatever rules she’d once trusted had shattered.

The wind carried more than mere scents these days; it whistled with the shrieks of sirens, the crackle of flames, the distant thud of collapsing buildings. Below, the city pulsed with frantic energy. Normally, she would have found it invigorating. Now it made her skin crawl.

Two weeks—just two weeks—since the gate to hell was torn open, only briefly, and the world was already bruised and battered. She could feel it in her bones, in the way the air thickened with fear and desperation. It was everywhere: in the headlines screaming about mass riots, in the newsfeeds cluttered with security camera footage of people turning on each other over gas, bread, or simply a look. Crime had always been a shadow, but now it was a beast, bold and ravenous. There were no more shadows—only darkness.

Earthquakes rippled from the earth’s core, as if the planet itself was trying to shake off the crawling, skittering evil. Nasima had felt the first one in her sleep, a low, rolling tremor that pressed her heart into her throat. Then came the tsunamis, the volcanic eruptions, floods, tornadoes where there should have been none. Balance was gone. The world was a seesaw, and evil was winning. Lucifer was awake, and his laughter—she was certain—rumbled in the aftershocks.

Below, the air shimmered with pollution and something else—something not of this world. The elementals could feel it. The humans, too, though they called it other names: panic, rage, despair. She wondered if they would ever know the truth. Would it matter? Would it help, or only make them more afraid?

A messenger wind, brisk and sharp, whispered across her cheek. News from the other royals: another city burning, another rift opening, another reminder that their world was teetering.

For all her power, Nasima felt small. All she could do was gather her people, teach them to shield, to calm, to find hope in the middle of the storm. But every day, hope was harder to conjure. Every day, the wind carried more screams.

She glanced up at the roiling, bruised sky. “Mother Gaia, are you watching?” she whispered. “Because we need you now more than ever.”

A gust of wind answered, carrying with it the scent of burning, and something cold—like the memory of snow on a battlefield. Nasima squared her shoulders and turned to face the council. There was work to do. The world was unraveling, and if she couldn’t stitch it back together, she would at least make sure her people didn’t fall through the cracks.

Crescious had always thought hell was as bad as it could get. He’d spent centuries dodging the boots and flames of bigger demons, fetching and carrying for lords who never bothered to learn his name. He’d gotten used to the wailing, the heat, the unending, sticky sense of dread. He’d even gotten used to Osiris—his temper, his orders, his odd moments of almost-kindness. But this? This was new.

Hell was . . . empty. Or, at least, emptier than it should have been. Crescious scuttled along the black stone corridor, claws clicking, peering into cells and torture chambers that had once been packed to bursting. Now the doors hung open, swinging gently on their hinges. The souls were gone. Some had fled. Others had been . . . claimed.

He didn’t want to think about what was happening above. The howls and shrieks that once echoed through the caverns were muted, as if hell itself was holding its breath. The air was cold—cold in hell, which was just wrong on too many levels to count.

A tremor ran through the walls, and dust rained down from the ceiling. Crescious flinched, pressing himself flat against the floor. He heard footsteps—measured, regal. Not a demon. Not anymore.

Ramses, the pharaoh, strode by, his eyes glowing with an inner fire. He barely glanced at Crescious, but the little demon bowed anyway–out of habit or fear, he wasn’t sure.

“They’re all gone,” Crescious croaked, his voice echoing in the vast, empty corridor. “The souls, the others . . . They say Lucifer is awake.”

Ramses paused, his gaze sweeping the shadows. “That is true. And it is only the beginning.”

Crescious shivered. The ground groaned beneath his feet, and the temperature dropped another degree. He missed Osiris. Osiris had rules. Osiris had order. This new regime—this anticipation—was worse than torture.

“What do we do? He whispered to the pharaoh, not expecting an answer.

Ramses’s eyes narrowed. “We wait. We prepare. And we pray the world above remembers there is still hope, before hope is devoured.”

Crescious nodded, not understanding, but grateful for words—any words—in the growing silence. Hell was changing. The world was changing. And for the first time in his existence, Crescious realized he was afraid.

He scuttled away, claws scraping the stone, as the cold grew deeper and the darkness pressed in. Above, the world trembled. Below, hell waited.

And somewhere in between, the balance tipped.

Ramses moved through the corridors of hell with the heavy gait of a man who has carried regret for far too many lifetimes. He barely noticed the cold, the way the air itself seemed to shudder with anticipation—like the realm was holding its breath, waiting for the next blow. He remembered when hell was a furnace, a place of fire and punishment, but now it felt brittle and hollow, as if the flames themselves were afraid.

He descended, deeper and deeper, until he reached the level that always called to him—the level reserved for his people, the Egyptians, who had once been the pride of the world, and now were its cautionary tale.

It began, as always, with a sunrise over the Nile. For a brief, agonizing moment, Ramses remembered sunlight, the way it warmed the skin, the way it promised something better. But then the scene shifted, and the city burned. Over and over, the city burned—stone to ash, flesh to smoke, hope to dust. Screams echoed, first in Egyptian, then in every tongue that had ever been spoken on earth. The walls crumbled, the sky roared, and Ramses’s people fell—again, and again, and again.

He watched as a woman clutched her child, as priests raised their arms in futile prayers, as soldiers tried to hold a line against the impossible. His people. His responsibility. Their torture was his, and his alone.

The worst part was not the pain. It was the memory of what they had once been.

There had been a time when his people were the gatekeepers of the underworld—when soul-bonded elementals held the boundaries between life and death, light and darkness. The soul elementals, Osiris and Kimba, had been the axis on which it all turned. The balance was sacred, and Ramses’s people had been proud to serve, proud to keep order among the dead.

But pride had been their undoing. The balance faltered. The soul-bonded grew scarce, their lines thinning as darkness crept in. Osiris, desperate to restore what had been lost, had descended into the underworld alone, leaving Kimba behind. He had faced Lucifer, chained him, and tried to force the balance back into place. It had worked—for a time. But hell is not so easily tamed.

Ramses pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the echo of those choices. They had all believed Osiris could withstand the darkness. None of them had foreseen how the underworld would twist even the greatest among them. Osiris had become ruler, but not king. He had become corrupted, and that corruption had seeped into Ramses and his people. They had become monsters—demons—consumed by endless cycles of death and rebirth, punishment without purpose, pain without end.

He watched as the city burned again, and the sky turned red with the memory of his failure.

Now Osiris was gone, stripped of his throne, and Lucifer was waking, stretching ancient power through every crack in the world. The balance was not restored—it was shattered. Lucifer did not rule only the dark. He ruled it all. There was no division, no line, no hope for even a sliver of light to wedge itself between the cracks. The chains Osiris had forged were broken, and the consequences were echoing through every realm.

Ramses felt the weight of his people’s suffering, the agony of watching the same mistakes play out, over and over. He wanted to believe redemption was possible. He wanted to believe that his people could be more than the sum of their failures. But hope was a dangerous thing in a place like this. It could lift you, only to drop you harder when the cycle began again.

He stared at the burning city, at the faces of his friends and family, their pain painted in firelight. He remembered what they had been—what they could have been, if not for pride and fear.

If he let himself believe in hope, it was only the smallest ember. A fragile thing, trembling at the edge of darkness. He wanted to believe Osiris could be restored, that Kimba and the soul-bonded could heal what was broken. He wanted to believe his people could be forgiven.

But hope here was a double-edged sword. It could sustain, or it could destroy.

He closed his eyes as the city burned once more, and the screams rose like a tide. “Mother Gaia,” he whispered, “if there is still balance in this universe, let us find it. Let our suffering mean something. Let there be a way back.”

He was tired of cycles. Tired of burning. Tired of being a lesson.

But he would endure it again, and again, and again, if it meant there was even a chance that, one day, the cycle would end—and his people would finally be free.

A tremor shook the level, and Ramses knew it was not just the city falling to ash. It was the world above, quaking with the weight of a darkness that had finally broken free. He lifted his chin, watched as the city crumbled, and vowed—silently, fiercely—that if hope was a lie, he would still hold it. Because someone had to.

And in the depths of hell, as the cycle began anew, the ancient pharaoh waited—for redemption, for balance, for the chance to make things right.

Even if it cost him everything.

CHAPTER 1

“Honestly, I got nothing. For the first time, well, maybe the second, in my life, I am speechless.” ~ Shelly

“The murder rate in the U.S. alone has skyrocketed by a staggering twenty percent in just two weeks,” the news reporter said with a tremble in his voice. His eyes darted nervously as he, no doubt, read the teleprompter that fed him this terrifying information to share with the world. “But it's not just major cities experiencing an increase in violent crimes. In smaller towns and rural areas, law enforcement and locals are reporting record-breaking numbers of thefts, vandalism, and brutal assaults.”

Shelly felt her stomach churn as the gravity of the situation sank in.

The female reporter's voice quivered as she turned to her co-host. "What is happening, Tom?"

"It's not just our nation, Pam," Tom replied with a heavy sigh. "Government officials have confirmed that this is a global phenomenon. We are living in a time of unprecedented violence and crime. Not to mention the natural disasters taking place all over the world. Earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, tornados, hurricanes. The list goes on. It’s as if Armageddon has finally come."

Pam shook her head in disbelief. "Just when you think things can't get any worse."

“That’s all for now, folks,” Tom said, as he collected the papers that had been sitting in front of him. “Thank you for tuning in. We will be back at ten p.m. for the final nightly update and weather. Remember to stay alert and stay safe.”

Ra slid his hand across his phone, closing out the news app. Shelly met his black eyes briefly, and though to others it might creep them out, she simply saw the man she loved.

The cave was silent, save for the soft, omnipresent crackle of the fire in the stone hearth built into the wall of the cave. Outside, the wind howled, swirling snow in patterns that might have been beautiful if the world wasn’t falling apart. Inside, it was just the eight of them, plus a dragon king currently crammed into a corner looking like a very judgmental house cat. Shelly might have said something about the ambiance, but she was still trying to process the news segment Ra had shown them.

Apparently, the world had decided to go full-on apocalypse. Murder was up, and it wasn’t just big cities. Small towns, rural communities, places where people used to leave keys in their cars and doors unlocked were now locking up tight, unless the doors had already been kicked in by someone desperate. There were earthquakes in Kansas, for crying out loud. Tornadoes where there should only be sunshine. Hurricanes in November. It was as if reality had gone off the rails and no one remembered how to steer.

Shelly squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her fingers into her temples. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be under this blanket, pretending the world isn’t ending.”

Ra slid an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to his warmth. He didn’t say anything, but she felt his steady heartbeat through their bond, a comfort against the chill that had nothing to do with the snow outside.

“Seriously, that wasn’t depressing,” Rory said, her voice dry as sandpaper. She flopped back onto a pile of furs, her dark hair spilling around her like a cloak. Aston, ever the dutiful soul bonded, sat by where her head lay, absently braiding a strand of her hair with so much focus Shelly wondered if he was hoping to braid away his own anxiety.

Aston looked up, glasses slipping down his nose. “On the bright side, at least we’re not in Kansas.”

Gabby groaned. “I think we’ve endured enough natural disasters for the moment. Considering the freaking volcano incident.”

“That’s one for the history books, Babe,” Liam supplied, his arm slung around her like he was her favorite hoodie.

Elias cleared his throat, ever the stoic, serious one, even in the face of an apocalypse where humor would at least make dying a little less scary. “We need to focus. The world’s unraveling, yes. But we’re not helpless. That’s why we’re here to learn, to train, to figure out what the soul element actually is and how we keep the rest of the world from completely imploding.”

Tara perched on the arm of his chair, somehow provided by the magic of the dragons, and nodded, her expression fierce. “The dragons are on our side. We have each other. And we have Kimba who is a bonafide badass dragon, and maybe Osiris, once he stops acting like a moody teenager, with amnesia.”

Shelly snorted. “That’s generous. He’s more like a moody toddler with a god complex and the inability to accept the word ‘no’. But sure. Teamwork.”

A rumbling chuckle rolled through the cave. Sepheron watched them with golden eyes that missed nothing. “You are not wrong, little one. The soul element was once the balance point for all the elements. When it was lost, the world began to tip. Now, with the king and queen reunited, there is a chance to restore what was broken.”

“Okay, pause,” Rory sat up, her eyes narrowed on the dragon king. “You said king and queen. Last I checked, the only royal of this forgotten element was Osiris. What haven’t you told us?”

Sepheron’s large, gold eyes looked at Rory, unblinking as he answered. “That revelation will be coming sooner rather than later. You might want to brace yourself, dragonrider.”

Rory rolled her eyes. “A dragon that talks in circles. Shocker. You’re as bad as Kimba about saying nothing and acting like you’re saying everything.” She flopped back on the furs with a dramatic sigh.

Ra tensed beside Shelly, drawing her attention away from Aston’s mate. “While the female makes a good point, I’d like to ask what you meant when you said ‘a chance,’” he echoed Sepheron’s previous words. “Are you saying there’s also a chance we fail?”

Shelly tried not to think about the bargain Ra had made with the dark fire king in regards to failing, considering that was a whole other issue than what they were discussing. One crisis at a time, she reminded herself.

Sepheron’s massive head dipped in a solemn nod. “Balance is not easily regained. Especially when the darkness has spread so far. But hope is not lost. The soul bonded will retake their place as the gatekeepers to the underworld. The light and dark that brings you balance will keep you from being easily corrupted the way Osiris was. But first, we must deal with the inhabitants of hell and the rightful ruler.”

Rory raised a hand in the air with a finger pointed, her eyes still closed. “Don’t forget the queen we don’t know about, who apparently is supposed to be a part of this whole balancing act. Let’s not just brush that fact under the proverbial rug.”

“Nobody is going to forget, because you’re not going to let us,” Gabby pointed out. “So slow your role and quit being hormonal.”

“I will match your sarcasm and raise you a finger,” Rory said, holding up her hand again and flipping off Gabby.

The red headed fire elemental just shook her head. “Mature.”

Shelly looked around at the group. They were a motley crew: the youngest soul-bonded pairs, a grumpy dragon king, and, though not present in the cave with them, a former ruler of hell with an identity crisis, and a mysterious soul-bonded queen that is supposedly mated to said former ruler of hell. Back in the human realm, or their own realms, there were royal elementals doing their own part to save humanity, and the earth. But here, in this cave, with the human world being wreaked upon, she felt like maybe, just maybe, they had a chance at saving something worth saving.

She cleared her throat. “So. Where do we start? Dragon boot camp? Ancient elemental history crash course? Or is this more of a ‘learn on the job, try not to die’ kind of thing?”

Rory grinned. “I’m voting for boot camp. If Sepheron yells at us, maybe it’ll drown out the sound of the world ending.”

Aston nudged her. “You just want to see if you can out-fly Kimba.”

“I’m pretty sure Kimba could out-fly a hurricane, not to mention if I rode another dragon, she’d totally take me out, ” Rory said, rolling her eyes. “But I might be willing to test the theory.”

Liam leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Sepheron, what exactly does training to be a soul-bonded gatekeeper look like? Because I don’t think anyone here signed up for Demon-Wrangling 101.”

The dragon king’s voice rumbled through the stone. “First, you must understand your bond. The soul element amplifies all others. Your connection is your power. If you cannot wield it together, you are vulnerable. In the face of demons, alone, you are nothing.”

Shelly shivered. She thought of Ra, of the times their bond had held her together when everything else was falling apart. Of the darkness that had crept in when they’d been separated. “So . . . team-building exercises?”

Gabby snorted. “If he makes us do trust falls, I’m out.”

Sepheron’s tail thumped, sending a small avalanche of snow down outside the cave mouth. “No trust falls. But you will fight. Together. You will learn to channel your power, not just for yourselves, but for the world. The gatekeepers are the last defense. Without you, the darkness will consume all.”

No pressure, Shelly thought. Just the fate of the world, resting on the shoulders of seven barely-functional twenty-somethings.

“The first thing you need to know about this soul-bonded element is the pair that rule over it. As you know, Osiris is the king. And now, you will meet the queen.” He motioned his large head behind them, and they all turned to look at the opening of the cave.

Kimba stood with her large body taking up much of the space, her iridescent scales dusted with snow. And behind her were eight people. They were grouped in pairs, male and female. Shelly’s eyes widened as she realized she recognized them. They were other warriors they’d worked with when they’d all been sent out into the field because of the natural disasters that happened when some of the light royal elementals had gone missing. And some of them she knew were soul bonded.

“When you said ‘queen,’ were you talking as in a collective royal, like the band?” Rory asked, having sat up again to see what Sepheron had motioned towards. “Because I see a dragon, four pairs of mates. I’m guessing soul-bonded mates considering they’re here.”

“None of them are the queen, little witch,” Kimba said, her voice laced with the humor she often pointed towards Rory. “But I am.”

Shelly watched in shock as the edges of the dragon began to ripple—like wind shivering across a pond–as Kimba’s massive dragon body seemed to blur at the edges, iridescent scales catching the firelight and scattering it in prismatic bursts. Her wings folded in, the leathery membranes dissolving into mist, while her tail curled inward, shrinking with each heartbeat. Bones shifted and flowed beneath shimmering hide, the sound like distant thunder muffled by velvet.

A halo of blue-white light enveloped her, pulsing with ancient magic. Her great head bowed, horns receding and snout shortening, the fierce lines of her muzzle softening. Scales melted, re-forming into silken skin, and her claws retracted, fingers elongating until they were unmistakably human. Kimba’s eyes—piercing, glacier-bright—remained unchanged, the only constant as her body contracted, shrinking from awe-inspiring power to elegant strength.

The light faded, swirling away in delicate strands, and where the mighty dragon had stood, a petite woman remained. Her hair—white as new-fallen snow—spilled down her back, framing sharp cheekbones and a regal jaw. She straightened, brushing invisible dust from her pale dress, pale blue eyes scanning the room with the same ageless patience and quiet ferocity as before. In her human form, Kimba was no less commanding—her presence filled the cave, a reminder that sometimes the most extraordinary power comes in small packages.

Rory was on her feet in an instant, her world having just tilted on its axis. She took a step forward, mouth opening and closing, not sure if she was about to shout, laugh, or faint. Kimba—her Kimba–stood before her, not a dragon but a woman. A queen. Rory’s mind ran a loop of “nope, nope, nope” as she tried to reconcile the regal figure in front of her with the scaly best friend who’d carried her through fire and storm.

Behind Kimba, the eight people crowded the cave’s entrance, snow swirling around their boots. Rory didn’t recognize a single one of them which, in light of the moment’s revelation, she could give a rat’s ass.

But all of that was background noise to the main event: Kimba. Human. Queen. Apparently mated to the former king of the underworld.

Gabby was the first to recover, looking at Kimba, then Rory, then back again. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait. So you’re telling me our Kimba–”

“My Kimba,” Rory interrupted as her eyes continued to take in the regal appearance of her now very human dragon.

Gabby ignored her and kept right on talking. “. . . is not only a queen, but she’s also shacked up, mated, doing the dirty, having a shag fest, whatever, with Osiris? The same Osiris who tried to mate, have a shag fest, do the dirty, and make Shelly his queen of hell, like, twice? I’m sorry, but your royal highness, why are you here, and not wherever he is, kicking his royal, hell-ruling ass?”

Liam’s eyebrows shot up. “Okay, when you put it like that, it’s a lot. Like, even for us. And also, you probably won’t have to kick his ass because Ra will happily do it for you.”

Shelly opened her mouth, shut it, then just shook her head. “I vote we set up a whiteboard with yarn and pins. Because my relationship flow chart just exploded.”

“There is only one relationship you need worry about,” Ra said, his voice rumbling in the cave and that unique cadence bringing Rory a tiny sliver of peace.

“Relax, Babe,” Shelly told him. “You’ve got all my attention, all of the time. Well, except when a huge dragon turns into a small, beautiful, human woman. I mean, how does that work? Your dragon form is so freaking massive, where does it all go when you’re like that” she motioned with her hand, up and down, indicating Kimba’s whole body.

Kimba quirked a brow at Shelly and smirked. “Magic.”

Rory snorted, folding her arms across her chest, still glaring at her bff.

Aston, pushing his glasses up his nose, looked like he wanted to take notes on the entire situation. “So, Queen Kimba and King Osiris, both forgot their past until now, and—wait, does this mean you rule hell together? Or just, like, the afterlife in general?”

Sepheron, in the corner, gave a deep, rumbling chuckle. “I see that the shock of this has rattled your human brains. You’ve already forgotten what I’ve told you. The soul element rules the balance between all realms. It was always meant to be two—king and queen, bonded by soul, not just element.”

Rory had to blink several times. “That’s all fine and good, Sepheron, but it’s not what’s important. What is significant news is that my dragon bonded is a queen, who’s mated to the guy who tried to kidnap Shelly and start the apocalypse. And nobody thought to mention this before now?”

Gabby groaned, tilting her head back towards the ceiling. “Is this one of those times that we’re going to have to repeat the same thing over and over simply because your emotional bff ego is butt hurt and you feel the need to rub your dragon’s snout in it? Because if so, I need some food for this shit show.”

“Hey,” Rory snapped at the redhead and pointed her finger, “when your reptilian best friend suddenly becomes a completely different species right before your unsuspecting eyes, then you can judge. Otherwise, sit over there quietly and play with your knives.”

“Or she could play with me,” Liam suggested with a wink. “I’m never too shocked for some bedroom games.”

Gabby put a palm on his face and shoved him away as she gave Rory a bored look. A throat clearing regained Rory’s attention, and she looked back at her.

Kimba, still all regal calm, watched Rory with the same blue eyes of her dragon form. “I did not know,” she answered her question. “None of us did.”

Sepheron made a rumbling sound, and all heads slowly turned to his massive dragon form. He shifted on his large feet, claws gripping into the rocky ground.

“I’m sorry,” Rory’s brow rose. “What was that, your Royal Highness?”

“I had my suspicions, and as things evolved, my own memories returned. But as I told you before, it was not my story to tell.”

Kimba continued, and everyone looked back at her. “We didn’t remember until Osiris returned from the underworld. Then the memories, the bond, came back.”

Tara gave a dry chuckle. “Ever since you had Kimba snatch Aston up in her talons on that battlefield, there’s never been a dull moment with you. You and your witchy, dragon-bonded self being the center of the drama, huh?”

Rory shot her a look. “Trust me, I don’t do it on purpose.” She paused. “Usually. I mean, sometimes it sort of happens and I make it worse, but that’s not the point.”

There was an awkward silence when Rory didn’t really know what to do. Her brain just spun, thinking about her relationship with Kimba.

Apparently, no one was going to wait on her to process as Gabby, never one for subtlety, stood up and walked over to the people behind Kimba. She pulled out one of her daggers and began using it as a pointer. “Okay, intros are needed for Rory because nothing says awkward or stressful like meeting some strangers at a magical reveal party. This is Riggs and Lark, air elementals.”

Riggs, all sharp edges and restless energy, gave a little salute. “Heard you can ride a dragon bareback through a thunderstorm. Respect.”

Lark offered a small wave, her wild curls and sharp eyes making her look like she ate tornadoes for breakfast. “You’ll get used to us. Eventually.”

Rory managed a faint, “Nice to meet you,” before shooting Kimba another look. “You showed them the whole human-queen thing before you showed me?”

Kimba gave a small smile. “I had to gain their trust. Dragons do tend to make some people nervous because of the whole eating them thing. And time was short. You would have been first, if there had been another way.”

Before Rory could muster a comeback, Gabby pressed on. “Next up: Lawson and Cara, fire elementalists.”

Lawson’s grin was cocky and unapologetic. “So, is this a regular thing in your group? Secret royalty, surprise mates, plot twists? I feel like I’m finally getting to sit with the cool kids.”

Cara’s gaze was cool and steady as she sized Rory up. “We’re just glad to finally meet the famous Rory, mate-snatching extraordinaire. Kimba was very . . . insistent we come.”

“Not one of my finer moments,” she told Cara begrudgingly. Then Rory glared at Kimba, her voice rising. “I mean, I get it, but seriously? Not even a text?”

Rush and Brianna stepped up. Rush tall, arms crossed, and Brianna’s laughter a little too big for the cave. “We’re air, too,” Brianna said. “And, for the record, Kimba’s transformation is the wildest thing I’ve seen since the time Riggs tried to ride a tornado.”

Riggs muttered, “It worked for a few seconds.”

Lark elbowed him. “Until it didn’t.”

Rory snorted, then caught herself. “I’m just saying, some of us would have liked a heads-up about the whole ‘my dragon is a queen who shifts and has a hell-king for a mate’ thing. I don’t think that’s too much to ask in a relationship. Aston,” she looked at her mate, “do you think it’s too much to ask?”

“Not fair,” Elias spoke up for the first time in a while. “He’s always going to side with you because you can kick him out of the bed. Or get your dragon queen to eat him. You need to ask an impartial party.”

“We can always go back to the BFF code,” Gabby offered. “Witches before dick heads. But in this case, it would be dragon bond before literally any other being on earth or in any other realm.”

“That,” Rory pointed at her. “That’s what the code between us should be.”

“Okay, now that we have that settled,” Gabby continued, “this lovely couple is Crey and Tinley. Both fire elementalists.”

The couple looked sheepish as Crey said, “We were as shocked as you. She literally just walked up to us, went all glowy and regal, and told us to get here.”

Tinley grinned. “I thought Riggs was gonna faint.”

Riggs rolled his eyes. “I do not faint. I was . . . stunned. There’s a difference.”

A hush fell, until Gabby broke it with a sigh. “Honestly, at this point, nothing surprises me. I’m not even sure reality is real anymore.”

Aston, ever the scholar, chimed in, “This raises so many questions about soul memory and elemental lineage. I’d love to do more research—”

“Aston, Babe, I love you and your nerdiness most of the time, but it’s not the point!” Rory interrupted, rolling her eyes. “The point is my dragon bonded sits on a throne of lies.”

“For like five seconds, I forgot how dramatic you can be,” Kimba said dryly.

Liam grinned. “And you shouldn’t steal lines from epic movies like Elf, even if they’re fitting. Classic, but let’s not get sued.”

Lawson clapped his hands. “Well, I for one am here for the drama. Dragon queens, lost memories, apocalypse—this is better than cable.”

Cara nudged him. “You do remember that Rory is a witch, right? Try not to get turned into a toad. I don’t find toads attractive.”

“Every girl has to have standards,” Shelly offered. “I think drawing the line at toad mate is completely reasonable. But what’s not reasonable is secrets from your scaly bff.”

“See!” Rory practically jumped up and down. “Hell girl gets it. Probably because hell fried her brain cells with the heat, and being around Osiris probably has given her some sort of weird-ass PTSD, but she gets it.”

“I’ve got your back, Roar.” Shelly gave her a thumbs up. “Can I call you Roar? Don’t answer that. I’m going to call you that anyways, whether you like it or not.”

The banter flowed bright and fast as the new pairs found places around the fire, exchanging awkward greetings and old in-jokes. But Rory’s attention kept drifting back to Kimba, a thousand questions burning in her chest.

As the group settled, Kimba caught her gaze and tilted her head. “Walk with me, soul bonded.”

Rory glanced at the others, then followed Kimba to the far edge of the cave, away from the firelight and the swirl of voices. The cold air bit at her skin, but Kimba’s presence was a steady warmth at her side.

Kimba turned, her human eyes impossibly blue. “I know this is a lot. But our bond—what we are—hasn’t changed. If anything, it’s stronger. I am still your Kimba, and you are still my soul bonded. Queen or not, mate to Osiris or not, nothing will ever change that.”

Rory fought the urge to tear up, instead folding her arms and tilting her chin. She could feel Aston’s worry and need to comfort her, but he gave her the space she needed. “You better not start getting all regal on me. No ‘your majesty’ nonsense, or I’ll start calling you ‘scaly butt’ in front of the others.”

Kimba’s lips twitched. “I would expect nothing less. But you have my promise—nothing changes between us. Not now, not ever.”

Rory tried to glare, but couldn’t keep the smile from breaking through. “Maybe I’ll forgive you for the whole ‘secret queen’ thing . . . in, oh, a century or so. If you’re really good.”

Kimba laughed, the sound echoing like music in the cave. “I can be very patient.”

Rory bumped her shoulder against Kimba’s. “Good. Because you’re stuck with me, dragon. And all the dramatics that come with me.”

Kimba nodded, solemn as ever, but her eyes sparkled with affection. “As it should be, soul bonded. As it should be.”

They were quiet for a few moments, watching the snow fall in the night sky. Then Rory asked, “What are you going to do about Osiris?” She felt Kimba tense beside her and the sharp pain radiate through their bond.

“He’s got to make his own decisions. Just like I’ve got to make mine. We may be soul bonded, but we are still individuals,” she said, her words sounding much more sure than she felt. “But between you and me, I’m reminding myself that I shouldn’t eat him because he’d no doubt give me indigestion after being in hell for so long.”

Rory laughed. “At least you’re keeping your sense of humor. But, you know I’m here, if you need to talk. Or just go on a flight and leave this crap behind for a while.”

Kimba nodded as she took several steps away from Rory and then, in a whirl of magic, returned to her dragon form. “I know I can always depend on you, Rory. But there’s no time for a break.” She stomped one of her huge feet, scratching the ground, getting everyone’s attention. “We begin tomorrow, after a good night's sleep,” she told them. “The world cannot wait. Your need to process changes cannot keep us from moving forward. This is the life of a warrior. You adjust at a moment's notice. You learn quickly. You fight without apology. When the dust settles, then we can deal with all the other stuff that had to be put on hold.” She let out a snuff of smoke from her nostrils and then added, “My mate will either sit on the sidelines and prove he’s useless, or step up and be the ruler he once was.”

Liam whistled low. “That’s a burn with a capital ‘b.’ If anyone can bring him around, you seem more than capable.”

“I will leave you in Kimba’s capable care,” Sepheron said. “I will return as quickly as I can. But, I feel there is something I must address.”

Kimba nodded at the king. “We will be here when you return.”

“I will be quick,” he said and then used his powerful legs to push himself out of the cave, his great wings expanding, catching him on the wind. They all watched until he was out of sight.

Rory felt Aston step up beside her. She took a deep breath, reaching for his hand as the rest of the group stood and gathered in a loose circle. She tried to find the right words, some kind of rallying cry, but all that came out was, “Let’s not die today, okay?”

Gabby grinned. “Speak for yourself. Almost dying is what makes it fun.”

Liam whooped. “That’s the spirit! Wait, what?” he looked at his mate. “There will be no ‘almost dying.’ If you want fun, I’ll show you fun. If you want dying, I can give you the little death.”

“Somebody stop him now,” Elias said, as he shoved at Liam.

The other couples laughed at the water elementalist’s antics, and Rory appreciated the lighter atmosphere.

They talked for a while. Rory was fascinated by what the other soul-bonded couples had to share with them–their adventures and battles with dark elementals and acolytes. Her heart ached for them anytime they mentioned friends that had not made it out of battles, and she wondered if that would be her one day. She looked around at the people in the cave and hoped with everything inside of her that they would all make it through this so that in the future they would all one day be telling the younger generations about their triumphs without the pain of the losses.

She leaned her head on Aston’s shoulder, soaking up his warmth as Crey regaled them with how he won Tinley’s heart after she’d rebuffed him for over a year. She closed her eyes and let the sound of their voices wrap her in what she knew would be a short-lived peace.

“There can be no peace without war, Sweets,” Aston said through their bond. “Just as there is no light without darkness.”

“I think you should stick to your books, Babe,” she told him. “Your pep talks sort of suck.”

CHAPTER 2

“When the unclean spirit has gone out of a person, it passes through waterless places seeking rest, but finds none. Then it says, ‘I will return to my house from which I came.’ And when it comes, it finds the house empty, swept, and put in order. Then it goes and brings with it seven other spirits more evil than itself, and they enter and dwell there, and the last state of that person is worse than the first. So also will it be with this evil generation.” Matthew 12:43-45 ESV

Richard Groat was doing something unexpected. He was going out . . . on a weeknight. Recently divorced after fifteen unhappy years, Richard couldn’t remember the last time he went out, and especially not on a weeknight. Certainly, it would have been with Lorraine, and it would have been something she had wanted to do. She never used to let him go out alone with his friends, few though they were, and she never used to let him pick what they did. Not that they ever did much of anything after the kids were born.

So, when a few of Richard’s co-workers at Maxwell Petrochemicals asked him to go to a bar after work to celebrate an employee's birthday, the words”I can’t,” were halfway out of his mouth when a profound realization froze the reply on his tongue. He could. He could not only go out, but he could—heaven forbid—actually enjoy himself. The thought made him slightly nervous. Enjoying oneself was something other people did. Richard went to work, he came home, he ate Lorraine’s terrible cooking, he was ignored by his two teenage children, he watched television, and he went to bed. In that order. Day after day, week after week, year after year. Rarely during that twenty-four-hour cycle did Richard enjoy himself.

He nodded at Rita McKay, who was staring at him expectantly. Rita was another chemical engineer who worked in the office across from his. She too was divorced, though not so recently. “Yes,” Richard replied slowly. “Yes, I think I’d like to go out.”

Now, a few hours and several Long Island Iced Teas later, Richard was out. And he found he quite enjoyed being out.

The demon stared out through the eyes of the tavern’s innkeeper. No. He shook his head, an action which the man mimicked like a marionette. That’s not what they call them nowadays. This wasn’t a tavern. It was called a bar. And the human he’d possessed was called a bartender. No matter. Ahriman wouldn’t be here for long, and he cared nothing for what the man was called. Yet, the demon could certainly have fun inside this host. After all, the human females were practically purring at him, daring him with their eyes to invite them somewhere more private. Oh, what he could do to these pathetic weaklings, bound in slavery to their carnal desires? Alas, Ahriman must refrain; he had something much more important in mind.

Lucifer was awakening. Rushing out of hell and into the over-world, Ahriman had felt his lord’s mind, pursuing him like a great cat. It wasn’t conscious thought he heard, more like a presence—a shadow of malice and hatred, terrible in its power. The other demons had felt it as well. He could sense their fear, bordering on hysteria. Ahriman knew Lucifer wasn’t yet fully awake, but he soon would be. And Ahriman would help with that awakening. The more destruction he could sow, the more powerful Lucifer would be. The lesser minions were running amok, committing petty acts of minor destruction or sowing discord. They were wasting their opportunity to serve the dark lord. Ahriman would be found doing something that had a lasting effect. He would be rewarded. The demon just needed the right person to come along. And now, Ahriman had found the man he was looking for.

Richard felt a tiny shock of electricity when the bartender’s fingers brushed his as the man passed him another Long Island Iced Tea. And that was the last thing he would remember for some time. Rita, who’d been glancing around the bar, possibly looking for someone more interesting to talk to, sucked in a gasp. “What?” he asked her, a look of confusion on his face.

“Your eyes?” she replied. “They seemed . . . I don’t know. That was weird.”

“What?”

“They seemed to go dark for a second. I could have sworn I saw them go completely black.” Her brow furrowed as she shook her head and took another sip from her drink.

“Maybe it was a trick of the light,” Richard muttered, looking away from her, as he felt a trickle of sweat run down his back. When he let himself look back at Rita, he felt a powerful desire to reach across the space between them and slap the disgusted look off her face. Instead of acting on that impulse, he lifted his hand and ran a finger down her arm. “Would you like another drink?” he asked, his voice rough as two warring urges rose in him.

Rita slowly pulled away so that his hand fell off of her arm. “What are you doing?”

Richard smiled, and judging by the sudden unease on his companion's face, it didn’t set her at ease the way he’d hoped. “I’m offering to buy you a drink. Is that seriously offensive to you?” That this bitch thought she was better than him caused the proverbial hackles to rise on his neck.

“I invited you as a friend, Richard,” she said, her voice taking on a haughty tone as she lifted her chin in the air. “Not a date.”

He let out a snort, took a pull from his drink, swallowed, and then bit out, “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not exactly my type.”

The irritated look fell away from her face, replaced by shock and then anger as her cheeks filled with blood, causing a vein to pop out on her forehead. “What is your problem?” She shook her head at him and seemed confused as her eyes bore down. “I must have totally misjudged you. I didn’t realize there was an asshole hiding under the nice-guy act.”

Richard hissed at her, causing her to push further away from him where they sat at the bar. He felt his hand twitch with the need to grab her throat but reached up to tug at the too-tight collar of his dress shirt. He glanced around. There were too many eyes. He couldn’t choke the life out of the woman next to him no matter how badly he wanted to at the moment. Richard stood abruptly, causing the stool to fall back and hit the floor with a loud clatter. Without a word, he turned and headed for the door.

“Richard,” he heard Rita call out, “you didn’t pay your damn tab.”

Rita watched her co-worker rush out the door like his ass was on fire. “What the actual hell?” She muttered as she looked down at the fallen stool and then back to the door he’d just exited. In all the time she’d known him, she’d never heard him be rude to anyone, or come across as sleazy, which he most certainly just did.

“Need a refill?” the bartender’s voice drew her attention.

Rita turned back to the bar and pushed her glass toward him. “Make it a double.” Her eyes drifted up to the large television that hung above the bar as a line of text ran across the screen that said “news flash.”

CHAPTER 3

“I’m thousands of years old . . . I think. I’m not exactly sure how old I am, and I’ve recently found out people have been fiddling with my memories. But I know I’ve been around a long time. And I thought nothing could surprise me. But being thousands of years old, I should have realized there are no certainties in life. As such, there is an opportunity for surprises every single day.” ~Osiris

“Once upon a time, I had your loyalty. I had your everything.”

“I am Kimba, the light queen of the soul elementals, the fifth element lost to the memories of our people.”

“And I am your mate.”

The woman’s words played over and over in Osiris’s mind as he stared out of the large cave entrance. The crisp winter air should have been uncomfortable to him considering where he came from. Osiris frowned at the thought. Did he come from the underworld? Perhaps the cold doesn’t bother me because I come from somewhere else?

And maybe pigs were flying alongside the escaped demons in the human realm? And that man begging for iced water in hell has finally gotten a cool glass and a bowl of refreshing fruit to go with it.

All of those things felt more likely to Osiris than what was actually happening. The whole damned world had been flipped upside down, and he was left dangling like a bat with its leg trapped on a branch. He was blowing in the wind while the insects he usually ate flew around him, laughing and taunting him. Okay, maybe he was being dramatic. And perhaps his metaphors were getting a little out of control, but seriously, what the actual hell?

He let out a frustrated sigh and ran his hand down his face. One minute, he’d been wrapped up in his obsession with Shelly and making her his own, and the next, he was facing the possibility that everything he thought he knew was a lie.

After dropping a proverbial bomb in his lap, Kimba, his supposed mate, had left, but not without one hell of a parting shot.

“I do not know what our future holds, Osiris,” she said. “But I know it does not include you with another female. Give up this obsession with the human, or I will let her mate tear you to shreds.”

“Bloodthirsty little female,” he muttered, slipping his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “Little?” He scoffed. “Hell, an hour ago she was the size of a city bus.”

Osiris turned his back on the winter scene and walked deeper into the cave. The flames from the torches that lined the walls bobbed and weaved, causing shadows to dance on the stone. He took a deep breath and held it, relishing the cold air that burned his lungs, before finally letting it out. He was restless, like a caged animal, but trapped by what? There were no bars holding him in, nothing keeping him in this cave. Nothing but her . . .