Page 38 of Red Ruin

“If you’re up to it, I can have everyone who’s off-duty rotate down here,” Cherise says. “We better test while the dukes are out.”

“Yes. Please.”

Vhex and Remy aren’t going to love seeing proof that I am not THEIR GUIDE in all-caps and neon emphasis, but I’ve had my fill of being bound. Now that I’m free of Kyorgos, I refuse to be restricted to one Sentinel ever again.

I want to help every Sentinel I can.

“Why bother?” Crispin frowns. “I can feel it. You’re my match.”

Time to kill another imprint fantasy. “Fair warning. Our match rate is going to be seventy-five percent.”

“No. This is too strong. I’ve never felt?—”

“Sentinel Pietrovski,” I say firmly, leaving no room to debate. “I’m going to be seventy-five percent compatible with every Sentinel in the Farguard. Including Sentinels Azrid and Trezzoran.”

His jaw sets as he pushes the grip toward me. “I’ll believe it when I feel it.”

Resigned, I take the handle.

Thankfully, the artifact doesn’t require much oomph. All I have to do is touch a soul-silk to the right spot in the magic circle.

Crispin’s soul is locked and loaded. As soon as our energies meet, a light sparks inside the crystal.

“You feel so good.” He shudders, shaking the device.

I hold my side steady as our souls and powers meet.

Considering that eighty percent compatibility is a soulmate-level, fall-to-your-knees and thank fate kind of match, seventy-five percent is insanely amazing.

Most Sentinels never find an imprint partner and will never come close to feeling this high.

I wish it didn’t feel the same on my side.

But it does.

Every time.

Crispin’s weaker energy isn’t as enthralling as S-class power, but it gives me familiar warm and fuzzies.

The not-quite but-close-enough joining of our super-compatible souls warns that Crispin would cuddle me, protect me, and treat me like his jewel…

Until he meets arealeighty percent match and drops my ass without a second look.

“Are you A-class?” He moans, greedily watching the rainbow light rise inside the crystal. “You feel strong.”

“S-class,” I answer, mentally distancing myself. Crispin’s soul-silks flow arrow-straight and his energy glows healthy and bright, without a hint of jagged pain or built-up poison.

He doesn’t need me.

He’s already working well with some other Guide.

Crispin greedily watches the light rise. “Holy shit. Sixty-five. Seventy?—”

“It stopped. Seventy-five percent.” I release the handle to rub my tingling palm.

Crispin pulls the unit to his nose to squint at the lines notched in the crystal. The light hangs frozen, halfway to the eighth mark.

“How?” Cherise leans past his shoulder. “I thought you were just exaggerating to shake Trezzoran off your ass. You’re really this compatible with every Sentinel?”

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