sacrificed her life, the Guardians’ leader had changed her into one of those angelic warriors. Surrounded by a brilliant white light, Michael had transformed Taylor while cradling her in his powerful arms. His firm mouth had covered hers, tasting her lips, taking her breath.
And the reason behind this stupid trip to this stinking realm was that damned kiss.
Michael hadn’t just taken Taylor’s breath with that kiss—he’d stolen her blood and forged a connection between their minds. Then, because Michael was a big damn hero, he’d deliberately broken a bargain with a demon and sacrificed his life to save the world, even though it meant his soul would be trapped in Hell, tortured by Lucifer in the frozen field that surrounded the demon’s tower.
A big damn hero—and a big damn bastard. Michael hadn’t warned Taylor that he intended to link their psyches with that kiss, and he hadn’t asked her permission to do it. Three months after her transformation and his sacrifice, she’d woken up with Michael’s dark presence lurking in her head, like a long-distance connection to Hell that she couldn’t break. For more than a year now, Taylor’s brain hadn’t been her own. He’d known her every thought and action. He’d saved her life when she’d been threatened by demons and nosferatu—but to save her, he’d taken over her mind and used her body like a puppet.
They’d eventually come to an agreement on that—Michael could take over and fight when her life was threatened, but he wouldn’t force Taylor out of her own head if she didn’t want to go.
Then he had forced her and Taylor was done with him.
Until then, she’d tolerated his presence in her head because he had saved everyone—and there was some hope that he could be brought back to life. As a Guardian, she possessed a mental storage space that could hold weapons and any other items; Taylor’s hammerspace also preserved Michael’s lifeless body. Without it, he’d stay dead, so she kept his body safe for him—even though carrying it deepened their psychic connection. Taylor had hated that, too, but she’d tolerated him because the world would be safer with Michael in it. As a human, she’d tolerated him for the same reasons. She’d hated that the Guardians butted in on her investigations and turned the legal system upside down, faking evidence and skipping straight over fair trials by handing out executions, but she also understood that police departments didn’t have the resources to capture or imprison nosferatu and demons. So even though she’d disapproved of their methods, Taylor couldn’t deny that the Guardians fought on the side of the humans, and they were all better off for it—and Michael was the most powerful Guardian, the most dedicated. He’d protected humanity from Lucifer and his demons for millennia. Compared to that, complaining about sharing her headspace for a few years seemed like the petty whine of a spoiled brat, and Taylor couldn’t have tolerated herself if she’d become that. So she’d been determined to soldier through and wait for his escape from the frozen field.
Then he’d broken his promise and betrayed her trust. It didn’t matter that Michael had been protecting her when he’d done it; after he’d forced Taylor to abandon a woman who’d desperately needed her help, she refused to tolerate him anymore. Then, as if in answer to her prayer, a demon’s sacrifice had destroyed the frozen field and Michael had been released from his torture. Now his soul only needed to return to his body, and Taylor would be free.
According to Khavi, an ancient Guardian who understood magic symbols and spells and how to stick someone’s soul back into his dead body, the process would be as easy as pie.
Khavi was also crazy and a liar.
Nothing about this was easy. Lucifer’s torture had shredded Michael’s humanity, ravaging him to the core. Sure, his soul had been released from the frozen field—but he’d emerged in the form of an enormous, fire-spitting dragon.
A ravenous dragon. He’d chomped his way through a legion of demons surrounding Lucifer’s tower. The Guardians hadn’t been able to catch up to Michael in Hell, but they’d seen the destruction he’d left behind. A city had been flattened, black marble reduced to rubble. Roasted demon corpses littered the red sands, some partially eaten. God knew how many he’d completely devoured.
Though the Guardians had searched, not one had seen the dragon. Those Guardians who could teleport attempted to use Michael’s psychic scent as an anchor and jump to his