"So you've finally decided to join us?"

The loud voice boomed in Matthias Ambrose's ears. He shoved
his hands into the pockets of his camouflage cargos and
paced along the dais. The council consisting of the
Paladin's oldest and fiercest demon warriors and delegates
looked down their noses at him.

He felt inferior, weak, and little. A common occurrence as
of late... ever since his last job. A job he wished he never
took. He deserved whatever hellish mission the Fore-Demons
had in store for him.

"I have." In the seven hundred and fifty plus years since
he'd been demonized, he'd learned one thing. The less he
talked, the better. Short and simple. End of story. The less
he opened up, the less he'd show his weakness. And that was
the last thing he wanted at this moment.

"Very well, Ambrose. Step forward." The high-demon stood and
clapped his hands. "I need to summon your handler."

Matthias rolled his eyes. Leave it to the Fore-Demons to run
their operation the way the CIA ran their spies. "Summon
away, my lord."

"Do I sense some sarcasm in your tone, Ambrose?" The demon
clucked his tongue. "I can always reassign you to another
mission. How does Siberia sound?"

Knowing the Fore-Demons and their non-existent sense of
humor, they weren't kidding. Might as well play along.
"Cold."

"Ahh, still as witty as ever." The elder demon scraped a
withered hand through his white beard. "Unfortunately, now
is not the time for jokes. We have serious problems on Earth
and we need all the help we can get―including yours."
There was no mistaking the contempt in his voice.

He controlled the snort that threatened. As if he was the
truly evil one. If they only knew the truth. Maybe then the
almighty Fore-Demons Council and their ever-so-virtuous
Paladin wouldn't be so quick to make assumptions.

What in Hades had he gotten himself into? He had never
needed to prove his worth to anyone before. Now it was the
only thing that drove him. He wanted to belong. He wanted to
help. It unnerved him.

And it was all her fault. How could one simple job
cause him to doubt his own existence?

He was a paid mercenary. He'd never chosen a side. Now he
was ready to jump on the Paladin bandwagon. Why now?

The answer was simple. Serah SanGermano.

The moment his eyes had met hers, his world had spun out of
control. And when he saw the mark on her hand, he knew
exactly why the Infernati wanted Serah SanGermano. The two
dots separated by a long slash showed him all he needed to
know. She was a Pure Blood. Despite his fear at the
discovery, other emotions roared inside him. The scar only
accentuated her beauty. Because of her, he'd almost failed
his last mission. The only comfort was that when it was all
done and over, Miss SanGermano wouldn't remember a thing.
He'd made certain of it.

The curse of his demonic existence—the ability to
remove all memories and thoughts. He could swoop in, do his
business, and no one, not even one of those blasted slayers,
would remember a thing. Part of his heart constricted at the
thought. Why would he want her to remember him? He'd nearly
sent her to her death.

From the fight she and her chimp of an imp put him through,
he was lucky to make it out alive. She was a spitfire for
sure. That sort of fight would only get her in
trouble―especially in the Inferati's clutches.

Infernati. He hated them more than ever. They were evil.
They had taken advantage of him. They had found a weakness.

Never again. He'd not let his guard down. But then there was
Serah. Her curly brown hair that framed her face. Bright
eyes that sparkled like the most vibrant sapphires left him
entranced. Steamy sexuality rolled from her every move, yet
still an aura of purity surrounded her. Confusing and
intoxicating. Dangerous.

He had to stay away from her, yet she needed protection. An
imp, no matter how feisty he was, would not do. Not with the
battle he could feel brewing. Then again, with Rafael Deleon
and the bevy of demons in Connolly Park, Serah would be well
protected.

Why couldn't he stop thinking about her? He hadn't thought
about a woman in that way since that fateful day over eight
hundred years ago. He drew his lips tight. Now was
definitely not the time to draw up the past. He wanted to
concentrate on his future. A future where he could fight
evil... preferably on his own. Alone.

"Are you done brooding, Ambrose?" The dark, rich tone
prickled in his ears.

Matthias's head snapped up. He ground his teeth and clenched
his fists tighter. If he was here it could mean only one
thing. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Ambrose, you will respect your fellow Paladins if you wish
to join us," the only female of the Fore-Demon council
admonished. To iterate her point, she threw back her arm and
launched a warning fireball whizzing just past his shoulder.

Rafael Deleon shrugged and leaned against the marble dais.
"No worries, Councilwoman Astra. He has his reasons, I'm
sure." He turned back to Matthias. "As for your question,
Ambrose, I could ask you the same thing."

Taking in Rafael's countenance, Matthias blinked. Was this
the same man? Where he had once been brutally formal and
uptight, his aura now remained peaceful and serene. He could
try to mask it behind all his pomp and arrogance, but
Matthias knew better. The rumors were true. He'd fallen in
love with the half-succubus he'd been sent to protect.
Blasted odd; he'd always thought love a weakness in demons.
Yet here stood Rafael Deleon, as proud and strong as ever.

Matthias raised his chin. "I don't need to answer to you,
Deleon."

Rafael snorted. "I beg to differ."

"Are you a member of the Fore-Demon council now?"

"No."

"I only answer to them or who they choose for my handler."

Raking a hand through dark hair, Rafael turned to the
council. "So you haven't told him yet."

"We were just about to, Deleon," Astra said with a flick of
her barbed wings. "He seemed too deep in thought."

Rafael nodded. "I might as well do the honors." With a
devilish smirk he turned back to Matthias. "Ambrose, you
will answer to me because I―much to my chagrin, I
assure you―am your handler."

Handler? Deleon? Why? This couldn't be. He needed a mission
somewhere far away from Connolly Park and Serah SanGermano.
With her best friend's demon lover as his handler, all his
hopes slipped away. "I cannot agree to this."

"Why ever not?" asked the elder demon. "Deleon is a one of
the finest Paladin and he needs your help."

"My reasons have nothing to do with Deleon and are personal
in nature."

"If you let your personal grievances sway your decisions,
then you will never make it as a Paladin. If you want to
prove yourself to the cause, then you will accept Deleon as
your handler."

Exactly what mission was he signing up for? What was so
urgent that the great Paladin Rafael Deleon needed his help?
After all, wasn't he the one that was prophesized? "Fine. I
accept Rafael Deleon as my handler." As soon as he muttered
the words, he was certain he'd regret it.

As if reading his mind—which he was certain they
were—the Paladin council stood and nodded to him.

A cryptic smile crept across Astra's lips. "Very wise
decision, Ambrose. Now it is time to hear your mission.
Deleon, do the honors."

Rafael nodded in return. "Thank you, my lieges." With stony
silver eyes he glared at Matthias. "Your mission is this:
You will guard my fiancée's best friend: Serah SanGermano."

The frozen tundra of Siberia sounded better, after all.