Page 20 of Forbidden

Ira whimpered. “No, please, anything but that.”

A laugh rattled out of Wolf as he left the room. When he returned, he had a warm washcloth in hand, which he used to clean between Ira’s legs, his hands gentle and warm. Ira’sface heated. No one had ever done that for him before. Today was a day for new experiences, it seemed.

“Here, dress,” Wolf said, digging some boxer briefs and sweatpants from his duffel. “I’ll go heat up the pizza.”

“‘Kay,” he croaked.

Eventually, he levered himself upright and dressed, grabbing the nearest T-shirt and snorting to himself when it swamped him. The humming of the microwave caught his attention, and he smiled to himself as he headed for the door.

The vision sucked him under just as he passed into the living room. He caught a glimpse of Wolf turning toward him, and then?—

Ira was running through an abandoned building, an open space with a wooden floor and a tall ceiling. There was a short, half-wall separating the room into two sections. Empty, square cubbies lined one wall. His heart pounded, his grip on the sword painfully tight.

“Ira, duck!”

He dropped to the floor, and a monster sailed over his head, its black skin like hot coals, cracked with molten orange. The scent of sulfur hung in the air.

A hand grabbed his arm, yanking him to his feet. “We told you to wait outside with the kids,” Alex said sternly.

Ira gasped, twisted in his grip, and plunged a blade into one of the black creatures sneaking up behind Alex. “And that’s why I couldn’t,” he responded breathlessly.

“Ira. Ira! Seidhr, you’ve got to give me something here. Are you okay?”

Pain lanced through his skull. Where was he? What happened? “Ow.”

“What the hell happened? You just collapsed! I thought you were having a stroke or something.”

He was on the floor, slumped against the wall. Wolf knelt in front of him, gripping his shoulders hard enough to bruise.

“No, sorry, you haven’t sexed me to death yet,” Ira joked.

“Ira…” The use of his name had Ira meeting Wolf’s bleak gaze. “I thought something was really wrong.”

Ira reached for him, gentling Wolf’s grip on his shoulders and drawing him in for a quick kiss. “It was a vision, Wolf, I’m okay.”

“Do they always do that? Make you lose your faculties?”

“The big ones, yeah. There’s a reason we go to quiet rooms and meditate to have them. But sometimes they take us by surprise. I usually try to sit down somewhere if I feel one coming. I didn’t feel this one at all.” It wasn’t the first time he’d been taken by surprise, but it always sucked when it happened.

“What did you see?”

Ira blinked in surprise. Most people didn’t ask him that. They weren’t allowed to at the guild. He would log it for the council and keep it to himself. Telling Wolf what he saw would be novel—and he’d cherish it. But if he was going to do this, Wolf would need to understand what a responsibility it was toknowthings.

“Help me up,” he said, wiggling his fingers. Wolf took his hands and pulled him effortlessly to his feet. “I’m going to sit down. You grab the food, and then we’ll talk.”

Wolf hovered over him until he was sitting on the couch, then fetched the pizza from the kitchen. When they were both seated with the pizza on the coffee table in front of them, Ira turned to face him.

“Okay, ground rules.”

“Rules? For what?”

“The visions. Here’s how things operate at the guild: prophets log every vision they have with their supervisors. Even if I have a vision of someone doing paperwork, I have to log it. The supervisors send the log to the council. The council decides what’s a priority, like if someone’s life is in danger or whatever. Sloan will assign cases to the paladin squads based on our visions. It’s how they do most of their work. They rely on the prophets’ division to function.”

“Interesting. Sort of. You don’t have to worry about any of that now,” Wolf said, his brow furrowed as he tried to understand.

“Right. But part of the rule in the guild is that no one can ask a prophet what they know. It might mess up the balance. If a prophet tells someone they’re going to die, that person might not go on the mission that kills them. But if they don’t go, maybe an innocent dies.” He waved a hand. “It’s a whole big thing. Don’t ask the prophets questions, that’s the takeaway.”

“So I’m not allowed to ask you questions?”

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