Abel
A Sabine Valley Novel
Katee Robert
Trinkets and Tales
Also by Katee Robert
Sabine Valley
Abel
Broderick
Wicked Villains
Book 1: Desperate Measures
Book 2: Learn My Lesson
Book 3: A Worthy Opponent
Book 4: The Beast
Book 5: The Sea Witch
Book 6: Queen Takes Rose
A Touch of Taboo
Book 1: Your Dad Will Do
Book 2: Gifting Me To His Best Friend
The Island of Ys
Book 1: His Forbidden Desire
Book 2: Her Rival’s Touch
Book 3: His Tormented Heart
Book 4: Her Vengeful Embrace
The Thalanian Dynasty Series (MMF)
Book 1: Theirs for the Night
Book 2: Forever Theirs
Book 3: Theirs Ever After
The Kings Series
Book 1: The Last King
Book 2: The Fearless King
The Hidden Sins Series
Book 1: The Devil’s Daughter
Book 2: The Hunting Grounds
Book 3: The Surviving Girls
The Make Me Series
Book 1: Make Me Want
Book 2: Make Me Crave
Book 3: Make Me Yours
Book 4: Make Me Need
The O’Malley Series
Book 1: The Marriage Contract
Book 2: The Wedding Pact
Book 3: An Indecent Proposal
Book 4: Forbidden Promises
Book 5: Undercover Attraction
Book 6: The Bastard’s Bargain
The Hot in Hollywood Series
Book 1: Ties that Bind
Book 2: Animal Attraction
The Foolproof Love Series
Book 1: A Foolproof Love
Book 2: Fool Me Once
Book 3: A Fool for You
Out of Uniform Series
Book 1: In Bed with Mr. Wrong
Book 1.5: His to Keep
Book 2: Falling for His Best Friend
Book 3: His Lover to Protect
Book 3.5: His to Take
Serve Series
Book 1: Mistaken by Fate
Book 2: Betting on Fate
Book 3: Protecting Fate
Come Undone Series
Book 1: Wrong Bed, Right Guy
Book 2: Chasing Mrs. Right
Book 3: Two Wrongs, One Right
Book 3.5: Seducing Mr. Right
Other Books
Seducing the Bridesmaid
Meeting His Match
Prom Queen
Copyright © 2020 by Katee Robert
All rights reserved.
Cover art by By Hang Le
Print ISBN: 978-1-951329-11-2
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.
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To Sierra Simone
Contents
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
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Acknowledgments
About the Author
1
Abel
We time our arrival perfectly. The feast is more than halfway over. The early fights—the ones people froth at the mouth for—have come and gone. By the low sound of voices in conversation, people have begun to eat and enjoy themselves, relishing the fact that it’s one of the few nights a year when Sabine Valley’s three factions can mingle without repercussions.
We’re about to ruin their night.
We’re about to ruin their whole fucking life.
I glance back at my brothers. They have their emotions locked down tightly. This will go our way, but it’s impossible to ignore the fact that last time we were in Sabine Valley, we were running for our lives. Eight years later, and it’s time to settle the score. “You with me?”
One by one, they nod.
“As soon as the ceremony is over, we retreat to the warehouse. The handfasting has to be consummated tonight, but don’t force them or do anything that will jeopardize the next year.” I don’t expect it to be an issue—even my brothers and I have lines—but it still needs to be said. “Got it?”
Another round of nods.
I turn without another word and lead them across the rooftops to the edge of the grounds. From this vantage point, I can see everything. The deep curve of the natural amphitheater marking the middle of the island in the center of the city. The three factions have mingled a little, but the lines are still remarkably clear. Each of the leaders has a dais at the edge of the amphitheater, creating three points of a large triangle.
In the center of the amphitheater, two fighters are in the middle of combat. From the look of them, they’re an Amazon and a Mystic. The Amazon is a Latina who’s a good six inches taller and moves with the deadly efficiency her faction is known for. The Mystic is a thin, Black man with flowing robes who looks like a stiff wind will blow him over.
“Mystic will take it,” Cohen murmurs at my side.
“When they’re finished, we go in. Don’t let anyone stop you.” As long as we can get down there and issue an official challenge, there’s not a damn thing any of the factions can do except meet it. The laws of the feast days are there for a reason. To ignore them is to invite ruin. That shit should have been enough to keep peace, but the rules didn’t help my father when these fuckers slit his throat, they didn’t help our people who burned alive in the house they should have been safe in, and they sure as hell didn’t help me and my brothers when we were forced to flee for our lives.
Now I’m going to make them choke on their goddamned laws.
As we watch, the Mystic catches the Amazon’s punch in his robe, twisting the fabric to trap her. He delivers a brutal jab to her throat and bears her to the ground, punching her in the face once, twice, a third time. Her hand slaps the ground twice. Just like that, the fight is over.
The Herald steps forward. She’s an ancient Korean woman with her long, white hair pulled back in a high knot at the top of her head. “Gerald wins. The Amazons will allot him the agreed amount.”
A cheer goes up from the wedge of the amphitheater that’s mostly Mystics. They’re easy to pick out because they dress like they just stepped out of a fantasy novel. Robes in a variety of colors; hair designed in towering spirals and peaks and stuffed with trinkets and ribbons. They’re also
smart as hell and like to use others’ perceptions of them to their advantage. They’re not as strong and fierce as the Amazons, not as brutal as the Raider faction, but there’s a reason they’ve held their wedge of the city since its inception. They are not to be underestimated.
“Now,” I murmur.
One by one, we drop off the low roof to the street. I pause long enough to ensure all seven of us are on the ground and then lead the way through the crowd. It doesn’t take long for people to start noticing us. Seven men in dark clothing with murder in their eyes. Even if they don’t recognize who we are, they begin to part, pushing each other to make way for us.
We reach the lip of the amphitheater and start down the stairs. One of the Herald’s guards moves to stop us from entering the sand, but she holds up a hand, and he shifts back. This woman has been Herald since I was a child, a neutral party that oversees all the feasts and calls no faction home. She surveys me and finally nods. “Have you come to challenge?”
It’s obvious to everyone present that it’s exactly why I’m here, but Sabine Valley is nothing without its ridiculous rituals. I can’t ignore them if I want this to work. “Yes, Herald.”
Her dark eyes flick over my face and those of my brothers’ behind me. “What grievance have you brought to us, Abel Paine?”
“My brothers and I were wronged by the leaders of the factions present.” The space naturally amplifies my voice, but even if it didn’t, everyone would hear me. They’ve all gone silent. “Seven fights for the seven lives they’ve ruined.”
She studies me for a long moment. The Herald has never stopped someone from engaging in ritual combat during Lammas, but she still has the authority to do it. “Who will be fighting?”
“I will.”
“You’ll stand in proxy for your brothers?”
“Yes, Herald.” Things aren’t traditionally done this way, but that’s going to work in my favor tonight. Those fools will look at me and think that there’s no way I can possibly win seven fights. They’ll happily wager the things they can least afford to lose on that assumption. And then I’m going to shove their failure down their throats and make them choke on it.
The Herald tilts her head to the side. “And the stakes?”
“For every fight I win, one of my brothers chooses a Bride as restitution.”
Her eyes widen ever so slightly. “A high price.”
“So was exile.”
At that, she nods and turns slowly to meet each of the faction leaders’ gazes in turn. I’ve avoided looking at them until now, but I can’t avoid it any longer. First up is Aisling, queen of the Amazons. She’s a fierce bitch and looks every inch of it—a lean white woman with hard, green eyes and pale blond hair braided back from her face. I once watched her gut a man and walk away without so much as a hitch in her stride.
She sent her warriors to set my childhood home on fire the night my father died.
Now to Ciar, the Mystic’s leader. He’s a grizzled white man with a cloud of gray hair who looks like someone boiled him down, papery skin stretched tight over muscles and tendons. He likes to pretend the gods speak through him and uses it to rule his people with an iron fist. He’s also got thirteen wives at last count and dozens of children.
It was his order that provided the drugs that sent our household to sleep, killing dozens in the fire.
And finally the person I’ve both dreaded and craved seeing. I stand there and stare up at the man who was once my friend. Eli Walsh. He’s filled out since I saw him last, a white guy with long-ish blond hair swept to the side and black frame glasses. He always was too attractive, and now he looks fucking flawless. Someone who didn’t know better would assume he’s as useless as he’s pretty, and he likes to play up those perceptions. In truth, he’s nearly as deadly as I am.
His father slit my father’s throat and would have killed every single one of my brothers if I didn’t take them and run for our lives.
All while Eli stood by and did nothing.
He’s taken our future, our territory, everything.
The Herald raises her hands. “The stakes are fair. Send your warriors.”
I turn to my brothers. Six faces that I know as well as my own, and none of them look happy. They’ve locked their shit down, and they trust me to take care of this. I pull my shirt over my head and toss it to Broderick. “Wait on the stairs.” If something goes wrong, he’ll get the rest of them out.
He shakes his head, a small smile pulling at his mouth. “Never could resist a chance to take off your shirt.”
“They want a show. I’m going to give it to them.”
“Uh-huh.” He nudges Gabriel, our youngest brother, with his shoulder. “Let’s give him room to work.” He gives me a long look. “Don’t die.”
“Please. As if these assholes could kill me.” Technically, fights on Lammas can go to the death without repercussions, but that’s not on the agenda tonight. If I slaughter my way through seven of their best people, it will turn the city against me. We’re back, and we’re here to stay, which means playing this clean. Even if it’s only obeying the spirit of the feast, rather than the explicit rules.
The faction leaders spend ten minutes communicating, and then seven people move out onto the sand. I study them the same way they’re studying me. Three women—all Amazons—and four men. Two of Eli’s people. Two Mystics. I only recognize two of them. This should be interesting.
The first steps forward. It’s one of Eli’s people, a Latino man built like a prize fighter. He’s light on his feet as he approaches me. I roll my shoulders and take a slow breath.
Eight years of exile. Eight years of fighting and scraping and clawing for survival in a world that wants nothing more than to eliminate me and my brothers.
It ends tonight.
The Herald lifts her hand. “Begin.”
My opponent rushes me. He’s even faster than I expected, and he moves like he knows what he’s doing. I hold perfectly still as he closes the distance between us. He takes that as my being unprepared and strikes with an uppercut that would take off my head if it landed.
I shift back just enough that he misses. He sank too much into that punch, and it leaves him wide open. I hammer a brutal punch into his ribs. Something cracks beneath my fist, and he stumbles. I don’t give him time to recover. I kick his knee, dislocating it, and then punch him in the face.
He hits the ground and doesn’t get up.
One of the Herald’s people comes over and crouches next to him. She presses two fingers to his neck. “He’s alive.”
The Herald nods. “Abel wins the first match. The prize?”
I glance at Gabriel. My youngest brother is pale and looks vaguely sick, but he steps forward and lifts his chin. “I claim Fallon of the Mystics as my Bride.” Ciar’s heir.
A murmur goes through the crowd in a wave. I hold my breath as I wait to see what they’ll do. Ciar looks like he wants to kill us, but he finally waves a hand, and a gorgeous redhead steps forward. She comes down the stairs quickly, moving with a grace that screams combat training. Her face shows nothing as she crosses to stand next to Gabriel.
One down, six to go.
The factions sent their best. I’m better. I defeat them one by one. I’m not showy, choosing to conserve energy instead of being entertaining. One by one, my brothers claim their Brides. Sons and daughters, siblings, loved ones of the people responsible for our father’s death, for our exile.
Until there’s only one opponent left.
He’s a giant of a man, a huge white guy who has six inches on me and probably outweighs me by fifty pounds. I turn my head and spit blood—the last Amazon got in a couple good hits—and motion. “Let’s get this over with.”
The crowd doesn’t cheer, doesn’t speak, doesn’t seem to breathe. Guess I am being entertaining, after all.
The giant lumbers toward me. Too slow. This is their final fighter? I almost laugh at the absurdity of it. This time, I don’t wait for him to rea
ch me. I rush forward and hit my knees, driving my fist up into his balls with everything I have. He makes a high-pitched whistling sound and topples, curling in on himself like a dead bug.
I climb to my feet and look down. He’s too busy clutching his balls to tap out, but it’s clear he’s not getting up anytime soon.
The Herald raises her eyebrows. “Abel wins the final match. The prize?”
Here it is. The thing I’ve been waiting for. I turn and find Eli. He’s leaning forward, his elbows propped on his knees. His expression is smooth and free of worry, but that shit doesn’t fool me. Eli’s always been the best liar I’ve ever known. He managed to convince me that we were friends, that we’d always have each other’s backs. I won’t be fooled again.
I give him a bloody grin. Got you, fucker. “I choose Harlow Byrne.”
Eli’s woman.
2
Harlow
My breath rushes out in a gasp. For the past thirty minutes, we’ve watched Abel Paine decimate the best Sabine Valley has to offer. And now he’s looking at me like he wants to devour me whole. My head goes fuzzy, and I start to push to my feet.
Eli grabs my arm without looking over. “No.”
I stare at his fingers wrapped around my forearm. “Take your hand off me.” There was time when we were always touching, where we couldn’t get enough of each other. When I was younger and more foolish and honestly believed that Eli saw me rather than the fantasy of the helpless princess he expects me to be. Five years later, and that hope is ash on my tongue. Five years later, and our love has started to feel a whole lot like hate.
Abel: A Sabine Valley Novel Page 1
