Abel: A Sabine Valley Novel

by Robert, Katee

  But I’m not a coward, and I always do what I say I’ll do.

  I take a slow breath and make myself turn off the water. I’m not even surprised to walk out of the shower and find Abel waiting for me. I lift my chin. “I’m not going to fight with you about this.”

  “There’s nothing to fight about. You don’t want to do this, so you’re not going to do it.” He hands me a fluffy towel, his expression unreadable.

  “I gave my word.” I dry off slowly and then pad naked to the counter and grab my lotion. “It doesn’t matter what I want to do, because I agreed. Eli made the mistake of trying to make me an oathbreaker. I truly hope you won’t do the same.”

  Abel props his hip on the counter and watches me rub lotion into my skin. Heat slides through his eyes, but he makes no move to reach for me. “The terms have changed.”

  “That’s bullshit, Abel.” I finish with the lotion and turn to him. “Or is the problem that all your talk about me fucking Eli is bullshit?”

  He gives me a slow smile. “Nah. Like I told Eli, I’m not jealous. I’m territorial.”

  “That’s the same thing.”

  “It’s really not.”

  My brain finally catches up with what he just said. “You talked to Eli about this.”

  “Come on, Harlow. You’ve only known me a couple days, but you’re a smart girl. Tell me you’re surprised.”

  I’m not. Abel is the kind of guy who wades into any situation and, fifteen minutes later, he’s the one in charge. Part of it is sheer strength, part of it ruthlessness, and the rest is a strange sort of charm that isn’t quite charisma but draws people all the same. The way he handled Old Town was brilliant. No posturing. No threats. Just a calm and clear declaration of intent. I could barely take my gaze off him, and the rest of Old Town obviously felt the same.

  That doesn’t mean he gets to bulldoze me now.

  I drag a brush through my hair, wincing when I yank too hard. Abel tilts his head to the side. “That won’t do.” He catches my wrist and takes the brush from my hand. I watch, my throat tight, as he comes to stand behind me and carefully begins brushing my hair.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper.

  He’s got a look of concentration on his face that I’ve seen before, both in the fights during Lammas and when we fuck. The brush is a gentle tug on my hair, a soft touch at the hands of a man capable of so much violence. It makes me shiver. Abel’s eyes flick up and meet mine in the mirror. “It strikes me that you’ve never been taken care of, Harlow. It’s a damn shame.”

  It takes me two tries to speak. “I can take care of myself.”

  “No doubt.” He finishes one section, drapes it over my shoulder, and moves to the next. “But just because you can doesn’t mean you should have to.” Still holding my gaze, he leans down and presses a kiss to my shoulder. “You’ll share a bed with Eli. You’ll keep your word. You’ll just do it in a way that will minimize harm.”

  I feel like I’m standing in the middle of a pyre and he just tossed a match at my feet. Every time I think I have a read on Abel, he does something like this and sends me spinning out into confusion. “Why are you doing this?”

  “I take care of what’s mine. You’re my Bride.”

  “So is Eli.”

  His eyes flash, and he goes back to combing my hair. “Eli requires a different approach.”

  Every instinct demands I put as much distance between us as possible. I already know that Abel won’t tolerate me doing it physically—not right now—so I do the only thing I can think of. I change the subject. “It’s very important to me that the programs Eli and I have created over the last five years aren’t eliminated.”

  Abel doesn’t look up. “Tell me about the programs.”

  I try to focus. This is what I want, after all. The entire reason why I’ve submitted to Abel. Maybe not the entire reason. I ignore that last bit. “Only a part of the tithes go to the compound, only enough to keep it running. The rest go to ensuring no one goes hungry in the faction. We have grocery drops twice a week in several set locations.” He still seems more focused on my hair than on what I’m saying, but I don’t miss the way his expression tightens.

  I take a breath and keep going. “We’ve also had more regular patrols, mostly to have a visible presence, but also so that our people are available for any reports that need to be handled.”

  “Reports.”

  It’s not a question, but I answer all the same. “Domestic violence has gone down more than seventy percent since Eli took over. Other crimes like assault and murder have also decreased substantially. He spent a year making examples, and it’s worked.” No matter what else I feel about Eli, I cannot fault him for what he’s done to improve this faction. If someone like him had been in charge when I was a child, I wouldn’t have endured years of living under my father’s roof, subject to his mercurial moods and abuse.

  “I see.” Abel idly drags his fingers through my hair. “Your programs are safe, Harlow. I promise.”

  I want to press him, to demand more, but Abel’s already said that he’ll never lie to me. Why would he lie about this? I take a slow breath and let it go. “In that case, we need to talk about the Brides. They’re going to be a problem. Or at least some of them are. Beatrix of the Mystics is here. Jasper didn’t seem particularly happy about it, but the one you really have to watch is Fallon. She’s a powder keg about to explode. Monroe is, too, but in a different way.” Of the two, I’d be hard-pressed to decide which is the most dangerous.

  He pauses briefly and then keeps brushing my hair. “Ezekiel will handle things with Jasper and Beatrix. It’s messy, but likely for the best that he has both of them here.”

  Because, once upon a time, they used to be friends. Everyone knows the story, though it reads more like a fairy tale than reality. A Paine, an Amazon, and a Mystic—the best of friends. For most of their teen years and into their twenties, they were nearly inseparable despite their respective parents’ best efforts. Until the coup against the Paines. And then Jasper and Beatrix’s friendship turned to something more in the years since. It has to sting for Ezekiel to come back to that. “What will he do?”

  “That’s his business.” Abel sets my brush down and runs his fingers through my damp hair. “Aside from the heirs, what was your impression?”

  “Matteo is classic Mystic. Sort of checked out and chill. It could be an act, but if it is, he’s never once slipped in the time we’ve been watching the Mystic faction.” He’s several spots down the line for the throne, so I honestly think he’s just a strange anomaly in the ruling family. The rest of them are feral. “Mabel, the Mystic’s youngest wife, is a mouse. She didn’t say much and basically hid in the shadow of her bodyguard.”

  Abel makes a face. “The bodyguard is a complication.”

  “You should have known she would be. The Mystic leader inherited her with the marriage.” I have to fight not to lean back into his touch as his hands land on my shoulders, thumbs digging into the tight knots there. I hiss out a breath and have to close my eyes. “Winry is exactly what she seems to be. She’s the favorite daughter, the sheltered one—as much as an Amazon can be sheltered. She’s a good kid, and she’s scared out of her mind and trying not to show it.” I force my eyes open to find him watching me with a strange expression on his face. “What?”

  “Nothing.” Abel slowly releases me, pausing when I weave on my feet a little, and steps back. “Winry will be fine. She’s made of stronger stuff than everyone expects.”

  Maybe so, but… I turn to face him. “Why did you give her to Cohen? Of all your brothers, he’s the…” I hesitate. “Coldest.” More like terrifying and icy and deadly. Abel is deadly, too, but he’s got a fire inside him that makes him feel a thousand times more human than his younger brother.

  “I have my reasons.”

  “Maybe one day you’ll explain them to me.”

  He steps closer. “Do you really want to know?”

  I open my mouth
but reconsider before I can speak. Abel’s already too close. Asking this question, allowing him to invite me into his confidence, might be the smart play to make, but I’m suddenly afraid that I won’t be able to keep it separate. That I won’t be able to identify it as a play and not as a developing relationship. It’s the first step down the treacherous slope to falling for him, and I’m farther along that path than is comfortable.

  Instead, I make myself turn from him and walk to the robe hanging from a hook by the door. “Another time.”

  “Sure,” he says quietly. “Another time.” I must imagine the disappointment coloring his tone. I must. If it’s there, it’s a lie.

  I might have come to the conclusion that I can trust Abel with my body the same way I can trust Eli with it, but my heart is no safer within his grasp. Even if he’s right there with me, tipping toward the point of no return, he won’t let that change any of his actions. If it ever becomes necessary, he’ll throw me under the bus without hesitation, soft feelings or no. Abel’s worked too hard to accomplish this coup to let a little thing like soft feelings derail him.

  My robe feels like a completely inadequate shield. I reach the door and push through, only to stop short at the sight that greets me.

  Eli.

  On my bed.

  He sees me and raises his eyebrows, the very picture of a lounging king. “I’ve decided to play by Abel’s rules. I’m sure you have no objection.”

  Oh, I have every objection. Bad enough to share the bed with one of them, to alternate between the two shades of uncomfortableness, to deal with it as best I can. To share a bed with both?

  The thought leaves me weaving on my feet. I’m strong. I’ve had to be to get to where I am, to survive what lies in my past. Faced with this, it all means nothing. I might be strong, but I’m nowhere near strong enough. Any hope I had of surviving this year with my heart intact is disappearing before my very eyes.

  I turn around to find Abel filling the door behind me. “I am not a bone to fight over.”

  “You’re the one who put yourself in that position.” He shrugs, as if this is a minor inconvenience. “We’ll make it work.”

  That is not an answer, but I suppose I didn’t ask a question. I spin back around to find Eli sitting up. He’s wearing what he usually starts the nights in—lounge pants and nothing else. The bruises on his face and chest have already started to fade, the swelling completely gone. And, damn it, he looks good. It’s not fair that he looks so good when he’s regularly shattering my heart into a thousand pieces. He catches my gaze. “I’ll play nice. Tonight.”

  “That’s not exactly the reassurance you seem to think it is.” Play nice. What does that even mean? There was a time when we played nice, but the last few days have broken what little foundation we shared. I don’t know what he is to me anymore, but nice does not apply. Neither does safe.

  “I’ll keep him in line.” Abel’s voice is closer, and I barely jump when his hands land on my hips, and he pulls me back against his chest.

  Eli’s smile goes sharp. “That won’t be necessary.”

  Oh gods, what is happening? I try to breathe past the strange panic fluttering in my chest. “Since when are you two in agreement on anything? This is a terrible idea. Everything about this is a terrible idea.”

  Eli’s gaze flicks to Abel and then back to me. “We’re in alignment for the night. Don’t think too hard about it.”

  As if it were really that easy. I wave my hands at the bed. “Even without the threat of violence or the other very obvious pitfalls of this plan, the bed isn’t big enough for three people.” When I set up this room, I picked out a queen-sized bed because I had no intention of sharing it. It’s barely big enough for me and Abel, and I’m one hundred percent sure that his feet hang over the end when he stretches out.

  “Then we’ll go to the other room. Grab the shit you need.” Abel gives my hips a squeeze and nudges me forward.

  The shit I need?

  How about a flamethrower and a suit of armor?

  Strangely enough, the hysterical thought calms me. Wasn’t I just thinking that I’m physically safe with them? They won’t do anything I don’t want them to. That might not help my emotional state, but it still gives me something to focus on. “I—”

  Abel squeezes my hips again. “We’re not going to do anything you don’t want, sweetheart. You say stop, it stops.”

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to say stop now, but I swallow the word down. I don’t know what strange alliance is going on between the men in this moment, but I already decided I’d do anything for this faction.

  Except…

  I can’t pretend that I’m saying yes solely because the faction. No matter how much this scares me, I want it. I won’t lie to myself and say I don’t. “Okay,” I whisper.

  “Let’s go.”

  I take a deep breath and then another. It’s not enough to slow the racing of my heart, but it’s enough to help me think. I duck back into the bathroom to grab my toothbrush, and then there’s nothing else to do but walk in a strange little group to Eli’s room.

  The door barely closes behind us when Abel pulls his shirt over his head and drops it on the floor. I don’t miss the way Eli’s gaze catches on his chest and lingers, but I can hardly blame him when I’m doing the same thing. The man is built like a fucking tank and having all that power focused on sex is a heady thing.

  He jerks his chin at us. “Get in bed.”

  Holy shit, is this really happening.

  20

  Abel

  Harlow is skittish as fuck, but she drops the robe and walks to the bed, her chin raised as if about to step in front a firing squad. I check out her round ass and thick thighs, enjoying the little jiggle with each step. She’s built like the mythical Amazons the faction in Sabine Valley get their name from, but my girl likes to eat. I love that shit.

  I lift my gaze to find Eli watching her, too. For just a moment, before he locks himself down, he has the expression of a man standing in a desert who’s just laid eyes on an oasis. No matter how ugly things have gotten between them, he obviously still loves her. The thought sends an unwelcome pang through me. Love or no, he fucked up his chance. She’s mine now.

  They both are.

  Like I told him earlier, I don’t give a fuck what the status quo was when it was just the two of them. I’m here now. Harlow can think what she wants. Eli can keep hatching plans in that impressive brain of his. It doesn’t matter. I’m not going anywhere.

  Harlow skirts the edge of the mattress closest to Eli and climbs on the other side. She scoots to the top of the bed and leans against the headboard. She catches me watching her and raises an eyebrow. “Big talk, but you’re just standing there.”

  There you are.

  I give her a slow smile, enjoying the way I can see her catch her breath even from across the room. I stalk forward and grip the back of Eli’s neck when I come even with him. He tenses like he’s going to throw me off, but I don’t miss the way goose bumps rise over his exposed skin. Eli likes being handled roughly, and fuck if that knowledge doesn’t tie me in knots.

  “The same thing I said in her room goes for you, too.” I say it quietly. “At any point, if you want this to stop, say so and it stops.” No matter how much I want to punish him, to fight him until we’re at a standstill, I’m not interested in forcing anyone into my bed who doesn’t want to be there.

  He leans back against my grip, just a little. “Even after all this time, you know me better than that, Abel.”

  “Do I?” The question feels ripped from my chest. I thought I knew him, once upon a time. I thought I knew a lot of things.

  Eli twists a little. Not trying to break my hold on him; just moving enough that he can meet my gaze. “People don’t really change. You’re the one who told me that.”

  I remember that night. How could I forget? It’s the night everything changed. My father had just pulled some fucked up shit with Cohen, and I’d had to st
ep in. It’d fucked me up. I knew my father was a monster, but having that violence turned on us had rocked my world view in a way I wasn’t prepared for. I was twenty-seven at the time.

  That was the night that I realized working at the ground level to change things in the faction would never do a damn thing as long as Bauer Paine ruled.

  Eli’s the one who found me on the roof, sitting there in silence in the freezing night, unable to release the storm of emotions inside me. He’d offered me what comfort I’d allow, sitting close with his shoulder a reassuring steadiness against mine, and asked me what I wanted to do. I’d told him that people didn’t change and my father is a threat.

  Threats needed to be eliminated.

  I still don’t really understand how the fuck we ended up here. If people don’t really change, then how could the man who was always the steady presence at my side suddenly shove a blade in my back?

  I search his face, but there are no answers there. Eli always did have a damn good poker face, but tonight isn’t about digging into the useless whys of the past.

  It’s about Harlow.

  I’m not quite sure how we landed in this strange place of agreement, but as I lean in, he relaxes into my touch. I study the look in his hazel eyes. Fierceness and determination and no small amount of lust. It’ll do. I give his neck a squeeze. “You’ve been fucking up.”

  “So you keep telling me.”

  I use my hold on him to turn his face to Harlow. “Seems to me you have some groveling to do.”

  She shakes her head. “Not interested.”

  “Not with his words, sweetheart. With his mouth.” I guide him forward until our knees hit the mattress. “What do you say, Eli? Gods know you’ll fuck this up if you talk, so just nod if you want Harlow’s pussy all over your face.”