Abel Read online

  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.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  Created with Vellum

  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.”
r />   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 reach 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.