Reluctant King (Reluctant Royals Book 1)

by Montana Ash

  “Uh huh,” the notorious assassin yawned. “How nice for you. And you are?” she directed her eyes toward Brax next.

  Brax felt his lips twitch despite himself. The woman had balls he’d give her that. “That would make me the King,” he answered, drolly.

  “Well, well …” she murmured, before using a foot to push out a chair. “Take a seat,” she said, just as the chair slid to a stop with a millimetre to spare in front of his steel capped boots.

  Brax made no effort to take the disrespectfully offered seat, instead he took the opportunity to observe Sabre close up. She was long and lean, perhaps coming up to his shoulders, which would make her around six-feet tall, he thought. Perhaps on the taller side for a woman, but angels – both male and female – were typically tall beings. Her sleeveless leather vest showcased muscular biceps and skin the colour of milk. The paleness of her skin was a striking contrast to the dark, blue-black of her hair, which was cut in an almost masculine style. It was short at the back and at the sides but still held enough length on top to be styled. No doubt the short locks were for ease of maintenance. As a soldier, Brax could appreciate that. He himself habitually cut his hair so it would stay out of his eyes when fighting. Unfortunately, his demonic nature caused his hair to grow incredibly quickly. And since he was no longer fighting on the front lines, it had gotten substantially longer. He even had to use a band to tie it back these days. Something his father would have scolded him for and something his brothers would have teased him about. Why did he keep reminiscing about the good old days? Such memories were useless. He continued his perusal and noted small breasts that were encased in black leather, dipping enticingly into a small vee at the front, giving a hint of subtle curves. He had no doubt those curves would be a perfect handful. A tucked in waist, lean, long legs that ended in desert style black boots completed the entire look. But it was her eyes that had his breath stalling in his throat.

  Her eyes were the intriguing colour of plums; purple, maroon and cream all mixed together. Fuck, Brax thought, irritably. I love plums. He immediately scolded himself because the unexpected attraction could very well be the death of him. Literally. A few short months ago, such a thought wouldn’t have bothered him. He had hit rock bottom and was well past depressed and into drowning. He had felt the fruitless nature of his search reflected like a mirror; meaningless, barren and with no end in sight. But a few well-chosen words from his soldier buddy and quite an elaborate arse-kicking by Draven had given Brax a new, small spark of purpose and hope.

  “You going to sit down or what, Abraxis?” Sabre questioned, plum eyes lighting with both humour and challenge.

  “That’s King Abraxis to you,” Draven corrected immediately.

  The assassin raised her eyebrows, “Oh, that’s right … King.”

  Eyes of maroon swept him from head to toe and the slight crinkling of her nose along with the flat look he received left no doubt in his mind that she had just weighed and measured him – and found him wanting. Why that pissed him off so easily and so swiftly, he didn’t know. He had never cared for the opinions of others and certainly had never cared to impress anyone. Other than his family, whose pride and affection had meant the world to him. All for naught now, he thought, bitterly. The sharp stab of pain in the centre of his chest was a welcome reminder of why he was skulking around the underground fight club to begin with. Manoeuvring the chair, he finally sat down.

  “Your Majesty,” Sabre mocked, bowing her head. “I had no idea the King would be gracing me with his presence. Had I known I wouldn’t have spilled brains all over the floor.”

  “Somehow I doubt that,” Brax said, dryly.

  Sabre smiled, a look that was particularly becoming on her face. “Meh, you’re probably right. So … to what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “I want to hire you.” His words garnered no reaction at all, and he found himself gritting his teeth. He had expected at least surprise from his announcement. The woman seemed unflappable, and he had to force the beast inside of him down, warning it not to take it as a challenge. “Did you hear what I said?” he asked, allowing the words to emerge with a hint of fang. Unlike werewolves and vampires whose fangs elongated from their upper incisors, his fangs were actually embedded in his lower jaw, causing all sorts of issues with his speech when he was growing up before he managed to control them better.

  Sabre eyed him for a moment before sitting forward, “I heard you. Why would the King need to hire me? For what?”

  “What do you think?” Draven sneered from behind Brax’s right shoulder where he stood like a sentinel, “Killing.”

  Sabre scrunched her nose up, “Killing, huh? Don’t you have an army for that? Or is this entrapment? Maybe you want me to confess to crimes so you can have me arrested and thrown in jail.”

  Brax leaned back in his chair, shaking his head in disbelief, “Really? I just saw you kill a guy in front of me not thirty minutes ago. I don’t care about your little death matches –” he managed to get out, only to be interrupted by the, as yet, silent man.

  “Hey! These are the best cage fights in all of Purgatory – minus the cage of course. That’s kind of metaphorical, you know? Anyway, I worked hard for its reputation,” he pointed out.

  Now that the man had his attention, Brax narrowed his eyes, taking a deep breath in and trying to gauge the being’s scent. He really did look and smell human. If it wasn’t for the black eyes, Brax would have believed there was nothing supernatural about him. Although humans were scarce in Purgatory there were a few around. Most of them were magic users like witches, mages, and voodoo practitioners who were able to cross the veils between realms. Not many humans – even those with magical abilities – knew there was more than one plane of existence, let alone how to access the veils. But in fact, there were four planes; the human realm – Earth – as well as Purgatory, Heaven, and Hell. Out of all the realms and all the beings that existed, humans were the most ignorant to what was really going on. Purgatory taught the history of all the realms as a part of their schooling in adolescence. Brax wasn’t sure what went on in all the levels and dimensions in Hell, but he knew they were aware of the veil and the realms. And as the first realm to explode into existence, Heaven pretty much knew everything. He had no doubt humans would be surprised to learn that Purgatory was a world in its own right, with living, breathing beings and was in no way a waiting room for the dead. Purgatory was merely a world filled with supernatural creatures and was parallel to Earth. In fact, it was almost a direct reflection of Earth, with televisions, movies, phones, and cars. The universe was big on balance; two living realms sandwiched between two death realms. Heaven and Hell housed the dead, while Earth and Purgatory housed the living.

  “And who are you exactly?” He eventually asked the man; certain he wasn’t a magic wielder but clueless about everything else. “What are you?”

  “Gage,” was the only reply he received before the man stood up. “If you’re going to talk shop, me and the kitten will take our business elsewhere. Jinx, come with,” he motioned toward the long slab of wood a small distance away.

  The girl – Jinx – opened her mouth, no doubt to argue, but quickly shut it when Sabre gave a small shake of her head. Huffing and rolling her unusual bi-coloured eyes as only the truly young can do, Jinx pouted as she was quickly led away. Once alone, Sabre returned her gaze to him.

  “What exactly do you want from me? You’re the King. You have resources I could never have. Why have you come to me?” Sabre asked, bluntly.

  “I’ve been led to believe you are one of the best assassins and mercenaries for hire in Purgatory,” Brax began, only to be interrupted.

  “Not one of the best. I’m the best,” Sabre boasted.

  Usually, Brax would have taken such words as arrogance but in Sabre’s case, he felt they were probably true. Still, he ignored them as he continued on; “And I need information. Information that people won’t tell me because of who I am.”

  “Ah, I
see. You need intel from the slums but you live in a palace. I’m guessing even your reputation as a leader of the Horde can’t unlock some doors for you,” Sabre said, eyes directly on his.

  The words annoyed him because they were true. Instead of growling like he wanted to, he simply agreed, “Right.”

  Sabre leaned back in her chair and kicked her long legs out in front of her under the table. “Okay. You need information. What about the killing part? Oh …” her eyes suddenly lit with an inner fire, “do I get to torture them for information before I get to do the killing? Appetiser and a main – my favourite.”

  “You are horrible,” Draven whispered, his voice sounding incredulous.

  “Yeah? Well, so’s your face,” was the decidedly lame comeback from the assassin in question.

  Brax held up a hand, silencing the duo who, for all the world looked and sounded like a pair of bickering siblings. “Will you two quit it? Sabre, I don’t care how you get me the goods. Just as long as you do. And at the moment, I don’t want any primary players killed.”

  “And why is that?” Sabre inquired.

  Brax allowed his eyes to flare, the demon-beast within him rising to the surface. “Because I intend to kill them myself.”

  Sabre perked up like a dog being offered a treat, “Going to get those royal hands dirty, Your Majesty?”

  Brax snorted, “My hands haven’t been clean for a long time.”

  Sabre held out her fist, “Right on. Come on, fist bump. You’re not gonna leave me hangin’ are you?”

  Brax raised his own fist as if drawn by a magnet, only to have it slapped back down by Draven. “Don’t even think about it,” his angel warned. Glancing at Sabre, he saw her roll her eyes and noted that her lips were quirked in humour. But he also saw what he thought was a hint of respect in her eyes. The woman respects violence and death. Go figure, he thought. And apparently his dick respected women who respected violence and death. It was still sitting at half-mast from his earlier inspection and the longer he sat in the presence of the wicked angel, the more it tried to twitch its way out of his pants.

  Draven cleared his throat, “Business, Your Majesty?” he prompted.

  Brax nodded once. Draven was right, time to get down to the nitty gritty. “Right. I want you to find the person who took out the hit on my brothers. As well as any other information you can find as to why someone would even want to topple the line of Cerberus.”

  Sabre’s lashes twitched minutely even as her face remained impassive. “Wow. Want me to find Santa Claus for you too? Because I have a feeling it will be just as impossible.”

  Brax clenched his fists, his claws piercing his palms as he made to stand, “If you don’t think you’re up to it –”

  “I didn’t say that.” Sabre tapped a finger against the beaten-up wood of the table, apparently considering his words. Finally, she sighed, “What’s in it for me?”

  “How about a good deed? The sense of accomplishment that comes with doing something right and noble?” Draven offered, sarcasm dripping from his words.

  This time, Sabre made to stand. “Sorry, feather-brain. I don’t work for free.”

  “If you get me the information I want, you can name your price,” Brax interjected.

  Sabre sat back down slowly, eyes narrowing in his direction. “Tempting. Very tempting. Question: what makes you think I’m not already a part of the conspiracy?”

  Brax couldn’t say why, and it was probably the stupidest feeling he had ever had, but he was pretty sure Sabre had nothing to do with wanting his family dead. Still, he allowed the scene to play out; “Are you? If you are, I won’t have any need to hire you of course. Although, I’ll still consider it a good evening out because I will get the information I need from you. One way or another.”

  Sabre looked amused by his last threat, but she surprised him when she looked him in the eye and gave him a genuine response; “That won’t be necessary. I currently know nothing. My allegiance is to the Blue Devil Den. In turn, that means my loyalty goes to the employer of whatever job I am hired to do at the time. If that is now to be you, then you have my loyalty for as long as it takes me to fulfil the contract.”

  This time it was he who raised his hand toward Sabre. “Consider yourself hired.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “How’d I do?”

  “You totally pulled it off. If I didn’t know you had been making moon eyes at him for years now, I would have been convinced that you didn’t know who he was,” came Jinx’s prompt reply.

  Sabre pursed her lips and responded primly, “I do not make moon eyes at anyone. Least of all the last remaining official heir to the throne of Purgatory.”

  Jinx snorted, boosting herself up to sit on Gage’s combination bar, office desk, mortuary table, and hospital bed. The solid timber bench performed many uses faithfully and never complained about what was put on it, whether it be money, blood, sweat, or tears. “Gage?” Jinx inquired, casting a quick look in his direction.

  “Major moon eyes,” Gage confirmed, not even looking up from the money he was counting.

  “To be fair, you stalk the entire royal family equally,” Jinx pointed out, before Sabre could do anything more than growl in annoyance. “It’s only the middle one you swoon over.”

  “I don’t stalk the royal family,” she immediately and automatically denied. “In my line of work it’s smart to take an interest in monarchy and politics.” And it was, though that wasn’t the main reason for her stealthy focus on the descendants of the line of Cerberus. That was something she could never speak of. To anyone.

  “I must say, he sure looks good close up,” Jinx confessed with a small sigh.

  Indeed he does, Sabre agreed. Abraxis, the demon who would be King, looked to be around three or so inches taller than her. He was at least twice her width though and all muscle. Years leading the most elite military force in Purgatory no doubt had a hand in that, she mused. The tight shirt he was wearing left very little to the imagination, showcasing muscled biceps and forearms, and a lean, strong torso. She wouldn’t be surprised if the man was hiding an eight-pack beneath his shirt. His eyes were an astounding canary-yellow, often reflecting the light like a beast. Brax’s thighs looked to be as solid as the rest of him and Sabre thought she would be able to climb him like a tree with no hardship. Not that she would be climbing him at all, considering she was officially under his employ. And that little fact was a kick in the pants. The irony would be funny as fuck if only the implications of the situation weren’t so … fucked.

  “What did he want to hire you for, anyway?” Gage asked. He was now leaning over the bar-like table, head cocked in interest and dark eyes intense on hers.

  Sabre puffed up her cheeks before expelling the air out in a rush, “He wants me to find the person responsible for exterminating his family.” Her words were met with beats of silence before the inevitable eruption occurred and Jinx and Gage began to talk over the top of one another.

  “What?!” Gage glowered.

  “You can’t be serious! What did you say?!” Jinx demanded.

  “I am very serious. And I said yes, of course,” Sabre responded, wincing when Jinx practically shrieked.

  “You said yes?! Sabre, you can’t be serious,” she repeated. “Do you have a death wish?”

  “Sometimes,” Sabre replied with honesty. “But not today,” she assured her two companions who were still looking at her like she was crazy. “What exactly was I supposed to say? It’s the King.”

  “Exactly,” Gage said, dark eyes direct on her face. “It’s the King. And you could have said no. You say it often enough.”

  That was true, Sabre admitted. She was approached all the time by people wanting something from her. She had no issue turning them down and sending them on their way – often with a fresh perspective on the meaning of fear. But there were a multitude of reasons why she couldn’t deny the new king. Abraxis, Sabre said his name silently, doing her best not to sigh. The man had
a very sexy name. One she was sure would sound perfect when echoing throughout her bedroom in the throes of passion. Wait, passion? No Sabre, there will be no passion! She didn’t even know where that thought came from. Unless they were with their chosen mate – or mates – angels had a notoriously low sex drive. In fact, angels in Heaven never engaged in any form of sexual interaction. Lust simply didn’t exist in that realm. But once an angel found themselves on a different plane, like in Purgatory or Earth, human and animal emotions of lust, affection and even love, tended to make themselves known, and angels often partook in the pleasures of the flesh. Most of the time it was experimentation with a true sex drive only rearing its orgasmic head when they met the person – or persons – they fell in love with.

  Sabre had tried the whole sex thing once – years and years ago – just to see what all the hype was about. Needless to say, it didn’t live up to the propaganda and she hadn’t bothered with it since. That’s not to say she didn’t indulge in a few private fantasies every now and again. And if the new king happened to be in a couple – or a thousand – of those fantasies, Sabre figured there was no harm in that. Until, of course, she became employed by him and would now be in closer proximity to the gorgeous demon-beast.

  “It’s not going to be an issue,” she said firmly out loud. The benefit was for herself as well as Jinx and Gage who were still staring at her askance.

  “But if he finds out –”

  Sabre cut Jinx off before she could finish, “He won’t find out.”

  “Sabre …”

  Jinx’s voice was worried this time and Sabre melted a little from the obvious concern and affection the weretiger had for her. It was more than reciprocated which was another reason why Sabre needed to take the job. She needed her part in all of this to be over. She yearned for the day when she no longer had to lie and keep secrets from the two people who had attached themselves to her – whether she liked it or not. And in the early days, it had most definitely been not. Gage had come along first, almost fifty years ago, and declared that Sabre needed him whether she wanted him or not. The man was perhaps the stubbornest person she had ever met, and she had given in gracefully – after a few years. Jinx was a newer acquisition to the small group, but no less important. Sabre would never say so out loud, but the weretiger and the akuji were family.