Reluctant King (Reluctant Royals Book 1)

by Montana Ash

  Groaning, Brax bit down on Sabre’s exposed neck, using his lower fangs to keep her in place as he shoved his cock in deep, as deep as he could go. Sabre keened, the sound high and wild as she met him thrust for thrust. Releasing her neck, Brax sought out her mouth for a kiss full of passion and heat and dominance. Sabre gave as much as she took and Brax was so turned on by the strength of the woman beneath him that he knew he wasn’t going to last long. Cupping her buttocks in both hands, he reared back onto his knees, opening Sabre up to his gaze – and his cock – even more. Sabre arched her back – the assassin toned and flexible – pulling on her own nipples as she writhed and gasped still meeting the pounding of his hips with her own.

  He felt the rippling release of Sabre’s inner muscles a second before she cried out, the sound loud and long, and almost rupturing his eardrums. The tight clenching of her body had him cursing and his rhythm faltering. But he gave a few more solid thrusts before his own body erupted in ecstasy, his dick exploding and filling Sabre to the brim. Gasping for breath, he had the presence of mind to lower Sabre’s legs and fall to the side next to her instead of crushing her beneath his considerable bulk. He was panting and sweaty and his body was still twitching with small aftershocks. Brax had just had the best sex of his entire life and it was with the last person he would have expected.

  Looking to his left, he saw that Sabre had rolled to her stomach and was splayed out like a starfish. A very satisfied starfish, Brax thought, none too smugly. Eyeing the long lines of her back, he was more than a little surprised to see that Sabre wasn’t as blemish-free as he had assumed earlier. In a straight line down the centre of her back was a tattoo in black cursive. Pushing himself onto an elbow, he ran a hand down the Latin letters, translating them as he went. Sabre arched into his touch like a cat, the contented sound she made in the back of her throat sounding much like a purr as well. He smoothed his hand down her ink once more, following the curve of her wonderful arse, before eyeing the space between her shoulder blades with interest.

  “What should you have been?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

  “Excuse me?” Sabre immediately stiffened beneath his questing hands.

  “When you were giving me your pep talk – ‘rah rah, shit happens, go team!’” He shook his hands like he was holding imaginary pom poms, eliciting a small giggle from her – the uncommon sound making him feel ten-feet tall. “You said this wasn’t the path you were born to. You’re an angel, clearly you were supposed to do something else. I’m just wondering what you should have been? What colour are your wings? Or, rather; what colour were your wings?”

  “Firstly, I’m a fallen angel,” Sabre corrected, pulling out of his arms and sitting up with her back to him. “Secondly, the colour of my wings is none of your business. Jeez, what is it with you and your stupid fucking angel, thinking you can just ask to see my vagina any time you want,” Sabre continued to grumble, incoherently.

  Brax had absolutely no clue what Sabre was talking about. Her vagina? What the fuck? “Umm, why are you mumbling about your vagina? And what does Draven have to do with it? I mean, you just showed me your vagina – it’s very pleasant. You haven’t shown him too, have you?”

  Sabre quickly dropped the clothes she had only just picked up, her mouth hanging open in shock. “That’s foul! I wouldn’t piss on Draven if he was on fire!”

  Brax chuckled, stretching himself out on the bed, “Lovely imagery.”

  “Get up. Put your clothes on,” Sabre demanded, launching said clothes at Brax’s face. “And I was referring to you two being nosey and asking about my wings. Draven seemed to think he was entitled to ask as well.”

  Brax ignored the pile of clothes in his hand in favour of watching Sabre hastily don her own. Her fair skin bore the evidence of their recent escapades, with beard-burn, hickeys, and even a set of indentations from where his fangs had pierced her skin ever so slightly. The sight caused male satisfaction to swell in his chest – and other places. Smirking at his rapidly hardening cock, Brax figured his chances for a repeat performance were probably somewhere between zero and never. Still, he wasn’t going to be rushed, so he propped himself on his elbows, “I just figured that you know my secret. Vibramantium,” he reminded her, joining the words together. “Don’t you think it’s only fair I know yours?”

  Sabre, now fully dressed and looking casual in black leggings and a loose t-shirt, put her hands on her hips, practically spitting, “If you knew half of my secrets, your head would explode!”

  Brax laughed, it probably wasn’t wise but he was feeling all kinds of awesome thanks to his recent orgasm. And it turned out a grumpy, pouty Sabre wearing old cotton instead of leather was just plain delightful. The pillow thrown at his head would have had more effect if it weren’t covered in rainbow sequins and featured a pug saying; ‘Pugs, not drugs.’ Brax simply caught it and raised an eyebrow, “Really?”

  Sabre screamed in frustration, “Out! You’ve had your fun and now you can leave. And don’t be thinking this epic mistake will be repeated, because it won’t,” Sabre promised him.

  Brax moved slowly, making a show of pulling on his pants and tucking his new erection away. He noted the way Sabre’s eyes followed the movement and how she licked her lips unconsciously. She may say she wasn’t interested in more, but her body was telling a whole different story. Dragging on his shirt, Brax made his way around the room at a leisurely pace, locating his socks and boots. Sabre watched him in silence the entire time, her laser-sharp eyes never leaving him. He felt like he was being stalked by a predator. Usually, such a sensation would have his blood boiling and the alpha in him issuing a challenge for dominance. Strangely though, his inner beast – in other words him – simply purred. Once his boots were laced, he stood up, keeping his eyes on Sabre’s, “That tattoo on your back …”

  Sabre cocked her head to the side, surprise lighting her features from the abrupt topic change, “What about it?”

  “It’s from Dante’s Inferno, right?” he asked. Remembering the passage inked in Latin in a line down her back, Brax translated; “‘The path to Paradise begins in Hell.’”

  “That’s right,” Sabre admitted, shifting a little as if uncomfortable.

  “Fitting,” Brax acknowledged, finally making his way to the door. “Because Sabre, baby, I have a feeling we’re both trapped in our own personal hells. And you know what that means? Paradise here we come.”

  Shutting the door behind him, Brax couldn’t help but think Sabre was his perfect kind of paradise.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Sabre forced her mind on the task at hand rather than what had transpired three days ago in her studio. She couldn’t believe she had slept with Brax! Out of all of the stupid, stupid things she could have done, that had to be at the top of the list. And to make matters worse, her once dormant sex drive had decided to spark to life. It had been a long, hornified three days. Sabre had been forced to stay at the Blue Devil for the past couple of nights because her secret lair was now all sexified and echoed with the groans and shouts of shared pleasure. Not to mention, Sabre had not been willing to risk Jinx or Gage getting a good look at her. The pair would sniff out her broken celibacy and grill her until she cried for mercy. Stupid, stupid, stupid, she continued her self-flagellation.

  “I mean, what was I thinking? As if my life wasn’t complicated enough, you know?” she asked the demon lord currently tied to a chair in front of her. Dra’mon quickly nodded his head as if he understood what she was talking about. She didn’t blame him – Sabre knew she looked a little deranged.

  “Have you ever had sex with the wrong person?” she asked Dra’mon

  The demon nodded enthusiastically, “Sure I have. All the time.”

  Sabre narrowed her eyes at him, “You a slut or what?”

  “Huh? No! I just –”

  “You just, what? Thought we were going to be all buddy-buddy and maybe I wouldn’t keep torturing you for information?” Sabre knew she
was acting like a bi-polar pageant queen but she couldn’t seem to stop the madness.

  Dra’mon was a demon lord, second in command to the demon ruler of the third circle of hell. He was also the only demon lord who had been unable to provide an acceptable alibi as to his whereabouts in the few days preceding and post assassination of Mikhail. And because he was one of the few who could command a basilisk to do their bidding, Sabre had been getting chop-happy with a few of his fingers. She hadn’t yet felt the need to move up to any other appendages, but she was feeling just unstable enough to do so. Lucifer had come through and handed over Dra’mon along with all that information just that morning thanks to his ability to not only open and close the veils, but also to teleport anywhere. And that included between realms. Yeah, Lucifer was really fucking powerful.

  Sabre stood up to pace once again, feeling as if ants were crawling under her skin. She scratched at her arm, “What is this?!” she screamed in frustration, “Supernaturals aren’t supposed to spread STDs, right? I swear, if I didn’t know better that’s what I’d think this is! Ever since I fucked the King, I can’t concentrate, my mind wanders, I get goosebumps every time I think about him. I get butterflies in my stomach at random times of the day and night. I feel hot and flushed and I swear my heart is beating to a different rhythm than before.” She turned to Dra’mon, pointing a mace at him, “What do you think?”

  Dra’mon looked like a stunned mullet, “You … you slept with the King?”

  Sabre stilled, damnit, Sabre! Now you’re going to have to kill him, she chided. But that just proved her point. She would never normally run her mouth that way. Something was very wrong with her. “Pretend you didn’t hear that and answer my question,” she ordered the dead-man-walking.

  Dra’mon cleared his throat, “Well, it sounds kind of like … you’re in love.”

  “In love?” Sabre laughed so hard she was concerned she was going to rupture something. Bent over at the waist, she gasped for breath, hastily wiping the tears of hilarity off her cheeks. “Oh, Dra’mon, you’re funny. I’ll give you that.” She walked over to him and pushed the sharp points of the mace against the bare skin of his chest, “Lucifer didn’t tell me you were a comedian. But comic relief isn’t going to save you.”

  Cringing away from the mace, Dra’mon pleaded, “Please! I told you, I don’t know anything about the death of King Maliq!”

  “Hmmm,” Sabre mused, applying pressure and seeing a few beads of blood drip from beneath the spikes. “So you never commanded a basilisk to bite King Malik?”

  “No! Why the fuck would I?” The demon snarled, all pretences of their chummy banter disappearing.

  “Well, you see, that’s what I’m trying to find out.” Sabre stepped back and swung, the mace coming down and crushing the demon’s hand. Sabre smirked when Dra’mon screamed like the little bitch he was. “Why is your basilisk the only one to have died in the last five hundred years? And why did it die just a week after Maliq was killed?”

  Spittle ran down Dra’mon’s chin as he shook and shuddered, looking at his hand in horror. “It just died! I don’t know why.”

  Sabre tsked, “I’m gonna need more than that, Dra’mon. How about I go ahead and take this out,” she yanked with all her might, the spikes pulling free of his hand but unfortunately taking a lot of skin and bone with it. “Oops, my bad.”

  “Fuck you, you crazy bitch!” Dra’mon panted.

  Sabre snorted, “Not even on your best day. Now, I really don’t want to have to get my blowtorch out. I hate the smell of burnt flesh. That shit really stays in your sinuses, you know?” Even as she spoke, Sabre rifled through her bag of tricks.

  “Okay, okay! Listen, I do remember the basilisk you’re referring to. It went missing for one night – just one fucking night, I swear! I didn’t think much of it, but then when it came back its fangs were broken. That’s pretty much lethal for those types of creatures. Anyway, it died within a few days.”

  Sabre frowned at the sweating demon. She was inclined to believe him. Still, someone had ordered that big-arse snake to bite Maliq. “Did you or did you not command the basilisk to bite and kill King Maliq?”

  “Not. Not, not, not!” Dra’mon screamed, eyeing the samurai sword Sabre now held.

  “Then, you’re less than useless to me,” Sabre concluded, stabbing the sooky demon in the heart. Dra’mon let out one more thin scream, eyes bulging with awareness of his imminent demise, before they went glassy.

  Sabre sighed, stepping back. She eyed the mess in front of her for a moment before giving the dead demon a solid kick to the shin. “And I am not in love! Stupid jerk.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The second Brax entered her field of view Sabre felt her pulse race and her skin become clammy. Dra’mon’s words were on repeat in her head and she couldn’t turn them off no matter how hard she tried. She didn’t believe them for a second, Sabre assured herself, still she gave the object she was holding a hard squeeze for good measure. Blood dripped down her fingers, hitting the ground in soft splats and she felt a little better already. Walking further into the gardens of the palace, Sabre refused to make eye contact with Brax because if she did, all she would think about was how his yellow eyes glowed like fire when he orgasmed and how wonderful his big, demon-sized dick felt inside of her.

  Stop thinking about demon dicks! Sabre cautioned herself. But it was so hard not to when Brax was striding toward her with stubble on his cheeks and his hair a little wild. He was wearing all black again, something they had in common and something she could appreciate. She liked wearing black because it hid blood so much better than any other colour. She didn’t know if Brax did it for the same reason, but it really worked for him. Slapping herself around a little mentally, Sabre stayed in place and waited for Brax to come to her.

  “You disappeared again,” Brax accused as soon as he and his angel sidekick were within speaking range.

  “I didn’t disappear. I’ve been working,” Sabre fired back.

  “Wait … what is that?” The look of horror on Draven’s face as he pointed to her bloody hand and its contents was the best thing Sabre had seen in years.

  “This?” Sabre held up the piece of flesh, still fresh and covered in blood and gore. “It’s a trachea.”

  Draven’s blue eyes widened impossibly further, “A trachea?”

  Sabre nodded casually, “Yeah. Sorry, I forgot I was holding it.”

  Draven sputtered for a moment, looking from Sabre to Brax and back again. Brax merely shook his head, remaining silent, but Sabre was sure she could detect a hint of amusement in his amber irises.

  “How do you forget you’re holding a trachea?!” Draven demanded, voice a little shrill.

  Sabre shrugged, “I dunno. I hold a lot of tracheas, I guess.”

  Draven took a step forward, thrusting his finger in her face, “You –” he began, only to be brought up short by Brax’s restraining hand to his chest.

  “Draven, relax.”

  “Relax?” Draven turned to his charge, “You want me to relax? This crazy woman skips around clutching dead-men’s flesh and you want me to relax?!”

  Sabre suppressed the undignified giggle threatening to burst forth and instead rolled her eyes, “I am sorry if I upset your delicate sensibilities but –”

  “Delicate sensibilities? Any sane person would take issue with you clutching a trachea!” Draven yelled, interrupting her. He turned to Brax, “I’m sorry, Brax. I know you think we need her but she is so far more than deranged.” The straight-laced angel threw his hands up in the air, “I don’t even know what more than deranged is!”

  “Psychotic?” Sabre suggested, helpfully. The frustrated and disbelieving gurgle she received in response was music to her ears.

  Brax shook his head, “Sabre, do you care to explain why you have a trachea in your hand? And how did you get in here with that anyway?!”

  Sabre smiled, “I can get into Hell. You think your gardens can hold me out? Don�
�t worry, your boy, Hugo, is just taking a nap,” she mentioned the soldier who she had just placed a sleeper-hold on.

  “You injured a royal soldier? A member of the Demon Horde?” Draven looked fit to be tied – something Sabre would love to do.

  “I didn’t injure him,” Sabre said, exasperated by the angel’s drama. “He’s simply sleeping, like I said. Go and check on him if you don’t believe me.”

  “Brax?” Draven asked his charge.

  Brax nodded, not appearing too concerned for the safety of his soldier, “Go ahead. See how he is and heal him if he needs it.”

  “You are more trouble than you’re worth,” Draven sniped at her as he walked past.

  “Yeah? Well, so’s your face!” Sabre yelled to his retreating form, snickering when she saw the angel’s shoulders stiffen.

  When Draven was out of sight, Abraxis levelled his canary-yellow peepers on her, “Stop fucking with my angel.”

  Sabre pursed her lips, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Brax snorted, crossing his arms over his chest and inadvertently flexing his biceps and the corded muscles in his forearms at the same time. Sabre barely swallowed her whimper of need – which was both pitiful and embarrassing. Her sex drive – which had been non-existent for, well, forever – had definitely decided to wake itself up. Yes, she may have drooled over the hunky demon from a distance for years. But now that she knew what he was packing under his clothes, Sabre was doomed. But she still wasn’t in love, Sabre assured herself. Dra’mon was a pathetic excuse for a demon lord and had no clue whatsoever what he had been talking about. Sabre realised Brax was still talking and she forced herself to listen to his words and not just watch his lips move.

  “I know he looks and sounds like your typical stuffy angel. But I assure you, the man is a warrior. He’s been by my side, fighting on the front lines with my Demon Horde for years – as well as patching everyone up once the fighting was done. There’s more to him than meets the eye. You keep pushing him, and you’ll find that out personally,” Brax promised.