by Montana Ash
Gage held up his finger and thumb about a centimetre apart, “Maybe just a little.”
Sabre slumped, “I don’t know if it’s love. What do I know about love? But I do know I like him. And … and he likes me too. I can see it in his eyes.”
“What are you going to do when he finds out you killed his brother?” Gage asked, eyes direct but endlessly kind.
Sabre’s own eyes were dry as she answered the only way she could; “Watch that like turn to hate.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Hound,” Sabre breathed, relief and something else flooding her system the moment she laid eyes on her contact.
“Sabre,” Hound returned the greeting, sounding likewise a little breathless. “It’s been too long.”
Sabre quickly nodded her head in agreement. It had indeed been too long since she had seen Hound in the flesh. They kept in touch as much as they could via email and phone but it wasn’t always possible given how often Hound was in another realm. Sabre liked to think of herself as an island, but in actual fact, she had rather a lot of people in her periphery and a large number of resources. Most of them were because they owed her a debt of some kind, but some, like Lucifer and Hound were just because they had good intentions. If there was one thing Sabre believed with all her heart, it was that Hound was dedicated to the preservation of the royal line. He worked in secret behind the scenes to ensure the line went on. He had been hunting for the mysterious foe for years, unbeknownst to Brax and every other royal out there. And she knew he had helped Brax out with intel and resources in the past year too. Sabre had stumbled upon the demon rebel years ago and she trusted his intentions without hesitation. Which was why she had asked him to look into the angel angle for her.
“Anything about the angels?” Sabre got right to the point – one of them, anyway. They didn’t have a lot of time. They never did. “What does Heaven have to say about so many pureblood angel deaths?” Hound was one of the only people in all the realms able to make the trip up to Heaven without being dead. Lucifer was also capable but circumstances for him were tricky with the Gods and Sabre would never ask him to do so.
Hound shook his head, bald head gleaming in the low light of the alleyway. “I’ve made a couple of trips topside but haven’t learned much of anything. The angels aren’t saying much, only to acknowledge the fact that guardians of the Cerberus descendants are being picked off like flies. So much so, that none of the created angels want to get saddled with one as their charge.”
Sabre curled her lip, “Douches.”
Hound smirked at her, “Most of them are rather uptight, I’ll give you that.”
“What about the Gods? Or maybe an oracle or two?” Sabre pressed, hoping Hound had used some of that infamous charm of his to schmooze a goddess.
Hound went to tug on a strand of hair, only to curse when he came up empty. Hound was used to having hair but his chosen glamour didn’t cater to his habitual gesture. “The Gods are avoiding me – other than Loki. And I can take what that cheeky fucker says with a grain of salt. The only oracle I could speak with simply spouted some crap about the royal line needing its guardians for the same purpose it always had. When I pointed out there wasn’t many of the royal line left, nor their angels, the oracle intoned that the ones left were more than enough.”
Sabre snorted, thinking of Draven, “I highly doubt that.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I think the royal guardians are perfect,” Hound murmured, a small smile playing around his lips.
Sabre shifted uncomfortably, saying nothing and moving right along, “Can’t you just talk with one of the dead guys when you’re up there?” Sabre asked, already knowing the answer but feeling frustrated as fuck.
Hound levelled a look at her, “It doesn’t work that way. You know that. I can’t talk with the dead – only the living. No matter what plane of existence I visit.”
She did know that. Hound had explained it to her time and time again. But it seemed like a really stupid rule to her. She opened her mouth only to be stopped by Hound before she could speak.
“Whining about it won’t achieve anything, so don’t do it,” he warned.
Sabre sniffed disdainfully, “I don’t whine.”
Hound laughed, “Oh, you do. Quite spectacularly.”
“What is it with everyone hassling me lately? It’s like there’s no fear anymore. Have I lost my edge? My homicidal touch? I swear, if it isn’t Jinx or Gage giving me shit, it’s Brax,” Sabre shook her head.
“Brax?” Hound’s eyebrows elevated in surprise, “You call the King, Brax? I didn’t realise you were so familiar with him.”
Hound’s voice sounded curious and Sabre winced. He was a perceptive man and could easily pick up on nuances in tone and body language. Thankfully, Sabre was a pro at resting bitch-face. The conversation with Jinx and Gage from the previous evening had rocked her to her core. Sabre had always been good at compartmentalising – it was the only way she had been able to survive as both an angel and an assassin. And up until that conversation, Sabre had been able to place Brax in one very pretty, shiny box, while she shoved the fact she had assassinated his brother into another dark, endlessly deep box. Unfortunately, that box had now popped its rusty hinges and Sabre was left staring at a dead Mikhail with a cross bolt through his heart every time she closed her eyes.
“Sabre? What’s going on?”
She hadn’t realised she had closed her eyes until Hound’s voice brought her back to the present. Looking into his familiar green eyes, untouched by the glamour spell work, she prepared herself to address the other reason she had wanted to meet up with Hound in person. “I need to tell you something,” she confessed. “You see, ah, something has happened with the king …”
“King Abraxis? Is it the killer? Did they make a move? Is the king hurt?” Hound fired off the questions.
“No, no. It’s nothing like that,” she was quick to put those fears to rest. “It might be something worse though.”
“Worse than the last official royal being injured or killed?” Hound asked doubtfully.
“I guess it depends on your perspective,” Sabre muttered, feeling her palms begin to sweat. “You see, I kind of … slept with him. Because I like him. And he likes me too. I think. I mean, he says he does. And I believe him. Which is just insane I know. But –”
“Stop,” Hound ordered, causing Sabre to shut her mouth with a snap. “You slept with Abraxis? And you like him?”
“Yes,” Sabre chewed on her lower lip and moved from foot to foot, anxiously awaiting Hound’s reaction.
“That’s …” Hound shook his head in disbelief. Gripping her shoulders, he forced her to look into his eyes, “Wait … what is that look? Are you – are you in love with him?!” Hound asked, looking and sounding stunned.
Unlike with Jinx and Gage, Sabre couldn’t lie to the man. She had been unable to from the moment she had met him, so she answered as truthfully as she could, “It’s complicated.”
Hound eyed her in deafening silence for a minute before a small smile graced his lips. “Sabre, my dear assassin. Love isn’t complicated. It’s either there or it isn’t. So, is it there?” he asked once again.
She wasn’t sure why, but Sabre felt like it would be the ultimate betrayal to deny her love for Brax out loud again. Like, if she were to say no to the universe just one more time it would somehow be taken away from her. And for once in her life she wanted to be selfish and keep something that was just wholly hers. So she answered the only way her heart would allow; “Yes. Yes, there is love there. From my end at least.”
For a moment she could have sworn Hound’s eyes shined with unshed tears but the glistening green of his eyes was gone in an instant and she passed it off as a trick of light. Instead he laughed outright, dragging her in for a bear hug that practically cracked her bones. Sabre was both shocked and pleased by the uncommon affectionate display and indulged herself by leaning into the large man’s strength for a precious moment. When Ho
und pulled back his look of happiness and wonder had been replaced by a more serious look.
“When the time comes, you know you’re going to have to make a choice,” he pointed out seriously, though not unkindly.
Sabre sucked in a deep breath, the oxygen feeling like ice in her lungs. Still she nodded, keeping her eyes on the demon’s as she answered, “I know.”
“I’m sorry,” Hound whispered.
But Sabre simply shook her head, “Hound, even when faced with terrible choices, my actions are still my own. That has ever been true in my past and will always be true in my future. Your feelings of guilt are misplaced.”
His lips twitched, “Oh yeah? Well, you can’t tell me how to feel. You’re not the boss of me.”
Sabre sighed; he had her there. She definitely wasn’t the boss of him.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Out!” Brax pointed to the living area of his suite. “I mean it, Styx. Tonight is my time with Sabre. You can have her tomorrow. I’m capable of sharing her attentions – probably. But only with you!” Brax told his hell hound. Styx, looking highly dejected, slowly slinked from the bedroom and into the living room, curling up on his huge bed by the door. If looks could kill, Brax would be six feet under. Still, he wasn’t going to pander to a huge hell-dog when he was finally going to see Sabre naked again.
It was almost midnight and Sabre still hadn’t shown up. He had given her the two days she had asked for and he hoped she had come to some semblance of resolution when it came to the pair of them. Because Brax very much wanted them to be a pair. He had no idea how such a thing would work let alone how he would tell Draven. But it was useless to pretend otherwise. He thought about Sabre all the time like a lovesick fool and he wanted more than just thoughts of her to keep him warm at night. He wanted the angel herself to keep him warm.
A pressure in his back caused him to grunt and drop swiftly into a fighting stance. He felt his skin rippling to protect him against the projectile, even as he reached for a weapon of his own. A humour-filled chuckle had him cursing and standing back up. Rolling his shoulders, he glared across the room, “Did you just stab me in the back?!”
“It was a slingshot,” Sabre corrected, holding up a piece of leather. “And you’re lucky you have super cool skin because you didn’t even hear me climb in your window. What if I had been an assassin?” Sabre scolded him from where she stood negligently against the wall by his open balcony window.
“You are an assassin,” Brax’s response was dry as he took in the woman decked out in black leather. She was a sight to behold with her short hair, trim but curvy body and lethal lips twisted into a hint of a grin.
“Oh, yeah,” Sabre smiled and it damn near took Brax’s breath away.
“You came,” was all he said.
“I told you I would,” Sabre pointed out, just as softly.
“And you always keep your word?” he challenged.
“Not always,” Sabre admitted, pushing off from the wall and sauntering around the room. “But I will always keep my word to you.” Sabre used her head to gesture to the bathroom. “Mind if I wash up a little?” she held up her hands, “I have dead things on my hands.”
Brax shook his head, “Go right ahead. I’m not into necrophilia.” He certainly didn’t want dead-thing-hands anywhere near his cock.
“What the actual fuck?!” Sabre yelled from the depths of the bathroom, her voice echoing loudly.
“What?” Brax asked, quickly running across the room to look inside. “What is it?”
“It looks like Chewbacca died in here!” Sabre exclaimed, her reddish-purple eyes wide in disbelief as she looked in his shower. “What’s with all the hair in your drain?”
Brax felt an embarrassed flush rise up his neck and over his cheekbones. In preparation for the rendezvous, he had cut and styled his hair into something less swamp monster and more male model. Glancing into the shower, he cringed when he realised he had made the unfortunate mistake of not cleaning up all the hair. “Umm … I kinda cut my hair,” he mumbled, beyond embarrassed.
“No shit,” Sabre agreed. “Seriously, all this came from your head? Do you feel lighter? Maybe your brain will work better now that it isn’t so weighed down.”
“My brain works just fine,” Brax assured her, before leering, “Besides, that’s not the brain I’m hoping will see some action tonight.”
“Oh, really? I gotta say dick-brains don’t tend to be real smart. They kind of only know how to point in two directions; north and south,” Sabre fired back, scrubbing her hands almost raw in his sink.
“Well, lucky for you, my dick-brain is telling my dick to point due north.”
“It is?” Sabre’s eyes widened comically in the mirror, “That’s a happy coincidence.”
“Yes, I think so too,” Brax grinned. He couldn’t believe how much fun he was having. He always ensured his sexual encounters in the past were pleasurable for both parties. Otherwise, what was the point? But the banter and the casual fun that Sabre brought into his bedroom was a novelty. It had been a long time since he had enjoyed the company of another as much as Sabre. He was willing to admit – if only to himself just then – that he was rapidly falling in love. He manfully withheld the giggle forming in his throat, I’m falling in love with an assassin! Regaining his composure, he saw that Sabre was watching him curiously in the mirror, her own hair nicely styled, though he was positive that was pure luck rather than any doing on her part.
“What about your hair?” he ended up asking.
Sabre gave her head a shake, “What about it?”
“Do you always keep it so short?”
Sabre looked at herself in the mirror, carding her fingers through the dark strands. “Why? You don’t like it?”
“Of course I like it,” Brax was quick to assure her. “It highlights those amazing cheekbones of yours and makes your eyes look like sugarplums.”
Sabre gaped at him, “Sugarplums?”
Brax grinned, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the marble wall. “I think that’s a great pet name for you, Sugarplum. Really suits your personality.” Sabre’s look of disgust was one to rival even Draven’s and Brax couldn’t contain his laughter.
“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. And to answer your question: yes. I always keep it this short.” Sabre surprised him by continuing on, “During training when I was a kid, my Master grabbed my ponytail, damn near yanking my head off its shoulders before almost gutting me. I shaved my head that very night. This is actually the longest it’s been in a long time,” Sabre revealed.
Brax straightened from the wall slowly, “When you were a kid? How old were you?”
Sabre pondered for a moment, revealing, “Ten.”
“Ten? You’ve been in the assassin guild since you were ten years old?” Brax tried not to sound as horrified as he felt but it was damn hard. He had a feeling Sabre never talked about this kind of stuff and he didn’t want to scare her off. But damn, hearing about it spoken so casually was lighting a slow burning rage in his gut.
“I’ve been a part of the Blue Devil Den since I was eight,” Sabre corrected.
“Eight? But …” Brax shut his mouth.
“What?” Sabre prompted, leaning back against the sink.
Brax shook his head, “Nothing. Eight years old. It just explains a lot.” He looked into eyes that by some miracle weren’t haunted, and said, “You never really stood a chance, did you?”
The comment was made with just enough pity and understanding to piss Sabre right off. She straightened up, her eyes glaring daggers at him, “Don’t pity me, Abraxis. I may have been a child once but I haven’t been for a long time. My life may have been stolen from me or it might be just how it was supposed to be. Did you ever think of that? That maybe this was my purpose? Maybe this life was the task asked of me from the Powers That Be?”
“No,” Brax’s response was quick and sharp. “That’s not possible. That would be too cruel.”
Sabre arched a sardonic brow in Brax’s direction, “And who ever said the Gods were kind?”
“Hmpf. True. That’s why I much prefer it here – or even Earth. No meddlesome Gods to worry about. Just your run of the mill supernaturals. Or humans, in the case of Earth.” And that much was true at least. Heaven and Hell might sound evocative but they came with a whole shitstorm of unique problems that Brax wanted no part of. He watched Sabre watching him and figured he may as well keep digging into what made her tick. The more he learned, the more enamoured he became. She had been eight years old when she had been stolen to be trained as an assassin? The woman was a walking miracle.
“What happened to your parents?”
“My what? I don’t have –” Sabre quickly slammed her mouth shut.
“You don’t have?” Brax prompted her.
“I don’t have many memories of them. I was too young. Too traumatised I guess,” she tacked on, shrugging negligently.
Brax couldn’t help thinking she was hiding something from him, but he liked his ribcage where it was so he didn’t call her out on it. “You say that as if it’s no big deal. Being traumatised as a child.”
“It is what it is. I am what I am. It was a long time ago,” Sabre brushed him off. “Are we going to keep walking down memory lane or are we going to fuck?”
Abraxis eyed her, a tiny smile quirking one corner of his mouth. “You’re a complicated creature, aren’t you?”
“You better believe it, baby,” Sabre jabbed him hard in the stomach as she walked past him into the bedroom.
Watching the sway of her hips as she walked, another thought hit him like a lightning bolt, “How old are you anyway?”
Sabre spun around. She ran her tongue along her teeth before she answered, “Old enough that I want to pull out your fingernails for asking me that.”
“Ah,” Brax’s eyes twinkled, “older than me then, huh?”
Sabre snorted, “I’ve been an assassin since before you were born. I thought you said you knew my reputation?”