by Montana Ash
Sabre stubbornly shut her eyes and responded through gritted teeth, “Go to Hell, Brax.”
Brax felt his lips twitch despite the circumstances. “Maybe one day. I hear it’s lovely.”
Sabre’s eyes popped open and she sneered at him, “You’re hilarious. Now if today’s part of the entertainment is over, I’m outta here.”
She tried to nudge past him but he wouldn’t allow it. “Sabre, please. I’m not being cruel. I’m not lying. This is not a trick. I just …” he broke off, running his hands through his much shorter hair in agitation. “I just … love you. I love you, Sabre. I don’t know how or why or when it happened. But it did. I’m in love with you. And I don’t see why I should have to keep the words locked away just because they might offend your delicate sensibilities,” he added, hoping to remind her of when she had used those words teasingly herself. Too bad he didn’t have a trachea handy to hammer his point home.
Sabre’s eyes finally flew to his. This time they looked incredulous rather than blank. “You … you love me?”
Cupping her face, Brax said simply, “I do.”
“And …” Sabre licked her lips, “this isn’t a trick?”
Brax shook his head, “It is not.”
“But, I don’t understand,” Sabre’s eyes pleaded with him. “What do you see in me?”
His love sounded so genuinely confused as if she weren’t worthy of love that Brax wanted to go and kick some arse. Someone somewhere must have pounded that insecurity into her head so hard that she had begun to believe it. Well, Brax was determined to show her just how worthy she was. Even if it took him a lifetime. He picked up her hand, “What do I see? I see life,” he said kissing her on her first knuckle. “I see love,” he kissed her second knuckle. “I see home,” he stated, kissing her palm and laying it flat against his beating heart. The heart that now beat solely for her.
Sabre’s eyes zeroed in on her hand, her fingers flexing on his chest, “But … why?” she still sounded incredulous.
Brax summoned a grin, “There’s just something about a woman who can break a guy’s nose with her pinky finger that really does it for me. Go figure.”
Brax’s response that time had her laughing out loud, and joy filled his heart, replacing the cold and loneliness he had allowed to enter over the past year. “Well, what do you say?”
“I say it’s a good thing love is blind,” Sabre stated, before gripping his head and pulling him into a kiss that ran the gamut from desperate to passionate to hopeful. But finally, oh finally, it slid into love and Brax cradled her face between his palms tenderly in thanks.
He pulled back, placing a chaste kiss on the tip of her nose, “I love you.”
Sabre smiled at him, her whole face alight with happiness, “I love you more.”
Brax felt his breath catch in his throat, his ears ringing with the confirmation of Sabre’s love returned. “Whilst I love hearing that, you know it’s not a competition, right?” he told her.
“Uh huh,” Sabre nodded her head, “Whatever you say, my King. Whatever you say.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“Shit, I’m nervous,” Brax admitted. His companion didn’t say anything, simply continued to stare at him in silence. “Well? Where are the words of wisdom? The support?” Nothing. Not so much as a hint as to what Brax was supposed to say to Draven. “You’re useless, you know that?” Styx thumped his tail against the ground, the sound echoing throughout Brax’s office like a sonic boom, causing him to wince. “Careful with the sledgehammer you call a tail, buddy. You know Draven doesn’t approve of you being on these hardwood floors.” And probably for good reason, Brax admitted. Styx’s feet sported wickedly sharp claws that had ruined more than one antique floor covering over the years.
After Sabre had left that morning, Brax had retreated to his father’s office in an attempt to actually do some kingly work. No matter how long it had been and the fact that it had also been used by Mikhail, the large room with the dark cherry wood flooring, the mahogany table and bookcases, and the dark green leather chair, would always be his father’s office. Mikhail hadn’t changed a thing in the forty years since their father’s death, and Brax had likewise kept it the same. Although, that was probably largely due to the fact that he had barely stepped foot into the room since Mikhail had died. But whatever. He was there today and trying to step up his game. He wanted to be the type of king Sabre would be proud of. He knew most people wouldn’t understand or believe him but Sabre really did make him want to be the best version of himself. Luckily, he didn’t need everyone to believe him. Just one person. And that person was on their way now, hence why he was trying to get advice from a non-verbal hell hound.
“Brax?”
Draven’s voice floated into the room as the office door opened and Brax knew he was out of time. Clearing his dry throat, he yelled, “I’m in here.”
Draven entered the office looking confused, “I went to your rooms, but the guard on duty –”
“Hugo,” Brax supplied.
Draven eyed him, “Right, Hugo. Hugo said you were in your office working. I know he’s one of your closest friends from the Horde and I thought perhaps he was playing a prank of some kind. Yet here you are … working.”
Brax grimaced. Draven’s assessment of the situation made him feel like a right arsehole. Hugo was indeed one of his closest friends as well as a lieutenant. Brax had seen very little of him and others since the death of his brothers, too consumed with uncovering the person behind their deaths. The only time he had seen them was to order them to do shitty jobs well beneath their stations. Brax had called Hugo up that morning and asked if he would be willing to be a part of the Royal Guard. Hugo had been thrilled and was going to be handpicking his own team. Brax had isolated himself so much that Draven was essentially the only person shadowing him. And although that was more than enough, it was decidedly against protocol.
Brax looked down at the dozens of papers on his desk, shuffling them around and messing them up even more. “I’m attempting to work,” he offered. “But it isn’t going well. The place is a mess. I don’t even know where to start.”
Draven walked over and placed an arm on Brax’s shoulder, the weight was familiar – solid and comforting. “Looks like you already have,” Draven squeezed him. “I’m proud of you.”
The words caused warmth to spread throughout Brax’s chest and he cleared his throat, “Thank you. I’m sorry I –”
“Stop. Don’t apologise. You don’t need to apologise for anything, you hear me? I’m just glad to see the old Brax back,” Draven said.
“Yeah, well, you can thank Sabre for that,” Brax stated in a rush, trying to rip off the bandaid.
Draven stilled, before moving to the other side of the desk, “Sabre?”
Brax pushed away from the desk too, standing so he and Draven were eye to eye. “That’s right. She’s given me so much, Draven. And I’m not talking about answers.”
“Are you referring to orgasms?”
Brax choked, “What?!”
Draven eyed him drolly, crossing his arms over his chest, “I know you’ve been sleeping with her, Brax. I am your guardian. It is my duty and honour to know everything about you and all that you do. If you think the fact that you are having sex with Sabre has alluded me, you are mistaken. Although, I really wish it had alluded me. That is an image I could have gone my whole life without,” Draven muttered.
“I – you – you knew?!” Brax was beyond shocked.
Draven rolled his eyes, “Oh, please. You forget I knew you during puberty and your early twenties. I know what you look like when you’re getting laid. It is most disturbing,” he gave a delicate shudder. “And though I wish you were engaging in such activities with someone else, I can’t say I’m opposed to the changes it has wrought in you. That’s why I haven’t said anything. I don’t know how or why but she appears to bring out something in you that has been missing for the past year. I’m … grateful to her,” Dra
ven ground out.
“Wow, that sounded like it hurt,” Brax chuckled.
Draven levelled a stern look in his direction, “I assure you, it did.”
Brax laughed again, slapping Draven on the back as he made his way to the comfy lounge before sitting down. “I have to say, I’m so relieved to hear you say that. Because … well, I love her, Draven.”
Draven seemed to choke on his own spit even as his crystal blue eyes damn near fell out of his handsome, angel head. “I’m sorry, what did you just say?”
Brax shook his head, amused at his guardian’s antics. “I just told you I was in love with Sabre.”
If it were possible, Draven became even paler upon hearing the words for the second time. “Abraxis … you … you can’t really mean that,” Draven stuttered. “I thought you were just fucking some of your grief and aggression out on her!”
This time, Brax frowned and he sat up straighter in his chair, “No … that is not all I’ve been doing. I do mean it, Draven. Somehow, some way, Sabre has wormed her way into my heart. She’s everything I never knew I wanted in a woman. She makes me happy, Draven.”
Draven must have realised Brax was serious, for he squatted down in front of him, taking his hand, “As your friend, I am pleased to hear you speak such words, though as your guardian and advisor, I must urge you to reconsider.”
“Reconsider? Draven, you’re not listening to me. It’s not a choice – it’s an emotion. It’s a connection. I can’t reconsider.” He pulled his hand from Draven’s grasp, “And even if it was a choice, I would choose Sabre. Every. Single. Time. She’s mine.”
Draven remained on one knee, head bent and Brax started to feel sick to his stomach. He knew Draven and Sabre had a love-hate relationship, but he had been sure it was more for entertainment purposes than actual spite. He was sure the two enjoyed the hell out of their bickering. Brax wasn’t sure what he would do if he was forced to choose between the two most important people in his world. “Do you really hate her that much?” he finally asked.
Draven sighed, raising his head and admitted; “Sabre asked me the same question just shortly after our acquaintance.”
Brax swallowed audibly, “And what did you say?”
The angel stood up, shaking his head slowly, “I said yes. I said I hated everything she stood for.” Brax felt his stomach swoop sickeningly. Draven, clearly seeing the look on his face, hastened to continue, “I just don’t understand her, Brax. Every now and again I see glimpses of this person who is loyal and kind and strong beyond belief. She’s funny and warm and generous … But glimpses aren’t enough, Brax. Sabre hunts, tortures and kills people. That’s what she does. I mean, that’s exactly why you hired her in the first place! She’s an angel. Every fibre of her make-up tells her to do good. To be good. Yet … she isn’t. Sabre isn’t good, Brax. Good versus bad must be a battle of wills she fights every day, yet the side she chooses is the side she has been trained for – not born for. That’s a choice, Brax.”
“Perhaps it is,” Brax allowed. “But, Draven, I don’t care. I don’t care that she could crush me with one hand tied behind her back. I don’t care that she’ll come home to me at night covered in someone else’s blood. I don’t even care that she has a zombie as a best friend and a snarly, wounded weretiger as a protégé. I care about the way Sabre makes me feel; happy, in love … at home. I care that she makes me laugh because she is funny as fuck and the most sarcastic person I have ever met. I care about her loyalty and faith in her friends and the fact that she adores my hell hound and he adores her. I care about her, Draven. Everything she has done and everything she has been through has shaped her into the person she is today. And that is the person I love. The rest of it? It’s all just details, Draven.”
Draven’s eyes roamed searchingly over Brax’s face, his stance remaining rigid for another heartbeat before he slumped, “She’s not what I would have chosen for you.”
“Draven, I love you. You know that. But … you don’t get a choice. Hell, I don’t think even I get a choice. My beast has already decided she is ours. She feels like my mate, Draven,” Brax admitted. And it was true. His inner beast, the part of him that was primitive and alpha and predator, had claimed Sabre as surely as if they were fated to be together.
“Demons don’t have fated mates,” Draven pointed out, searching for any and all straws to clutch.
There were many creatures in Purgatory who had fated mates; their bodies recognised each other on a biological level, causing them to be drawn to one another. Brax, as a demon, didn’t experience that in the same way. Although, because he had a beast as a part of him – a part of his soul – he believed he could still feel that little click locking into place whenever he was near Sabre. Angels were the same as demons – no pheromones or blood connection to tell them when they had found the one. But Brax believed it made their choice of each other even more special. And the fact that they recognised each other in another way – with their hearts and with their heads rather than their senses, made the connection even more real.
“My body may not have recognised Sabre’s on a biological level, Draven. But my heart recognises her, my soul does. She’s mine. I am hers,” was all Brax said in response. Draven was silent for so long, Brax was beginning to sweat. Was Draven really going to make him choose between the woman he loved and his best friend?
Finally, Draven spoke, “Does this mean I have to be nicer to her?”
Brax barked out a laugh, the relief plain to hear, “No. You two can carry on as you wish. I dare say Sabre won’t be any nicer to you, so you had better stay on your toes.”
Draven nodded his head, breathing in deep before releasing the breath harshly. His eyes met Brax’s, “Abraxis, I am happy for you. Truly. If Sabre is yours then she is mine too. I will protect her with my life. You have my word.”
Brax may or may not have felt all choked up as he grabbed Draven in a fierce man-hug. The two of them slapped each other on the back a few times because they were very manly, before clearing their throats and looking away until their eyes were clear once more. “Thank you, Draven. She’s the best, you’ll see. Sabre is –”
Brax was interrupted from extolling all of Sabre’s virtues by a knock on the door. One of his new royal guards stuck his head in the door, apologising but saying Brax had a visitor who claimed to have information about the assassinations of the royal family. Draven became alert in an instant, exchanging a heavy look with Brax.
“Stay here,” Draven commanded, before following the guard back outside.
Brax stood up to pace while Draven checked out the unexpected guest. Was this another long-lost witness crawling from the woodwork thanks to Sabre stirring up trouble? Or was it merely someone trying to make a quick buck? Brax and Draven had been approached by numerous concerned citizens, claiming to have information about the ‘Royal Assassinations’ as the newspapers had dubbed it. News had more than gotten around about his hunt for his family’s killer. As such, there had been more than a few opportunists, willing to share their valuable information for the right price. Draven was always more than willing to test the validity of their claims – and then kick their arses to the curb when he discovered they were baseless.
When Draven came back through the door, he was pale. Brax saw his hands tremble as he ran them through his blond hair. “My King …”
Brax walked over to him, “Draven? What is it? Is it really a witness?”
Draven swallowed audibly, “Yes. Yes, it is a witness. And you need to listen to them. I – this one is not lying.”
Brax took in his guardian’s pallid complexion and stuttering words, “I’m not going to like this, am I?”
“Brax … I’m so sorry,” was all Draven said.
Squaring his shoulders and standing up straight, Brax faced the door, ready to take on whatever came through. He wasn’t expecting the lithe form of an elf to slip in, nor the terrible, damning words that followed.
“My King, you have been
deceived,” the elf said, voice light and humble.
Brax listened to the mysterious elf as he spun a tale so horrible and insane that he thought it might just be true. A deep, vicious snarl left his lips when the man mentioned a name, causing him to pause. With ice filling his arteries and going directly to his heart, Brax gestured at the man; “Continue.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Sabre was early. She wasn’t due to meet Brax until that evening but after all the feels of the previous night, she’d found it hard to concentrate and even harder to slice and dice. So instead, she had decided to go and see how Brax had fared telling Draven he loved her. Sabre really didn’t want to know how that conversation went. She was sure the other angel would have tried everything to convince Brax he was wrong. But Sabre had faith in her man. She may not have believed him at first when he had said those precious and startling words to her, but she knew Brax never lied. He loved her. A breathless laugh escaped her; someone loved her! Her! An angel rejected and reviled by her own kind, dragged through childhood with violence, and with more blood on her hands and sins in her heart than perhaps any other soul in Purgatory. Brax knew all that – he saw all that – and he loved her anyway. If all the years of pain and drama and blood was the price to pay for being gifted her demon king, then she was glad to have paid them.
Smiling to herself and plotting the best way to tell Jinx and Gage, as well as Hound, that she was head over heels in love, she didn’t notice the tense atmosphere as she approached Brax’s office. That morning – after mutual orgasms in the now hair-free shower stall – Brax had informed her he would be working the day away in his office. Sabre couldn’t be prouder. The door was open a crack, so she simply pushed her way in, grinning when she found the man of her dreams standing with his back to her in the centre of the room.