by Montana Ash
“Is she all healed?” Brax asked, frantically. Swallowing as much as his dry mouth would allow before asking his next question; “Will she let me see her?”
Draven clenched his jaw, looking frustrated and pained at the same time, “She is not healed. At all.”
“What? Draven! What have you been doing in there! Get your arse back in there and make her better, damnit!” Brax yelled, causing Styx to jump then growl.
“She won’t let me,” Draven revealed.
“She … what?!”
Draven dragged a hand through his hair, messing up his usually perfectly tousled locks, “She won’t let me! The darn woman is even more stubborn than you! She won’t let me near her. Brax, I don’t know what to do,” Draven’s blue eyes pleaded with Brax to somehow fix the situation.
Cursing women’s stubbornness in all the realms, Brax pushed past Draven and into the room, “Sabre! What are you thinking? Let Draven heal you!” he yelled at the bruised and bloody woman on the bed.
Sabre gritted her teeth, “No.”
“No? Surely your stupid feud isn’t worth your health!” Brax realised he was practically shouting and made an effort to tame his tone, “I’m sorry. It’s just … Sabre, you’re really hurt. Please –” his voice cracked and he had to turn away from her. The sight of his love covered in blood and burns and cuts was almost too much for him. His guilt was eating him alive.
“I’m an angel. I heal quickly. Don’t worry, it’s not like I’m going to die or anything,” Sabre sounded sardonic.
Brax rounded on her, “Don’t even joke about that!”
Sabre sighed, exhaustion present in every line of her body. “Just … relax, Abraxis. I’ve had worse. This will heal. Truly.”
“There is no need for you to be in pain, Sabre,” Draven said softly from where he still stood just inside the door as if unsure of his welcome.
That makes both of us, Brax thought. Wondering if Sabre would ever forgive him for not listening to her. For not giving her a chance to explain. All of the carnage at the Blue Devil – all of Sabre’s current pain – could have been avoided had he simply listened to her when he had the chance. Sabre was quiet, having not responded to Draven’s gentle words. Taking it as tacit encouragement, Draven slowly moved forward.
“I would heal you, if you will let me. Please. I know we do not have the best of history. But, I … I would heal you, angel,” Draven’s words were gentle but formal.
Sabre’s shoulders slumped where she had been sitting rigidly against the upholstered headboard. “It’s not you, Draven,” she paused, a small twitch moving her lips up at the corners, “It’s your face.”
The ridiculous teasing that never failed to piss Draven off had them all chuckling in surprise, the levity much needed and very welcome in the tense room. Brax found himself brave enough to look directly at Sabre and found her staring back at him. She gave him a small nod, which he had no idea how to decipher. Did she forgive him? Did she want to slice his throat open? Did she want a cup of apple tea?! Fuck, I am absolutely losing it, Brax thought. Still, he trembled over the possibility that Sabre maybe wasn’t picturing him in a shallow grave in that instant.
“Sabre …” Jinx began. But Sabre quickly shook her head. A hiss escaping from between her teeth from the movement.
“No. He can’t. In all seriousness, I thank you for the offer, Draven. But you really can’t.”
“Why not?” Draven sounded just as frustrated and confused as Brax felt.
“Because you’re not just a healer. You’re also an empath. One who can read thoughts with the touch of your hand. I was able to keep Touma out of my mind because I wasn’t injured and because he’s a fucking moronic dickweed. But I can admit I’m damn tired. I also trust you. I’d have a hard time not spilling my mental guts,” Sabre admitted.
Brax opened and closed his mouth silently a couple of times before looking at Draven. Even the revelation that Sabre had even more secrets locked away in her brain other than the mammoth one of her being a resurrection angel and his brother being alive, didn’t seem important right then. In fact, Brax could care less what she knew about what. He just wanted her whole again. “Sabre, I don’t care if you have the meaning of life stored in that brain of yours. Just …” he trailed off, knowing he wasn’t entitled to ask anything of her under the circumstances.
“I assure you I have great control over my abilities. As well as a code of ethics. I would never pry into your mind. I can heal you and keep your secrets intact. I promise,” Draven said, sincerely.
Sabre opened her mouth only to be cut off by the huge, horned demon in the corner of the room. “She accepts,” the man grumbled, jabbing a finger in Sabre’s direction. “No more arguments, young lady. I’m so full on pain right now I probably won’t have to feed for months. Let the walking stiff heal you.”
Draven stiffened at the insult but quickly relaxed again when he heard Sabre snort out a laugh. “Now that is cleared up. May I?”
Sabre eyed the other angel in front of her before finally reaching out with a bloody hand containing three broken fingers, “Fine. Thank you.”
Draven wasted no time, sitting down on the edge of the bed and grasping her hand gently. He placed his other hand on her chest just below her throat and Brax felt the entire room exhale in relief as Draven’s healing energy began to do its job right before their eyes. It took almost thirty minutes for Draven to be satisfied that he had healed all of Sabre’s wounds and Brax had done nothing but stare at the woman the entire time. He didn’t care how creepy he was coming across or that it was probably making Sabre uncomfortable. All he cared about was watching the porcelain perfection of her skin return inch by inch. When Draven finally let go of Sabre and sat back with a sigh, Brax rushed forward only to stop before he made the mistake of touching her. Because he knew his touch would never be welcome again. Sabre surprised him when she said;
“It’s okay, Brax. Go ahead. Just ask.”
“Ask what?” he questioned, genuinely confused and revelling in the fact that Sabre was at least speaking to him.
“You’ve been incredibly patient when I know you must be busting at the seams to ask about your brother. He –”
“That’s not what I want to ask.” Sabre looked beyond confused. It wasn’t a look he had seen on her face before and it was endearing as hell.
“But Mikhail …” she began.
“Can wait,” Brax interrupted. “Apparently he’s been waiting for over a year. A little bit longer won’t hurt him.” Brax tried to keep the resentment from his voice when he said that. Shaking off his anger to deal with in another time and place, he focused on what was most important to him, “Will you forgive me?”
Sabre frowned, “Forgive you? For what?”
“For not listening to you this morning. You tried to tell me there was more to the story and I wouldn’t listen. I am so sorry, Sabre. So, so sorry. I –”
“Hold up, beastie-boy,” Sabre held up a hand for silence as she rose gracefully to her feet.
So, Brax thought in abject misery, she isn’t even going to let me beg. Sabre walked over to him, pausing only when he could feel the warmth from her body against the line of his. He wanted nothing more than to grab her, throw her down on the bed and spend the next fifty years or so worshiping her body and grovelling. But he did none of that. He simply awaited his fate.
“Why are you apologising? You have nothing to apologise for. Of course you didn’t listen to me. Why would you? You had just learned I was the assassin hired to kill your brother – the then king. A job I really did perform. I did kill Mikhail. If anyone has anything to be sorry for it’s me. Not you. So, just, you know – shut up.”
Brax felt his mouth drop open in shock, “Nothing to apologise for?”
Sabre nodded once, crossing her arms over her chest, “That’s right.”
“You don’t hate me?” Brax ventured, voice filled with hope.
Sabre’s mouth fell open this time and she bli
nked rapidly as if trying to compute his words, “Hate you? Why would I hate you? I love you.”
“You … you love me?” Brax choked.
Sabre narrowed her plum eyes at him before turning to Draven, “Is he okay? Did he get hit on the head during the fight?”
Draven covered his quick smile with the palm of his hand, “I do not believe so, no.”
“Huh,” Sabre turned back to Brax. “Yes, Brax. I love you. We already had this conversation, remember? You said you loved me and then I said I loved you more. Because I’m a winner,” Sabre pointed out, “So of course I love you more.”
Brax clutched at his chest, wondering how his heart was still inside his rib cage because it was thumping so loudly. It was all he could do to hear Sabre’s words of love. She loved him. Sabre still loved him!
“You’re not saying anything,” Sabre pointed out, “Do you not still love me? Is that your problem?”
“Yes! Of course, yes. How could I not love you? I will always love you. You are mine,” he was quick to say, bounding forward to snatch up her hands. The smile that spread across Sabre’s face was truly angelic and took his breath away with the sheer beauty of everything she was. He cupped her cheeks before he offered a peck to her lips, confessing, “I was so worried you wouldn’t want me anymore. The very first test of my love for you and I believed a stranger’s words over yours. I should have trusted you. I’m sorry.”
“Not want you anymore? Why? It was one little blip in our otherwise great relationship. I mean, sure, we’ve only been seeing each other officially for like, fifteen hours. But I think we’ve been doing really well. Okay, I have nothing to compare it to because, let’s face it, I’m not a shining beacon for healthy relationships considering most of my friends are people that I’ve been paid to kill. Then secretly brought back to life. It’s complicated,” Sabre finished her banal chatter with a shrug of her shoulders.
Brax stared at her for a heartbeat before he laughed so hard he was forced to bend over at the waist to catch his breath. Then he was on her between one heartbeat and the next, crushing their mouths together and tangling their limbs, trying to get as close to her as possible.
“I hate to interrupt, but is now really the time for the two of you to fornicate?” Draven’s voice was dry as a desert when he interrupted their interlude.
“Oh my Hell. Did you just say fornicate?” Sabre laughed as she pulled away from Brax’s ravaging mouth – but not his questing hands. “Say it again,” she urged.
Draven sniffed, raising his chin, “I most certainly will not.”
Sabre looked back up at Brax, eyes twinkling merrily, “Make him say it again. If you order him to do it, he’s duty-bound to obey.”
“Is that why you killed Mikhail?” Draven’s words were like a bucket of cold water – and just as abrupt.
The smiling, flushed, well-kissed woman in his arms of just seconds ago, suddenly stiffened and pulled out of his grasp. Brax grumbled in displeasure, hauling her back against his chest. This time with her back to his front so she could accost the other angel at her leisure. As much as Brax wanted to know everything about Mikhail and Sabre’s part in his death – and resurrection – he wanted to hold the assassin more. In fact, he may never let her out of his sight again.
“Wow, way to kill the mood. Douche,” Jinx narrowed her odd eyes at Draven, and if looks could kill, Brax’s angel would be well and truly incinerated.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Sabre relaxed back against the broad chest behind her, trusting Brax’s strength to keep them both upright. She went one step further and clutched at the forearms holding her so securely. She couldn’t believe Brax was worried about her forgiving him. She was the one who had gotten all stabby with his big brother and then omitted that titbit every time she saw him. Sabre had been sure their relationship, only in its infancy, had been doomed. One of the reasons why she held back from Draven’s healing hands was because she didn’t want to be fit enough to have to deal with Brax kicking her butt to the curb. But, if the strong arms currently wrapped around her like an octopus were any indication, her butt was well and truly safe.
Turning to Draven, she asked point-blank, “What do you think you know?”
Draven arched a perfectly manscaped eyebrow, “Everything I’m pretty sure.”
Sabre narrowed her eyes at him, “Oh I doubt that. And if you did, I’d have to kick your arse for snooping in my mind when you promised me you wouldn’t.”
Draven shook his head, “I didn’t snoop. I would never do that. I am an angel of integrity, unlike some –” he abruptly broke off, clearing his throat.
“Unlike some angels? Is that what you were going to say?” Sabre prodded, relishing the flush creeping up Draven’s neck. To her shock, Draven bowed in her direction, placing a palm over his heart.
“I apologise. Obviously, I – we – have been mistaken in our thinking. Though, I am sure that was your intention so I don’t really know if the apology is necessary.”
“Wow. You can’t even apologise right,” Gage spoke up from where he was leaning next to Jinx and Mercy in the corner of the room.
Sabre chuckled, finding the lame apology funny as well as more than sufficient. Besides, his actions spoke volumes more than his words. Sabre couldn’t deny it felt good to finally be vindicated – somewhat. Jinx, Gage, Mercy and Phaedra had been the only people to know – other than those she had resurrected of course – that Sabre was still an angel in full possession of her Grace. They had also known that she was a resurrection angel. But that was the extent of their knowledge. The rest of her secrets weren’t really hers to share and she had kept them locked behind several layers of impenetrable steel in her mind and in her heart. She desperately wanted to unload all of her burdens but wasn’t sure she was allowed to.
Draven, who had been watching her face carefully during her self-reflection, had pity in his eyes when he asked; “How much can you tell us?”
“Nothing,” Sabre shook her head and glanced up at Brax. “I’m sorry. I can’t tell you anything else.”
Brax didn’t look angry, simply curious when he questioned; “Why? Are you afraid of something – or someone?”
“Afraid? No.” And that was the truth. She was no more afraid of her true employer than she was of her own shadow. Without thought, she said as much to Brax.
“Your true employer?” his forehead wrinkled as he looked down at her.
Sabre snapped her mouth shut. She had said that out loud? Over a hundred years of lying and hiding and she suddenly gets a case of verbal diarrhoea? “Fuck me …” she muttered.
Jinx laughed from the corner, “Wow, Sabre. Look at you giving away trade secrets. It must be all those sexy sex pheromones Brax is releasing.”
“I don’t have sex pheromones,” Brax quickly rejected.
“Oh, Your Majesty. Believe me, you most certainly do,” Mercy purred, eyeing Brax as if he were a piece of meat – tenderised of course because that was just how Mercy rolled.
Brax eyed her torture-happy friend before giving himself a discreet sniff. He cast a questioning look at Draven who simply shrugged and shook his head. Sabre stood on her tip toes in order to place a kiss to the tip of her guy’s nose because he really was just too adorable for words. But his endearing ways were still not enough for her to talk. Some bonds exceeded even the heart. But, oh how she yearned to open up to her lover. Draven, seemingly taking pity on her once more made a suggestion and Sabre was just desperate enough to latch onto the flimsy worth of it, that she agreed readily.
“What if we guess? Or make statements that you can then confirm or deny?” was Draven’s suggestion.
Sabre worried her bottom lip, nails digging into Brax’s arm where she still clutched it like a life preserver. “It’s a technicality and a loophole … but I’ll take it. Okay,” she decided. Besides, what was Mikhail going to do? Kill her?
“Did Mikhail hire you to kill him?”
Draven’s abrupt – and percepti
ve – question had her demon finally releasing her. Brax’s arms dropped and he looked at his guardian in shock, “What the fuck, Draven? What kind of a question is that? Why would my brother …” his words trailed off as he stared at Sabre’s face. “Mikhail hired you to kill him?”
Testing the strength of their love once more, Sabre answered simply; “Yes.”
Breath exploded from Brax’s lungs, “Why?” He began to pace in the confines of the guest suite, arms waving in the air, “Why would he do that? Why would he take himself away from me?”
The pain in Brax’s voice made Sabre want to kick Mikhail’s arse the next time she saw him. She had no doubt that time would be soon. Word spread quickly in Purgatory and she knew he would be hearing of the day’s events very soon. He might even know already. Sabre stood in front of Brax’s path and placed her palm over his frantically beating heart, looking into his beloved yellow eyes as she answered, “Because he wanted to save you.”
“What? Save me? I don’t understand.”
Brax’s eyes pleaded with her to make sense of something nonsensical. To make everything right again in his world when everything had been turned topsy turvy. The trust and faith that showed caused Sabre’s knees to wobble a little. So, throwing word games to the wayside, Sabre explained the best she could, all the while tracing the frown lines on her demon’s forehead.
“The conspiracy to wipe out your family started well before Mikhail. You were right to think it began with your father and uncles. After your father was killed, you know Mikhail tried for years to identify the killer. Hell, I tried for years. I still can’t believe Phaedra had information all this time. I suppose it hardly matters now, but it still pisses me off,” Sabre muttered. “Anyway, after your brother was killed, Mikhail was determined the same thing wouldn’t happen to you. He didn’t want to lose another member of his family, so he ordered me to kill him – and to bring him back of course. He thought he could work better from behind the scenes. Hunt the person down and put a stop to the killing.”