“Let me go,” I say quietly. We work so hard to prevent the rest of the faction from seeing the cracks in our relationship. We have a stable faction, but we both know all too well that both Amazons and Mystics will pounce on any perceived weakness. If they realized that Eli and I are hardly the solid unit we pretend in public, there’s a decent chance they’d attempt to use it against the faction somehow. Eli’s done as much to them in the past, after all.
Eli’s never slipped in public with me, not once. He’s slipping right now. There’s not a damn thing he can do to change this. He has to let me go, and I have to walk away. Something releases in my chest at the realization.
Finally—finally—this is over.
“No,” he repeats. He still hasn’t looked at me. He’s too busy staring down at Abel. A man who used to be his best friend. An enemy that is obviously determined to hurt him. To hurt all of us.
But denying the Herald is unthinkable. Eli agreed, just like the other faction leaders, and neither Aisling nor Ciar balked as their daughters and wives and brothers and sons descended to stand next to the Paine brother who called their name. Eli can’t keep me.
Being a Bride means cutting off all previous ties, at least for the year of handfasting required. It’s an old-fashioned way of creating alliances, of ensuring a year’s worth of peace between Bride’s people and whoever won them. It’s highly ironic that the Paine brothers are using it as a punishment, but I can’t deny it’s a brilliant move. With one fell swoop, they’ve ensured they’re untouchable for an entire year—and they’ve all but declared that they won’t be moving against the three factions in the process.
I clear my throat. “You gave your word, Eli.”
He finally looks at me. I search his handsome face, looking for some sign of the man I fell in love with all those years ago. He gives me nothing. Nothing but the carefree mask he wears at all times. The only indication that he’s affected at all is the intensity of his hazel eyes. “No.”
He can’t just say no and make it so.
“Yes,” I snarl. “It’s over. You lost. Let me go.”
Let me go.
Just fucking let me go, please.
I don’t want to be a Bride, especially to a Paine, especially to Abel Paine. Of course I don’t; I remember his father all too well, and the man staring up at me is a carbon copy of that monster. But he won’t kill me, won’t do anything to permanently damage me, and I can survive anything else for a year. And then? Then I’ll be free in truth.
But first Eli has to release me.
The Herald’s voice reaches us. “Is there a problem, Eli Walsh?”
If he balks when the rest of the faction leaders didn’t, the entirety of Sabine Valley will come down on his head. Our people will pay the price. I look at Eli, but he has a stubborn set to his jaw that I don’t like. He’s still trying to find a way to protect me, despite the fact that I don’t need his protection. I will keep my word, even if he is considering breaking his.
Fine.
I’ll do it myself.
I jerk my hand from his and start down the stairs. I can feel the eyes of everyone in the amphitheater on me, but none of them burns as hot as Abel Paine. He waits in the center of the sand, shirtless and covered in sweat. His lip is bloodied, and he’ll have a constellation of bruises on his body tomorrow, but he’s still standing with the casual arrogance he displayed from the moment he appeared.
He’s handsome in an ancient warrior kind of way. He’s a white guy with short dark hair and a close-cropped beard that seems to highlight his strong jaw, rather than conceal it. Broad shoulders and a thick chest. He’s built like a tank. Nothing extra, every inch of him contributing to his power.
He doesn’t smile as I cross the sand to stand next to him, doesn’t gloat or grin or talk shit. He simply nods as if this was the expected outcome from the start.
That’s scarier than anything he’s done so far.
He holds a hand out to me. It’s broad and just as bloodied as he is, the evidence of his violence there on his knuckles.
I very much do not want to do this. But living in this place means adhering to its rules, and I’m no oathbreaker. It’s just a year. Twelve short months. It’s nothing. Becoming his Bride will protect my people, and that’s all that matters, all I’ve ever wanted. I take a slow breath and lift my hand.
“Stop.”
Eli’s voice sounds behind me, too close. I spin to find him on the sand with us. He stalks to us and looks at the Herald. “One more.”
She thins her lips. “You’re not obeying the letter of the law.”
“One more, Herald.” He glares at Abel. “If I win, Harlow doesn’t become his Bride.”
Shock slaps me in the face. If we’re the only faction without a Bride linked to the Paine brothers, then it will be open season on our people. What is Eli doing? “No.”
The Herald considers him and turns to Abel. “This is unprecedented.”
“I accept, Herald.” He grins, his teeth bloody. “But if I win, Eli becomes my Bride, too, and the Raider faction returns to its rightful leaders—me and my brothers.”
Eli doesn’t hesitate. “I agree.”
I spin to him. “What the hell are you doing? You can’t.” If Eli loses, that means his territory—our territory—becomes Abel’s. At least as Brides, those things are separate. He’s not simply bargaining for our lives. He’s bargaining our people’s, too. “Eli, no.”
“It’s too late.” He takes his glasses off and hands them to me. “It’s done.”
“You fool,” I whisper. I never thought he’d go to such lengths to preserve the fantasy that I need protecting. But then, of course he will. Eli insists on seeing that woman instead of the one in front of him. It’s why our relationship has devolved to smoking ruins of the love we once had.
He gives me a quick grin. “He’s already fought seven people. I can take him.” The way he speaks is so relaxed, as if we’re about to go out to lunch instead of enter a fight that will decide the future of our faction. It’s a lie, just like everything Eli presents the public is a lie.
There was a time when he didn’t use it to try to lie to me. Gods, I am so angry, I’m shaking. “If you do this, I’ll never forgive you.”
He flinches, the tiniest of reactions. “You can hate me later, when I’ve saved you from this.”
I close my eyes and strive to push back the panic and rage coursing through me, strong enough to have me weaving on my feet. “You have to win.” There’s no other option, not one our people can live with.
“I will.”
I open my eyes as he crosses the sand to Abel. The Herald raises her hand. “Begin.”
In every fight except the last, Abel has waited for his opponent to make the first move. He’s taken them down with a handful of strikes, ending the fights almost as soon as they began. But his opponents always started it.
Not this time.
The word is barely out of the Herald’s mouth when he’s on Eli. They meet in a spray of sand and the heavy impact of fist meeting flesh. They’re nearly the same height, but Abel is built thicker than Eli. For all that, I think Eli might be faster. It’s hard to tell when they’re moving so quickly.
For a moment, just a moment, I think Eli might have a chance. He’s stronger than he appears—deadlier, too. Not just anyone can hold our faction together, and he’s done it since his father died five years ago. He intentionally leads people to underestimate him.
He lands a punch that snaps back Abel’s head and sends the other man staggering a few steps away. Hope wars with fear, and I press my hands to my chest, trying to school my expression.
But when Eli moves to finish Abel off, the other man grabs his wrist and yanks him forward. They hit the ground with a dull thud that makes my body hurt in sympathy. Then they’re off again, first Eli on top, and then Abel, and then Eli again. Fists fly. Blood flows. They beat each other with a brutality that leaves me breathless. This is nothing like the cold eff
iciency with which Abel took down his other opponents. No, he goes after Eli like he wants him dead.
Stop.
I clamp my lips shut to keep the word inside. No one can stop a fight during Lammas, not once it starts. We must simply stand by and witness.
Abel pulls some move that lands him on top again, and this time, he uses his legs to pin Eli’s arms to his sides. He delivers punishing blow after punishing blow, snapping Eli’s head to one side and then the other.
Eli goes limp.
I look at the Herald, but she watches Abel beat Eli and doesn’t call the fight. Abel shows no signs of slowing down.
He’s going to kill Eli.
I don’t stop to think. I simply react. The sand gives beneath my feet as I sprint to them. I throw myself at Abel’s back and wrap my arms around him. Not fighting. Not hurting. Not doing anything that would make me another opponent to battle. “Stop.” I cling to him as his blows slow. “Please stop. You’ve won.”
Finally, a small eternity later, he sits back and exhales roughly. He ignores me clinging to his back and looks at the Herald. She lifts her brows and raises her voice. “Abel wins. Eli will be his Bride alongside Harlow. The Raider faction returns to the Paine brothers.”
Around the amphitheater, the crowd begins to seethe and move. Everyone is talking over each other, and it creates a din that makes this situation even more unreal.
Abel reaches up with bloody hands and easily breaks my hold on him. He doesn’t hurt me. He simply removes me from his back and rises to his feet. Without looking at me, he motions to the Herald. “We’ll hold the ceremony now.”
The ceremony.
It’s been a long time since anyone has claimed a Bride as a prize during Lammas. It’s an old tradition, dating back to the beginning of Sabine Valley. If a Bride is won, they renounce all former personal ties and handfast with the victor for a year and a day. At the end of that, the term is finished, and they can go their separate ways, but for the duration, they might as well be married. Not even marriage to another person is enough to stop the handfasting from happening. Either they annul their marriage or return to it once the handfasting is done, but for that year, the only partner they claim is whoever won them.
I look at the Brides, and my breath catches in my throat. The Paine brothers have chosen well if they want to make a statement. The Amazon heir. The Mystic heir. The Amazon queen’s youngest brother, and her daughter. The Mystic leader’s newest wife, and his son. Me. And now Eli, and by way of him, our entire faction.
All three factions are well represented, ensuring a forced peace for a year and a day, more than long enough for someone savvy to put down roots and a plan to strike their enemies down once the deadline has passed.
The Herald nods. “Of course.”
Abel hauls Eli to his feet and clamps a big hand on the back of his neck. Eli’s weaving, and his gorgeous face is a mess. He looks half a second from passing out. I take a step toward him, but Abel plants a hand on my neck, too and turns all three of us to face the Herald.
The ritual passes in a blur. I think I’m in shock. This went from a mundane Lammas festival to a nightmare in less than an hour. The Herald’s people move forward in front of each couple and wind their hands with ribbon, reciting words that sound like a buzz in my ears. I stare down at my hands bound to Eli and Abel’s, at theirs bound to each other. I was so close to something resembling freedom. One small step, one year away.
Now, I’m in even deeper than I was before. Eli won’t be able to do anything but fight Abel. It’s his nature. They’ll be so busy going for each other’s throats that neither will consider the people who need protection the most—the members of our faction.
Once the ceremony is finished, Abel turns us and leads our fucked-up little procession out of the amphitheater and through the streets to a trio of trucks waiting for us. He shoves Eli up into the bed of the first one, but when I move to follow, he tightens his grip on the back of my neck. “You’re up front with me.”
Two of his brothers climb behind the wheels of the other trucks, and the rest of them and their Brides pile into the beds. No one says a single damn word. Are they feeling this same shock that I am? Surely at least Monroe, the Amazon heir, will fight this?
But then, she follows the same laws I do.
Abel opens the driver’s door and gives me a light push. “Up.”
“If Eli bleeds out—”
“He’s made of tougher stuff than that. A little beating isn’t enough to kill that bastard.” His tone goes even harder. “In the truck, Harlow.”
I reluctantly climb up and scoot over to make room for him. It’s not enough. Even though Abel isn’t a giant by any definition, he fills the limited space until I’m choking on his presence with every inhale. I want nothing more than to curl in on myself, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing my fear. Instead, I sit straight and stare out the windshield as he turns on the truck and pulls away from the curb. I don’t ask where we’re going. It doesn’t matter.
We’ve lost everything.
“You seem like a good girl who follows the rules.” He speaks low enough that I have to strain to hear him, an edge of a growl in his voice. “You know what comes next.”
It’s not a question, but I answer it all the same. “Consummating the handfasting.” It’s not required under normal circumstances. Handfasting isn’t like marriage. There’s no annulment or divorce. If the couple wants to part ways before the end of it, there’s no harm, no foul.
Brides are different.
Abel takes the west bridge off the island and into our faction’s territory. Of course he would come here. It’s his now. The thought makes my stomach lurch. He doesn’t speak again for several blocks. “You have a problem with that?”
I blink. Is he really asking my permission now? “Would it matter if I did?”
“Answer the question.”
I want to say that I’ll fight him every step of the way, but I’ve consented to this. I chose to stay in Sabine Valley. I chose to be in a relationship with Eli, knowing that it would mean adhering even more strongly to the laws because I’d be in the public eye. I chose to walk down into the sand to take Abel’s hand.
I look out the window. “I’ll do my duty.”
“Duty.” He snorts. “Uh-huh. And what happens when that man of yours starts spitting fire and trying to fall on a sword to protect you from big, bad me?”
I refuse to look at him, refuse to let him see how sick this situation makes me. Eli should have let me go. He didn’t have to like it—I don’t like it—but when you’re the ruler of a faction, sometimes sacrifices have to be made. I was willing to take the hit to protect our people. He should have been willing to do the same.
Instead, once again, he’s stepped in to protect me from something I don’t need protection from.
I take a breath and force myself to turn to Abel. Even bruised and covered in blood, he’s a handsome fucker. Powerful and entrancing, he’s got the kind of charisma that makes people sit up and take notice even before he opens his mouth. “I will do my part because I gave my word that I would, but I won’t play punching bag or let you harm me. If you try, I’ll cut your fucking balls off.”
He barks out a laugh. “You’ll try, sweetheart.”
“Even you have to sleep sometime.”
He glances at me, new appreciation lighting his dark eyes. “Guess I do. I have no beef with you, Harlow. You just shacked up with the wrong man, and now you’re mine for the next year. Play nice, and I’ll play nice back. Try to stick a knife in my back, and I’ll cut off your pretty head.” He delivers the threat mildly, so mildly that it takes me a moment to register the words.
He’s a Paine. He’s not bluffing.
3
Eli
I fucked up.
I’ve spent my entire life learning to control my emotions, to never let them get the best of me, and I threw it away when I could least afford to. Abel brings us to some kind of
warehouse. It’s got a large room with plenty of space for the trucks and then some, and each wall is lined with four doors. Nothing fancy, but then, they can’t have been here long. I have people reporting to me throughout the entire faction, and surely someone would have noticed the Paine brothers returning if they’d been here a while. But then, Abel’s managed to acquire a fucking warehouse without me noticing, so I can take nothing for granted.
I am a fucking fool.
I never saw this coming.
I watch the Paine brothers and their Brides climb out of the truck beds. They gather around Abel, and rage makes my vision bleed red at the sight of him holding Harlow by the arm. She doesn’t look too freaked out, but she’s got one hell of a poker face. She’s got to be terrified.
Abel looks at each of his brothers in turn. “Consummate the handfasting tonight. No exceptions. Get it done.”
Abel hauls Harlow to stand before the bed of the truck and levels a hard look at me. “Get the fuck up.”
My body grumbles in protest as I leverage myself to my feet. My face is one big, throbbing ache. I’m going to have a black eye by the end of the night. At least he didn’t break my ribs or do any lasting damage. I suspect that was on purpose, and I hate that he had the control to hold back when I was in a frenzy. Even when I was lost in rage, Abel was delivering punches with pristine focus. Goddamn it.
My vision goes a little blurry when my feet hit the ground, but I stay standing through sheer stubbornness. “You got what you want. Let her go.”
“Nah, I won Harlow twice over. I’m going to enjoy the fuck out of her.” He leans in, dark eyes mean. “I can’t wait to taste her pussy and have her come all over my cock.”
I shoot forward, but Abel’s ready for me. He grabs my throat and drags me the rest of the way to him until our noses are nearly touching. “I’ll tell you what I told her; play nice, and I won’t fuck her up.”
Abel: A Sabine Valley Novel Page 2