Broderick: A Sabine Valley Novel

by Katee Robert

  My verbal brakes disappear. “Won’t your happy little relationship go up in smoke if you fuck Monroe? That’d be a shame.”

  Abel moves so fast, I never see it coming. He grabs the front of my shirt and swings me around to slam into the wall opposite the door I was just leaning on. The impact rattles me, and it rattles me worse when he jerks me forward and slams me back again. His face has gone cold. “I don’t need my cock to handle the Monroe problem, Broderick. This is a big house. Lot of stairs. Be a fucking shame if she fell down them and snapped that pretty neck of hers.”

  I stare at him. We’re the same height, but he’s got more than a few pounds of muscle on me. That’s not the only difference between us. Abel is ruthless in a way I’ll never be able to match. He’s not bluffing. I swallow hard. “You’d risk breaking the treaty by killing her.”

  “Fuck no.” He barely lets me get a breath out before he continues, “But accidents happen, and we can’t be liable. It’s a known fact that she likes to slip her handler so she can get into trouble. It’ll be a pain in the ass to deal with the fallout, but better that than have her making one of us the laughingstock of Sabine Valley. Our position is too precarious to allow it, and you’d realize that if you pulled your head out of your ass long enough to look around and take stock of the situation.”

  “What the fuck, Abel?”

  “Abel.” Eli is there, taking my brother’s shoulders and pulling him off me. Or at least trying to. “That’s enough.”

  My brother gives me one last shake and releases me, stepping away and sliding his hands back into his pockets. He shrugs off Eli’s hands, but gives the man a look so sexually charged, it makes me mildly uncomfortable. When Abel speaks again, he sounds cold and perfectly composed. “No need to get so emotional, Broderick. If you’re not willing to solve the problem, then I will. I’ll do what I always do when it comes to our people—clean up their messes. Your mess this time. You’re welcome, by the way.” He turns and strides down the hallway, Eli easily falling into step beside him.

  Trust Abel to cut to the heart of the situation without a shred of mercy.

  Figure this shit out, or Monroe dies.

  I should be grateful. She’s the enemy. Not to mention the whole seducing-Shiloh thing.

  Except…

  Shiloh’s right. Monroe was only nineteen when that shit went down eight years ago. She was heir, yes, but she’s not the one who made the call to ally with Eli’s father in his attempt to wipe our family off the face of the earth. I doubt she was part of the raiding party, either.

  She might be a pain in the ass and an Amazon, but neither of those things should be a death sentence. And as much as the thought of her and Shiloh together makes me feel twisted up and fucked in the head, that isn’t a death sentence, either.

  Damn my brother for backing me into a corner. I can’t in good conscience sit back and let Abel take care of things in that particular Abel way.

  Which means I have to do as he said and get my house in order.

  That starts now.

  I glance at the door. Or, rather, it starts in the morning.

  I don’t sleep. Of course I don’t. My brain is too busy running a montage of devastating and infuriating images behind my eyes. Shiloh and Monroe. In bed, making each other orgasm until they’re too exhausted to continue.

  As a result, I’m already frazzled as fuck when I dress and head down to Monroe’s room, far too early to be polite. It doesn’t matter. I can’t find anything worse than what I walked in on last night.

  Worse…or better?

  I take a deep breath and knock on the door. The barest pause and then Shiloh’s voice emerges. “Come in.”

  I don’t actually expect to find them still fucking, but it’s jarring to find both women sitting on the bed. Shiloh is wearing her customary jeans and plain top. Monroe has changed into jeans and another oversized top that should dwarf her figure but somehow manages to show it off instead.

  I glance at the couch, taking in the blankets and pillow there. They…didn’t sleep together? I don’t know if that’s a relief or not. I don’t what to think at all anymore.

  I push the thought away. “We need to talk.”

  “Do we?”

  I blink at Shiloh. “Are you going to be pissed at me forever?” The thought hollows out my stomach. I hope to the gods haven’t ruined things between us permanently. Surely there’s a way to figure this out and reclaim our friendship. As much as I want to prioritize that, she really won’t forgive me if my negligence gets Monroe killed.

  “I don’t know. Are you going to be a raging dickhead forever?”

  Monroe laughs and leans against Shiloh. There’s a faint flush to her cheeks, and her eyes are heavy-lidded with remembered pleasure. The sight sends a bolt of lust through me, but I muscle it back. “I’m sorry,” I grit out. “How many times do I have to say it before it sticks?”

  Shiloh looks at me for a long moment. “Until you actually mean it—which you don’t right now. But let’s move on.”

  I hate this new distance between us. I hate that I feel like I don’t know her anymore. Or that maybe Abel and Monroe are right and maybe I only ever saw a filtered version of her. The realization isn’t a comfortable one. I want to ask her what the hell happened, but she won’t thank me for the question.

  Focus.

  “Jasper has requested Monroe’s presence.” I glance at her. “And Winry’s.”

  Monroe perks up at that. “When?”

  “This morning.”

  Shiloh smooths her hair back. “Convenient timing. I have to update Maddox and Cohen, so you can escort Monroe to the meeting.”

  It was the plan, but having her dictate it to me in that cold voice sets my teeth on edge. It makes me want to… I muscle the urge down. This isn’t Monroe mouthing off. This is Shiloh.

  Up until the shitshow at Lammas, I wouldn’t have even had the urge to put her in her place. It’s like having sex with Monroe woke something inside me that had been slumbering my entire life. I don’t know how the fuck I’m supposed to deal with it now.

  Or maybe it’s wasn’t Monroe at all. Maybe it was coming back to Sabine Valley that changed things permanently. “Afterward, the three of us are going to have a chat.”

  “We’ll see.” Shiloh gets up and walks into the bathroom. She shuts the door with a finality that makes me want to kick it the fuck down.

  “Goddamn it.”

  “Problem?” Monroe stands and stretches. Her clothing isn’t suggestive in the least, but I can’t get over the image of Shiloh bending her in half, the flowy white fabric of her shirt bunched up around her ribs, leaving her naked from the waist down. The memory sends a wave of heat through me.

  I feel like I’m being torn in two. There was a smart course of action, the logical way to proceed. I know there was. It dissipates through my fingers like smoke. All that’s left is what the feral creature inside me wants.

  I move before I can think of the thousands of reasons not to and wrap my fist around Monroe’s blond hair. She doesn’t tense, doesn’t fight me. She simply goes fluid and lets me tilt her head back as I step close enough that we’re damn near plastered together. “Keep that smart mouth in line, Monroe.”

  She holds my gaze and licks her lips. “Oh, so we’re just going to gloss over the fact that I won that bet fair and square? Interesting that you won’t honor your word.”

  Rage crystalizes inside me. How does she do this? How does she slide beneath my skin “I’ll honor my word.”

  “Good boy.”

  I tug on her hair, a little too hard. “We’ll discuss it later.”

  “As you wish.” Monroe shivers. For all that she’s chaos incarnate, she isn’t faking her attraction to me. I’d bet my life on it. I don’t know if that makes this shit better or worse.

  I release her and start for the door. “Let’s go.”

  I half expect her to start some shit, but Monroe follows along obediently and silently… At least until
we’re in the hall and have shut the door behind us. “You’re a giant fool, do you know that?”

  Even knowing better than to take the bait, I still chomp down on it with all my strength. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “That’s rich coming from you.” She manages to match my longer stride with seeming ease, which irritates me beyond all reason. Monroe laughs. “You all but drove Shiloh right into my arms. What did you say to piss her off so thoroughly?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “If you say so.” She shrugs. “I honestly have no motivation to convince you to stop being a pushy neanderthal. It’s working out well for me.”

  I spin on her, but she’s already moving. Monroe catches my wrist and shoves it away. “Let’s get one thing straight, shall we? I might like some slap and tickle when it comes to fucking, but you will not touch me in anger outside of that. Do you understand me?”

  It’s as if someone else takes control of my body. I stalk her across the hallway, and she lets me, though she narrows her green eyes in suspicion. I don’t stop until I plant my hands on the wall on either side of her body. “It’s you who needs to understand me, Bride.” I lean down until we’re face to face. “Everything we do is in conjunction to fucking. That’s all it is. Aside from the alliance this handfasting brought us, you’re just a pretty pussy to me and nothing more.”

  She laughs in my face. “Gods, you’re too much. Cute, Broderick, really cute.”

  Still acting on pure instinct, I spin her around and step forward, pressing my front to her back. She drags in a harsh breath, but I’m not finished yet. I dip my hand beneath her loose shirt and hook the front of her jeans with my thumb. “This fucking enough for you, Monroe?”

  “This is hardly foreplay,” she snarls.

  I don’t hesitate. It takes half a second to unbutton her jeans and drag down the zipper. Then my hand is in her pants and, fuck, she’s so goddamn wet. I know it’s not for me. This is the aftermath of what Shiloh did to her last night. The jeans are too tight to do what I want, so I curse and move back enough to shove them down her hips. I don’t give a fuck that we’re in the middle of the hallway. I don’t care who might see. I just need to put this siren of a woman in her place, just one single fucking time.

  I shift to the side so I can spear two fingers into her pussy from behind and rub her clit with my free hand. For her part, she hasn’t moved her stance, her hands still plastered to the wall where she caught herself. I stroke her, tormenting myself with how fucking good she feels. “Did she lick your pussy, Monroe?” The words feel dragged from me. “Did she fuck you with her tongue?”

  “Yes.” She arches her hips, trying to take my fingers deeper. Monroe lets her head fall forward as I circle her clit just the way she likes. “She made me come so fucking hard. I can’t wait to do it again.”

  I don’t give in to the temptation to increase my pace. I just hold steady as Monroe starts to shake in my arms. For all her shit-talking, she does come sweetly. She whimpers and clamps around my fingers hard enough to make me groan. I lean down and nip her earlobe. “You might have me for a week, Monroe, but make no mistake—I’ll be having you during that time. Over and over again.”

  She barely lets me get my hands out of the way before she yanks up her jeans and fastens them. It’s only when her clothing is back in place that she finally looks at me. “Can’t wait.”

  For the first time since I met her, I can’t shake the feeling that she just lied to me.

  Chapter 12

  Monroe

  I have never run from a fight in my life. What just happened with Broderick can hardly be called a fight, and yet I feel like I’m fleeing it all the same as I step into the library with him shadowing my steps. My body still tingles with the aftermath of that orgasm, only made stronger by the few I had last night with Shiloh.

  They’re using me as a battleground between them.

  It was what I intended all along. The moment I realized how deep the emotions ran between those two, how determined they were to avoid stepping on that particular landmine, I planned to dance all over their buttons.

  What I didn’t intend?

  To feel…strange while doing it.

  Neither of them really want me. They want each other, and I’m the inciting event that will end with them fucking. I’ll go down at the footnote in their relationship, assuming they both survive what comes next. Sabine Valley is not a peaceful city, and the forced truce between the Raiders and the other two factions will only hold the year.

  If that.

  There are no guarantees in this life, especially in this city.

  I just… I didn’t expect to like Shiloh so much. I meant every word I said to her about being the conductor of justice for the harms committed against her as a child. Even thinking about it has anger simmering inside me. I have few lines—one can’t be precious when they’re going to be the next queen of the Amazons—but harming children is an unforgivable offense. Shiloh was right; we’ve had our share of predators in the Amazon faction. But we do not victim-blame, and we do not make excuses for them so they can harm more innocents.

  We make fucking examples of them.

  Obviously I know the greater world isn’t like that. I can’t say the rest of Sabine Valley conducts itself in the same way. But knowing that Shiloh experienced torture at her parents’ hands…

  I clench my fists. I want to see them burn.

  “Monroe?”

  I give myself a mental shake and have my expression under control by the time I turn to face Broderick. “Yes, husband?”

  He searches my face. I’ve never seen a person so conflicted with themself. His identity seems to be so wrapped up in being the calm Paine, the rational brother, that he doesn’t seem to realize that he loves being harsh and brutal. No one can fake how he is with me. Especially when he seems to hate it so.

  Right now, he’s feeling irrational guilt and wondering if he pushed me too far in the hallway. I should leave him hanging, should twist the knife every chance I get and use that guilt to manipulate him. It’s what my mother would do, what I’d advise any other Amazon to do in this situation. I am not without weapons, but I’d be a fool to turn away from one so potentially lucrative.

  I don’t know why I open my mouth and say, “We’re good, Broderick.”

  Instantly, his expression shuts down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh? You weren’t just whipping yourself for being a big, bad villain and forcing yourself on poor, defenseless me?”

  He flinches. “That’s nothing to joke about.”

  “You’re right. It’s not.” I can’t quite help myself. I close the distance between us and run my hands up his chest. I lower my voice, until he has to lean down to catch my words. “Broderick, if I didn’t want what you do to me, I would gut you and leave you to bleed out in the hallway. No one, not any of your brothers, not a single Raider in this faction, not even Shiloh, could stop me.”

  He doesn’t relax. “I’m bigger than you. Stronger.”

  Gods, this man’s respectable streak is tiresome.

  Even knowing it will give away my edge, I bend down, dip my hand into the open edge of my boot and draw the long knife I lifted off Shiloh when she wasn’t paying attention the other day. “I would have gutted you,” I repeat.

  Broderick blinks. “You have a knife.”

  “Yes.” Nothing more to say to that. With a sigh, I turn the knife around and offer it to him, hilt first. “I suppose you’ll be taking this, since it’s a prohibited item for a Bride to have and all that.”

  He gets a strange look on his face. “Keep it.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Promise me you won’t stab someone without cause, and you can keep it.”

  Now it’s my turn to blink. Surely he’s not going to actually let me keep the knife. It’s a weapon, and Broderick isn’t the kind of fool who hands his enemies weapons without a fight. “Define
cause.”

  “Monroe.”

  I sigh. “Okay, fine. I won’t stab someone unless I feel directly threatened. Is that good enough?”

  This is where he crushes my fledgling hope, dim though it is, and tells me that no way will he allow me to keep it, promise or no. What good is the word of an Amazon to a Raider, after all? But he simply nods. “Good enough. Now put that away before your uncle and sister get here.”

  “I don’t suppose you’ll wait outside while we talk.”

  He gives me the look that question deserves. “I will give you the relative privacy of reading a book over there while you talk.” He points at a short chair tucked back within the bookshelves.

  It’s far enough away from the couches and chairs in the center of the room that it should actually offer privacy, but I’ve spent more evenings than I care to count in the last three weeks wandering this library. The acoustics are such that any conversation held within this room seems to echo to each corner of it.

  As soon as I realized that, my fantasy of fucking Shiloh against some bookshelves went up in smoke—at least if we didn’t want to get caught.

  I slip the knife back into my boot and give Broderick a brilliant smile. “Works for me.” I don’t actually expect my family to have much in the way of information to impart. They’ve been trapped in this place, collateral against my good behavior while I travel back and forth from the Amazon faction. Still, there’s plenty of gossip to share, and I just miss Winry. We’ve only seen each other a handful of times since Lammas, almost always with the other Brides around.

  If Cohen’s mistreating her, I’ll fucking kill him.

  I don’t have to wait long for Winry to show. My little sister is practically glowing, her pale cheeks pink and her blond hair looking particularly bouncy. Oh, she has a bitchy look on her face, but she’s obviously not suffering through being a Bride or being tortured by Cohen. That’s something at least. She’s wearing a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt, both of which I’m certain aren’t hers. They dwarf her curvy body, baggy in a way that can’t be intentional. I frown at them. “Are you stealing Cohen’s clothing?”