Chapter 13

13

Harlow

Idon’t mean to fall asleep. I really don’t. But the events of the last twenty-four hours catch up with me and suck me under. I wake in slow waves, registering the heavy arm over my stomach, the thick leg between mine, the soft rasp of breathing against my neck. Not Eli. Abel.

I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling. There’s no going back now. There wasn’t from the moment Eli’s champion lost that last fight. There sure as hell wasn’t once Eli lost his fight.

As much as I tell myself that I’m making the best of a bad situation, that’s not all this is. I’m self-aware enough to realize that. There’s something about Abel that brings out a part of me I’ve kept buried since I put my father in the ground. She’s nothing like the woman I’ve become at Eli’s side, the one who will smile and politick and manipulate with soft words and softer actions. No, she’s dark and brutal and only too willing to cut down anyone between her and her goal.

The only difference between me now and then is that my goal has changed. It’s not as simple as survival. Of course I want to survive, but the weight of the faction hangs heavy around my neck. I can’t trust either Abel or Eli to put the people first. They have too much history, too much rage between them. They’d fight each other until the entire city burned, no matter how many casualties they’d cause.

I have to ensure it doesn’t come to that.

It might be possible if it were only those two I have to juggle, but Abel bit off a whole mess with the people his brothers chose for Brides. He’s alienated both Amazons and Mystics. Given half a chance, they’ll crush our faction between them for the insult he offered.

I exhale slowly. One thing at a time. First I have to get control of myself and my reactions. I can’t let something as mundane as a broken heart get in the way of the greater good.

Which means I have to patch things up with Eli, at least superficially.

Fuck.

“Morning,” Abel growls against my skin.

I shiver. I’m deliciously sore, and I don’t know if I can go another round, but part of me wants to despite everything. “What time are we doing the parade through Old Town today?”

He props himself up on his hand and looks down at me. “Straight to business this morning, then?”

My gaze drops to his mouth before I jerk it back to his eyes. There’s no reprieve there, though. I’ve already realized that he’s just as much a master manipulator as Eli; he just goes about things with a different style. For all his talk of charging right through obstacles, Abel has a knack for finding his opponents’ pressure points and using them to trigger the actions he wants. He’s doing it right now.

I stretch, and Abel drags his gaze down my body as if he can’t quite help himself. Not so unaffected, are you? He’s offered me everything I’ve ever wanted, but I’m not fool enough to ignore the trap it is. I push down everything, bottling it up until there’s nothing for him to work with except cool confidence. “That’s all this is, Abel. Business.”

A muscle in his jaw twitches, but he smiles slowly. “You weren’t saying that when you were coming all over my cock.”

“We’ve already laid down parameters for that, and you know it. Sex might be enjoyable and might serve whatever petty purpose we require, but it has nothing to do with business.” I sit up and start to slide out from beneath him. His arm tenses around me for the briefest moment, and I wonder if he’ll let me go, but he rolls onto his back, releasing me.

I ignore the little twinge in my chest at the loss of his touch and head for the shower. I can feel his eyes on me, but he doesn’t follow me into the bathroom. It’s just as well. The last thing I need is to be further distracted by his body. There’s too much to do today in order to minimize the damage to the faction. Abel’s plan to parade through Old Town won’t do a damn thing on its own. He must know that, but no doubt he’s trying to tempt anyone willing to fight for Eli and remove them. It’s what I would do in his situation.

It takes me about an hour to get ready. I curl my hair into gentle waves, give my eyes a subtle smoky look, and paint my lips red. I don’t bother with a towel as I walk out of the bathroom. Abel lounges on my bed as if it’s his, his big body taking up far too much space. He watches me the way I imagine a wolf would study a rabbit that’s wandered into his den.

No matter what Abel thinks, I’m no rabbit.

I pointedly ignore him and head into the closest. After careful consideration, I pull on a pair of dark jeans and a black top that hugs my body and does impressive things for my breasts. Boots complete the image. I’ll be able to move, to fight, but I look put together. Good enough.

Abel’s finally moved by the time I walk back into the bedroom. He sits at the edge of the bed, wearing jeans and nothing else. His dark eyes take me in, and he nods slowly. “That’ll do.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“Still can’t take anything for granted.” He leans forward and props his elbows on his knees then levels a severe look in my direction. “You going to knife me today, Harlow?”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

He doesn’t smile. “Trying to stab me in the back is going to be a fucking mistake. You’re smart enough to know that, so don’t let your temper get the best of you when I invariably piss you off. We both want the same thing. Remember that.”

I prop my hands on my hips. “Is there a point to this fun little lecture?”

“We need to get the Brides in line. All of them. They’re a pack of vipers, and they’re going to be fucking things up every chance they get.”

I blink. “Gee, that’s so surprising. It’s almost as if they were given away as prizes to their enemies and they’re now handfasted to said enemies. Not to mention they’re all attached to the most dangerous and powerful people in Sabine Valley. I’m shocked that you’re expecting trouble with them.”

Abel doesn’t move. “You got that out of your system?”

Damn, his tone doesn’t even change. Everyone’s a critic. I clear my throat. “Yes, I’m finished.”

“As I was saying, the Brides are going to be a problem. They’ll all be scheming and sharpening their knives and getting in the way. I need you to convince them that’s not in their best interests.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Very funny.”

“Who’s laughing?”

Does he think I was born yesterday? I frown. “To review, you have two of the Amazon queen’s daughters and her younger brother, two of the Mystic leader’s children and his newest wife. Both of those numbers include the heirs. You don’t need to convince them to do shit. You have the collateral in place to use them against each other. All you have to do is threaten one of their family members within your control and you have a decent chance of ensuring they’re on their best behavior.”

“Yes.” Something like admiration warms his eyes. “But threats have a way of pissing people off. That’s a last resort. I’d prefer they act like good little Brides of their own account.”

It would simplify his life considerably if the Brides decided to play along. I get that. I do. But… “You’re overestimating what I’m capable of. It doesn’t matter that we’re all Brides, which technically puts us in the same boat. They are enemy factions. They’re not going to listen to me.”

“You’ll figure it out.” He grabs his shirt off the floor and pulls it on. “We’ll do Old Town at four. You have until then.” Abel pushes to his feet. “You have full run of the house unless you prove you can’t be trusted with it.”

“Wow, what a gift.”

He grabs me around the waist and hauls me against his chest. Abel tips my chin up and drops his gaze to my lips. “Keep mouthing off and I’m liable to ruin your lipstick.”

Heat surges through me, but I push it down. There’s a time for fucking, and there’s time for business. I can’t let him use his giant cock to distract me. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Because apparently I do.”

He chuckles, an almost rusty sound. I get the impression that Abel Paine doesn’t laugh often, though this hardly qualifies. He gives my ass a squeeze and releases me. “The Brides will be gathered in the library.”

I tense. “If they fuck up my books, I’m going to skin you.”

“You always say the sweetest things, Harlow.” He strides out of the room before I can find something to toss at his head. I find myself smiling a little and shake my head. Liking Abel was never part of the plan, but I can’t deny that he’s got a certain roguish charm.

I walk back into the bathroom to check my lipstick. To give myself time for the ground to steady beneath my feet again. Liking Abel can only get me mired in more trouble than I already am. There’s no guarantee that he will follow through on any promises that reach past the end of the handfasting. It’s just as likely that he plans to use me for the duration and then kick my ass to the curb and take all the power for himself once the faction is stabilized.

Fuck that.

I smooth back my hair and leave my room. As tempting as it is to go straight to the library, rushing in there isn’t going to put me in a position of power. Instead, I detour to the kitchen.

Eli bought me a tea cart and tea set the first year we were together. It’s an old-fashioned tradition, but it’s always delighted me. Maybe because something about it calls to the little girl I used to be, the one who never had the opportunity for innocent fantasies about being a princess or having tea parties. I should have realized when Eli gave me this present that he’d never see me as an equal. He kept trying to give me back the innocence I never had the privilege of experiencing.

That ship has long since sailed. I am who I am. I just wish he’d realized that before it was too late for us.

I close my eyes, hating the burning behind my lids. I hate him and I love him and I’m simultaneously mourning the loss of our relationship and feeling trapped because there is no clean break for us.

The teakettle whistles, signaling that it’s time to get back to reality. I take a slow breath and put together the cart. A careful ploy, and one that might backfire, but it’s the best move.

A few minutes later, I muscle open the door to the library and push the cart through. A wave of noise stops me short. What the fuck?

I take in the scene at a glance. Aisling’s daughters, Monroe and Winry, are sitting next to each other on the couch. Well, Winry’s sitting. Monroe is sprawled out like a jungle cat, all long limbs and dangerously sharp claws, barely sheathed. The Mystic’s youngest wife is perched on a nearby chair, her dark eyes wide in her sweet face. A muscled woman who screams bodyguard stands at her back. I vaguely remember her from last night.

None of them are the source of the yelling.

The Mystic’s heir, Fallon, is a tall, lean white woman with fire-engine red hair. She looks about half a second away from ripping something apart with her bare hands. Her half-brother, Matteo, has hints of red in his thick, wavy hair, but his skin tone is several shades darker than hers. Courtesy of the Mystic’s third wife’s darker coloring. He’s one of those guys who seems permanently stoned—from what I know about the Mystics, it’s entirely possible that it’s the truth—but he’s got his arm around his sister’s waist and is physically restraining her.

The source of their anger?

I stare at the woman standing in front of Jasper, the Amazon queen’s younger brother. I know her. Beatrix. The Mystic’s younger sister, and aunt to Fallon and Matteo. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask. She isn’t a Bride. In fact, she’s in a relationship with Jasper, who is a Bride.

Oh shit, this is going to be trouble.

I push the cart the rest of the way into the room and shut the door. I don’t even know how she got onto the compound, but I’m nearly certain she wasn’t here last night. Or at least she didn’t get into the trucks with us when we were transported from the amphitheater to the warehouse. I abandon my tea and march into the mix.

I point at Fallon. “I don’t care how pissed you are, starting shit right now is a mistake.” Going the harsh route is a risk. The Mystic might rule with witchery and superstition and fear, but I’ve seen Fallon fight. She’s just as deadly as Monroe. Possibly more so, because she’s got one hell of a temper, and it gets the best of her often enough to make all her enemies wary.

I hold her gaze, refusing to flinch at the promised violence in her eerie gray eyes. “What do you think the Paine brothers will do if you start stabbing people? Nothing good. Dial it back.”

I turn to Beatrix. She’s got the same flaming red hair and pale gray eyes as her niece, though her features don’t look like they were carved out of ice. Right now, she’s leaning back against Jasper, and I can’t tell if it’s to stand between him and her niblings or because she needs his support. “What are you doing here?”

She meets my gaze. “I’m here for Jasper.”

That’s what I feared. Word is that she, Jasper Rhodius, and Ezekiel Paine used to be joined at the hip before the coup. An Amazon, a Mystic, and a Paine. It seemed to defy belief that their friendship would have lasted even without the Paine brothers being driven out of Sabine Valley, but she and Jasper have been together ever since. No wonder Ezekiel picked Jasper as his Bride. My chest aches for Beatrix, but her heartbreak changes nothing. The situation is what it is. We just have to make the best of it.

I shake my head slowly. “He’s a Bride, Beatrix. The ceremony has happened; it’s been consummated. There’s no going back. If you take him, you’ll never make it out of the compound, and the entire city will turn against you.” Neither of their factions will be safe for them, not if he’s an oathbreaker and she’s the one who facilitated it.

She lifts her chin, a stubborn glint in her eyes. “I’m not taking him anywhere. I’m staying with both of them.”

Well, fuck me.

I don’t drag my hand over my face, but it’s a near thing. This situation was already a mess, but it gets more nightmarish with each minute that passes. No matter what Abel thinks, I am only human, and he’s thrown me right into this pit of vipers.

How the hell am I going to pull this off?