Chapter 27

27

Malone

Iknow better than to wish on stars. To hope for the impossible. No matter what Aurora texted me two weeks ago, she’s not coming back. She’s not going to change her mind. She doesn’t really care, and she’ll realize that once the haze of lust passes. How can she really care for me when I’m the one who put her mother in a coma? When I tore down the vision she’d built of the woman her mother was?

I should have kept my mouth shut. Should have simply taken her hate as my due and let her walk out of my life. But I’ve always been a selfish creature when it comes to the things I want, the people I want.

Damn it.

I scrub my hands over my face and reread the report in front of me for the fourth time. The words blur and swim across the page, incomprehensible. I curse and toss it onto the desk. This is a waste of time. I can’t concentrate. I haven’t been able to since she walked out of my life and took my fool heart with her.

Really, she’s accomplished her goals whether my pulse still beats through my veins or not. I feel like I’ve suffered a mortal wound, and I don’t know how to recover from this. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, how I’m supposed to act.

A knock has me lifting my head, desperate for whatever distraction the interruption can provide. “Come in.”

Sara slips through the door and closes it behind them. They move to the chair across from the desk and sink into it. “You’re a mess.”

“Thanks, Sara, tell me how you really feel.”

“If she can’t see that you’re priceless, then fuck her.” Sara perks up. “Want me to toss her off a building?”

“No.” No matter how much Aurora hurt me, I can’t condone harm against her. Even if she’s not at my side, the thought of her moving through the world is comforting in a strange sort of way. She’ll land on her feet. She’s too stubborn and strong not to. “I don’t want any unfortunate accidents, Sara. I mean it.”

Sara sighs. “I can’t control it if she’s clumsy at the top of a set of stairs.”

“Sara.”

They grin. “Kidding.”

No, they weren’t, but they also will respect my wishes in this. “Ensure that the rest of the team is aware of that. I want no accidents. No jokes.”

“Got it.” Sara leans back, draping a long arm over the back of the chair next to them. “Though if you feel that way, why not chase her down and bring her back? She’s obviously all tied up over you, whether she wants to admit it or not. I don’t get why you just let her walk away.”

I almost tell them to get out of my office, but we’ve been friends long enough that I feel like I owe them an answer. “If she chooses this, it has to be real. It can’t be because I overwhelmed her.” The thought had crossed my mind, but I don’t want a fling with Aurora. I want forever. It feels like a sudden decision and, at the same time, one I’ve been working toward for nearly ten years, since that first time with her. “She has to choose me.”

Sara studies me for several long moments. “You love her.”

“Yes.” No point in denying it. They would have figured it out eventually, even if Aurora never returns. I’m moping. I never mope.

They sigh. “Then I suppose I should tell you that she’s waiting in the lobby.”

I freeze. “What?”

“Aurora is waiting in the lobby,” they repeat with exaggerated slowness.

“And you’re just now telling me.”

“Yep.” They push to their feet. “If you didn’t love her, I would have sent her away.”

I plant my hands on the desk. “That’s not your call to make.”

“Wrong. I watch your back, Malone. That girl got to you, and she messed you up enough that I can’t trust you to protect yourself when it comes to her.” Sara pauses at the door. “I’ll respect your wishes. For now.”

“I do not want you sharpening a knife every time she and I have an argument.” This might be jumping the gun a bit, but it needs to be said. “She doesn’t present a danger to my body, and so you will not strike back simply because we argue.”

“Of course not.” Sara shrugs. “Your relationship is your relationship. I can respect that boundary, as long as she doesn’t harm you.”

A tiny line, a microscopic distinction, and yet I have a feeling it’s the best I’m going to get. “Fine.”

“I’ll let her up.”

“Wait.” I push to my feet. “Send her up to the penthouse. I’ll meet her there.”

“Got it.” They turn and walk out of my office.

I force myself to count slowly to ten, long enough for them to reach the elevator, before I stride out of my office and make my way to the stairs. I don’t run, but I certainly don’t linger as I hurry up to the penthouse. Once I’m inside, I have half a thought to change, but that’s ridiculous. Aurora has seen me in many modes already. It shouldn’t matter if I’m wearing a suit or pajamas.

Still.

I take two seconds to fix my lipstick and run my fingers through my hair, guiding it back from my face. As I’m leaving the bedroom, I hear the front door open.

“Malone?”

Gods, her voice. I close my eyes and take a slow breath. Just because she’s here doesn’t mean this is going to go the way I desperately want it to. She might be here to tell me that my membership to the Underworld is revoked, or simply to say she never wants to see me again. Aurora’s the type to do that sort of thing in person rather than through distant measures.

I can’t dredge up my icy facade. It’s melted to a puddle at my feet. I am only me as I walk out of the hallway to find her standing in my living room.

She looks good. Better than good. Her hair is back to the bright pink she favored a little over a year ago, and she’s wearing black ankle boots, dark jeans that hug her legs, and a loose, gray knitted sweater. She’s utterly gorgeous.

She tucks her hair behind her ears. “Hey.”

“Hi,” I say faintly. I don’t know what I’m doing, what I’m supposed to say. Once again, I’m reminded my mother always taught me to never step onto a battlefield unless I’m sure I can win, and I’ve already lost when it comes to Aurora. If I’m going to be honest, I lost the second I saw her all those years ago.

She looks around the room, eyeing the gray chair. “That’s new.”

“Rogue took exception to the last one.”

Her lips curve. “That cat is a menace.”

“Yes, he is. It happened the day after you left. I think he missed you.” This is horrible. She’s here and yet not here, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. In the end, I can’t keep up this meaningless small talk. “Aurora, why are you here?”

“I talked to Hades.” She clasps her hands in front of her, still not quite meeting my gaze. “And I’ve talked to Allecto and Meg and Tink, and even Hercules.”

Where is she going with this? “I would think they’d want you as far from me as possible.”

“They want what’s best for me.” She gives a sad little laugh. “And they respect that I know myself well enough to know what’s best for me.”

I wait, but she’s too busy wringing her fingers together to keep going. I clear my throat. “What are you saying?”

“Do you know who I wanted to talk to the most while I’ve been working through things for the last two weeks?” She finally releases the death grip she has on her fingers and tugs at the hem of her sweater. “I was so angry and confused and hurt and then angrier, and even though all my friends were around me, there was only one person I wanted.”

I can’t breathe. I’m half sure I’ve turned to stone. “Who?”

She gives a breathless little laugh. “You.”

It’s what I want to hear, but I’m so afraid to trust it. “You hate me.”

“I…” Aurora shakes her head. “I had to hate you to deal with how much I wanted you. It’s easier to blame you than to blame my mother for her choices. She was gone, even before she died, and you were here and larger than life and constantly making me feel things I didn’t want to feel.”

“Aurora—”

“I realize that this seems too good to be true, but it’s what I feel.” She looks away and then back at me. “I’m a mess, Malone. I’ve been grieving my mother for twenty years, and there were times when I felt like there was no end to that feeling, but I’m ready to let her go. I’m sorry that I wanted to hurt you.”

“Don’t be.” I want to reach for her, want to pull her into my arms, but I don’t want to make a wrong move. “You’re more than entitled to hate me.”

“But that’s just it. I don’t hate you.” She smiles suddenly. It’s not her bright sunshine smile; it’s a bittersweet little quirk of her lips that warms her dark eyes. “I love you.”

Of all the things I expected her to say… “What?”

“I know. It surprised me, too. But that doesn’t make it less true.”

I can’t stand this distance between us any longer. I hold out my hand. “Aurora, come here.”

“In a moment. There’s a few other things.” She shifts from foot to foot. “I forgive you for what happened twenty years ago. I can’t promise that it won’t knock me for a loop periodically because grief is weird, and I’m still working through it, but I promise not to throw it in your face.”

It’s more than I could have imagined. “And the other?”

“I’m going to keep working in the Underworld, albeit I’m going to scale back to four nights a week. It makes me happy, and even though I love you, I’m not…” She shrugs. “I’m polyamorous. It’s who I am.”

“I know.” I’m not remotely surprised. Haven’t I considered that possibility from the moment I decided on her? Still, I have to ask questions instead of blindly agreeing. “What about Hades? He’ll have a problem with you working there and then coming home to me.”

“Hades trusts me enough to keep business and personal separate. The secrets of the Underworld stay there, just like whatever happens here stays between us. That is, if you agree.”

“I agree.”

She blinks. “You’re not even going to think about it first?”

“Aurora, do you honestly think I hadn’t considered this from all angles before I told you I wanted to continue things past the deadline of the assignation? You love working in the Underworld; of course you were going to continue there if that was an option. It makes you happy.”

“It really does,” she says quietly.

“I want you to be happy.” I curl my fingers at her. “Come here.”

Slowly, oh, so slowly, she places her hand in mine and allows me to tug her toward me until I can wrap my arms around her. The sigh she releases as she relaxes into me is the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. I inhale her subtle vanilla scent and something in my chest unclenches. “I only have one condition.”

She tenses. “What condition?”

“Talk to me. Regardless of what you’re feeling, if it’s a day you hate me, talk to me. I can’t read your mind, and I won’t be able to provide what you need if I don’t know where your head is at.”

“Only that?” She laughs a little. “I’ll try. I can’t promise perfect communication, but I promise I’ll try.”

“That’s enough.” I allow myself to inhale deeply, pulling her vanilla scent into my lungs as I hug her tightly to me. “I missed you.”

She buries her face in my neck. “I missed you, too. It was driving me crazy not being around you, even when I was furious, but I couldn’t come back until I figured some of my shit out.”

“I’m glad you came back at all. I would have waited longer if you needed it.”

Aurora runs her hands up my arms and over my shoulders to cup my face. She looks up at me, and there are no shadows in her eyes, no shields in place. She just looks relieved and happy. “Forgive me?”

“You were already forgiven the second you walked out the door.” I place my hands over hers. “I know what’s it’s like to want revenge for pain caused and loved ones lost. It hurt, but I can’t pretend I didn’t deserve it.” This still seems almost too good to be true, but it doesn’t matter, because she’s here. Against all odds, she’s chosen me, and I’m going to do my damnedest to make her happy and keep her at my side.

“Even if you forgive me…” Mischief alights in her dark eyes. “I would very much like to make it up to you. Starting right now.”

“Oh?” I arch my brows as she goes for the front of my slacks, undoing them quickly and shoving them down my hips. My shirt is next, and Aurora doesn’t even bother with the buttons. She just pulls it over my head and tosses it on the floor. I glance at it. “Messy.”

“I’ll fold them later. I’ve missed you too much. I need you now.”

I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of her telling me that she misses me, that she loves me. “I love you.” I run my fingers through her bright-pink hair and give it a sharp tug. “But if you want to make it up to me, I’m not going to stop you.”

“Good.” She nudges me back to the couch and topples me onto it. Then she’s between my thighs, running her hands over my hips. She hesitates. “I mean it, Malone. I did miss you. I do love you.”

“I love you, too.” I give her hair another little tug. “Now, show me, and then I’m going to spend the rest of the day returning the favor.”

Her grin is as bright as the sun. “Yes, Mistress.”

* * *

Thankyou so much for reading Queen Takes Rose! I’ve been teasing Aurora and Malone’s story nearly since book one, and I hope you enjoyed finally getting to read it! If you did, please consider leaving a review.

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Curious about Sabine Valleyand Malone’s family? I have a brand new series starting that follows the Paine brothers as they come back to Sabine Valley. Their story begins with Abel, but we will see Monroe and Cohen (Beast’s ex) as well!

* * *

Keep readingfor a sneak peek of Abel!

We time our arrival perfectly.The feast is more than halfway over. The early fights, the ones people froth at the mouth for, have come and gone. By the sound of voices low in conversation, people have begun to eat and enjoy themselves, relishing the fact that it’s one of the few nights a year when Sabine Valley’s three factions can mingle without repercussions.

We’re about to ruin their night.

We’re about to ruin their whole fucking life.

I glance back at my brothers. They have their emotions locked down tightly. This will go our way, but it’s impossible to ignore the fact that last time we were in Sabine Valley, we were running for our lives. Eight years later and it’s time to settle the score. “You with me?”

One by one, they nod.

I turn without another word and lead them across the rooftops to the edge of the grounds. From this vantage point, I can see everything. The deep curve of the natural amphitheater that marks the center of the island in the center of the city. The three factions have mingled a little, but the lines are still remarkably clear. Each of the leaders have a dais at the edge of the amphitheater, creating three parts of a large triangle.

In the center of the amphitheater, two fighters are in the middle of combat. From the look of them, they’re an Amazon and a Mystic. The Amazon is Latina woman who’s a good six inches taller and moves with the deadly efficiency her faction is known for. The Mystic is a thin Black man with flowing robes who looks like a stiff wind will blow him over.

“Mystic will take it,” Cohen murmurs at my side.

“When they’re finished, we go in. Don’t let anyone stop you.” As long as we can get down there and issue an official challenge, there’s not a damn thing any of the factions can do except meet it. The laws of the feast days are there for a reason. To ignore them is to invite ruin. That shit should have been enough to keep peace, but the rules didn’t help my father when these fuckers slit his throat, and they didn’t help me and my brothers when we were forced to flee for our lives. Now I’m going to make them choke on their goddamned laws.

As we watch, the Mystic catches the Amazon’s punch in his robe, twisting the fabric to trap her. He delivers a brutal jab to her throat and bears her to the ground, punching her in the face once, twice, a third time. Her hand slaps the ground. Just like that, the fight is over.

The Herald steps forward. She’s an ancient Korean woman with her long white hair pulled back in a high knot at the top of her head. “Gerald wins. The Amazons will allot him the agreed upon amount.”

A cheer goes up from the wedge of the amphitheater that’s mostly Mystics. They’re easy to pick out because they dress like fucking weirdos. Robes in a variety of colors as if they live in another time and place, wild hair stuffed with trinkets and ribbons, some of them like to renounce shoes because it makes them feel closer to the gods or some bullshit like that. They’re also smart as hell and like to use others’ perceptions of them to their advantage. They’re not as strong and fierce as the Amazons, not as brutal as the third faction, but there’s a reason they’ve held their wedge of the city since its inception. They are not to be underestimated.

“Now,” I murmur.

One by one, we drop off the low roof to the street. I pause long enough to ensure all seven of us are on the ground and then lead the way through the crowd. It doesn’t take long for people too start noticing us. Seven men in dark clothes with murder in their eyes. Even if they don’t recognize us for who we are, they begin to part, pushing each other to make way for us.

We reach the lip of the amphitheater and start down the stairs. One of the Herald’s guards moves to stop us from entering the sand, but she holds up a hand and he shifts back. This woman has been Herald since I was a child, a neutral party that oversees all the feasts and calls no faction home. She surveys me and finally nods. “Have you come to challenge?”

It’s obvious to everyone present that it’s exactly why I’m here, but Sabine Valley is nothing without its ridiculous rituals. I can’t ignore them if I want this to work. “Yes, Herald.”

Her dark eyes flick over my face and those of my brother’s behind me. “What grievance have you brought to us, Abel Paine?”

“My brothers and I were wronged by the leaders of the factions present.” The space naturally amplifies my voice, but even if it didn’t, every person present would hear me. They’ve all gone silent. “Seven fights for the seven lives they’ve ruined.”

She studies me for a long moment. The Herald has never stopped someone from engaging in ritual combat during Lammas, but she still has the authority to do it. “Who will be fighting?”

“I will.”

“You’ll stand in proxy for your brothers?”

“Yes, Herald.” Things aren’t traditionally done this way, but that’s going to work in my favor tonight. Those fools will look at me and think that there’s no way I can possibly win seven fights. They’ll happily wager the things they can least afford to lose on that assumption. And then I’m going to shove their failure down their throats and make them choke on it.

The Herald tilts her head to the side. “And the stakes?”

“For every fight I win, one of my brothers chooses a Bride as restitution.”

Her eyes widen ever so slightly. “A high price.”

“So was exile.”

At that, she nods and turns slowly to meet each of the faction leaders’ gazes in turn. I’ve avoided looking at them until now, but I can’t avoid it any longer. First up is Aisling, queen of the Amazons. She’s a fierce bitch and looks every inch of it, a lean white woman with hard green eyes and pale blond hair braided back from her face. I once watched her gut a man and walk away without so much as a hitch in her stride.

She sent her warriors to set my childhood home on fire on the night my father died.

Now to Ciar, the Mystic’s leader. He’s a grizzled white man with a cloud of gray hair who looks like someone boiled him down, papery skin stretched tight over muscles and tendons. He likes to pretend the gods speak through him and uses it to rule his people with an iron fist. He’s also got thirteen wives at last count and dozens of children.

It was his order that commanded his people to provide the drugs that sent our household to sleep, killing dozens in the fire.

And finally the person I’ve both dreaded and craved seeing. I stand there and stare up at the man who was once my friend. Eli Walsh. He’s filled out since I saw him last, a white guy with long-ish blond hair swept to the side and black frame glasses. He always was too pretty, and now he looks fucking flawless. Someone who didn’t know better would assume he’s as useless as he’s pretty, and he likes to play up those perceptions. In truth, he’s nearly as deadly as I am.

His father slit my father’s throat and would have killed every single one of my brothers if I didn’t take them and run for our lives.

All while Eli stood by and did nothing.

The Herald raises her hands. “The rewards are fair. Send your warriors.”

I turn to my brothers. Six faces that I know as well as my own, and none of them look happy. They’ve locked their shit down and they trust me to take care of this. I pull my shirt over my head and toss it to Broderick. “Wait on the stairs.”

He shakes his head, a small smile pulling at his mouth. “Never could resist a chance to take off your shirt.”

“They want a show. I’m going to give it to them.”

“Uh huh.” He nudges Gabriel, our youngest brother, with his shoulder. “Let’s give him room to work.” He gives me a long look. “Don’t die.”

“Please. As if these assholes could kill me.” Technically, fights on Lammas can go to the death without repercussions, but that’s not on the agenda tonight. If I slaughter my way through seven of their best people, it will turn the city against me. We’re back and we’re here to stay, which means playing by the rules. Even if it’s only obeying the spirit of the feast, rather than the explicit rules.

The faction leaders spend ten minutes communicating and then seven people move out onto the sand. I study them the same way they’re studying me. Three women—all Amazons—and four men. Two from Eli’s people. Two Mystics. I only recognize two of them. This should be interesting.

The first steps forward. It’s one of Eli’s people, a Latino man built like a prize fighter. He’s light on his feet as he approaches me. I roll my shoulders and take a slow breathe.

Eight years of exile. Eight years of fighting and scraping and clawing for survival in a world that wants nothing more than to eliminate me and my brothers.

It ends tonight.

The Herald lifts her hand. “Begin.”

My opponent rushes me. He’s even faster than I expect and he moves like he knows what he’s doing. I hold perfectly still as he closes the distance between us. He takes that as my being unprepared and strikes with an upper cut that would take off my head if it landed.

I shift back just enough that he misses. He sank too much into that punch and it leaves him wide open. I hammer a brutal punch into his ribs. Something cracks beneath my fist and he stumbles. I don’t give him time to recover. I kick his knee, dislocating it, and then punch him in the face.

He hits the ground and doesn’t get up.

One of the Herald’s people comes over and crouches next to him. She presses two fingers to his neck. “He’s alive.”

The Herald nods. “Abel wins the first match. The prize?”

I glance at Gabriel. My youngest brother is pale and looks vaguely sick, but he steps forward and lifts his chin. “I claim Fallon of the Mystics as my Bride.”

A murmur goes through the crowd in a wave. I hold my breath as I wait to see what they’ll do. Ciar looks like he wants to kill us, but he finally waves a hand and a gorgeous redhead steps forward. She comes down the stairs quickly, moving with a grace that screams combat training. Her face shows nothing as she crosses to stand next to Gabriel.

One down, six to go.

The factions sent their best. I’m better. I defeat them one by one. I’m not showy, choosing to conserve energy instead of being entertaining. One by one, my brothers claim their Brides. Sons and daughters, siblings, loved ones of the people responsible for our father’s death, for our exile.

Until there’s only one left.

He’s a giant of a man, a huge white guy who has six inches on me and probably outweighs me by fifty pounds. I turn my head and spit blood—the last Amazon got in a couple good hits—and motion. “Let’s get this over with.”

The crowd doesn’t cheer, doesn’t speak, doesn’t seem to breathe. Guess I’m being entertaining, after all.

The giant lumbers toward me. Too slow. This is their final fighter? I almost laugh at the absurdity of it. This time, I don’t wait for him to reach me. I rush forward and hit my knees, driving my fist up into his balls with everything I have. He makes a high-pitched whistling sound and topples, curling in on himself like a dead bug.

I climb to my feet and look down. He’s too busy clutching his balls to tap out, but it’s clear he’s not getting up anytime soon.

The Herald raises her eyebrows. “Abel wins the final match. The prize?”

Here it is. The thing I’ve been waiting for. I turn and find Eli. He’s leaning forward, his elbows propped on his knees. His expression is smooth and free of worry, but that shit doesn’t fool me.

I give him a bloody grin. “I choose Harlow Byrne.”

Eli’s woman.

Order Abel now!