Queen Takes Rose (Wicked Villains #6) - Katee Robert Page 0,91
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.
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Acknowledgments
Thank you to all the readers who have come on this journey with me. The Wicked Villains has been such a joy to write and your enthusiastic reception of it has inspired me in such a huge way. None of it would be possible without you. Thank you.
Biggest thanks to Jenny Nordbak and Sarah Hawley and the Wicked Wallflower Club Facebook group. Without all of you, this series never would have happened, and Hades wouldn’t have a BDSM club named the Underworld.
Thank you to Asa Maria Bradley, Piper J. Drake, Nisha Sharma, and Andie J. Christopher for listening to me ramble on about ideas and plot holes and cover goodness and “Do you think it’s too far if…” questions.
Last, but never least, thank you to Tim. This year has been…a lot, and you’ve been my rock through it all. Thank you for the support, for lending me some of your Self Assurance when I need it most, and for packing a couple hundred signed book packages. Love you, always and forever.
About the Author
Katee Robert is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romance and romantic suspense. Entertainment Weekly calls her writing “unspeakably hot.” Her books have sold over a million copies. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband, children, a cat who thinks he’s a dog, and two Great Danes who think they’re lap dogs.