Page 11 of King of the Dawn

Chapter Five

Aoibheann

Jericho kissed me after the priest announced us as man and wife. It was just the same as when he kissed me at the end of my long, agonizing walk to the altar.

It had taken everything in me not to sprint up the aisle to be beside him. To walk as a bride should – slow, and purposeful – when I wanted nothing more than to run into his waiting arms.

He kissed me as if he thought I would slip from his grasp – desperate, and intense.

I didn’t know how else I could tell him he had me. I was his, and I’d never let him go.

He’d been distant, even when he kissed me, when he held me. Ever since he saw that damn book lying on the nightstand. Despite how he looked at me as if I were everything, I could feel the uneasiness inside of him. I wanted to soothe those worries, but I didn’t.

I couldn’t reassure him that he knew there was nothing to be worried about without telling my truth.

Honesty never got me anywhere, and even with my secrets out in the open, this one couldn’t be shared. I wouldn’t risk Ryan’s life in that way. He was innocent in all of this. He wasn’t one of the Irishmen who’d hurt me, he wasn’t Alastair Sr. He deserved a long and happy life wherever he was in this world.

If only Jericho would believe me.

I squeezed Jericho’s hand in the back of the limo. He peered out the window, jaw clenched tight, our hands clasped over his thigh. Our palms had been bandaged, but the cuts were connected, the pulsing of our wounds in sync with one another.

I wasn’t sure how I could bring him back to me, and the longer this radio silence went on, the more I wasn’t sure if this was something he’d get over. I knew how he felt about secrets. A part of me was hidden, and he didn’t like that.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything to break the static silence. The vehicle moved, bare trees gliding into view as we headed to the reception. Brown leaves covered the green grass, mixed with snow. Images of what we’d done the night before our wedding flashed in my mind.

Charred flesh, a screaming man repenting for his sins as I burned him at the pyre. This morning my lungs felt lighter, the ability to breathe came easier. I didn’t regret the murder. He deserved it for what he’d done to me.

But now, the heavy lead balloon settled in my ribcage again as the insecurity of my future was placed in the statue that was my new husband.

We were married. Husband and wife, and I knew that I wanted that. But this Jericho wasn’t the one that had been with me the last few weeks. He was disappearing, cell by cell, bit by bit, and I couldn’t stop it.

“What happens next?” I asked.

He turned his gaze from the window and toward me. Finally. I exhaled the breath I held in anticipation for his response. He brought our hands to his mouth and pressed his lips to the back of mine. Wet, warm, reassuring, despite the odd behavior.

“We finish our wedding day. And then we track down all of them. Every name who hurt you. And I kill them.”

I shivered at the promise of my vengeance. “We.”

“Hmm?” He settled our hands against the tulle of my skirt, his thumb rubbing against my thigh.

“We kill them.”

A flash of approval fluttered through his otherwise lifeless eyes. He was there, somewhere buried inside. I just needed to pull him out.

“Together,” I hummed. “We’re husband and wife. We do it together.”

A slight smile showed itself at the corners of his lips, and he dipped his chin in acknowledgement. “Together, my queen.”

But I could feel it in the air. I could feel the staleness of it. His reluctance.

I released our hands, bringing mine to cup his face to demand his attention. “I don’t know what’s wrong, Jericho.”

His cheek nuzzled against my palm. “Nothing is wrong.”

His eyes were pleading for… something. Something desperate, and aching.

“Lies,” I breathed.

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