Page 16 of King of the Dawn

I hated the insecurity that came with his lack of affection. How his indifferent tone made me believe he didn’t want to be here with me. Didn’t he know that I was like a plant? I needed watering before my petals withered into crumbled brown death.

He settled onto the couch beside me and I turned back to my work table. I couldn’t focus though. Not with him here with me. Even without looking at him, I knew he was staring. He held a certain intensity with him always, and now was no different.

“Are there any leads?” I asked, pouring melted wax from a metal container into the silicone molds. I never pulled my attention from what I was doing. I knew if I did, his stupid face would make me weak in the knees. I’d abandon my candles and crawl into his lap, only for him to tense and push me away. I didn’t want to be rejected.

I had to stay strong. I couldn’t give in and beg him to want me. I’d grown too much in the time I spent here to resort to my old ways.

“There aren’t. He’s gone underground. But we will find him. I promise.”

I shrugged as I wiped the excess liquid that had spilled down the molds and onto the tables. “Does it really matter, Jericho?”

“Of course, it does,” he practically growled.

My body stiffened as I caught the subtle tensing of his hand closing into a fist before opening again. I huffed in annoyance. “I don’t want this to continue anymore. I want to go back to how things were before.”

“Before?” He let out a condescending laugh. “Before, when your first husband beat you? Raped you? When he allowed his men to violate and abuse you?”

My stomach flipped with uneasiness.

I hated angry Jericho. He was worse than the calm, barred off Jericho. His rage built inside of him the way it did inside of me, and I was scared for him. He was good before me. Before me, he killed for the right reasons. Now, he was on a war path. And it was to defend my honor. What honor was there if it meant losing the sliver of good inside of his soul?

“No,” I managed to grit through my clenched teeth. “Before you knew what they did to me.”

“Evie.” His face softened, and his tone dropped to become more soothing, less cruel. “What happened to you is not your fault, and I’m glad I know so that I can give you your vengeance.”

My teeth clattered and the pressure built behind my eyes. It turned out that when I was allowed to feel my emotions, I was one of those people who cried whenever they got angry. Such a stupid, pathetic reaction. “Vengeance is suicide. It eats at your soul, tears away any good you might still have left in you, Jericho. You have grandchildren on the way. They do not need this kind of evil in their lives.”

He stood quickly, and in one long stride he was wrapping me in his arms, shaking me as if to knock sense into me. “I saw you that night as we stood before the pyre, Aoibheann. You came alive as the darkness consumed us, and the wind blew around you, commanding you to seek your peace. You don’t get to ask me to quit now. Not when the worst of those men are still out there.”

He said my name. There was something significant in that, but I wasn’t ready to explore how, or why. Instead, I argued, because I wanted anything but his indifference.

“I’m not asking you to quit.” I pulled from his grip. “I’m just trying to make sure that giving this to me doesn’t kill you too. You’re slipping away from me. From Rose.”

His head dropped against the top of my head and he exhaled. His body sagged when I returned his touch with a comforting hug. “My job is to protect you, wife. And to protect my child.”

My lips twitched. He hadn’t called me that in a long while, and I hoped it was a sign that I was bringing him back to me. “Your job is to keep me happy, husband.”

“Keep you happy?” he asked, a hint of amusement laced with something else that I couldn’t quite pinpoint. His lips brushed against my forehead. “I’ve given you an entire arboretum. You have unlimited access to herbs. What else does a witch need to do her spells?”

I hummed, grateful that the mood had shifted. But I wasn’t stupid. I knew he was deflecting, that we were changing the subject because he wasn’t going to agree to put a stop to this blood path. We were pausing it for a moment though, and I’d take what I could get.

I stood on my tiptoes to kiss him.

“She needs a sacrifice,” I whispered against his mouth. Then I bit his bottom lip, melting at the way he groaned.

He grabbed my hand and pressed our scarred palms together.

“I’m yours to give, Evie. Yours to sacrifice, to use and expend. My only job is to keep you safe.” He peered down at me, and that amused and care-hearted piece of him slid away, replaced with regret and sadness. “Your happiness is important. But it means nothing to me if you’re dead.”

He leaned down to kiss me, and I kissed him back. I had no choice. I could never deny him a touch, a kiss, or a longing gaze. It was not in my nature to do so. Not anymore.

“Your life, witch, is the one thing I will not compromise.”

He pulled from my arms, storming from the room as though we had just had a fight. My heart ached as if we had. I felt the chasm growing between us, and it threatened to bring me to my knees.

Chapter Eight

Jericho

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