Page 32 of King of the Dawn

But she was right. I didn’t want my grandchildren fighting the same fights I had. Not when there were so many more wars and conflicts that they could start and end on the side of good.

“Anyway…” My daughter was being a brat. I chuckled, wondering if it was a blessing or a curse that I had missed her teenage years. “I was thinking that I could take Evie out to dinner.”

“Why?” I bristled, suddenly worried. “And where? Who would you take for security?”

My daughter let out a loud “Uggggghhhhh”, then waved her hands as if she was waving the frustration out of her body.

“Because she’s my stepmother, and the apparent grandmother of my babies,” she said. “She hasn’t left the house much since the wedding. Don’t you think she should? It’s not healthy to stay cooped up.”

“She stayed in the Green Mansion for nearly sixteen years. I’m sure this isn’t worse…” I didn’t want her out of my sight. “And aren’t you supposed to be on bed rest?”

“Modified bed rest!” She added extra emphasis to the word, and I smirked. “I’m allowed to stand up, waddle somewhere, and sit back down, over and over again, until it’s bedtime. Then, I am allowed to lay on my side to sleep, and to try not to claw my own skin off.”

“What’s wrong with your skin?”

“I don’t know! It itches all the time, and it feels… weird. The doctor says it’s hormones.” She huffed. “It feels like my body is betraying me.”

“Your body is creating life. There’s bound to be some discomfort.”

“You would say that.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re a man.”

My daughter looked at me like that was a ridiculous thing to say.

“And you want to be like her late husband? Keep her trapped here forever?”

I flinched. She had a point. I just didn’t want to admit it. I couldn’t let fear get in the way of Eve having a life of her own. I couldn’t let my possessiveness hold her hostage. That was not the way I operated. I stared at my daughter, and her blossoming belly. The one that held my grandkids.

She didn’t know that I was going to let the caged bird free. She didn’t know that her “stepmother” was only here on a temporary stop before she flew away to greener fields and better climates. I wouldn’t tell her because Rose would lose her mind. She’d tell me I was an idiot, then she’d tell Eve that she was a terrible person for having come here at all, and taken up any of our time.

She’d take it as a personal rejection. It was best that I just allowed her to think that things were fine. I’d deal with the fallout when things were done.

“I’d feel better if we had some fidelity on Brock,” I finally said, trying to excuse away my desire to keep her under my roof. As if every second she spent in my house could help lessen the blow of when she finally left. As if I was savoring her, even when we were in separate rooms.

Marriage was turning me into a sentimental fucking fool.

“We’ll find him,” said Rose, before she turned to leave the room, and leave me to my misery.

“Remember that she’s not like you,” I said, without looking at her. I heard her footsteps stop, as she waited for the rest of what I’d say. “She’s nothing like you and Yuliya. She’s been groomed to be helpless. No one ever taught her to defend herself…”

“You don’t give her enough credit–” Rose tried to cut me off, but I plowed right over her.

“So when she’s with you, she’s your responsibility.”

It was a warning. A plea. A hope that she would understand the gravity of responsibility.

“I’ll care for her like she was my own family,” Rose said. I heard her footsteps resume, and the open and close of the large, engraved door of my office. “I’ll treat her better than you do Alastair.”

With that little jab, she gave a laugh and closed the door.

Was she too old to be grounded?

Chapter Thirteen

Aoibheann

The flame of the candle flickered and wax dripped down the sides, melting away a beautiful black skull mold. I had made something beautiful only to allow the flame to ruin it. The smell called to me, a lavender and rosemary that reminded me of home.

My movements faltered as I realized what I’d said. Referring to Ireland as my home was a habit I was having trouble breaking. This was my home. Jericho, the gothic mansion, the green room. Rose. Even that godforsaken husband of hers was molding his way inside of my heart.

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