Page 1 of King of Hearts

Prologue

I wasseven years old the first time I saw someone die.

The man had fallen to the floor after my father pointed a gun at his chest, a dark red circle appearing immediately over his heart and making my own beat against my ribs.

I remembered the fear that had gripped me, like a rope tied with the tightest knots, keeping me in that room even after I had left it. My small feet felt as though they had suddenly been stuck inside cement blocks for how fast they carried me.

It wasn’t nearly fast enough to avoid my father’s grip. My ponytail was strangled in his meaty fist as the man I knew as Father tugged me downstairs, returning me to the place where he’d just committed a heinous crime. My body shook as he crouched next to my ear and spoke of duty, penance, and lessons.

I was so young I didn’t see that I was just a blob of clay in my father’s palm, his to mold, to shape, and to utilize as he saw fit. He forced his lessons on me, not so that I would be desensitized to murder or bloodshed…but so that I would learn to fear him.

It was when I was thirteen that I realized no matter how many lessons I was forced into, my father’s appetite for executing them would never be staunched.

“So this is what you choose, értékes?” my father asked, narrowing his icy glare on me.

My breath hitched at the use of the name my father had called me since I was little. I used to think it meant something endearing, yet I couldn’t remember one time ever feeling precious to him.

He stood tall, his hair like a flash of lightning against his pale skin. It made his eyes stand out, pale blue…the eyes of the devil. Some said I was blessed that mine were like my mother’s, starker, like specks of glittering water pulled up from the ocean.

“Yes.” My voice was a shutter, like a feeble piece of wood protecting a pane of glass in a hurricane.

My mother’s light touch on the small of my back forced my spine straight, reminding me to stand tall regardless of how badly my gut wanted to cave.

“You know you have already been promised to the Mariano family…little Markos.” My father casually grabbed the clear glass that usually contained vodka and brought it to his lips. How could I forget about the boy who had made my life a living hell? Markos was an angry boy, perfectly paired to his evil, menacing father.

My mother’s touch disappeared; I knew she did it so I would stand on my own. She’d never been overly maternal, but I craved her touch. Especially while staring down Ivan, the wolf of the east.

“I am prepared to fulfill that promise.” I watched as Jakob, my father’s second-in-command, shifted on his feet. It was barely noticeable, but from the man who’d been more like a father to me than my own, I recognized the movement. He was prepared to defend me if necessary. I could count on both hands the number of words Jakob had spoken to me in the past thirteen years, but his acts of kindness were unmeasurable.

My father’s glare cut to the woman at my back. My mother made no sound, inhaled no breath, did nothing as my father challenged her with his angry glare.

“I will allow this, but only because I have business back in Hungary.” The air in the room seemed to thin as we waited for him to finish his sentence. He set his glass down carefully, as if he was setting down a loaded pistol and hadn’t yet chosen his target.

“I will let you go free, with no more visits…but I hope your mother doesn’t allow you to soften over time, Ari, for the man you marry will also deal in blood as I do. It is in your future, whether you deny it now or embrace it later. You cannot escape it.”

I gave him a firm nod, as stable as my feeble head could give. Thirteen years old, staring down the most dangerous man on this side of the country.

My mother told me it was brave, but I only felt foolish. Within seconds he could change his mind, decide to kill my mother, and sell me off. I only knew a small portion of the plans Ivan had for me, but none of them were decent or noble.

They were blood-soaked oaths that cost more than a soul could bear.

I turned away, resigned to my fate. At the age of twenty-one I would become a bride. No amount of shouting or screaming would change it, but at least for the next few years I’d get a reprieve, a break from the lessons my father forced on me…relief from the red that stained my father’s garden every summer, from seeing the bodies lie in wait for burial. It would be well worth it.

I’d make sure to make every second count, for once I returned to this life, it would be without a soul or a single hope.

Chapter One

Senior year of college

MARCH

“Are you going to say anything?”

The stark question bled into my thoughts, spreading like spilled ink over all my possible justifications. I’d just kissed someone, and they had no idea why I had done it.

The problem was, the truth…the real reason I had kissed him might as well have been written on a rock in Braille and dropped into the deepest part of the ocean. There was no way I’d be telling him why I’d randomly pulled on his shirt, slamming my lips to his, letting his tongue sweep into my mouth and consume every inch of me. I’d take it to my grave.

Instead, I stared into his whiskey eyes, committed them to memory, and pulled on the façade I perpetually wore.

---