Page 18 of Onyx Realm

“He’s the one without a shirt,” she said, tone hushed. “Can’t you tell?”

Did I really want to admit I hadn’t seen him outside of a drug-induced haze and a candlelit dinner? “It’s hard to tell from here.”

“Oh, well, yeah, he works beside the men. He might be as rich as Creusus and rule one of the biggest criminal organizations in the Southeast, but you’d never know by his work ethic that he’s not aRegular Joeas the Yanks say.”

I tucked away each piece of information. Wealthy, powerful, and...humble? No, that didn’t fit the man in the kitchen last night. The monster stalking through the dark. Just because he brought dinner didn’t make him a saint.

He was my captor, even if I hadn’t been the target. There was nothing else apart from that simple truth.

Chapter 8 – Markos

“She worked well today. Has clearly never tended plants, let alone touched dirt, but she figured it out,” Dorothea muttered as she kneaded the bread.

Holding my plate, I leaned against the wall. My aunt would take good care of Serena, a woman couldn’t ask for a better mother-in-law. Yet as I looked around the homey kitchen, unease shifted through me. Something about turning her over to this family didn’t sit right. It was a feeling, one I couldn’t name. There was no logic to it; my aunt and cousins were good, kind people. But it was more the idea of letting something go to another than to whom it went that unsettled me.

Which only made sense because I was a selfish bastard, hoarding my treasures.

I certainly couldn’t keep Serena.

But that didn’t mean I wanted to let her go.

“The boys will be back in three nights,” she grumped. “I swear, the moment they are home, they go running off again.”

“That’s the nature of business.” I took a bite of the sandwich.

Dorothea plopped a hand on her hip and rolled the nicotine pouch around her gums. It was odd to see her without her pipe of tobacco laced with herbs no one knew the names of beside her.

“You sure I can’t fix you some real food?” she rasped.

I shook my head. “This is enough. Thank you.”

I handed her the plate and popped the last bite of crust and meat into my mouth.

Dorothea caught my wrist. Flour and specks of dough rubbed off on my skin. “And where do you plan on sleeping tonight, lad?”

My lips twitched. “Who said anything about sleep?”

“You can’t stay in that house with her.” My aunt wagged her finger at me. “That’s not proper. I raised you better than that.”

“Did you?” I blurted out.

She smacked my ear. The ring reverberated through my skull. “I most certainly did!”

I gave her a roguish grin.

“You’re not her husband,” she insisted.

No, but wait until you hear who will be.Atlas would be the one to tell her. He had balls, our voice piece. That was why they called him king. I would rather play with the sharks than tell Dorothea her baby boy was going to marry without her being consulted on the matter.

“What if she invites me? It’s my own house.”My own bed.

Imagining what Serena looked like sprawled under the quilt was a distracting thought.

“It’s not proper.” Dorothea’s gnarled fingers dug into my wrist. “Don’t be a donkey.”

“A jackass?”

“Watch your language,” she snapped, annoyed that I was picking on her English. “No sleeping with the girl. Got it?”

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