King of the Dawn: An Arranged Mafia Romance

1. Chapter One

The air shifted as I dropped to my knees on the frozen grass. The last of my energy floated from my veins along with the final scream of the man burning for his sins. The end of my nightmare was finally approaching, and I would soon be free of it all.

Thanks to Jericho.

Once my tyrant, he was now my king. Ready to bring the world to its knees in my honor. He pulled me into his arms holding me as the flames began to fade. I didn’t care about the crowd surrounding us – his daughter and sister, my own nephews and nieces, my stepson. They looked in awe like the statues of saints around a cathedral, sentries to the holiness that transpired.

Nothing else mattered in that moment.

My hands wrapped around Jericho and I buried my face into his neck while I sobbed in relief. I gasped like a woman breaking through the water after drowning for years, finally able to breathe air.

There were still men out there who needed to pay, but living felt easier knowing that Jericho was here.

He’d done this to show me how much I meant to him.

Nearly two decades of torture and vengeance was here, delivered as a wedding gift.

It wasn’t something I had put on the registry, but it was wanted all the same.

“Leave us,” Jericho commanded, as the orange light withered to embers and the darkness of the night returned.

I shivered despite the warmth. My bare feet finally felt the sting of cold.

The crowd dispersed without a word. Only the sound of the pressing grass marked their departure.

It was just me and my groom. We were alone, beside the pyre as flames whirled with the wind. His lips pressed against my shoulder, leaving a wet trail as they traveled up and toward my chin.

I felt his warm breath against my frigid skin.

He smelled divine – like vodka and leather. Crisp and clean, despite our surroundings of damp earth, burning wood and flesh. My focus and my senses narrowed straight to him.

“You’re shaking like a leaf.” He pressed his lips against mine, then smirked as he added, “Witch.”

There was a flutter of white from the heavens, dancing down around us like petals from a spring tree in the wind. Crystal white snow. A purifying white, like the ashes and bones of my enemy. When had this happened? I wasn’t sure.

“It’s snowing.” I dropped my forehead to his, and he pressed another wet kiss there.

“Let’s get inside.”

I shook my head, not wanting to move. Not until the final ember snuffed out. I’d stay here until the body was gone and nothing was left. The man, like his name, was gone. Eoghan had been here, and he had pledged to me. Was that real? I wasn’t sure. But I knew the world of Green Fields Enterprises. If Eoghan declared the man rightfully dead, then he would be. Or he would disappear from existence completely.

I might have known nothing of the business, but I knew my late villainous husband was above the laws of man. So, too, his son would be.

This man’s name would only be spoken in the deepest pits of hell.

“Sweet Evie,” Jericho said, to coax me to stand. He trailed his hands down my arms, squeezing my elbows. “You’ll get sick out here. You’re barefoot.”

“We stay. Until the embers die.”

But I was a child, wanting just one more bit of sweet cake, even if it meant a tummy ache afterwards. I wanted more of this sensation – the feel of justice, and rightness. The sense of power that came from having a man at my back who would do everything for me. A man who would move heaven and earth, and rip souls from their bodies, if that is what I required.

My husband. My king. My knight. My everything.

“We can watch from the arboretum, where it”s warm,” he said, taking me in his arms and lifting me bridal-style.

I didn’t fight him when he stood and carried me inside, to his gothic mansion that was more a home to me than even the fishing shores of my beloved Ireland. There were words at the tip of my tongue. Something about hearts and soulmates, forever and ever… Things I could not do justice to. Not right now.

If my body was exhausted, my mind was on the verge of shutting down.

I should hold remorse for the death, but all I could think about was how good it would feel to bring my song to an end. That low humming sound that I soothed myself with for years, like a child rocking itself back and forth in the dark, cold night to keep the ghosts at bay. That song could disappear, evaporate in the mist, if he would stay by my side.

The warm air of the conservatory made my chest swell and Jericho placed me on the couch. We were met with silence. Not a single person had come back to this room when he dismissed them.

I wondered if it was because everyone thought of this as my room.

The feelings inside me rose to a frightening height. I stared at the candles on the little end table. I struck a match beside it, and lit it so that the lilac and sandalwood scent filled the air. Lilacs for me. Sandalwood for him. I leaned back into Jericho, as I idly traced my hands over the flames, feeling the heat on my fingers. The pain. The heat grounded me, allowing some of the feelings in my heart to burn with the scent in the air. With the pain, I purged the feelings in my chest.

Everyone said it hadn’t been used before I was here, and I’d claimed it my first evening. It was fitting that the first night he’d taken me had been on this couch, surrounded by the only thing that had ever truly felt like home for me since being taken from Ireland.

The black of night was fading into a cool blue, surrounding us in its haunting glow.

It had to be nearing early morning, and despite knowing I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep anytime soon, tomorrow we were to be wed. If we didn’t get rest, we would be too exhausted.

“We should postpone the wedding,” I murmured.

Jericho stilled. “Why would you say that?”

I didn’t miss the hurt in his voice at his question.

“There is a dead man in your backyard,” I said, my voice shaky.

“He’ll be gone long before sunrise. Maybe even sooner.”

We stayed in companionable silence as the black of night turned into the sweet blue of dawn. Then to the pinks and reds of a brilliant and beautiful sunrise. All the while, he stayed with me, as I watched one of my tormentors come down to nothing, sitting on the sofa that felt like a throne.

He pulled me into him. “Do you want to delay the wedding?”

There was a hitch in his voice. One I didn’t like.

“No.” Truly, the privilege of being his wife would fill me with more joy than I deserved. “No, I think I would like, very much, to become your wife.”

All that was left of our captive was ash. All that was left of Aoibheann Green was burned with the man.

I was now Evie Vasilieva.