Page 11 of King of Ashes (Kingdom of Sinners #4)

KEIRA

I sink onto the edge of my bed, my legs finally giving out as the reality of what just happened crashes over me.

And the stupidity of it. Challenging Phoenix like that, in front of his men.

I don’t know what came over me except that I wanted him to know he might have power over me, but he won’t break me.

I press my fingers into my eye sockets as the memory of the look in his eyes when I reached for his belt comes back to me. For a moment, I saw a flash of the boy I used to know, horrified at the idea of hurting me.

But that boy is gone. This Phoenix is capable of anything.

I need to remember that if I’m going to keep Brigit safe.

God, when he found us this morning, I was terrified.

She’s safely tucked away in her room, but for how long?

What if my defiance makes him change his mind?

I don’t even want to think about what he might do.

I have to be smarter than this. Every move I make puts her at risk. But watching him try to humiliate me in front of everyone, treating me like some common whore, is unbearable. I’d never have thought he’d be capable of such cruelty and depravity.

Ten years ago, Phoenix would have moved heaven and earth to protect me. Now he's the one I need protection from. I don’t blame him for his anger at my family. But why is he taking it out on me?

I have to find a way to handle this—to handle him—without losing myself completely. But how do I reason with someone who sees me as nothing but a tool for revenge?

I drag myself to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face.

The woman in the mirror looks haunted, but I suppose I've been like this for ten years. Back then, I was na?ve and weak. In the last ten years, I’ve learned to survive in a world in which I have little to no power.

I’ve been able to avoid all my father’s attempts to pass me off as a virgin in marriage.

I’ve navigated our family mostly by avoiding them, spending my time shielding Brigit from their toxicity.

In reality, nothing has changed. It appears Phoenix plans to rule with the same disregard for anyone but himself and his need for power.

I dry my face and straighten my shoulders. I can do this.

I return to my room, my prison, and sit in the window seat taking in the sunny day outside.

It brings back the summer Phoenix and I would walk through the gardens here.

It was his family’s estate then. He’d hold my hand.

Sometimes, he’d stop at a tree and kiss me.

It was all so innocent and lovely. I was a fool to think it was real, to think he’d take me away from all the violence and pain.

The key scrapes in the lock. My pulse jumps, but I force myself to remain still, perched on the window seat like I don’t have a care in the world.

He wants to see me broken, but I won't give him the satisfaction.

Inside, I mentally prepare to face him. Whatever he throws at me, I can take it.

For Brigit. Everything I do now is for her.

If that means swallowing my pride, biting my tongue, playing whatever role Phoenix demands, so be it.

The handle turns, the door swings open, and Phoenix fills the frame, his broad shoulders blocking the light from the hall. He steps inside, closing the door with a soft click that belies the hardness in his features.

"You put on quite a show back there." He moves toward me like a predator. A chill slides down my spine as I wonder if he’s going to make me follow through on my actions in the office. "I'd almost forgotten how spirited you can be."

I press my back against the window. He stops a few feet away, hands loose at his sides, but there's nothing relaxed about him. Every muscle looks coiled to strike. Would he? It wouldn’t be unusual for a man in our world to use his fists against a woman.

"I won't apologize for defending myself." The words come out steadier than I feel.

His lips curve into a smug smile. "You were always so soft and innocent looking, and then you’d do something crazy.

Remember that time you decided to avoid seeing your father and Ronan here visiting my father, so you climbed out my window and tried to leave by shimmying down the tree?

” He looks past me out the window. The tree isn’t there.

Cut down by my father when the house was rebuilt.

Phoenix’s gaze returns to me. “You got all scraped up and my mother had to clean you up wondering why you'd do something so nuts.”

The memory is bittersweet. His mother had been so gentle. I'd felt safer in her care than I ever did with my own parents.

"Don't." I wrap my arms around myself, not wanting to be lulled into submission by the memories of happier times. "Don't pretend this is some fond trip down memory lane."

"Why not?" He takes another step closer. "We shared so many memories in this house. Well, not this one, since your family built this one over the ashes of mine."

I close my eyes knowing he has every right to be angry and vengeful toward my father. "What do you want, Phoenix?"

"Want?" He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I fight not to flinch. "I want you to be honest with me."

His fingers trail down my neck, settling over my thundering pulse. "So tell me, love. Who were you really going to meet last night?"

His fingers on my neck make it hard to think straight. Every touch brings back memories of softer times, when his caresses meant love instead of control.

I give my head a shake. I can’t let the past soften me. "There is no lover. I know you won't believe me, but?—"

"Shh." His thumb traces my bottom lip. "I understand, you know. Ten years is a long time. Did you think I expected you to stay faithful to a ghost?”

The gentleness in his tone catches me off guard. I search his face, trying to read him. Is this some manipulation, a new tactic, or have the memories brought the old Phoenix back?

"If you're honest with me now," he continues, "maybe we can start fresh. Clean slate." His hand cups my cheek. "Just tell me who he is, and I'll be… reasonable."

For a moment, I'm tempted. Not to lie about a lover, but to tell him everything. About Brigit. About why I never married, about how I've loved only him all these years. But the calculated look in his eyes stops me.

"Phoenix…" I lean into his touch, letting him feel my surrender. "I swear on my life, there's no one else."

His fingers tighten fractionally on my jaw. "And I'm supposed to trust the word of a Kean?"

"Trust your own eyes." I meet his gaze steadily. "You've taken over the house. You have men watching my every move. If there were someone, you'd know."

Something flickers in his expression, doubt, probably. His thumb strokes my cheek once more before he drops his hand.

"We'll see." He steps back, creating space between us that allows me to take a breath. "For your sake, I hope you're telling the truth. Because if I find out you're lying…" His smile turns sharp. "Well, let's just say I won't be nearly this understanding."

I shake my head and look out the window.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?”

“No. I’m resolved that you’ll only believe what you want. Nothing I say or do will matter.”

“You can’t blame me for not trusting you after you betrayed me?—”

My head snaps back in his direction. “I didn’t betray you.”

“The fact that my parents are dead and we’re standing over their fiery graves says differently.”

This conversation is pointless, so I don’t respond.

“No response to that?”

“Nothing that you’d believe. Why are you wasting your precious time on me when you think you already know all the answers?”

His jaw tics and I know I need to rein in my annoyance. “Well, you and I are getting married and you’re going to plan it. You can arrange whatever you want as long as it impresses all the families. By this time next week, you’ll be my wife.”

"A week?" I don’t hide my shock. "You want to plan an entire wedding in a week?"

Phoenix shrugs. "Problem? I thought most women dreamed of planning their perfect wedding."

"Most women get more than seven days." And are fueled by love for their fiancé, but I don’t say that.

"Money's no object." He waves dismissively. "And I'm sure you know how to run a household efficiently. Boston’s elite must see that there is a new sheriff in town.”

"You want Boston's elite to attend a wedding where the bride is your prisoner?" I let out a harsh laugh. "They'll see right through that."

Phoenix’s eyes narrow. "You'd be surprised what people will overlook when they're afraid."

"And what about the staff? After that display in your office, how am I supposed to command any respect? You made sure they saw me as nothing but your?—"

"My what?" His eyes glitter dangerously. "Say it."

I lift my chin. "Your whore."

"Yet here you are, about to become my wife." He moves toward me again, and I do my best not to lean away from his advance. "And you'll do it with a smile, won't you? Because we both know what's at stake."

My teeth grind to avoid calling him vile names. "I can't organize anything locked in my room. I'd need access to the house."

"Supervised access." He stops in front of me. "You don't really think I'd let you wander freely?"

"Then find someone else to plan your spectacle." I turn away, but his hand shoots out, gripping my chin, forcing me to look at him.

"You'll do it," he says softly, "or I’ll methodically kill every man in this house and whoever you’re protecting will die."

I force myself to meet his gaze steadily. "Why do you care so much? You clearly despise me.”

“I won’t be cuckolded, Keira. If you ever undermined me in any way…” He doesn’t finish the sentence, but he doesn’t have to.

I decide to return to the wedding topic. “The staff won't follow my orders, not after you effectively ruined any respect they might have for me."