Page 16 of Desecrated Reign

“Not as much as I am going to love fucking you later.” He winks before he pulls away and begins getting dressed. “Besides,” he peers at me over his shoulder, brow raised. “Every queen needs a gun.”

A deep belly laugh bubbles up my throat for the first time in days. “I don’t think that’s how that saying goes.”

He pulls his shirt over his head and then shrugs, a grin widening across his face. “Eh, it should be.”

“So,” I pry, taking a seat on the edge of the bed while he finishes getting dressed. “How are you feeling about seeing your mam again? It’s been a few years, right?”

Keeping his attention on buttoning his suit trousers, he avoids eye contact. “Two, give or take. The last time I saw my sister, she was fourteen, almost fifteen. I can’t imagine what trouble a seventeen-year-old Aoibheann gets into.”

“Let’s hope she’s nothing like her brother,” I tease, laughing at the unamused look flooding Rohan’s face.

“What about you?” He tips his chin toward me. “How are you feeling about the meeting?”

“Good, actually. For the first time ever, I feel ready. I’m done standing by while Gabriel continues to take things from me. People keep telling me I was born to be a queen. It’s about time I start acting like one. Step one, take back my kingdom.”

10

ROHAN

I stand on the opposite side of the room, leaning against the fireplace as Lorcan officially introduces Saoirse to her cousin, Keelan. It’s no secret that I don’t trust easily, so from a distance, I survey every move he makes, trying to figure him out as I silently run through the list of things I know about him.

Keelan Reilly, aged twenty-two, son of the late Daniel and Muireann Reilly. From what I’ve heard over the years, Daniel died tragically at twenty-one—mere weeks after Keelan was born. After Daniel died, Lorcan and Muireann became good friends. So, a few years later when Lorcan was nineteen, he confided in her about Éanna and the pregnancy and how the syndicate would never allow them to be together as a family. It was then she handed him a lifeline.

According to Lorcan, Muireann knew she would never move on after losing Daniel. So, returning the favour for all the times Lorcan had been there for her, she came to him with a mutually beneficial offer—she would become Lorcan’s wife in name only so that he could pass his final trial and become the Ulster king, thus acquiring security for herself and her son. Naturally, Lorcan agreed because it allowed him to continue his secret relationship with Éanna without tipping off the syndicate while also getting small glimpses at his daughter’s life.

Sadly, when Keelan was seventeen, Muireann passed away from cancer, leaving Lorcan as Keelan’s only living relative—or so he thought.

Since Keelan is a few years older, we haven’t crossed paths much with the exception of the odd party or event, but what I do know is he has a short fuse and the fighting skills to back it up, which makes him a little unpredictable. In saying that, Lorcan trusts him implicitly. He wouldn’t have left him running the Ulster Syndicate for the last four years if he didn’t.

Putting the unease to the back of my mind, I trust that bringing him into the fold is the right decision. After all, we need as many members as possible for tonight’s take down, and if he plays his cards right, Keelan will benefit greatly from our plan. They all will, my mother included.

Speaking of, she should be here any minute now. Earlier, when Saoirse asked me how I was feeling, I didn’t dive too deep into it because, honestly, I’m not fucking sure. What the hell do you say to a woman who left her cub in the lion's den? On the one hand, I’m thankful she got herself and my sister out of a bad situation, but on the other hand, I can’t help but be a little pissed that she never came back to save me.

After she left, things with Gabriel grew progressively worse, and for a long fucking time, my body was his punching bag. Sure, every hit he inflicted fuelled me to become who I am today, but a part of me wishes I didn’t have to become a monster to defeat one.

“You doing okay?” Éanna creeps up next to me, surveying me with her gaze. “You seem a little lost in your thoughts.”

“I’m good.”

She raises a brow, calling me out with a single look. Honestly, it’s uncanny how much she and Saoirse look alike. The only difference is their eyes. Where Éanna’s are cold and grey, Saoirse’s are like her dad’s, a warm golden amber, like autumn leaves or burning embers.

Similar to her daughter, Éanna has the ability to see right through me, which is why she’s calling horseshit on my blatant lie. “Trust me, I know seeing your mam again isn’t going to be easy, but whatever happened in the past, and whatever her reasons, I’m sure she thought she was doing what was best.”

For a moment, I forgot I’m not the only person in this room with a reason not to want my mother here. “Is that what you’ve been telling yourself? After all, she is the one who fucked your fiancé.”

Like it or not, at one point or another, Elouise King pissed off half of this room—me, Éanna, and even her twin sister, Fiadh—but I’m hoping her coming here today will be the first step towards mending the bridges she once set alight.

“Sorry. That was uncalled for.” I feel bad for hitting her where it hurts, but I also don’t like that she sees more than I want her to, not to mention I’m fighting against feelings I don’t particularly want to feel.

“Listen to me, Rohan.” She waits until I bring my gaze to hers, giving her my undivided attention. “What happened between your mam and me was a long time ago. And although I hated her for it then, I wouldn’t change the outcome.” Her eyes flick towards Lorcan and Saoirse, still deep in conversation with Keelan. It’s taken her a long time to get her family back together, and judging from the look on her face, every bit of strife she’s been through proved worth it in the end.

Needing to break past the sombre direction our conversation has gone, I add some humour. “On the verge of a war with half the Irish Syndicate?” I joke, curling my lips into a smirk.

“Smart-arse!”

Pushing off the mantel, I head towards the door, needing some air, but not before I shoot her a wink. “Your favourite smart-arse.”

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