Page 54 of Desecrated Reign

“Do you need me to get the nurse? Maybe get you some stronger meds?”

“I’ll go,” Lorcan cuts in, drawing my gaze across the sterile room towards his gruff lilt. Like Rohan, he and my mam haven’t left my side, opting to squeeze into the lone armchair. Before he rises from the chair, he whispers something in my mam’s ear, and she eases from his lap before crossing the room, and he shuffles towards the door.

Within seconds, my mam is beside my bed, fixing me a glass of water. “Here, honey. Wet your throat. Doctor said you should take small sips.”

She passes the glass to Rohan, and he brings the straw to my mouth, holding it steady as I wrap my lips around the tip. A few minutes pass while my mam and Rohan ask me a barrage of questions, each one resulting in a Ross-worthy “I’m fine.”

Before long, Lorcan returns with the doctor who admitted me hot on his heels. “How are you feeling, Saoirse?” Dr Clarke greets me with a genuine smile.

“I’m okay. Sore but alive.” I raise a brow, and she huffs out a light laugh.

“Well, that’s one way to look at it.” Her gaze flits around the room as she addresses everyone, bar me. “Could I have a few minutes alone with Saoirse?”

“Is everything okay?” My mother lifts her thumb to her mouth and nibbles on her nail.

“Yes,” she confirms, “just need to discuss her bloodwork, so if you could please wait outside. We’ll only be a few moments.”

My mother’s gaze finds mine, and I give her a nod, confirming it’s okay to leave and that I will not break while she’s in the hallway. With some reluctance, she and Lorcan exit together. I get it, though, they’re worried.

Rohan shuffles next to me, edging off the bed, but I halt him by placing my hand on his arm, holding him in place. My gaze lifts to Dr Clarke. “Is it okay if my fiancé stays?”

The doctor’s eyes fall to my hand and the ring encasing my finger. I can see the thoughts behind her curious eyes. I’m sure she’s read my chart, and she’s probably wondering why I’m engaged at eighteen, especially in this day and age. But, quite frankly, it’s none of her business. Maybe it’s just me, but I can see the judgement in her eyes. Clearing her throat, she says, “If you’re sure?”

“I’m positive. Today was supposed to be our wedding day, anything you need to tell me, you can discuss in front of him.”

“Okay.” Remaining perched on the edge of the hospital cot, Rohan twists his torso and focuses on the doctor. Her navy eyes hone in on me. “As I mentioned, your bloodwork came back, and although everything looks relatively normal, we did notice your hCG levels are elevated.” My brows furrow, not really comprehending what that means. “They are sitting between 59,109 – 135,901 milli-international units per liter.”

Rohan’s hand covers mine, his fingers twiddling the diamond on my ring finger. “What does that mean, exactly?”

Drawing in a breath, her shoulder straightens as she holds my gaze while she addresses Rohan’s question. “I know you mentioned you’re on birth control, but according to your bloodwork, you’re roughly nine weeks pregnant.”

Shock filters through my entire body, and I go rigid. “I’m sorry, what? That can’t be possible.” Denial coats my words, and the rapid pounding of my heart thunders through my eardrums. Pregnant. Nope, there is no way I can be pregnant. I mean, sure, it’s possible, not all forms of birth control are foolproof. But I can’t be. There must be some kind of mistake. “Are you sure?” All of a sudden, I’m feeling queasy as bubbles boil in my stomach.

Dr Clarke nods. “Yes. But given the circumstance of the events that brought you in, I would like to do an ultrasound to make sure everything is okay.”

Suddenly a wave of emotion I was not prepared for washes over me, and my stomach flips, diving head first towards my feet. My hand falls protectively over my stomach, and although I just found out, I pray that everything is going to be okay.

“Are you saying there could be something wrong with the baby?” Rohan’s voice cracks, drawing my attention towards him. His face is stoic, shoulders squared as he fights to maintain the usual air of confidence that comes so effortlessly to him. But behind his endless jade eyes, there are flecks of panic and fear.

“Saoirse endured a lot of stress and trauma, it would be best to make sure everything is how it should be.” Her eyes fall back to me. “If it’s okay with you, we can do the scan now.”

Dampening the roof of my mouth with my tongue, I swallow the lump that has lodged in my throat and nod.

“Perfect.” She switches on the machine next to her and wheels it towards the bed. “Rohan, would you mind helping Saoirse while I set up for the transvaginal scan?”

“The what now?” He jumps from the bed, planting his feet on the floor. His wide eyes bounce between the doctor and me, and if I wasn’t so freaked out, I’d probably laugh at how scattered Rohan King is. He scans the device in her hand, eyes narrowing on the skinny but long penis-shaped wand. “Do you mean to tell me that underwhelming dildo goes inside?”

“If you’re referring to the probe, then yes.” She fights to hide her smile. “It’s too early to do an external exam.”

“So, let me get this straight; You want me to sit here while you probe my fiancée’s pussy.”

“Oh, Jesus.” My eyes widen as I shake my head and cover my laughter with my hand. “Rohan, she’s just doing her job.”

The look he shoots me is pure gold. Eyebrow raised and lips pressed together, it screams I couldn’t give a flying fuck—that’s my pussy, and I am the only one allowed to probe it. Finally, after I level him with a glare, he puffs out a breath. “Fine… what do I need to do?”

Busy setting up the machine and ignoring Rohan’s macho outburst, she doesn’t take her eyes off the monitor. “If you could cover her lower half with the blanket and ease her gown up to the top of her thighs. Saoirse,” she addresses me, “once Rohan’s finished, if you could place the soles of your feet together, then spread your legs, almost like a frog.”

Making quick work of his task, Rohan’s fingers stroke across my stomach as his eyes latch onto mine. There are so many emotions brewing in their depths, but I’m too overwhelmed with the news to decipher them. I’d pay to know what he’s thinking, but now is not the time to ask. Once he’s done, he props his arse on the edge of the bed in the exact same position he was in earlier. Only this time, instead of swinging his feet up onto the cot, he leaves them dangling over the edge as he leans down and places a kiss on my forehead. Whispering beneath his breath so only I can hear, he says, “If she stays in there longer than she needs to, I’m not above cutting a bitch.”

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