Page 76 of Shameless Royalty

Malachi’s breath catches. His eyes widen slightly, his fingers curling around the box like he doesn’t know what the fuck to do with himself. “Connor…”

“Don’t freak out,” I say, keeping my tone light. “It’s just a ring.”

His gaze snaps to mine, blue eyes glistening. “It’s notjusta ring and you know it.”

I smirk, because he’s right. It’s not. He knows exactly what it fucking means. It’s an Irish thing, something we grow up knowing, something passed down through generations.

Love. Loyalty. Friendship.

The heart represents love, the hands mean friendship, and the crown stands for loyalty. A symbol of devotion, of something real.

The way a person wears it tells the world everything they need to know. If the heart points outward, toward the fingertips, it means the wearer is open—single, available, waiting for something or someone to claim them.

But if the heart points inward, toward the wrist, it means they belong to someone.

“CM,” he mutters, his voice hoarse as he lifts the ring, turning it to see our initials engraved on the inside. I watch him closely, waiting, my chest tight with anticipation and he knows why. Then he swallows hard, sliding the ring onto his finger—

Heart facing inward.

My own fucking heart stutters and my fingers twitch, something dark and possessive curling in my chest as I register what he’s just done. I don’t say anything at first. I just watch him, watch the way his fingers flex, watch the way his breathing changes, watch the way his blue eyes flicker up to meet mine.

I exhale slowly, the corner of my mouth twitching. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

Malachi swallows again, but his gaze doesn’t waver. “Aye.”

His heart is taken.

By me.

I reach out, grabbing his wrist and tracing my fingers over the ring, over the cool metal wrapped around his finger. My voice drops, low and rough. “Say it.”

Malachi’s breath shudders slightly, but he doesn’t fucking run. “It means my heart belongs to you,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.

Fuck.

Fucking hell.The confession fucking wrecks me.

I tilt my head, watching him. “You sure about that?”

Malachi doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

I groan, yanking him forward, crashing my lips against his. It’s not desperate. It’s not messy. It’s intentional. It’s me claiming him, branding him, making sure he fucking knows exactly what he’s just given me.

His hands slide up my arms, his fingers digging into my shoulders, clutching at me like he needs to hold on. Like he wants this, and fuck, that’s all I need to lose myself in him.

I deepen the kiss, drinking him in, tasting him, feeling him melt into me with every second that passes.

My hands slide to his waist, pulling him onto my lap and pressing our bodies flush together. He exhales shakily, but he doesn’t hesitate. He lets me have him.

And when I break the kiss to look at him, to give him one last chance to back out, he meets my gaze without a single fucking ounce of doubt. Malachi leans in, and when our lips meet again, it’s slow, deep, and unrushed.

No teasing, no power plays—just us.

He melts into me, his fingers sliding up to tangle in my hair, his breaths coming quicker. I wrap my arms around him and get to my feet, guiding him to my bed and onto his back.

Malachi exhales against my lips, his hands tightening in my hair, his body arching slightly beneath mine. “I want this,” he whispers. “I want you, Connor.”

I groan softly, resting my forehead against his, my hand cradling the side of his face. “Are you sure?”

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