Page 98 of Shameless Royalty

I open my eyes, pulling back just enough to look at him, to take in every detail—the sharp cut of his jaw, the flecks of gold in his green eyes, the way his brows are furrowed like he’s fighting a battle he doesn’t know how to win.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you I need you too?” he asks me in a soft voice, and I honestly don’t know how to respond to that. Connor Cunningham doesn’t need anyone…right?

I don’t think before I lean in and press my lips to his—soft, slow, nothing like the bruising, desperate kisses we’ve shared before. This one is different. It’s not about hunger. It’s not about proving anything.

It’s just us.

Connor makes a sound against my lips, something almost pained, before he kisses me back, his hands sliding up my sides, careful with my injuries but still grounding, still there.

I shudder, my hands gripping his shoulders as I melt into him, as I let myself have this, even if I shouldn’t.

Even if it’s dangerous.

Even if it’s already too fucking late.

Chapter 40

Connor

Isitinmyroom, whiskey in hand, staring at the wall like it holds the answers to the million fucking thoughts running through my head.

I’m a fucking heir, raised to be ruthless, to follow orders without question, to wear the crown proudly, and to carry my father’s legacy into the next generation. But Malachi makes me question all of it.

He makes me wonder if there’s something more—something beyond violence, beyond duty, beyond the bloody empire my family built from ashes and fear. I used to thrive in the chaos, in the darkness, and now it feels empty.

Now, the only place I feel whole is next to him, and that’s dangerous. It makes me vulnerable and gives enemies a weakness to exploit. I run a hand through my hair, tugging at the strands as I let out a breath, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.

I’m in way over my head with him, I fucking know it. And yet, here I am, drowning in him, in the way he looks at me, in the way he feels in my arms, in the way my fucking ring is still on his finger.

I should be planning my next move, thinking about how to keep my father’s trust, about what the hell I’m supposed to do with this entire fucking mess, but all I can think about is him.

How the fuck did I let this happen?

I knock back a sip of whiskey, letting the burn anchor me, but it doesn’t do shit. It doesn’t stop the fact that I love him, that I admitted it—to myself, to my father. And it doesn’t change the fact that I shouldn’t.

I’m in love with Malachi Dawson and I shouldn’t be.

I shouldn’t have let it happen, shouldn’t have let him get under my skin, shouldn’t have let him worm his way into every fucking part of me until I don’t even remember what life was like before he was in it.

But it’s too late now. I’m too far gone. I can lie to myself all I want, but the truth is, I would burn the world down for him without a second thought.

And that is what scares the shit out of me because I almost went to war with my father over him. I would have if Malachi hadn’t stopped me. If he hadn’tbeggedme not to.

That thought alone makes my chest ache.

I don’t even know where the fucking line is anymore.

Loving Malachi isn’t safe. It isn’t fucking smart. He’s the enemy’s son, not the person I’m losing my fucking mind over.

And yet, if my father had given me an ultimatum that night—him or Malachi—I would’ve chosen Malachi without hesitation. Without a second fucking thought and thatterrifiesme. This is fucking reckless. This is something bigger than me, something that’s already eaten me whole. And I don’t know if I want to fight it anymore.

I rake a hand down my face, my pulse hammering as I stare into the glass in my hand. I think about my father, about the cryptic way he looked at me when I told him about Malachi, about the story he told me about my mother.

How he was sent to kill her. How he was given an order—an order that should’ve been easy, an order he should have carried out without a second thought.

But he didn’t.

He said hecouldn’t.

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