When Kings Rise : A Dark Irish Mafia Romance intensified by the presence of a cult. (The O'Sullivan's Brides Book One) by Vi Carter

Author:Vi Carter [Carter, Vi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CARTER BOOKS
Published: 2024-06-07T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Amira

I DIDN’T WANT Diarmuid to go. I would have liked to spend more time with him. But I’m trying to show him my range—how I can play whatever part he needs—a role that changes between lover and now caretaker of his family's troublesome relatives. Babysitting Wolf will show Diarmuid that I can be a good wife.

Wolf is still asleep as I sit on the side of the bed and examine his face. I can't help but notice the unmistakable family resemblance—the sharpness of his jawbone and the distinctive shape of his brow. They are the same features that Diarmuid and his brothers have. All are extremely handsome.

The light catches the hair on Wolf's cheeks and head, revealing a surprising red tint. A ginger, I muse.

Every so often, Wolf stirs, each time awakening with a parched throat and a confused look in his eyes. He reaches out for a glass of water, his hand shaking slightly. To him, I'm a stranger—a face without a name. And why should he recognize me? My interactions with Wolf have been fleeting, and the more I've learned about him, the more I've felt a creeping sense of unease.

He is just as deadly as his cousins, maybe more so because Wolf is unpredictable, based on the rumors I’ve heard. The most disturbing whispers, the ones that send shivers down my spine, are his involvement in the family's sex trafficking ring. I had shared this knowledge with Niamh and Selene with a smile, but inside, my stomach soured.

He starts to cough again, and I sit and watch him struggle to catch his breath. I’ve heard of people choking on their own vomit. If he does throw up, I won’t be able to clean it. Knowing that I need to impress Diarmuid, I rise and walk around the bed, picking up the glass and bringing it to Wolf’s lips.

“You’re okay; just take a sip.” I try out a smile as his gaze focuses on me. He does as I command. The water seems to lodge itself in his throat, and he’s sputtering again. A memory thick and hard slices through my mind.

My mother bent over a small bucket as she gasped for air, but there was no forgiveness for all the alcohol she had indulged in. Her hand had reached out to me for help, and I remember standing in the hallway watching her, hoping her last breath would be stolen on the kitchen floor.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

Wolf gasps and takes in a few lungfuls of air. His brows furrow. He won’t remember this tomorrow, so I have nothing to fear. But just in case, I offer words of encouragement. “There you go. You are doing great.” The pitcher on the bedside table is empty, and I pick it up and leave to refill it. I’m contemplating using the tap water in the bathroom, but even as a child, I was scolded if I drank from the bathroom taps. The system in the attic wasn’t safe for drinking, and it fed into the bathrooms.

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