Page 143 of King of the Cage

“You also know that there’s no way I’m falling asleep next to you, without being inside you?”

“What? Aren’t you tired?” I protested mildly, though, honestly, his words had me hot all over.

“Exhausted. That’s why I need to be home.” He wrapped his arms around me and kissed the top of my head. “Inside you.”

Bran remainedtrue to his word and kept us both up another few hours after we got upstairs. I’d never been so tired, and yet, after only a few hours of sleep, I felt him move. He got up and walked around the bed. Then the door opened, and there was the hushed murmur of male voices.

“Shh, don’t wake her. We should have given her something to sleep.”

“Very funny. Suggest it again, and I’ll throw you out of the window.”

“You take her head.”

I sat up to find Declan, Bran, and Keiran standing around the bed. I clutched the sheet around me, thanking God I’d thrown on some pajamas earlier.

“What the hell is going on?” I demanded.

Bran opened his mouth to answer but clearly couldn’t think of an acceptable excuse, so he just shrugged.

Declan grinned. “Orgy?”

Bran stepped forward and pulled me into his arms. “Don’t ask any more questions that might get Dec killed.”

He strode out of the room. The daylight was bright, and the air was sharp. I protested against Bran’s chest, shoving at him.

“Where are we going?”

“Church,” he muttered shortly.

“Church? I hate to break it to you, but I’m not exactly a churchgoer,” I pointed out.

He nodded. “Me neither, but we have to get this fixed and then we’ll come home.”

He somehow managed to sit in the car and keep me on his lap.

“Get what fixed?”

“This divorce business. We need to get married again. I can’t not be married to you, selkie. I wouldn’t survive it.” His face was deadly serious.

“Bran.” I blew out an exasperated sigh. “We aren’t getting divorced. I never even signed the papers. I couldn’t.”

“You couldn’t?” Bran echoed. He stared hard at me, his face a mix of disbelief and joy.

I shook my head. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Thank fuck for that. You really didn’t sign them?” he asked again.

I cocked an eyebrow at him. “You think I’m going to let you tell me what to do? You can’t tell me what to do, Lost Boy… you’re not my boss.”

He laughed, throwing his head back, and I leaned in and licked his strong, tattooed neck. I couldn’t help it. It was so beautiful.

“No, I’m not… I am your husband, though, still, and always.”

I nodded and leaned in and kissed the side of his mouth. His boyishly happy smile made my cynical heart sing.

“Yes, you are,” I murmured.

He grinned. “My wee selkie wife.”

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