Page 112 of King of the Cage

I’m here to take you home, selkie. Come on down, before I haul my injured ass up there.

With an alarmed cry, I set about packing my bag. What the hell Bran was doing riding his motorcycle the day after getting out of the hospital was anyone’s guess. The man didn’t listen. He thought he was impervious to harm.

I made it downstairs in record time. Bran sat astride his bike, gripping both helmets in his hands.

“You know Doc told you not to mess with your injuries so soon,” I accused as I strode toward him.

“And you know if you need to go somewhere, I take you.” His tone brooked no argument.

I rolled my eyes. “Cabs exist, you know that, right?” I tightened my backpack straps and narrowed my eyes at Bran when he held his hand out to take my bag.

“Don’t even think about it,” I warned him and straddled the bike behind him. I nudged him with my knees to get him to go.

He sat for a moment longer, before abandoning his seat and standing. He leaned a hip against the bike and slid a hand along my jaw, sinking his fingers into my hair. Then he gripped a handful, tilted my head back, and kissed me. An all-out, end-of-the-world kind of kiss. I clung to him, struggling to keep up with the demand of his powerful lips moving over mine. Someone whistled in the background. A couple of cars honked when they passed.

“Don’t worry about them, I’ll kill them later,” Bran murmured against my lips, finally pulling back when I was weak-kneed and gasping for breath.

My heart felt like it might pound right out of my chest. I had no control over my body at this point, around this man, and I’d always been terrified of that feeling. In reality, it was nothing like I’d thought it would be.

In my daze, I felt him slide my backpack off my shoulders.

“Let me take care of you for once, wife, like you’ve been taking care of me.” His deep voice vibrated through me. “I know you’re capable. But helping you is my privilege. Indulge me.”

He cupped my face and kissed me again.

And I fell.

Feelingguilty for being a crappy friend, I let Marco and Sol convince me to go out later that night.

“And you’re sure I can’t come?” Bran mused, lounging on the bed, watching me get ready with hungry eyes.

“It’s a girls’ night,” I pointed out.

“I’ll be just like your wee buddy, Marco. I can be an honorary girl for the evening,” he protested.

I stepped over to him, my heels striking the floor hard.

“No, you can’t. One, you’re not well enough, two, just no. You rest here and get a good sleep.”

“Like I can sleep before you get home,” Bran murmured and pulled me in for a kiss, his hand on the back of my neck, imprisoning me for a long, hot moment.

“Don’t pout. If you pout, I won’t bring you a cookie when I get home.” I raised an eyebrow at him suggestively.

He growled. “But I want my cookie now.”

I sighed and kissed him on the nose. “I’m late. I’ll see you soon. I’m sure you’ll have your minions watching me regardless.”

“Too fucking right, and don’t lose them this time. They are there for your safety.”

“Who’s on duty?”

“Declan. I trust him with my life… so he’s nearly good enough to trust with yours, selkie.”

I nodded, checked my lipstick in the mirror, and blew him a kiss.

“See you… don’t wait up,” I tossed to him before closing the door.

His string of Gaelic curses followed me out, and I smiled.

---