Page 66 of King of the Cage

Inside the bathroom, I stared at myself in the mirror. That had been close. Damn close. My heart raced. A delayed reaction to the panic and fear of walking into that place alone and trying to find Sol.

I had been terrified, and I hadn’t been terrified in a long time. My eyes filled with tears. Fuck. I hated to cry. I hated it. A knock sounded outside, and I jumped.

“It’s busy,” I called hoarsely.

The knock came again, the door shuddering.

“Let me in, selkie.”

Bran’s voice came to me from the hall, and more panic seized at my chest. I couldn’t let him see me crying, weak and pathetic. My pride couldn’t stand it.

Suddenly, the door swung in.

I blinked, several tears escaping down my cheeks.

“Doesn’t the lock work?”

“I have the master key. This is my place,” Bran explained, coming in and shutting the door behind him. He locked it and leaned against it. His presence made the neat room feel tiny.

“So, you just barge in on women in the bathroom whenever you feel like it?” I protested, dashing the tears from my cheeks.

“Nope. You’re the first. Are you all right?” he went on to ask immediately.

I opened my mouth to answer, and nothing came out.

I stared at him and then shut my lips with a hard click.

“I asked if you were all right,” he pressed and stepped forward.

“I’m fine,” I managed to choke out. But I wasn’t fine. I wasn’t fine at all. The whole night of fear was catching up on me, making me fragile and damaged. Making me weak.

I stepped away from him, trying to get around him to the door.

“I don’t think you are,” Bran said steadily and trapped me against the sink. Him and his damn long arms were inescapable.

“I don’t care what you think. I’m fine,” I maintained.

He lowered his head so he could look me right in the eyes. After studying me, he shook his head.

“Jesus, you’re stubborn.”

I raised my chin. “No, you’re just annoying and invading my privacy. I’ve told you before, I don’t like bossy, dominating men,” I spit out.

“Right, you mentioned it. Too bad for you, I don’t care.”

Then his arms closed around me. I couldn’t move. He pulled me to his chest and buried his face in my hair. I was trapped. Utterly immobile. I tried to move, tried to push him, but it was impossible.

“Shh, settle down, Giada, and give me a fucking minute,” he said into my hair.

“Why?” I demanded, my tears pressing back against my eyelids, hot and fresh. My panic built, transforming into something wild and undeniable.

“Because, selkie, I’m really not fucking okay. So, just humor me, okay?” Bran said quietly.

Just like that, the dam I’d been building inside broke. Tears filled my eyes and rushed down my cheeks. All the terror I’d felt for Sol, and for me, even for Bran as well, rushing up and spilling out. Those masks would haunt me in my dreams, I was certain of it, and the way they’d been watching us, waitingtheir turn. I cried and cried, a gale of pent-up emotion slowly passing and leaving me exhausted in its wake. Bran held me tight throughout. I couldn’t have moved if I’d tried to. His smell filled my head. It was calming somehow. I forgot who I was for a second, and who he was. I forgot that Elio would kill me for even talking to this man, and I clung onto him, like he was an anchor in the storm. A safe haven.

When it finally passed, I felt wrung out like an old dishrag, but lighter. Bran’s arms loosened around me.

I pulled back, aware my face was beyond saving. My eyes stung with swelling, my cheeks were raw, and my nose had been running like a damn faucet.

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