Page 8 of King of the Cage

“What the fuck? You leave me high and dry over there, after throwing yourself at me?” Enrico’s voice reached us, right on cue.

Tossing caution to the wind, I twisted around and lowered myself onto Bran’s lap. His long, muscled arms immediately closed around my middle, holding me in place. His skin was so hot, it warmed me through the satin of my evening gown.

“All right there, pal. Let’s back up a fucking step.” One of the Irish had stood, unhappy at the rude way the Italian had approached them.

Instigating a fight between Italians and Irish was never a stretch. Both had hair triggers and were overdramatic. I firmly included myself in that stereotype. I was a bloodthirsty drama queen.

“Giada, wasn’t it?” Bran’s voice rumbled in my ear.

His arms were tight around me, and I turned my face back to gaze at his. Man, the old gods did good when they made this one.

I nodded. “I’m taking your silence for agreement,” I murmured and raised an eyebrow. “You got a problem with that?”

His lips quirked, and he shook his head. “No problem, wee one.”

Christ, this close, the man smelled nice. Like forests and adventure. Like orange slices around the fire, deep in the woods of Campagna. Woodsmoke, pine, and citrus.

“Giada, stop being a fucking bitch. I bought you a drink—” Enrico cut off as a round of hearty Irish laughter filled the air.

“Is that all it takes? Good to know the Italians are doing the bare minimum.”

“Just the one? She’d need a lot more than that to go home with you, brother.”

“It’s a free bar, Casanova. What a charmer we’ve got here, boys.”

Bran’s posse, relentlessly mocking Enrico. I could listen to it all night.

I tossed my hair and shot the outraged Sepriano a grin.

“They aren’t wrong, and besides, I didn’t throw myself at you… I’d never. I already have someone who’s taking me home tonight, you see,” I murmured sweetly, curling my hand around Bran’s nape and toying with the escaped blond curls there.

His hand curved around my thigh and tightened. Hmmm, the big boy liked that.

“Bullshit. You led me on, bitch,” Enrico started and stopped when all the Irish except Bran pushed their chairs back and stood. The energy changed from lighthearted to tense as hell in an instant.

“There’s only one bitch here, and it’s you, motherfucker,” one of the Irishmen said, getting in Enrico’s face.

“Haven’t you heard about us?” I cut across the growing tension.

All eyes turned to me as I ran my nose up Bran’s cheek and bit his ear.

“Me and Bran… my one and only.” I dipped my tongue into the shell of Bran’s ear.

He jerked beneath me, his hips pressing up on my ass. The guy was hard, and it was becoming clear that he was perfectly proportional. A big, swinging club for the hot, towering warrior. I shifted against it, teasing him. I’d always like to play with fire, and sitting between an angry, arrogant made man, and a hot-as-hell Irish heir with a deadly entourage, was what the evening’s entertainment had been missing.

Enrico swore, his face turning red with anger, and let out a torrent of Italian.

I tutted. “Enrico, please. You kiss your mama with that mouth?Che vergogna.”

“What did he say?” Bran asked, his voice loaded with lethal intent.

I enjoyed that tone a whole lot.

“It’s not suitable for polite company,” I said and made to stand.

Bran’s arms held me for a few seconds and then released me. There was a feeling to that possessive touch that made it clear that he’d only let me stand because he’d allowed it. It thrilled me.

“Now, run back over to your big brother like a good boy. Oh, and don’t lead Solaria on. She’s much too sweet for an animal like you,” I told Enrico firmly when I drew level with him.

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