Page 89 of King of the Cage

“Surely you’ve had enough, after last night?” I protested.

“It only whetted my appetite for you,” Bran said. “When it comes to you, for the first time in my life, I’m insatiable.”

I opened my mouth to protest again, when my stomach did it for me. It growled the longest, most agonized sound I’d ever heard. Bran dropped his head to my shoulder and laughed. The spell broke.

The Selkie’sRest was quiet midmorning, with the pleasant, cozy sort of bustle of a place that enjoyed a well-earned break before getting busy again.

I sat in a window booth and stared out at the bustling Hell’s Kitchen street. The pub looked out onto a small, residential road, and right now, kids played in the middle with a ball, despite the cold January weather. Bran had disappeared to talk to someone, and I was taking a moment to try and pull myself together. What was I even doing, playing house with this lunatic?

“Good morning, love,” a jolly voice called to me. Aoife, appearing with a much-needed pot of coffee.

I had to stop myself from grabbing at it.

She poured me a cup, and I wrinkled my nose at the light-amber liquid.

“What is that?”

“Tea. Decaf tea,” she added.

“What?” I was aghast. “Why?”

“Women who want to conceive shouldn’t drink too much caffeine. I’ll be out with your breakfast shortly.” With that bizarre statement, she turned and walked away.

Women who want to conceive?Conceive. It was official, every single O’Connor I’d met had clearly escaped from the nearest psychiatric facility and needed to be chased down by men in white coats.

Mind you, considering Bran hadn’t used protection, or even mentioned it last night, or this morning, it wasn’t too much of a stretch to see how having sex more than ten times in the space of eight hours might look like a couple trying to conceive.

Luckily, I didn’t leave things like that to chance; I had an implant.

Still, what was Bran’s excuse? The man was a menace. A uniquely talented sexual deviant.Why is that so hot?I wondered darkly as I sipped at the tea just to see if it was as unappetizing as it sounded.

Yep, it certainly was.

The pub door swung open, and a man walked in. He glanced around, and I recognized him as Keiran, the O’Connor family doctor. He spied me and ambled over.

“Nice to see you again, Giada. Is Bran about?”

“Probably. It’s next to impossible to escape the man — believe me, I know,” I told Keiran sweetly.

He laughed and leaned a tattooed hand on the table. “Well, Bran’s always been a bit like that… possessive over his things.”

I picked up the knife from my place setting and twirled it easily between my fingers. “Call me an object again, Doc, and you’ll get to see open-heart surgery from the patient’s perspective.”

Keiran chuckled. “Nice to see the boss has met his match. How’s your friend, Sol?”

I dropped the knife and pushed my tea away. “She’s okay. Recovering, though I wish she didn’t have to be.”

Keiran’s hard gaze softened. “And you? Are you okay? A forced marriage in this day and age. I’m not the kind of guy who condones that sort of thing…” He trailed off, his eyes lifting to peer over my shoulder. He snapped his mouth shut, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

Tension filled the air. I turned and checked behind me.

Bran lounged on the wall beside the booth, arms crossed, watching me and his friend. His unwavering green gaze was locked on Keiran.

“Are you not? That’s news to me, Doc.” His tone was light, and yet, his words sounded like a threat. “I was under the impression you’d do whatever you had to, for the family?”

Keiran sighed and straightened. He took a card out of his wallet and passed it to me. “If it gets bad… or if you need help, call.”

“What have I interrupted here?” Bran’s tone was cheerfully deadly. He plucked the card from the table and tucked it into his pocket, staring down his friend.

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