Chapter Twelve
I sat in a booth inside the lodge’s bar the next night staring out the window into the dark night. Laughter and merriment continued around me. I was lost in my twisting thoughts of Leric. And always Sin. I ran from any romantic relationship put in front of me. Even my longest, being with Isa, I had run from. I could have come back to her…and I hadn’t. Instead, I ran from everything romantic, mainly out of confusion. I was not sure how someone could actually love me, a twisted fuck of an individual. I knew my uncertainty arose from a lack of trust, a long-honed survival instinct.
And fear.
The one emotion it always came back to.
The terror that currently had my palms sweating and my muscles clenched tight. It was also making me nauseous, which wouldn’t be a great thing since I had eaten an enormous meal again at dinner. Fear was literally making me feel ill.
I wasn’t hiding it well because Brann’s deep voice rumbled across from me. I hadn’t even noticed that he had sat down at my loner booth. “Are you all right?”
I sipped from the lemon water I was drinking before answering. “Not really.”
Liquid amber eyes scanned my face. “Relationship sickness?”
I chuckled quietly, spinning my drink on the table slowly. “Always lately.”
He hummed quietly, sipping from his brandy, watching me. “He’s an asshole. You deserve better than that crown-toting fuck.”
Again I chuckled. “I know.” I peered up to him. “I’m horrible with relationships, Brann. Like, anyone who has a real interest in me should fucking run, horrible. You know?”
His lips quirked before he took another sip from his drink. “Or it could be said, you haven’t met the right person yet.”
I blinked, and my gaze wandered over his flawless features. “I’m a little off tonight, Brann, so you’ll have to tell me if you’re implying…” I mean, fuck, we had talked about this.
“Um…no. No offense, of course.”
I snorted. “No offense.”
His lips curved, and it was most definitely the scoundrel in him staring back at me. “I’ll tell you a little secret about myself, Felon.” He twirled his now empty glass on the table. “Not many men would ever own up to this, but it’s true nevertheless.”
I waited, leaning forward.
His lips quirked sardonically as he glanced at his empty glass. “I lost my virginity when I was sixteen. And…well, I thought I was in love with the woman afterward. It was the experience of a first sexual encounter, awkward at first, but definitely intimate as it progressed. So intimate, I didn’t think I would ever meet someone quite like her.” He twirled his glass again before gazing up into my carefully blanked expression—I understood where he was going with this. “My point being, no matter what, the first person you have sex with always leaves a lasting impression. It’s inevitable, but it rarely ever lasts.”
I stared into his eyes, as still as a statue, again hating another person voicing what I had already worried was a real possibility. I had actually seen poor idiots think themselves in love after they lost their virginity.
His brows bounced slowly before he tapped his glass twice on the table, then he slid out of the booth, running a hand over his amber dress shirt. “And I didn’t say that just so you would feel horrible.” His lips tilted on one side in an ironic fashion, completely self-deprecating. “I’m fucking horrible with relationships, too.” He snorted, running a hand over his face. “And although I loved Dakota, she and I were far from perfect. And we were mates, which scares the hell out of me for any future nightmares of a life with someone else.”
My lips tilted, the smile of the jaded. Sometimes matings weren’t always what they were cracked up to be, and I repeated myself, “Anyone who has any real interest in you should fucking run, horrible?”
“Undeniably.” He glanced into his empty glass. “And, after that cheerful bit of honesty, I do believe I need another drink.”
As he started to turn, I grabbed his hand, stopping him. I quickly released his warm palm, saying honestly, “Brann, thank you.” I peered up into his molten amber eyes. “It’s nice having someone around who I can be myself with and who’s not…” I bit my lip, wondering if I should be completely honest or if it would just be rude.
A black brow arched. “Who’s not tough and perfect like we pretend to be?” Still nibbling on my bottom lip, I nodded once, and he chuckled quietly. “Likewise, Felon.”