Chapter Twenty-Five
After two weeks of my three week stint of recovery in the hotel suite, even I was antsy and grumpy, but it didn’t explain Cain’s and Brann’s nervousness. It was late one evening after eating dinner in the room—our usual until I was healed, and watching a comedy my King had run to the market and bough—one of the many movies he had purchased to fill our time. I tried not to stare, but Brann continued to jump from his chair, going onto the balcony, standing there for long stretches before coming back inside calmly, and sitting for a half hour. Cain wasn’t as bad, but his foot continued to tap next to mine on the ground with an absent hand running through his curls every once in a while. I had been noticing subtle gestures like these for the past few days, but tonight was probably the worst it had been.
Lips pinched, I watched as Brann came back inside, sitting heavily on a chair, rolling his head on his shoulders before focusing on the television, even as Cain swiped his hand through his curls again, and in complete exasperation, and possibly, a smidge of worry, I blurted loudly into the darkened room, “What the hell is going on with you two?”
All eyes found mine.
I blinked slowly, and then flicked a finger between Brann and Cain. “What’s going on? Has there been news that I don’t know of?” A finger flick to the balcony. “Is there some type of incursion headed our way?”
Brann’s head fell back with a groan, staring at the ceiling. “I could only wish.”
Worried, and confused, my gaze bounced to Cain. “Explain, please.”
Navy blue eyes blinked slowly. “I thought we were handling it well.” A flicked glance to Brann, then back to me. “To a certain degree, anyway.”
Elder Bridges grunted, placing a fist in front of his mouth, quickly turning his gaze back to the projected movie when Cain instantly glared at him.
I moved along, wanting answers. “Whatever this is, you’re not as bad as Brann, but I still don’t understand.”
Brann startled me by jumping to his feet, shaking his hands, muscles bulging, damn near bellowing, “We’re fucking Shifters, Caro!” A jammed finger at Cain, even as he yelled at me, face abruptly red in rage, “And I don’t have his goddamn experience handling this fucking torture.”
Gaze wide; I didn’t make any fast moves, staying quiet because he had a wild—not controlled, animalistic look in his gaze.
Cain was instantly on his feet, the room silent at Brann’s outburst. Cain’s bare feet were deathly quiet as they ate up the white carpeting of the room, power pulsing off his body…what felt almost like soothing Shifter magic. He grabbed Brann’s face, holding it steadfast, a quiet growl reverberating in the air as he locked gazes with him. Brann trembled the barest bit, inhaling heavily, trying to shove away from Cain, gritting through his teeth, “I don’t need your help. I’m not going to lose it.”
Cain only shoved him against the wall when Brann did, in fact, lose it. He grabbed the fist that swung at his head, slamming it against the wall…making a nice hole there in the plaster, shoving one forearm against his throat, Cain’s wolf growling loudly, but his tone was steady when he murmured quietly, “You don’t want the fucking help, then I’m giving you a damn order.” He immediately shoved Brann again when he tried to escape the hold, more plaster and paint falling, while I stared with saucer eyes, jaw gaping, not breathing. In the blink of an eye, I felt Cain’s power fluctuate differently, more pressing soothing magic floating forcefully throughout the room, before it altered…and seemed to aim directly at Brann, making him jerk on a groan, and Cain ordered quietly, “Shift. Now.”
Jaw clenched, spewed words between his teeth. “Fuck. You.”
Cain shook his head ever so slightly, his voice half wolf. “Wrong answer, pup.” My eyes enlarged even more so when Cain stepped back from the enraged Brann, only to tap his forehead with one finger…
…And instant wolf Brann.
And while Brann might be smaller than Cain’s wolf—only by a bit, his fur straight black, eyes glowing amber, it was still a shock to see.
Brann growled furiously, snarling up at Cain, shaking off his shredded clothes.
Cain’s wolf only huffed quietly as he bent to place his face directly in front of Brann’s wolf’s snout, stating quietly, “Stop it.” Instantly, I felt that soothing magic floating through the air again, and Cain lifted his hands, ruffling Brann’s fur. “Go lie down outside on the balcony.”
Brann growled once more, shaking his head out of Cain’s hold, but when he moved, he rubbed his flank on Cain’s leg in a sign of affection…and I froze when he started to move by me, but instead altered, jumping so his paws were on the back of the couch on either side of my shoulders. My King even jerked on the other side of me, like I did…because Brann was fucking scary as hell…placing his hand instantly on Brann’s throat, his hand glowing like blue ice, even though Cain didn’t move to stop Brann, standing behind him. Brann only tilted his head to my King, huffing once before he turned his attention back to me…and I swear he smiled. It wasn’t a smile I could truly appreciate with all those sharp teeth, but I understood now, so I stated on a quiet, even voice, “You should have told me you were having issues.”
His nose wiggled.
“He’ll be fine now.” Cain grabbed the back of his neck, yanking on his ruff. “That’s enough apologies, Brann.”
Brann growled a little, and ducked his enormous head, bopping me under the chin with his snout before pushing off the couch—rocking the damn thing with his weight, letting Cain pull him back, and headed to the balcony…where he howled loudly once before lying down…peacefully.
I blinked slowly, and then jammed a finger at Cain. “I’m ordering you to shift before you fucking lose it, too.”