Page 118 of Pleasure & Prey: Vol. 2

“Could you take the job for me?” she finally asks, wrapping up her rant. “It’s just for a few hours. Her parents are going out on a date and they won’t be long. I feel like shit, and I don’t want them to have to cancel when they’ve been planning this for weeks.” There she goes again, and I finally take a breath and open my mouth, prepared to argue with her.

“Reagan, come on. It’s Halloween. I know that sucks and everything, but I have plans.” I don’t exactly have plans, since I refuse to treat today like a holiday. Although… Turning to look at Cassian, I suddenly feel like—for the first time in years—October isn’t as bleak and shitty as it has been for the last decade or so.

Because right now I really don’t care that my mom is as far away from me as she can manage. I don’t care that I’m here without any other family in this too-big house that looks like something out of Better Homes and Gardens magazine with all the charm and none of the personality I crave.

With a jolt, I realize he’s awake and staring at me. Cass’s head is tilted just enough to watch me while maintaining the stillness he’s so good at.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Seriously, if it was any other family I wouldn’t even ask. Is there any way you could do it? Please? Three hours max, okay?” I don’t know if I’ve ever heard her this desperate, or this close to crying. Not since she was a kid, at least, demanding her parents let me stay the night so we could watch movies and have a real sleepover.

“What time?” I see the hint of a frown on Cass’s face and grimace at him. He doesn’t understand how sad and pathetic Reagan sounds right now. If he had a heart, he wouldn’t be able to say no either.

“Eight to eleven. That’s all, just three hours and then her parents will be home.” There’s a rush of relief in her voice, and she lets out a heavy breath. “God, I’m so sorry. Will you do it for me? Please? I’ll owe you so hard.”

“Next time Lou wants a babysitter last minute and Scott’s in a mood, I’m making you do it. And I get paid for this tonight, not you. Plus, you owe me coffee. Not shitty coffee, either. The good stuff from the other end of town.” I really don’t want to babysit, but I really don’t have much of a choice. At least, it certainly feels like I don’t.

“Anything. I’ll cover for you anytime. Promise. Shit, Winnie, thank you so much. You’re a literal lifesaver⁠—”

“Sure,” I agree flatly. “Just go take some medicine or something so you’re better fast. Better yet, go to the urgent care center and get a shot in your ass so you’re better real fast.” I can see Cass roll his eyes at me, looking baleful, and I’m glad he hasn’t started what I’m sure is a long list of verbal complaints yet. “Text me the address and everything. Her parents know it’ll be me and not you?”

Reagan assures me she’s gotten everything covered, and promises to send me the address. Which she does, while we’re still on the phone. Finally, amidst another round of apologies, I manage to hang up on her without seeming too rude, before flopping back down on the bed with a groan.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I mutter, my eyes closed.

“How do you know I’m looking at you?” Cass sounds amused, and he plucks my phone out of my fingers a few seconds before I hear the soft sound of it being set down on the nightstand.

“I can feel it.” Something in me uncurls, relaxing, when Cass pulls me into his embrace and I fit along him perfectly, with his body warm against mine. I really do like him without clothes on. I love seeing the marks I leave on his skin, and being given the opportunity to touch him and make more.

To make him seem like mine.

But the thought makes my stomach twist and I can’t help but remember all the things he’s said to me in the past few days, even as my fingers brush over his arm.

He killed Carissa for me.

He would’ve killed my dad for me.

“Can I ask you something?” I murmur, though I’m not surprised when he doesn’t answer. I barrel onward anyway, having already learned not to take the silence personally. “Have you umm…” I trail off, suddenly unsure if I want the answer to my question.

But what the hell. In for a penny, in for a dozen buried bodies, right?

“Have you killed other people?” My words hang in the air of my room, and the only sound is the cats nearby, who still miraculously have way too much energy this early in the morning.

My eyes open when he nuzzles my shoulder, his lips brushing lightly over my skin. “Yes,” Cass breathes against me. His hands shift, though he only moves to splay his fingers over as much of me as he can and hold me tightly against him.

As if he thinks I might run away.

“Anyone I know?”

“No.” He’s either exceptionally good at simple answers, or very bad at conversation. Maybe both. He doesn’t ramble or try to explain. He just answers my questions.

“And you really aren’t the one killing⁠—”

“No.” This time there’s frustration in his tone and I roll over to face him, eyes narrowed.

“Don’t sound like that. I believe you, okay? I just wanted to ask again. To see if anything had…changed.” Between us, I don’t add. I just want to see if he was lying before to avoid frightening me away.

Cass doesn’t speak.

His answer doesn’t change.