Page 173 of Pleasure & Prey: Vol. 2

17

Every bump in the back of Larkin’s car is a fight to keep Roger/Robert off me. I gasp every time it happens, as if I’m somehow shocked by it, and by the time he rolls into me for the sixth time, I’ve decided Larkin is doing this on purpose.

“Fuck,” I hiss, kicking him away with my knees drawn up to my body. My exasperation has turned to stress, and my heart races in my ears as I try to keep myself braced in the trunk.

This isn’t my idea of a good fucking time.

At long last, the car comes to a slow, dragging stop. When I feel it being put in park, I let out a grateful breath, even as Roger/Robert starts to stir, causing me to tense and scoot away from him.

“Who…?”

“Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to⁠—”

The trunk lifts, making a soft, motorized sound along its hinges, and I’m up on my knees quickly enough that I nearly bash my head on it. My hands grope for the lip of the trunk, though I miss, causing my body to jolt downward toward the asphalt.

“Hey, hey, hey—” Larkin catches me before I can actually hit the gravel, and before I’m far at all in my fall. He lifts me up suddenly, and I get a glimpse of his face, expecting to see cruel amusement.

But instead I find…concern?

No, that can’t be right.

I’m set on my feet too quickly for me to really tell what it is I’m seeing, and I stagger as the blood rushes back to my lower legs from the time I’ve spent curled up in the trunk.

Wait…

I blink a few times, staring down at the ground, before it hits me what’s wrong.

Gravel?

This isn’t the asphalt of Larkin’s parking garage by a long shot. My chin jerks up, and I’m greeted by the semi-cloudy night sky, where the moon drifts in and out of the foggy wisps.

“Where are we?” I murmur, still clutching onto Larkin. He doesn’t answer, prompting me to glance up at him, and I’m surprised to see that he looks almost calculating. There’s no sense of the taunting or teasing I’m used to, and the scorn I’ve seen before is gone as well.

“You’ve really never done this before, have you?” he murmurs almost sweetly, one hand coming up to tuck my hair behind my ear. “I thought you were bullshitting me, and that I somehow missed some kill or seven you’ve made in the past few years. But this really is new to you.”

I don’t want to answer, because somehow it feels like admitting to a failure of mine to tell Larkin that I’ve never exactly killed anyone on purpose, other than Alan, and even that was partial self-defense.

“So what?” I make myself snap, though my skin burns hot under his direct gaze, even in the dim illumination from the moon above. “Are you my counselor? Are you going to tell me to go home?”

I hate how he can be so quiet and patient, rather than giving me the quick answers I’m used to from Esme. He’s thoughtful, like Cass, and it unnerves me how long he thinks things through sometimes.

But even though he and Cass have some similarities, Larkin is different in all the worst ways. I’ve never thought my childhood best friend was a monster. Hell, even his friends aren’t too bad in my eyes. They have reasons for doing what they do, and for the most part, they’re productive men who lead productive lives outside of their killing.

Even Jed, though I’ve heard stories about his body shed.

Larkin, though?

He’s a monster.

Well, if I’m a monster, he’s the devil. He’s never once given me the impression that he feels bad, or that he feels anything⁠—

“No.” I blink as his answer cuts through my thoughts like a hot knife through butter.

“No?” I repeat. I’ve already forgotten what I asked, though I’m trying not to let on to that fact.

As per usual, I’m transparent as hell when it comes to him. “No,” Larkin repeats with a small smirk. “I won’t tell you to go home. Besides, you wouldn’t know how to get home from here, anyway.” He glances over my shoulder into the trunk as the man slowly sits up. But unlike what he did with me, he lets him fall all over the place, until the man hits the gravel on his face, going still with a groan.

“Where are we?” I ask, pulling my gaze from the apparently passed-out man to the surrounding area. I can see a light farther up the driveway, I think, and when I squint, I think I see a house.