Page 190 of Pleasure & Prey: Vol. 2

Wren makes a face, then turns his attention to Larkin. His scrutiny is harsh, and a lesser man might back down. My boyfriend just beams into his face like he’s the happiest guy in the world. Wren isn’t falling for it, judging by his expression, but he sticks out a hand to shake, anyway.

“Wren,” he introduces. “You’re that boyfriend.” It’s not a question, and I force myself not to bristle. I warned Larkin about my friends and how much they enjoy posturing.

But even if I hadn’t warned him, I doubt Larkin would be phased. His brilliant smile never fades as he shakes hands with one of my oldest friends. “Larkin,” he confirms with a nod. “I’m that boyfriend, yeah. Did she tell you all the awful details about me?” He wiggles his brows, a little playful, as if matching Wren’s energy.

“No.” Wren grimaces. “That’s way too much information for me. Love you to death, Tova, but not enough to hear about what the two of you get up to. Didn’t Cass talk to you about finding someone to balance you out instead of, uh, finding a Clyde to your Bonnie?”

“Live fast, die young?” I offer with a dry smile. “Some of us want balance in our lives, some of us want to set the west coast on fire in a rain of bodies.”

When they look at me, my boyfriend gives me a surprised, slightly terrified look that goes well with Wren’s raised brows.

I let them stew for a moment before I scoff. “Oh, come on. You both know I don’t have that kind of motivation. If I did, I’d be fighting God for divine supremacy after your reception.” My words are still just as dry as ever.

That has Wren cackling. He throws me a wide grin and touches my shoulder. “I’ve missed you,” he assures me, before moving on to greet whoever is behind me with a much more artificial smile than the one he’d been wearing with us. That alone tells me it must be someone from his work, and I twine my fingers loosely with Larkin to pull him along.

My attention is drawn to the lights and the decorations. Thankfully, the barn is anything but crude and cheap, and well-hidden vents blow AC onto us while being subtle enough not to ruin the rustic vibes. They chose to have this venue serve as both ceremony and reception spaces, and out of curiosity, I peek through the big, veiled doorframe into the reception space.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Larkin chuckles in my ear, pulling me back. “Don’t ruin it. You’re being nosy, little monster.” He kisses my cheek as I sigh, then drags me over to sit down in the fourth row. It’s not quite the back—which is already occupied by Quinn and a way too comfortable-looking Gabriel—but it isn’t close enough to the front to command attention.

“So…” Larkin leans over to brush his lips against my ear. “Get me in the loop. Tell me who I should care about. Give me the gossip,” he purrs teasingly.

With a soft snort, I give him a flat glance, but I can’t help the curve of my lips into a small grin. “You act like this is a meeting of international super powers.”

“Might as well be. I’m pretty sure if I ever hurt you, they’d all hunt me down.” He pauses, then adds. “Am I wrong?”

He is not. But I only give him a sort of sweet smile that earns me a quick, deadpan look in response. “Okay, well, tell me about them.” He isn’t nervous. I’m pretty sure Larkin doesn’t get nervous. My fingers itch in the way that sometimes means I’m craving violence, but today it’s just because I want to touch him. So I do. I skim the pads of my fingers over the back of his hand, looking down at the paleness of his skin that matches mine.

I love this man.

Admittedly, it’s probably not a very healthy love. It’s all teeth and sharp edges. Knives and shattered glass. Esme has asked, more than once, if I’m sure we’re made for each other. If only she knew just how made for each other Larkin and I are, I don’t think she’d ask anymore.

But then again, she definitely wouldn’t speak to me anymore. While she can abide what I am—what I was, in her mind—I definitely can’t just waltz in with my boyfriend as an active serial killer.

And who I sometimes help with his ‘projects’ when watching Eli Roth movies isn’t doing it for me anymore and I need to let off some steam.

“I don’t know everyone here,” I admit at last, watching as he flips his hand over to twine his fingers with mine. “I’ve been gone for a few years, so some of my knowledge is only from Cassian telling me about people on the phone. Anyway.” I glance around, unsure of where to start. There are definitely people here I don’t know—though I figure those are the people from Wren’s work or Hazel’s life outside of Wren. People who don’t know exactly whose wedding they’re attending, and definitely never will.

“Virgil.” I nod towards the heavily tattooed, dark-haired man standing at the altar and speaking with the officiant. He has his hands clasped in front of him, and he looks bored as hell. Though his gaze keeps wandering back to a woman standing in the first row, like he can’t keep his attention off her. Sloane’s well-dressed enough in the sage green of the wedding party that I figure she’s a bridesmaid, though I’m not sure what she’s doing out here talking to people instead of with the rest of the party. “He and Wren are basically pair-bonded. His girlfriend, Sloane.” I point her out. “She has dogs. That’s important, because we are so going to ask about her dogs.”

“What kind of dogs?” Larkin asks, feigning interest in a way that has me giving him the look. I know my boyfriend isn’t the biggest animal lover, but at the very least, he doesn’t freak out around my snake.

“German Shepherds. She has one with her. See?” I point at the legs of the chairs, where a fluffy tail is just visible. Argus, if I’m remembering right. Though I might not be, since I’ve only met Sloane and her dogs one time. But I work through describing my other friends and their partners, giving Larkin a few details about each as the ceremony area of the barn settles in anticipation. There are no more guests trailing in now, and I swear everyone seems to know how close it is to being time. From the corner of my eye, I can see Virgil and Sloane disappear through a side door.

Scratch that, I think to myself as a black-haired woman sneaks in and takes a seat in the back row. She’s close enough to Gabriel that he glances her way, and I swear I see him nod his head like he knows her.

Larkin follows my gaze and makes a low sound in his throat. “She’s sort of terrifying,” he murmurs in my ear. “You know her? Or is she with the therapist?”

“Not with the therapist,” I breathe. “Though I am surprised to see her here, maybe? That’s Kat. She was friends with Virgil and Wren before Cass and I were really part of the group.” Something in me flutters with anxiety—like a long dormant instinct to sense danger that my ancestors relied on to avoid predators.

“I don’t know that much about her,” I admit quietly. “Other than she has a brother out in California who almost went to jail over some guy.” As if the idea of going to jail for a man is truly the worst thing I can ever imagine.

As if she can hear me, Kat glances my way. Her blood-red lipstick makes it impossible to ignore her full mouth, though it isn’t garish against her complexion. She screams sophistication and predator in a way that makes me drop my gaze as if I’ve been burned. “She’s always nice every time we’ve talked,” I whisper. “But past that?” I shrug. “I know Virgil is a little afraid of her, and that’s saying something.”

From the corner of my eye, I can see Larkin studying her. He slips into that other mode so quickly that it should be scary. Here, it only makes me curl my fingers more tightly with his. He’s not stupid after all.

Kat would kill him. Probably eat him, too, if the stories about her are true. Though after her killing spree of some band that tried to kill her in the woods, she’s calmed down quite a bit. At least, according to what I’ve heard from Cassian.

Really, good for her. She might terrify me, but she deserved her revenge in that situation. Though to me, eating strips of their skin seemed like overkill.