Page 101 of Pleasure & Prey: Vol. 2

“Then let me win this time.” His voice is a low, almost purr that makes me shiver and remember all the ways he’d touched me not so long ago. Fuck, I will never get that night out of my head, no matter how long goes by.

“I’ll consider it.” As per usual, I strive to have the last word. And this time I consider it a success, since I’m dozing off with my face pressed to the window before I hear if he replies to me or not.

18

When I wake up, it’s not with my face pressed to the glass of the passenger seat window. There are no street lights behind my eyelids, and I can’t hear the low purr of Cass’s car around me.

Instead, my face is pressed against something soft, and there’s a warm, comforting weight on my arm, wrapping over me almost possessively. It’s…strange. But not bad, exactly. But I can’t place the feeling until fingers stroke my hair back behind my ear.

“Cassian?” I mumble, eyes still closed as I stretch my legs out, shoes hitting what feels like the armrest of a sofa.

“Yeah?”

“What, and I mean this as disrespectfully as possible, the hell are you doing?”

His fingers trace my jaw, and he doesn’t stop or pull away. Instead, he chuckles softly, shifting under me. “You don’t remember me waking you up, do you?”

“In the car?”

“Yep.”

I scan over my recent memories, trying to fill in the gaps between falling asleep in his passenger seat and now. But I can’t, no matter how hard I try. “I…no,” I admit finally, opening my eyes and rolling over to look up.

When I see his piercing blue eyes above me in the dimness of the room, it finally hits me that my head is on his lap. His hand moves with me, resettling across my collarbones like he doesn’t want to let me go. “I woke you up and I brought you inside. We cleaned up your cuts.” He picks up my arm, showing me the fresh bandages. “They aren’t that bad, by the way. Your head was hurting, so I gave you something for it.”

My eyes narrow suspiciously. “I swear to God, Cass. It better have been Ibuprofen.”

“Does Ibuprofen knock you out for three or so hours?” Cass asks blithely, unbothered by the warning in my tone. “Come on. We both know it wasn’t. You’re fine. You needed sleep.”

I suppose he’s not wrong, and my head definitely doesn’t hurt right now. I feel a little floaty, honestly. Like I’m not quite all the way here. With a groan, I shove his arm off of me, sitting up and pressing a hand over my eyes when my head spins from the quick movement. When it stops, I glance at the bandages on my arms, rubbing the pads of my fingers over them. “I need to go soon,” I say at last.

Cass suspiciously doesn’t reply. Normally, his silence would be expected; he’s not the most talkative person in the world. But this time it seems…different. I turn to look at him over my shoulder, surveying his still-relaxed posture and the way he looks at his phone as he scrolls through notifications. No, it’s too casual. Too easy.

Too innocent, even.

“Did you hear me?” The words hang between us, stagnating in the air of his apartment. He doesn’t reply at first, but I see the muscles in his jaw working like he’s pissed for some reason, or trying to work through his first reaction without saying anything out loud.

A pang of nervousness twists through my stomach. His reaction doesn’t feel right, that’s for sure.

“I heard you,” he murmurs finally, barely glancing up at me. But that’s all he says.

What is wrong with him?

“I really appreciate the kidnapping to get me out of a bad situation, and this.” I gesture at my arms. “It’s umm…” He never makes me this nervous. Not since…well. Not since back then. “But I need to go home and⁠—”

“Back to your empty house and the cats that have plenty ot food and water for a couple of days?” Carefully, Cass sets his phone on the table beside the sofa and gets to his feet to meander toward the other part of the large, open space. “Back to your sister, who has you babysit on your days off and doesn’t give you a lot of credit or repayment for it?” He flips on a light, illuminating his kitchen and the large granite island that serves as a table and counter. Cassian leans back on his elbows, looking me over with cold blue eyes.

“Or back to your mom, who’s trying to forget you exist?”

That’s what does it. His words, true as they are, shatter my calm and I lunge to my feet, feeling around for my phone in my pockets. “I hate you,” I hiss, heart racing. “I don’t know why you’re mad at me, but I hate you.”

“Why?” he asks lazily, watching my frantic self pat down. “For saying what you already know is true?”

“Yeah. That.” Giving up, I look at him with narrowed eyes. “Where’s my phone? I’m calling an Uber, since you’re being so fucking weird about this. And a dick, in case you needed the clarification.”

Cassian doesn’t reply. He tilts his head to the side, still giving me that strange, almost predatory look. “Tell me, Winnie. When does the kidnapper ever let their victim leave just because she asks not-so-nicely?”

His words send a shiver up my spine. I turn to face him fully, surveying his relaxed posture and the neutral, careful look on his face. “This isn’t…” My brows furrow in confusion. “You didn’t kidnap me. That was a joke. You were helping me after⁠—”