Page 109 of Pleasure & Prey: Vol. 2

“Maybe not.” I can admit that much, at least. In his sleep pants and nothing else, he looks divine on my bed, which he’s been sharing with me for the past three nights.

Ever since my mom left.

Ever since he told me I’d be his forever.

“Well then, get it over with. Do I need to open my eyes for whatever it is?” he murmurs, still sweet with sleep. I don’t respond at first, except to scoff lightly and trace the waistband of his pants absently. He really is gorgeous to look at.

I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of it, honestly.

“No, you don’t need to open your eyes or sit up or anything. I actually like you quite a bit where you are. Looks good on you,” I can’t help teasing, digging my nails lightly into his hips.

Cass groans and opens one eye to look at me flatly. “Keep doing that and you’re not going to get the outcome you’re looking for,” he assures me. When I don’t reply, instead just stroking along his hips, Cass sighs and tilts his head back, giving me a full view of the expanse of skin of his neck and shoulders.

“I had a dream,” I say finally, resisting the urge to swoop down and bite to leave my mark on him. I’m sure that I’m sporting a few of his, so it would only be fair.

“Oh yeah? Must’ve been a damn good one for you to be up there. You want to fuck me like this? With me on my back and you⁠—”

“I had a dream about when we were kids,” I interrupt. The moment he hears me, I feel him tense, before he forces himself to relax. “But it wasn’t just a dream. I’d sort of forgotten about it until now, but I think…I really think it happened. So umm. I wanted to ask you about it.” God, I’m so rambling now. “Since you were there.”

He doesn’t reply with a witty quip or joke. He doesn’t threaten me or tell me he’s going to find a better use for my mouth.

Cass doesn’t even look at me. He just lies on his back, tilts his head still tilted toward my wall, and throws his arm over his eyes.

I almost ask him if I should change the subject. If I should leave this for later. But now that I’ve had the dream, I can’t get the memory out of my head. Even awake, I can’t remember what Carissa was saying. It’s just…garbled and all mushed together. But surely I heard her, didn’t I?

“If you say you don’t remember, I’ll believe you,” I say slowly, knowing I’m giving him an easy out if he doesn’t want to answer. He’s still so fucking quiet, so I keep going, settling a little more comfortably on his hips. “When we were kids, there was this day that I was at your house. It was a few months before…” I trail off, figuring he knows what I mean.

I don’t miss the subtle clench of his fingers, or the way his chin jerks, just a little.

Nor do I miss the fact that he’s now looking at me from under his arm.

“Carissa put a movie on for me and said she needed to go up to her room for a few minutes. Only, the sound wasn’t so loud, and I heard her yelling. I remember going up the stairs and I saw she was yelling at you, but I couldn’t figure out what you’d done. You didn’t tell her I was there, but she saw me and closed the door between us like she didn’t want me looking at you?” I can’t help phrasing it as a question, unsure of my own memories from so long ago. “And told me to go back downstairs. I did, obviously. And I guess little kid me just didn’t think it was that important.” I stop talking, drumming my fingers anxiously on his stomach as I stare down at the hollow of his throat.

“So what are you asking me, Winnie?” Cassian asks when I don’t continue, prompting me to look up at him, yanked out of my own thoughts.

“So it’s something that happened, then? It’s not just some fake memory my brain conjured?” It’s not the question I need to ask, but I stop it from coming out. “That’s not my actual question, by the way.”

He’s quiet again, and I wonder if he knows that just makes him more suspicious. Especially with the way he doesn’t want to look at me. “What’s your actual question?” he replies at last, not giving me a real answer. His tone is carefully guarded, and I figure he’s going to take an easy way out, or just tell me he doesn’t want to answer.

“Why was she yelling at you?” It doesn’t come out as casual or conversational as what I intend it to. No, my words are a whisper, my eyes fixed on his even under his arm. I can barely see the glitter of blue from where I’m sitting, but it’s enough.

“You don’t remember?”

I shake my head at his words. “No, I…no matter what I do, I can’t remember any of what she was saying to you. It just sounds garbled in my head, like she was one of the adults from Charlie Brown. I don’t know why. It’s not like that memory is particularly traumatic…for me, at least.”

Yet again, my words are met with silence. Cassian adjusts his arm so his eyes are completely hidden again, and lets out a breathy sigh as he relaxes into my pillows. I don’t press him for an answer. Not this time. For some reason, this is a bigger deal for him than it is for me, for all that it’s nagging at my brain this morning with a chime of importance that I don’t understand. Trying to be supportive, I stroke my fingers over his hip bones, tracing shapes and loops along his flawless skin.

“Sometimes I’ve wondered if you didn’t hear her,” Cassian says finally, his words quiet and hesitant. “I thought you must have, when I saw you looking at me…but the next day you didn’t act like there was anything out of place.” A smile twitches at the corners of his lips. “Actually, the next day you demanded I help you make a bat costume.”

“I remember that,” I reply softly, finding that it’s true. “I wanted you to be my co-bat. We were going to have long ears and I had all this stupid fur…” trailing off, I bite my lips as I watch him, thinking. “But we didn’t.” God, my memories of this far back are hazy at best. “We didn’t because. Umm…” I sort through the small pieces of memories and conversations in my head. “Carissa said you were too busy with a school project? I think?”

His derisive snort makes me jump, and when I relax again, I find that he’s uncovered his eyes to meet mine. “It was about you,” he tells me, gaze catching my own and pinning me in place. Even without his hands on me, I can’t move. Not when I’m anchored by those four words as I try to figure out what they mean.

Thankfully, he doesn’t leave me in suspense. “There was no project,” Cass sneers, and I’m surprised to find an angry, searing heat in his eyes that I don’t think I’ve ever seen before. “There never was. She didn’t want you spending time with me. Don’t you remember? After you found her yelling at me, she did everything she could to keep us apart.”

My fingers clench against his skin as I press them to his stomach, my attention riveted to him. A ripple of unease travels up my spine, and I suddenly wonder if maybe, just maybe, I should’ve kept my mouth shut.

Maybe this is one question I don’t need answered.