Page 189 of Pleasure & Prey: Vol. 2

“In a bad way?” I ask, gaze fixed on every inch of tattooed skin revealed to me.

Shaking his head, Larkin snorts and crawls over me, kissing me again and dragging my leg over his hip. “Not at all. I’d love to be your plus-one. Your boyfriend. I dress up nice,” he teases. “I bet your friends will love me.”

“Umm…they’ll certainly have opinions.” I tilt my head back. “They have a bit of a boys’ club thing going on. They’re all basically serial killers.” I pause. “Except Jed. He’s just, you know, a recovering cannibal.”

Larkin freezes, then bursts out laughing. His shoulders shake as he leans over me, bracing himself on the bed. Mirth dances in his gaze, and his smile draws a matching one from me. “Oh, silly girl,” he chuckles. “You really are full of surprises, aren’t you? A group of murdering men in Ohio?” he shakes his head and leans down again to kiss me. “What kind of fucked-up Breakfast Club shit is that?”

“The weirdest kind,” I agree as my hands go up to sink into his hair and drag him down. “Will you tell me about your night now? You killed someone.”

He purrs against my throat, a shudder going through him. “Yes,” Larkin agrees. “I killed someone and hung his body up for hikers to find. I’ll tell you all about it, my gorgeous girl.” But instead of storytelling, he kisses me hard, needy, and almost desperately.

“Just as soon as I’ve had my fill of you tonight.”

He rips off my shirt as delight curls through me. Two months in, and this will never get old. He’s still just as exciting and terrifying as when we met that night on the cliffs for the first time.

Sometimes, I even still consider what it would be like to stab him.

A gasp leaves me as he bites down on my collarbone, and I arch up into him with my arms tight around his shoulders. “Mine,” I gasp, burying my face in his hair. “Until the day we die, or the day I kill you.”

Though I doubt that day will come soon, if at all.

With Larkin, I can be myself.

I can be the monster he’s always seen me to be.

WEDDING

“So is this what it usually looks like when you hang out with your friends?” Larkin asks mildly, as Wren shoves the stranger into the wall in front of us. A woman I don’t know, her black hair up in a small bun, watches, leaning back against a doorframe. I swore she came here with the stranger, but she doesn’t exactly seem too worried about his imminent demise at the hands of the pissed-off groom.

“Sometimes,” I admit, meeting the woman’s gaze when she looks back at me.

She shrugs. “I’m going to be honest with you; he deserves it. I don’t even think we were invited to this, but Gabriel—my husband—is excellent at showing up where he isn’t wanted.” She rolls her eyes at the man being accosted when she glances over to see his shit-eating grin. “Yeah, babe, provoke him,” she deadpans. “That’s gonna do wonders for your possible lifespan.”

He makes a face at her, hands raised in surrender. “You really want me gone badly enough to wrinkle this nice suit? And here I was going to offer you a year of free therapy.”

Wren snorts and steps back, his eyes dark. “You think I want therapy from you, old man?” he sneers. “I don’t need to be any more fucked up than I already am, thanks.”

“Is he always this unpleasant?” Larkin goes on in my ear.

I shake my head. “No. Wren is a delight, actually.” Hearing his name, Wren glances up, seeing me for the first time. His smile is quick—there and then not—before he looks at Gabriel again.

“One wrong move, and I’ll kill you,” he promises him. Then he glances over at the woman who still looks pretty unbothered by the situation. Wren just stares at her until she steps forward with one hand outstretched.

“Sorry,” she sighs. “I sort of figured he was making shit up when he said you secretly invited him.” She rolls her eyes at her husband while he smooths out his suit. He grimaces and runs his fingers through his brown hair, and she shakes her head. “I’m Quinn. If you don’t want us here, I’ll drag him home.”

“You are more than welcome to be here,” Wren assures her. “Even though I have no idea who you are. Wait—” His face screws up in disbelief. “Husband? Did I hear you right a few minutes ago? You married…that?”

“Better be careful what you say, kid,” Gabriel purrs, his dark eyes narrowing just a little. “I might forget it’s your wedding.” At the word kid, I give him a closer look, noting that while he isn’t exactly old, he’s definitely about ten years older than most of my friends.

I file away both of their names, wondering if I can pry some information out of Cass later about them.

“Come on, husband,” the woman, who I’m guessing is way closer to my age than his, grabs onto Gabriel’s arm and tows him further into the barn, where metal folding chairs line a small aisle that leads to a lit-up, flower-covered arch.

I don’t know Hazel at all, but I can’t help but wonder how much of this is her doing. The Wren I knew when I lived here wasn’t much into flowers or pretty aesthetics like this.

Wren greets me after giving Gabriel one last unfriendly look, and he forgoes a handshake to clasp me in a quick, firm hug. “It’s been forever, Tova,” he murmurs. “Missed you around here. Cass worries about you like a mother hen.”

“Miss you too. Look at you…being such an adult, getting married, running a company. God, it’s like you’re the responsible one now.”