Page 191 of Pleasure & Prey: Vol. 2

But what do I know? I’m just a trauma case, not a cannibal.

The music shifting drags me out of my thoughts and ends any further conversation Larkin and I might have had about the guests we don’t know. Everyone straightens in their chairs, and a low murmuring sweeps through the modest crowd before dying out completely.

Somehow, the wedding ends up being exactly what I would expect of Wren. With our friends as his groomsmen, he waits at the end of the aisle with the biggest grin on his face that I’ve ever seen. Virgil—his best man—and Sloane in her gorgeous sage green dress walk down the aisle first. Jed and Saylor come next, and finally, Winnie and Cass bring up the rear.

At least until a little kid heads down the aisle, a cat in one arm and the rings on a pillow in the other. From stories and pictures, I know it’s Scott—Winnie’s nephew. The pillow with the rings tied on bounces in his hand as he keeps the adorable cat, who must be New Wren, comfortable in his other arm.

While I can’t help my tiny grin at the unconventional sight, I also can’t help thinking about how much I never, ever want kids.

Especially when Scott turns to who must be his mother in frustration and gestures at the writhing, excited cat like he’s in an impossible situation.

Winnie whispers at him and holds out her hand, which causes the kid to brighten as he lunges forward to latch onto her hand. She quickly shifts her bouquet to the other hand, and New Wren is scooped up by Sloane.

When the music changes again, everyone stands. I swear I can see Wren vibrating with anticipation, and he clasps his hands in front of him, grin widening as both barn doors are pushed open to admit both sunlight and Hazel.

She’s gorgeous.

My fingers tighten around Larkin’s as I look at the way the blonde girl beams with happiness. The flowers in her hands flow like a waterfall in front of her, and the dress she’s wearing has to be one of the prettiest I’ve ever seen. The straps accentuate her small shoulders, the plunging neckline is decorated with lace, while the designs across the bodice and skirt feel like ivy and indistinct florals.

Hazel’s hair is up in a braided bun, with a few wisps pulled down to frame her face. As she passes our row, I can see a touch of anxiety on her face that’s tempered by her excitement. She never looks at us. Never turns away from Wren as he waits for her at the altar.

My heart twists and knots with something like envy, though I only step closer to Larkin, resting my head against his shoulder as he reaches up to twine his fingers through my hair. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs against my temple, kissing my hair. “I’ve always got you, sweetheart.”

When she reaches him, Wren reaches out a hand, looking impossibly awestruck by his soon to be wife. His smile never fades, but the depth of love in his eyes is so apparent that I’d be surprised if anyone here doubted how he feels about her. Or how she feels about him. Especially as she unconsciously leans into him, like the two of them orbit each other without even realizing it.

The ceremony isn’t long, but I hadn’t expected it to be. Their officiant doesn’t ramble or take longer than he needs to, and by the time I’ve studied the gorgeous swirls and patterns in the lace overlay of Hazel’s dress, they’re exchanging vows and rings.

Applause thunders in my ears when they’re presented as a couple, and my hands lift to clap as well. This kind of show isn’t my thing, but for my oldest, best friends, I will absolutely push past my usual comfort zone to be a part of this day for them.

They’re so happy, I realize, as they beam at each other before walking up the aisle as a married couple for the first time.

Could Larkin and I be this happy?

Our relationship isn’t built on the same thing as theirs. He never saved me like Wren did Hazel. We’ve always fought and clawed for everything, like two predators sharing the same territory rather than a hunter and his prey.

But somehow, that feels right. I love what Hazel has—I love what all of my friends have found. But with a certainty that only grows as I get to my feet to follow the small crowd into the reception space of the barn, I realize something just as important.

What Larkin and I have is fucking perfect. Even if it might never end in a white dress, flower petals, and us being declared legal husband and wife.

Our claims on each other run deeper than that, and being here makes me want to prove that to him. Again. Multiple times throughout the day.

I just need a moment to make that happen.

“Oh, fuck, Sierra.” Larkin pants, head thrown back as he arches into me. I drag my skirt up higher around my hips when I come, biting down on my lip while I ride out my orgasm on the bathroom counter.

“Gorgeous, perfect girl. If this is you proposing to me⁠—”

“It’s not,” I gasp with a breathless laugh, and when he steps back, I quickly jump to the floor, though my legs are shaky enough that my boyfriend has to catch me before I fall. “Fuck, I just—” Wanted to prove I can love him without being married to him.

He doesn’t call me out on the aborted sentence. He only helps me clean up so I look presentable before kissing me once more. We waited until the reception was in full swing—and after Hazel and Wren’s first dance—before disappearing once I knew I’d done enough to make it clear to Larkin just what I was looking for.

The private bathroom—apparently reserved for the bride and groom—had been perfect. Even if we aren’t technically allowed in here. But as we slip back out, looking almost as polished as we had beforehand, I hope, it’s clear no one noticed.

Almost no one.

“So…” Cass’s voice drawls from beside the door, and I flinch as I turn to look at my oldest friend. “You’re Larkin.” He doesn’t even look at me. Just lets his gaze travel up my boyfriend’s body, from his shoes to his shiny black hair.

My boyfriend offers him a too-friendly grin. “You’re Cass, yeah?” he asks, sticking out a freshly washed hand toward him.