Page 56 of Pleasure & Prey: Vol. 2

“And I like Wren.” My fingers tickle the cat’s chin and he narrows his green eyes at me, bottlebrush tail flicking back and forth in delight. “How’s human Wren going to feel about cat Wren, do you think?”

“Oh, he’ll absolutely be offended. Especially if we call him old Wren and the cat new Wren,” Jed assures me, with a smile that tells me to him, that’s the best part.

The rest of the drive continues in mostly companionable silence, though I do confer with Jed to make a list of things new Wren needs in the immediate future. Cat food is, of course, pretty high up on the list. Along with a cat tree spanning the height of the universe and food bowls.

“We could get a custom cat tree,” he offers, pulling up into the parking lot. “Be careful not to let him out. As much as new Wren loves us, I think, I’m sure the allure of the wild is stronger than ear scritches.” I know he’s right, and I bundle up Wren in my jacket, hugging him to my chest as I open the door and push it all the way out with my foot. Wren never tries to escape, however. If there’s any kind of allure in the still-foggy morning, between the trees that are barely visible in the mist, then Wren doesn’t hear it. He’s the first cat in creation that I know of who likes being carried.

That, or he’s just exhausted from being outside on his own.

Once inside, I’m surprised to see Jed already in the kitchen, a small, shallow bowl on the island with a pack of deli meat beside it.

“You don’t slice your own?” I ask, causing Jed to eye me as he opens the meat, though I can see the hint of amusement on his face as he chops the sliced it into tiny pieces. “Isn’t that against the rules of the Michelin Star Society?”

“There is no society,” he chuckles. “And our only rules are no Lunchables and no American cheese.”

“Ouch.” It’s such a personal blow, and I pull a hand away from Wren and press it against my sternum in full offense. “That’s just hurtful.”

“It’ll be less hurtful once we break your addiction to plastic cheese and processed meat with too many additives to count,” Jed promises me sweetly. He dumps the meat into the bowl and pushes it to the middle of the island before turning and putting the rest of the meat back in the fridge.

I just stand there, sure he doesn’t want the little street cat on his counter.

But when Jed turns back around, surprise on his face when he sees me still holding Wren, he asks, “Aren’t you going to let him eat?” His sweet, bemused tone is such a stark contrast to the blood staining his clothes and skin that I can’t help but grin.

“On your counter?” I glance down at the island between us, and then back up at Jed with raised brows. “You want to build bad habits?”

“It’s just once,” he argues, reaching out his hands for the cat. I hand Wren over, knowing for a fact that just once is still going to become a habit. But hey, they aren’t my counters. And it’s adorable to see him cradle the cat in his arms. The cat leans up to sniff his chin and Jed leans down, letting Wren nuzzle his face against his blood-streaked jaw.

“You’re too precious to be real,” I tell the two of them. “I didn’t know you liked cats this much.” Realistically, there’s a lot I don’t know about him. But unless I suddenly re-grow my conscience, morals, or, well, common sense, I have time to learn everything.

“I love all animals,” Jed murmurs, nuzzling the cat’s little forehead before setting him down on his paws. “My family had dogs and a few barn cats. Taking in the local strays was probably the only good thing they ever did.”

“Well, they also had and raised you,” I point out, as new Wren sniffs the meat before attacking it voraciously. “I think that’s a pretty good thing.” It sounds cheesy to my ears. But before I can apologize or laugh it off, Jed sends me a bright, winsome smile and crosses to my side of the island, pressing a kiss to my temple.

“I need to shower,” he murmurs, lips brushing my skin as he speaks. “Do you want anything before I go up?”

“No,” I tell him, reaching out to twine my fingers with his. “I’m fine. Are you fine?” He treats murder like it’s so easy. Like it’s the most normal thing in the world. And maybe for him, it is. Jed shakes his head, murmurs his thanks against my temple, and heads upstairs to the bigger, nicer bathroom with the fancy as hell shower.

But when he’s gone, I feel…deflated. Even with new Wren sucking down the chopped up meat and purring the whole time, I feel like I’m missing something.

Jed, obviously. I’m missing him.

“Please don’t break anything,” I tell the small cat, and give a quick look around the cabin to make sure there’s no window cracked and that the doors are both shut and locked. There’s no way for him to get out, and it would do him some good, I hope, to explore his new home. After giving him one last scratch between his ears that the cat mostly ignores in favor of food, I hit the stairs and trail up after Jed, not hesitating until I get to the bathroom door where I can hear the shower running inside.

There’s always the chance he doesn’t want me in there. That he wants to clean up alone and decompress. I know that, but I still knock on the door, hard enough that I hope he can hear me over the shower.

Almost immediately, the door opens, revealing a shirtless Jed with his jeans unbuttoned and hanging low on his hips. My eyes take all of it in, and for a moment I’m breathless at how savagely gorgeous he looks with the blood on his hands, arms, and face.

“Are you okay?” His words make me blink, and look up at him with heat flushing into my cheeks when I realize he’s been watching me stare at him. “Do you need⁠—”

“Can I shower with you?” My words come out quick, uncertain, and a little breathy.

In response, his brows flick up towards his bangs. “You want to shower with me while I scrub off all this blood?”

“Yes,” I confirm. “I absolutely want to hop into that shower with you right now.”

“Blood and all?”

“Blood and all.” His grin widens at my answer, and he pulls me forward, lips slanting against mine.