Page 108 of Pleasure & Prey: Vol. 2

“Guess I’m alone again,” I murmur, eyes fixed on the door. “Just like always.”

Suddenly, arms slide around my waist, yanking me back against a taller, solid form behind me. “Oh, sweetheart.” Cass buries his face in my hair with a sigh. “You’re not alone.” His grip tightens possessively, and I realize a normal person would be unnerved by the possessiveness in Cass’s hold and in his voice.

“I’ll never leave you alone again, Winnie. You’re mine forever.”

I should protest. I should tell that he’s moving too fast for me, that we have so much to discuss before I agree to anything past whatever we are currently.

But I don’t do what I should. Instead, I turn in his hold, throw my arms over his shoulders, and bury my face in his shirt so he can’t see me cry.

20

The television is as loud as usual, but right now it doesn’t completely drown out the arguing. Even with my eyes glued to it and my knees drawn up to my chest, I can hear Carissa yelling upstairs, probably at Cass.

She’s always yelling at Cass.

This time, instead of ignoring it, I get to my feet quietly, my socks giving me stealth on the carpet as I creep up the stairs. Carissa’s room is the first one at the top of the landing, and her door is half open, which is probably why I can hear her this time.

Though, it’s not the first time I’ve heard her yelling at him.

When I peek around the frame, I see Cass sitting on her bed, his legs hanging off the side and his hands folded in his lap. He’s not speaking, even as she yells at him, and the words reverberate in my ears.

But I can’t understand them. They sound like warbled, muddled garbage to me as I look at Cass, whose eyes are lowered and his chin tucked as if to protect himself. He’s tense all over, looking like a rabbit about to spring up, and I can tell he’s forcing himself to sit there instead of running away.

His face tips upward just a little, and as if drawn there by a magnet, his blue eyes land on mine. He looks tired. Worn out and resigned, even. My fingers tighten on the doorframe as he holds my gaze without saying a word, and my heart races anxiously for him.

When she realizes he isn’t paying attention, Carissa grabs his hair, making him wince, and drags his gaze up to hers. She’s yelling again, getting louder and louder, and her voice seems to shake the whole house.

But he doesn’t look at her.

He’s still looking at me.

Carissa realizes it and turns to glance my way, her eyes widening when she sees me. She drops Cassian and turns to almost run across the room, panic on her face. “I thought you were watching a movie,” she murmurs, yanking the door almost shut behind her, so the only thing I can see is her. I stumble back, clutching onto the railing of the landing, and look away as if I’ve done something bad.

“I’m sorry, Carissa,” I whisper, unable to meet her eyes. “I didn’t mean to⁠—”

“No, you’re fine, Winnie.” She smiles, but it’s forced, and when she glances back into the room, I see her worry her bottom lip between her teeth. “Go back downstairs, okay? Finish your movie and I’ll make you a snack.”

“Is…” I grip the edges of my t-shirt, twisting in place. “Did Cassian do something wrong?”

Carissa doesn’t answer. She looks back into the room again, her eyes hardening, before she smiles down at me with insincerity written all over her face. “Not really. He just got in trouble at school and…” she trails off, obviously losing the lie. “Just go back downstairs, okay?”

I don’t argue with her. I was told by my parents to never argue with Carissa when she’s babysitting me, since she’s the almost-adult in charge. So instead of asking about Cass again, I turn and slog down the stairs, finding my way back to the sofa and dragging my knees up to my chest. A few seconds later, I hear the door slam, and her yelling continues, muffled enough I can barely catch any of it.

My eyes open and I stare up at my ceiling, replaying the dream in my head. It’s one I haven’t had before, but now I remember that day after school. It was a few weeks before Cass killed her; if I’m not getting things mixed up in my head. We carved pumpkins earlier that day, while Cass sort of picked and stabbed at his. That had pissed her off, but to this day, I don’t know why.

Still…

Turning my head, I find Cass on his back beside me, still utterly asleep with his lashes fanned out on his cheeks. He’s always had the longest, thickest lashes of any guy I’ve ever met, and it suits him perfectly.

Not giving myself a chance to hesitate, I sit up, turn, and straddle his waist. Settling back on my knees, I rest my weight on his hips, one hand pressed to his bare chest as I study him, the dream still tugging at my consciousness.

I know he’s not asleep. Not anymore, at least. I can’t place it, but there’s a subtle shift in him; one that screams awareness and how prepared he is for anything to happen, even like this.

His sigh is weary and long-suffering, and Cass doesn’t bother opening his eyes before he murmurs, “What do you want, Winnie?”

“That’s a rude way to tell me good morning. Maybe I want you to fuck me again,” I reply offhandedly, stroking my fingers down his stomach and watching his muscles contract from my touch.

“No, you don’t.” It’s not a question. Somehow he just knows. “For some reason, I feel like I’m not going to enjoy what you want right now, am I?”