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“It doesn’t bother you? To kill him like that?” I incline my head toward the barn, but Jed is already shaking his head. “It doesn’t bother you to cut up someone into pieces?” He’s still shaking his head as I ask, his smile rueful and apologetic.

“I wish it did right now,” Jed admits. “If only so I could give you the answer that you need, Saylor.” He reaches out with bloody fingers to gently cradle my chin in his fingers. “If you aren’t okay with this, I understand. I get it, and–”

“I’m not…as against it as I should be.” I interrupt him, before he can assume something different. “Really. I just need time, I think, before I’m willing to watch you massacre someone. If that’s okay with you.” My heart flutters when I speak, and I hope I can live up to my words.

His smile widens, and he drags me closer, until the cat squeaks in protest and worms its way upwards between us, so it has more space. “I’ll give you all the time in the world, princess,” Jed promises, as earnest as the fucking sunrise. “And I’ll never push you. Haven’t I told you that before?”

“Once or twice,” I agree, my own voice just as quiet. “Thank you. For this. For everything. For being willing to give me that time.” At least I know how to squash the voice that screams this is the biggest mistake I’ll ever make.

“Why don’t you two go on home?” Wren’s voice makes me spring backwards, and Jed reluctantly lets me go. “We’ll finish up here, right?” I look over to the barn, just in time to see Virgil nod, looking bored.

“You sure?” Jed hesitates, but when he looks at me, I know he wants to leave as well. “I can stay–”

“Go home and make her your famous ice cream sundaes,” Virgil is quick to drawl, his eyes on me. “She looks like she could use the sugar so she doesn’t pass out.” Wren makes a face at him, but Virgil only shrugs and ducks back in the barn, clearly done with the conversation.

“I’m totally not about to pass out,” I promise under my breath, scratching the kitten’s chin as Jed strokes along its ears.

“I believe you,” my boyfriend promises. “But uh, now that I look at you, maybe you should hand me the cat and get in the SUV. You know. Just in case.”

Chapter

Twenty-Five

“Have you named it?” Jed’s voice breaks me out of my thoughts, and I cast my gaze sideways so I can see my beautiful, bloody boyfriend. He hasn’t bothered to really clean up, past taking a rag to his face and hands. So I can still see the dark blood staining most of the exposed areas of his pale, perfect skin.

He’s gorgeous even when he murders the shit out of people. What a terrifying problem for me.

“No,” I reply after a moment, stroking along the small, gray cat’s head and back. It doesn’t try to pull away from me and doesn’t squirm around in my lap. If anything, he seems content. Like he was born to be here and couldn’t imagine life anywhere else. Curious, I roll him over, garnering a protest from the little cat, and lift one of his back legs to peer between them. “Oh, someone needs to get neutered,” I announce, letting the cat flip back over onto his paws. He shakes himself, fur fluffed, and leans off of my lap to sniff at Jed’s arm that’s pressed along the console.

Jed glances over, a small smile on his lips. “My vote is for Alcatraz,” he says after a moment of looking between the cat andthe road. Slowly, he lifts his free hand, stroking it along the cat’s head.

“That’s morbid. Isn’t that like, tempting fate or something?” I would think he wouldn’t want to bring any talk of that kind of prison into his house, if at all possible.

“Chainsaw?”

“You want to name a catchainsaw?” My eyes roll before I can stop them, and I shake my head at my chainsaw-wielding murderer. “That’s awful. You’re awful at this. Might as well name himWren, if we’re going for awful names.”

When Jed doesn’t reply, I sneak another look at him, and I’m surprised to see him looking like he’s considering it. “You’re joking,” I deadpan, letting the cat back into the circle of my arms when he walks across my lap once more. “You really want?—”

“He is such acutelittle Wren.” Jed’s voice is a coo as he reaches across my lap to scratch the cat’s ears. The cat purrs louder, though he hasn’t really stopped since I’d picked him up by the road while Jed and his friends were, well, murdering a guy. “Look at him. Doesn’t he look like a little bird to you? But…” His face turns serious, and he casts a look in my direction. “Naming rules are two yeses, one no. If you don’t like it, we’ll pick something else.”

That causes a grin to break out over my lips. “That’s the rule for naming achild,” I point out.

“Yeah, and?” God, he’s completely serious. Not only that, but it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.

“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 catnewWren,” 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?”