Page 3 of Cassian

Who the fuck talked like that? Oh, right. The guy from last night. Half-charming, half-creepy, now that Cass was thinking about it with a sober brain.

Dang it, how much had Cass had to drink last night? Too much, surely. Had they…?

But no, he didn’t feel like they had. He wasn’t sore. Not even his neck.

Hisneck.

“Hey!” Cass shot up in the bed. He had a vague impression they were in some fancy hotel room. Definitely not the cheap one he and Blake had rented for two nights, the one with paint chipping off the walls and carpet from some 1970s nightmare. He thought he was maybe in the hotel connected to the bar from the night before—it had the same understated elegance. But that wasn’t the point. The point was…

Cass shook an accusatory finger. “Last night. Youbitme.”

The man from the night before—and had Cass really not thought to be 100 percent certain of the guy’s name before agreeing to go off with him?—looked more amused than chagrined at the accusation. “Yes,” he agreed. “You were quite delicious too. Almost a shame to turn you.”

Cass was already busy running his hands over his body, gratified to note he was still in the same clothes he’d passed out in. “You talk a lot of nonsense, did you know that?”

Thatseemed to irritate his attacker, whose smirk gave way to a small frown. “Yes. Well. Let me explain some of what you’re feel—”

Cass held up a hand. Something was missing. “Where’s my phone?”

Now Maybe-Arthur did look taken aback, more so than when Cass had accused him of nibbling on his neck. “Excuse me?”

“Myphone. I forgot to text Blake last night.”

Maybe-Arthur silently pointed to the bedside table on the opposite side of the bed, and Cass lunged for it. He had texts. A lot of them. And missed calls. A lot of those too. Every single one of them from Blake.

“Fuck.” Cass stared down at the evidence of his carelessness. “I have to go.”

“That wouldn’t be wise, in your current state.”

“I’ve had a hangover before, thank you very much.”

“Aren’t you…hungry?” Maybe-Arthur was looking at him oddly, as if Cass was acting in some way completely unexpected. Exactly what hehadbeen expecting from the college kid he’d bitten and then dragged unconscious to his hotel room, Cass had no idea.

“Starving,” Cass admitted, untangling himself from the sheets. “I always am after drinking. But there’s no time. Blake’s worried.”

He shot what he hoped was a reassuring text.Still alive. Sorry. Be back in ten.

“So hungry as you are, you’re determined to get back to this roommate?” The guy sounded so strangely stunned about it, it was almost funny. Maybehishangover was clouding his brain too.

“Yeah, I am.” Although, come to think of it, Cass’s hangover wasn’t so bad. True, his stomach was sort of cramping a little. And his vision was weirdly sharp, which wasn’t exactly a symptom he’d had before. But no headache, no nausea. Just…restlessness, like he didn’t quite fit into his own skin. Like there was somethingelsethere with him. Something pushing at the back of his mind.

Maybe he should stay away from manhattans from now on.

“Interesting,” Maybe-Arthur mused.

Interesting or not, Cass just…he needed to get back to Blake was all. The more he thought about it, the more it was all hecouldthink about. It was making his skin positively itch. He could picture Blake’s gorgeous black hair, the way it always fell in front of his eyes no matter how he styled it. Those perfectly bright green eyes, like no one else Cass had ever seen. And he always smelled so good, didn’t he? Cass should be there with him. Maybe—maybe Blake would be so happy to see him he’d get a hug. Maybe Blake would hold him. Maybe—

A clearing throat brought him back to reality. Right, he was still in this room. With a complete stranger.

Cass cocked a hand on his hip. “You know, you really shouldn’t be bringing drunk dates home like this. It’s really bad form.”

“Bad…form,” Maybe-Arthur repeated, like Cass was speaking a foreign language.

“Yeah. Bad form. Sorry if you thought you were getting laid. But…no way.”

“Right.” Slowly—so slowly as to be actually entirely creepy—Maybe-Arthur’s stunned expression turned into a smile. “Well, by all means, young Cassian. Go ahead. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. If you need me, I’ll be at the same bar tonight.”

Cass was already on his way out the door, visions of his reunion with Blake dancing in his head. The visions were quickly turning X-rated. Which was crazy, and should probably have been alarming. But Cass couldn’t find it in himself to care, not when he was suddenly so…hungry. Hungry for one thing and one thing only. So no, he wasn’t going to need this guy. He only needed one thing.

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