Soren considered a moment, temptation prickling under his skin, dancing up his spine. “I’ll think about it.”
Eastman nodded and exited the car, striding smoothly to his own without a backward glance.
Soren felt certain the man knew his ass was being stared at.
7
Tobias
Music throbbed and swirled around Tobias, screeching guitars and the screaming lead singer blotting out all but his baser instincts. In his rage room there was no need to wear his mask. He could punch and kick and even scream if he needed to. And he definitely needed to. Only a few days had passed since his first kill—his botched kill—and yet, he could already feel the need building within him again. He hadn’t expected to like it.
Okay, that was a lie. He knew he’d like it, knew he’d enjoy seeing the life drain from Paddy Killeen’s eyes, knowing one less evil bastard lurked on the planet. But he hadn’t expected it to light up his blood or make his dick hard. He hadn’t expected the way it made him feel alive, like nothing ever had before. Or maybe that was something else…or someone else.
Soren.
Tobias snarled, jabbing and crossing until his muscles burned. Soren was like nobody he’d ever met, a stone-cold killer, to be sure, but just so…infuriatingly relaxed about it. He’d laughed at Tobias, had seen just how much he liked what he’d done, had even helped him, all with an air of superiority that Tobias shouldn’t have found sexy but did.
Tobias didn’t like being vulnerable. He certainly didn’t like being vulnerable in front of strangers…and everybody was a stranger to Tobias. They had to be. People who got too close, who could see past the mask, would see that the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree where Tobias was concerned. His father was a monster and so was he. People would see, and know, and they’d run screaming.
Except, Soren hadn’t run. He’d crowded up close to Tobias, had run his fingertips across the hard length of his erection, had been close enough for Tobias to smell the blood and sweat clinging to both of them. And Tobias had wanted more. He’d wanted to kiss Soren, to run bloody hands over his naked arms, to push him back against the wall and explore, to taste the tang of sweat on Soren’s skin, the copper penny taste of Killeen’s blood on both their lips.
Tobias slammed both fists into the bag, sending it swinging wildly, his shout lost in the death metal pouring from the surround sound speakers. A red light began to flash over the door. Company. He snagged the remote and turned off the music, his breathing heavy as he pushed the button for the camera.
Soren stood on his porch as if Tobias had willed him there with just his thoughts. He gazed directly up into the hidden camera because, of course, he did. It was as if the man had some kind of sixth sense about electronics. Maybe he was psychic. Did Tobias even believe in psychics? He didn’t know anymore.
But Soren definitely seemed to have a sixth sense the other night, like he could sense Tobias’s need to kill. When he hesitated, Soren had given him a reason, had given him permission. And that had been all Tobias had needed. Could Soren sense Tobias’s thoughts about him? Did murdering with somebody form a bond? That would be a first. Tobias had no link to anybody, not even his own mother.An Oedipus complex.That was what Soren had said, his tone somewhere between taunting and teasing.
He was such an ass.
Tobias pushed the intercom. “I’ll be right there.”
He grabbed a small towel and pulled the wraps from his hands, dropping them into the hamper. He didn’t bother putting on a shirt before making his way to the front door. He wrenched it open and stopped short. The black and white screen didn’t do Soren justice; he was so much more vibrant in full color. Tobias didn’t understand how somebody who looked like he’d slept under an overpass could be so fucking attractive. The man looked like he’d walked the excess length off his jeans. He was wearing sandals for God’s sake. They were in Boston, not the Bahamas.
But no amount of five o’clock shadow could hide the hollow of the man’s cheeks or the fullness of his lips. Lips that quirked up at the corners as blue eyes raked over Tobias, drinking him in with the same lazy efficiency he seemed to do everything.
Tobias mopped the sweat from his forehead, willing his breathing back to his pre-workout rate. “Did we have an appointment?”
“I thought we could talk,” Soren said, still looking Tobias over with interest.
Before Tobias could ask his follow up question, Mantis pranced right out the door and began to chew on Soren’s sandal. She never did that. Tobias stiffened as Soren leaned down and picked up the toy Yorkie by her sparkly pink harness, dangling her in the air like she was a handbag. She looked so small and helpless in his hands.
Soren held her up to eye level, brows furrowed. “What is it?”
Tobias rolled his eyes. “It’s a dog. I’m sure you’ve seen at least one before.” He turned away from Soren. “Shoes off, please.”
Soren scoffed from somewhere behind Tobias. “Why’s this one so small?”
“Breeding.” Tobias hoped his tone conveyed how much he didn’t want to answer any more questions about his dog.
“What’s its name?” Soren asked, catching up with Tobias in the kitchen.
“Hername is Mantis,” Tobias said, noting Mantis was back on the floor. She dragged a toy into the corner of the room, snagging his attention. Where had she gotten that one? She’d already mangled the narwhal he’d gotten her yesterday. Perhaps she’d now taken to stashing her victims before she consumed them.
Tobias grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, popping it open and draining it in one go. He held up a second bottle, raising a brow in Soren’s direction and tossing it to him when he nodded. He caught it effortlessly, unscrewing the cap and swallowing the bottle in three large gulps that had Tobias staring at his throat, watching his Adam’s apple bob with each long pull. He forced his gaze to the contents of his fridge. “I was just about to start dinner. Are you hungry?”
“You offering to cook for me, Glasses?”
Glasses. That was what he’d called him that night, too. Glasses. Doc. Anything but his name. It sent a shock of awareness through him, tiny pulses of electricity that raised goosebumps along his chilled flesh. Or maybe it was just the open refrigerator. “I’m simply stating that I was about to make myself dinner and I’ll make enough for you, if you’re hungry.”
