I rolled my eyes. Teddy wasn’t a fed. I couldn’t say for sure exactly what he was, but of that, I was certain. Being a fed meant dancing to someone else’s tune and the dude I’d spent a wild night in bed with wasn’t a man I could picture ever doing that.No way. Besides, the last message on my screen was from him telling me he’d taken the accounts and he’d find me when he was done, and my only worry on that front was if I could wait as long as it took him to wade through that damn fucking box of receipts.
Newsflash: I couldn’t, but as the pull in my soul became something deeper, something else took hold too. A warning I couldn’t ignore. Teddy Jones—yeah, right—was a beautiful man, but something else lurked beneath his slate gaze and alabaster skin, a simmering danger that I hadn’t absorbed the first time we’d been together.
It sank in now, belated and terrifying. Teddy wasn’t a fed. He was something else entirely. Kill or cure?
I had no fucking idea.
7
Teddy
There was a doorman in the building that housed my penthouse. He was six foot seven and took his job as seriously as if he were guarding the pope, so I could only assume Cam had killed him when the knock on my door came around midnight.
Because Iknewit was Cam. Somehow, I could smell him before I’d even risen from my seat at the kitchen counter.
I didn’t smell his friend, though, so the second biker lurking behind him, the beautiful one with the green eyes and tousled chestnut hair, caught me off guard. “Do you need protection from me?”
Cam smirked, though his eyes were tired. “You tell me.”
I leaned against the doorframe, dressed in nothing but the black drawstring pants I’d been planning on sleeping in sometime in the near future, if I could ever tear myself away from his accounts, that was. For some reason, perhaps the one that had appeared on my doorstep, I had a primitive need to burn through them at breakneck speed. “I can tell you many things, but not all of them would be true.”
“Lie to me then.”
“Would you like that?”
Cam’s gaze flickered over his shoulder. His wingman backed off and lounged against the wall, one booted foot kicked up on the pristine paint work. His complex gaze held a wealth of silent communication. Cam nodded and turned back to me. “Can I come in?”
“That depends.”
“On?”
“On what you’ve done with Horacio downstairs.”
“The doorman?”
I raised a brow. Cam brought both hands to the doorframe, caging me, leaning forward without seeming to know he was doing it before he noticed and licked his lips.
He didn’t correct himself.
Good. I like him close.I liked drowning in his smoke and leather scent and remembering his rough hands on my skin too. He was intoxicating.
“We distracted him,” Cam whispered, his breath feathering my cheek. “Slipped past when he was dealing with something and nothing. Is that okay with you?”
“You could’ve just asked him to buzz my intercom.”
“Would you have answered?”
“No.”
The lazy smirk lighting Cam’s face deepened a touch, vindication flashing in his ebony gaze. “I figured.”
“Did you?”
“Yeah. Answering an intercom.Buzzingme in. It’s too... normal for you.”
I was flattered that he seemed to have spent so much time considering my personality. He had a lot to learn, if he ever got the chance, but his assumptions so far were interesting.
Were they accurate?
