“There’s no sport in killing innocent people.”
“Sport?” Kota parroted, blinking at him owlishly.
Every answer somehow made Walker more terrifying but no less attractive. That probably said something deeply concerning about Kota, but nothing dozens of people hadn’t said before.
“Yeah. To me, killing harmless people is like those rich guys who game hunt on preserves where the guides just drive them up to some poor animal and let them kill it so they can pose for a picture.”
“So, you don’t kill innocent people because it’s no fun?” Kota clarified, again finding that both unnerving and irrationally fucking hot.
Nobody would ever come near Kota again with Walker around. The realization settled low and heavy in his chest, disturbingly comforting. It should have frightened him that the thought felt comforting at all.
Walker made a noise in the affirmative. “Let’s just say I find it…unsportsmanlike.”
“Unsportsmanlike,” Kota repeated, liking the way the large word felt on his tongue.
“Yeah, I’m not one for life on easy mode.” He met Kota’s gaze. “I like a challenge.”
The look he gave Kota made heat crawl up the back of his neck. Walker’s hand slid surreptitiously across the table to brush his thumb across his knuckles.
Kota swallowed audibly, breath hitching at the feel of Walker’s skin on his own. “I think you’ll find I’m pretty easy.”
The words slipped out before he could stop them, embarrassingly honest. For one horrifying second, he considered diving under the table and never coming back out.
Walker dipped his head, hand retreating. “Well, luckily, I don’t plan on killing you,” he said. “I already told you. I don’t kill innocent people.”
“Nobody would call me innocent,” Kota said softly. “Stupid, but not innocent.”
Walker chuckled warmly at that. “You’re so innocent I feel like I’m taking advantage of you just sitting here,” he admitted.
The words should have sounded insulting. Somehow, they didn’t.
“What does that mean?” Kota asked, hating how timid he sounded.
Walker licked his lower lip, his gaze heavy as he looked him over from beneath hooded lids. The attention settled over Kota like a physical touch, making him hyperaware of every inch of his body. “There’s something prey-like about you, like a skittish little squirrel.” He leaned over the table. Kota did too without thought, holding his breath. The sounds of the diner faded beneath the rush of blood in his ears. “It makes me want to see how you taste when you’re afraid.”
Heat shot straight through Kota’s stomach at those words, equal parts alarm and attraction tangling together until he couldn’t tell them apart anymore.
That seemed to happen a lot around Walker.
“Oh,” Kota managed. “N-Not literally, though, right? Please tell me you’re not a cannibal.”
Walker laughed softly, picking up a piece of the bacon he’d left on his plate and popping it in his mouth, chewing dramatically before saying, “Not the eating I was referring to. There’s a lot of ways to consume someone.”
The look he gave Kota made it very clear he wasn’t talking about food.
“I’m listening,” Kota said.
The speaker crackled overhead, announcing that their shower was available. Walker threw cash on the table and stood, waiting for Kota to do the same before he took the lead, guiding him to the shower entrance.
The moment was broken, but the tension followed them anyway, winding tight between them as they entered the area. There were a half dozen doors, each with a number overhead.
Walker led him to the one on their ticket, opening the door for him. It was large, clean, like a reasonably priced hotel bathroom. There were towels folded neatly on a rack, a toilet, a sink, and a large shower stall.
The scent of bleach and clean linen hung in the air, which was oddly comforting after everything that had happened.
“You take your time,” Walker said. “I’ll grab you some clean clothes from the truck.”
Kota grabbed his wrist, gazing up at him from beneath his lashes. The thought of Walker leaving made something anxious flutter in his chest. “Or…you could just stay.”
