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“Lo,” Camdyn calls.
At least, I know which of his sociopath personalities I’m encountering by what he calls me. Lo seems to be a term for a lover. When it’s Lolo, well, she’s the homie. Willow? That bitch is Camdyn’s sworn enemy.
The wind tangles his pretty boy hair and kisses his strong jaw. A streak of envy slices through my core. I wish I were bold enough to kiss him sans the order. My eyes admire his torso and chiseled side abs. He’s wearing his khakis and motorcycle boots. Camdyn holds a silver tray with tiny red solo cups and a blanket under his arm. I swallow, meandering over to the perfect storm.
“Let’s sit under this shite sprinkle of stars.”
A ghost of a smile appears on my lips. I wonder when he left Scotland and how much more the stars twinkle there. But I’m afraid to ask. I anticipate being in my feelings when Camdyn tosses me overboard—metaphorically. Don’t let your heart get involved, Lolo.
I cock a brow. “I thought you scavenged for food?”
“Jell-O shots.” He hands over the shots and opens the thick duvet, placing it on the ground. I take a quick whiff of the jigglers.
“Were you having a party tonight?”
“Yup.”
At his vague response, I probe further. “What happened?”
Conditioned to fear him, my inhale sputters to a stop as Camdyn pulls two power bars from his pocket. Realizing he hadn’t answered me, I ask, “Where’s the rest of your party food?”
“You’re holding it,” Camdyn snorts, helping me down onto the pallet. “The energy bars belonged to the captain. He had a Jimmy John’s sandwich. I would’ve...”
“Showed him your knife?” I laugh. The banter made me do it.
“You’re not afraid of the knife anymore?” Camdyn licks his lips, long limbs stretching on the blanket beside me.
“No. Now, where’s this elusive sandwich you were supposed to stick him up for.”
The faint definition of a smile twists the edges of the wolf’s mouth, causing my stomach to flip-flop like a fish out of water. “Shots fired, Willow.”
“Sor—”
“It’s okay. Put out your hand.”
Mesmerized by Camdyn’s sudden gentleness, I raise a hand. After taking a quick influx of salted oxygen, I yank my palm, the perfect target, into my lap. My breathing hollows out as he maneuvers next to me. Camdyn pulls out the sum of all my fears and holds it out. I get a sultry, mental flash of us in the girls’ locker room when he brandished the knife. It’s overshadowed by the demented image of the sharp blade near my pupil.
Camdyn places the knife into my palms. His mouth descends on mine. “You’re my addiction, Lo.”
