Page 1 of Lock Up the Darkness

1

~Asher~

I’d never feared the darkness.

In fact, you might say, I’d always gravitated toward it.

The quiet stillness. The clarity it afforded.

And, in cases just like this, the blanket of camouflage it provided.

Clouds of smoke drifted up into the air and over the hood of my BMW as I continued chain smoking while taking in the scene several feet in the distance.

The blonde-haired beauty finally killed the hard rock anthems blaring through the open window of her ten-year-old midnight black Camaro and emerged.

Hmm. Her file photo hadn’t done her justice.

Rubber soled block heels scraped on the roughened road—more dirt than tarmac—as she rounded the vehicle. A pair of black skinny jeans were molded to a firm little ass that swayed delectably as she walked with a confident swagger that was impossible not to take note of. As were her perky breasts pushed to the forefront in that lace strappy tank.

She fired up a smoke and let out a moan of satisfaction that sent a jolt through me.

Shit.

I dragged harder on my own to force down my unexpected reaction, and waited patiently until she stubbed it out, then headed for the trunk of her car.

As she opened it, she stepped underneath a streetlight that illuminated her face enough for me to get a good look from this distance. White-blonde hair framed a heart-shaped face, falling in loose waves halfway down her back.

She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a hair tie and I bit my lip as she fashioned her thick, silky hair into a messy high ponytail.

The connotations of that? Dirty and dirtier.

Her eyes were an electric-blue that shone. Big and expressive, they were fucking enchanting.

The woman was a masterpiece.

I dragged hard on my smoke, silently chastising myself. None of this should be anything new for me.

As leader of the Hexwood faction of the Infidels, my notoriety and position guaranteed daily offers of pussy and dick every which way I turned.

Not that I took them up on their brazen offers. But it was still there. The norm.

I shouldn’t be reacting to anything from this little lost lamb who’d made the mistake of coming here. Into my domain.

It had to be my father’s message. Well, his command.

To watch her.

To fuck with her a little while I was at it.

Time would tell whether he would up that order to breaking her.

He liked to take things in stages, and to play a little first before going for the throat.

He was a sadistic shit.

What he wasn’t was somebody who would express interest in a twenty-one-year-old college student.

After all, the twisted fuck liked them a lot younger than that. Appropriately malleable, was how he referred to it. Eighteen or nineteen was his sweet spot.

---