Page 41 of Lock Up the Darkness

The presence I’d known had been there lingering in the shadows the whole time stepped from the tree line into view, and she started as she took in Asher striding toward us.

She stilled for a moment, before snapping back into action, and making a beeline for the door back into the house.

She threw it open, only to be met by Killian.

He slapped a hand to the doorframe, blocking her way.

She spun around, eyeing each of us in turn, as we closed in on her like a pack of bloodthirsty wolves.

Asher’s uncompromising glare burned into her as he rumbled in that dangerous tone, “You’re not going anywhere, little lamb.”

10

~Asher~

Blood.

Dirt.

Cum.

Sweat.

She’d been essentially caked in it after her very enlightening clash with Jonah.

Not the best first impression to make with me—from her perspective.

From mine, it was more than I’d even hoped for with the tangled web I’d had to weave to bring tonight’s triumph about.

It had been a more open version of her, defenses compromised. She’d been stripped down and I’d been able to see into her.

The only way I’d been able to, in all honesty.

It was rare for me to be unable to get a solid read on someone. It was a testament to just how impressive she was. She had my respect for that.

She also had it for her adept subterfuge.

Her ability to check her emotions and vulnerabilities—until tonight.

Her skills in hand-to-hand combat, even enabling her to go toe-to-toe with Jonah.

And most of all, the way she’d gotten under my father’s skin. It was absolutely unheard of.

That made her a very precious commodity.

Given her skillset and the corresponding danger she posed, it should offset her value to me.

But to go up against the likes of Carson Monroe, that ferocity and skill would not only prove invaluable, it was an absolute necessity. Without it, she would perish the moment I fired the starter pistol and, along with that, my hopes of crushing the bastard and freeing us all.

I watched her while I leaned against the open door of the kitchen as she continued cleaning herself up with the medical wipes I’d provided her via the first-aid kit from one of the lower cabinets. She hissed as she reached a particularly nasty scratch etched into her left shoulder, one that was still bleeding thirty minutes after she’d sustained it.

I gestured at the three security guards stationed around the vast space, watching her with their well-trained eagle-eyed stares.

Instantly, they pushed from their positions and filtered out.

I closed the door behind me, then strode to the black marble island.

The clack of my Louboutin’s had her swinging her head toward me, distrust dancing in her eyes for a moment before she managed to school her expression to one of indifference, clearly wishing not to give me the satisfaction of seeing her in any sort of vulnerable state.

---