Page 34 of Locke

“Fix it,” Locke demanded, unperturbed.

Before the doctor began cleaning it, I saw the wound in his abdomen and hid my cringe. Okay, it was bad. It was a long, deep gash, and it had bled profusely, the blood running trails down to the waistband of his suit pants. Currently the blood appeared dried, like he had pressed something against the wound to slow the bleeding. Still, it was gory. He must have sustained it when he fought that gigantic creep on the road right before I ran. Which meant he had tackled me down with a fresh injury. To even get that rock hard with that sort of wound was impressive.

I glanced at his crotch, remembering him pressed against me—

Then I looked back at his face, stilling when I caught that arrogant glint in his eye, like he could read my thoughts just by looking at me. Was that because I had unknowingly tucked my bottom lip between my teeth, biting into it? Maybe. Maybe he could go fuck himself.

“See something you like, little prey?” he asked just then, cheeky prick.

“Admiring your injury,” I retorted, shooting him a ruthless smile. “I hope it gets infected and you die.”

The doctor paused cleaning at the wound, appearing startled. He glanced at Locke’s face, like he was waiting for hell to break loose, but Locke just stared at me in that soul-sucking way, demanding in a quiet voice, “What’s your name?”

“Get fucked.”

His eyes skirted along my bare breasts. “I will.”

My face heated, and now all I could do was spew more hatred. “If you think I’ll let you anywhere near me again—”

“What will you do to me?” he cut in suddenly, tilting his head to watch me deeply. “Do you think you could fight me off?”

“I won’t make it easy,” I fumed.

“I don’t want easy.”

The way he looked at me now made my spine stiffen and my stomach flutter. I looked away, cutting the conversation short, but I couldn’t bear to look into his eyes again. They were bottomless, black, and filled with so much wicked intent; they were the most honest eyes I’d ever peered into.

The doctor took forever to clean the wound and stitch him up. My neck was sore from looking away. I didn’t glance at him once, not even when I felt like I might die not knowing what those eyes might say if I looked into them again.

By the time they were done, I had lost all feeling in my arms. The doctor packed away his medical supplies, leaving behind medicine for Locke to take. “Does your… guest need to be looked over?” he asked hesitantly.

“I looked her over,” Locke replied. “She’s okay.”

“Alright.”

They both stood from their chairs. “My men are stationed outside and will take you home.”

“Thank you, Mr Locke.”

“Until next time, Izzy.”

Izzy cleared his throat. “Yes.”

He left but Locke didn’t follow. His giant frame hovered in my peripheral, his head turning back in my direction. I felt his stare, but I refused to meet his gaze, ignoring him. Trying to appear detached, I barely blinked as he began to walk around the bed, his movements slow, calculated, his head continually trained on me.

Finally, he was right in front of me. He didn’t speak until I finally looked up at him. For a second, I forgot I hated the man. My eyes were wide, curious even as I looked at his face. The claw marks I’d given him on his cheek still appeared red and fresh, but they looked shiny under the dim glow, like the doctor had applied ointment there. I felt a pang of regret just then; it was an automatic reaction. I never liked to hurt a fly, much less a person.

“What’s that look?” he murmured then, thoughtfully, his eyes zeroing in on my mouth as it twisted down. “The scratches don’t hurt, if that’s what’s concerning you.”

I wiped the expression clean off my face and narrowed my angry eyes at him. “I should have scratched your eyes out.”

He didn’t smirk in that arrogant way. His eyes continued to look heavily at me. “I’d still have caught you.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“The only way I couldn’t have hunted you down would be if you eradicated all my senses. Take my vision, though, and I still have my scent. I’d have followed that citrus scent straight to your door. Take away my scent, I’d have followed your voice. I’ll never forget it, either. Deep, sensual, sinful and impossible to forget, little lion, especially when you’re cussing like a sailor.” He edged closer and bent down to my level, until his broad shoulders took up my vision, until his face hovered inches before me, his eyes looking over every inch of my face like he was memorizing every part of it. “Take away my hearing, I’d have found you by touch.” As if proving a point, his hand ran up my right leg slowly. I sucked in a breath, shocked by the warm contact. He peered at my mouth, his own parting as his fingers skirted to my inner thigh, the touch featherlight and sensual. A burst of flutters washed over me. My core clenched, throbbing at the reminder of his earlier violation. I wanted to squirm from his touch, but I was afraid I might buck my hips again, encouraging him to continue. “I’d have memorized every curve of this body, the dips and the lines…” His fingers stopped short of my sex and hovered there for seconds that seemed to stretch on.

I wasn’t sure what he was waiting for. Maybe for a reaction, or a sign that I was under his spell. I still refused to look at him, and I wouldn’t let him know his touch was like a flame on my skin.

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