Page 30 of Locke

“As opposed to what?”

“I could have kept running.”

“I’d have caught you.”

“And it matters that you do, don’t you understand?” My voice was bordering hysteria.

The doors of the car unlocked just then, and his voice was low, lethal, as he murmured, “You can run if that pleases you.”

I stared at him as the warm tears ran down my cheeks. “Are you going to chase me?”

His dark eyes swallowed me whole, that determined edge in them making my heart skip a beat. “I’m going to chase you, capture you, drag you back in here and strap you to your seat. You’re going to feel like you had no choice, that I had decided for you. Then you’ll feel drowsy, pass out, and hours later, you’ll wake up again.”

“Where will I be when I wake up?”

His voice sounded tight, heated. “In my bed.”

Chills ran down my body, anticipation a tightening ball in my belly now. I felt that goddamn tug in my core, and now I was terrified not because of what he was going to do, but because of how warm I suddenly felt.

This was so sick.

This was so wrong.

None of this had to be real.

But my body burst into flames. To my horror, I wanted to lean into him rather than away.

I’m broken, unhinged, totally mad.

And when I opened the door with his jacket still around me, my bare feet back on the harsh asphalt, it wasn’t Locke I was running away from. It was myself. Because this was not okay. It was disturbing and wrong, and I wanted to wake up from the nightmare I was so clearly in the middle of.

Because this was what my nightmares were made of.

Longing and fear.

The chase before the take.

Wrapped in the arms of a villainous man who would not be merciful with me.

I ran—and he let me run—as far as my legs could go.

And as I ran, I felt the immediate effects of that drug working through my body. This was the fastest working sleeping pill I had ever taken—and I had taken many to escape reality. Something I believed we both shared.

I felt my brain slow down. Felt my legs stutter. Felt my vision turn buttery, the blackness swallowing me up, distorting the sky so that the handful of stars I did see were spinning in violent circles like a tornado in the abyss.

Then I fell, face first, arms out, ready to hit the ground with a powerful thud.

Arms caught me before I could and pulled me back, pressing my body firmly against a hard chest. His unique scent came around me, horrifying me, making me melt at the same time. Those arms tightened around me, and his voice seemed to come in all directions as I succumbed to the darkness.

“Let go,” he said. “Let go, little lion.”

Ten

Locke

He had reached a new low.

Locke had abducted a woman, and she was sleeping naked feet from where he stood.

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