27. Locke
LOCKE
When I wake up from a much-needed rest, it’s to the blissful warmth of Vesper in my arms. In our sleep, we’d wrapped further around each other until we’re a tangle of limbs I don’t want to pull from.
Her skin is warm against mine as I crack my eyes open the barest amount to get a look at her sleeping form.
She has her face pressed against my chest, her warm breath tracing over my skin and making me consciously aware of our state of undress.
Her arms are wrapped around me with her hands balled into fists at my back.
One of her legs is thrown over my hip, but the other one is between mine. Her thigh is resting right against my—
Nope. I can’t think about that or else this is going to get a whole lot more awkward, and I’m not ready to end this prematurely.
In Dross, I’d been an asset to Mother Remainder.
I’d been a very good Spine Jacker, but that’s not why Mother Remainder kept me around.
She called me “pretty,” usually right before she’d beckon me to her chambers.
When Mother Remainder beckons you, there’s no refusal, not unless you wanted to die.
I may have been pretty to her, but I wasn’t worth anything more than anyone else.
One step out of line, and I’d have been dead.
At first, I’d rebelled against it. I’m stubborn, and cocky.
I know that. So, when Mother Remainder had claimed me, I’d thought pissing her off would give me some sense of pleasure.
I’d gone out when I wasn’t working and found a woman in one of the taverns.
She’s been cute, sweet even. One of those rare people in Dross who were still wholly optimistic despite the shithole we lived in.
It hadn’t been hard to convince her to sleep with me.
I’d wanted to get a taste of that optimism, something I lost long ago.
The sex had been normal, cozy, and uninspiring, but my intentions wasn’t to marry the woman.
I was simply trying to stick it to Mother Remainder, let her know that she might “own” me, but she could never “control” me fully.
I’d been wrong.
There are a few raised scars on my back from that instance alone, but those were nothing compared to the sight of that optimistic woman being strung up before me.
Mother Remainder had been pissed, and I’d been forced to watch that optimism turn to fear.
I’d watched the light in her eyes go from bright to nothing as she’d bled out before me.
Mother Remainder had forced me to service her while the woman’s dead body hung before me.
I still remember the drip, drip, drip of her blood . . .
I haven’t been with anyone else since then.
As much of an asshole as I am, I couldn’t subject another innocent person to that punishment.
After years of belonging to Mother Remainder, I’d started to wonder why I even stayed.
When I’d passed the Harrow Gate that day, the rest is history. I’d gotten in line.
I never thought the woman standing in the line next to me that day would become so important, so fast.
I’ve survived on my own for so long, I don’t remember what it’s like to rely on someone.
Vesper isn’t like that. She’s had Dox throughout her life, and when the Harrow Gates open again, I know her friend will do whatever it takes to get through.
It’s what Vesper would do, and I doubt she’d be such close friends with anyone who wouldn’t do the same.
Part of me is afraid of that day. Once she has her friend, will she even want me around? Will I have served my purpose?
“Yes,” Cipher says. “Your purpose is temporary.”
I scowl. Is that because she’s thought that or just because you don’t like me?
Cipher sniffs. “She does not know that Bone Breakers make terrible allies.”
What makes me so terrible? I ask.
Cipher laughs, the sound sultry in my head. “Shall I list every reason or just the most obvious ones?”
My arms tighten around Vesper. You know, you’re a real asshole. I’m just . . . I’m trying to keep her safe.
He hums. “And who is to protect her from you when the time comes?”
I don’t answer because I don’t have an answer.
I’ve done terrible things to survive—I know that—but surely, Vesper has, too.
You don’t survive in Dross without taking food from someone else’s mouth a few times.
I’ve killed for food. I’ve felt the bone-deep hunger when your stomach screams for nourishment, but you can’t bring yourself to fight for it.
I’ve considered Softlock before. But that’s just Dross. We’re all slaves to the system there.
Here, I want to be something more. Stronger. Bigger. More powerful.
So no one can control me ever again.
Despite that, I know I would never intentionally hurt Vesper.
We came into this place looking for something better, and it’s clear we can’t find that “something better” by acting the same way we had in Dross.
She’s teaching me that with every bit of empathy and loyalty she shows.
She could have left me a few times over.
It’s been a long time since someone has relied on me, since someone looked at me the way she looks at me, since someone has gone through great lengths to watch my back.
I like it. And I really don’t want to mess it up.
You planning on talking to me more often now or just when she’s about to die? I ask Cipher in my head, relishing the warmth of the body wrapped in my arms.
“Only when necessary,” he answers loudly for both of us to hear. “I still do not like you.”
Vesper stirs in my arms at the sound of Cipher’s voice and I curse the system for cutting my pleasure short. I’d have liked to hold her for just a while longer.
She stretches and I give her enough to space to do so in the sleeping bag, but her leg brushes my cock.
I can’t stop the reaction. Immediately, it hardens, all my careful movements to avoid it going out the window.
I know she feels it. There’s no way to avoid it.
Her eyes flicker open, those pretty brown orbs crashing with mine as I try my best to pretend it’s not happening.
“Good waking,” I murmur, a flush starting to crawl along my chest and up my throat.
Her lips curl up devilishly. “Good waking.” Her arms snake back around me as she buries her face against my collarbone again. “You’re so warm.”
“Absorb as much as possible,” I remind her. “We’re about to be very fucking cold again.”
She presses against me, and I close my eyes as I hold her tight, desperate for this touch, hungry for it.
It’s been so long since I’ve wanted someone to touch me, since I’ve yearned for it.
Her fingers trace along the ridged scars on my back, caressing them.
Somehow, the tight skin there feels better after her fingers pass.
My breath grows more shallow as those fingertips explore, my own fingers careful not to move from along her spine in case she stops touching me.
When her hand starts to travel lower, lower, lower, her fingers find the large puckered scar on my chest. I can’t stop myself; I flinch.
Her hands stop immediately and she leans back, her eyes searching mine. I expect her to pull away. I want her to. And I don’t want her to. It’s been so long since I’ve been touched by someone I want to be touched by, I don’t want it to end, but it’s also agonizing.
Vesper raises her hand and cups my cheek and I press against her touch, hungry for it. “I’m sorry for your suffering,” she whispers.
I clench my jaw, holding back my emotions. “We all suffer.”
“No,” she urges. Her other hand comes up to cup my other cheek until I’m held between her hands. “Locke, I’m sorry for this particular suffering, for the instinct to flinch when you’re touched.”
Those words shouldn’t matter. They shouldn’t spear through my chest and nearly kill me.
But they do. I swear I stop breathing. I can’t remember the last time I cried, and I don’t cry now, but if not for the sudden interruption of Svetlana yawning ridiculously loud and appearing from the sleeping bag, I might have.
I’d forgotten about the bug. Again.
I don’t know if I’m thankful for her appearance or annoyed.
“Good morning, Umnitsa,” she declares, and then those large eyes focus on me. “And gnat.”
Rolling my eyes, I realize the moment has passed and it’s probably time to get up and continue our trek to the safehouse. While we survived this night, I’m not sure how many more nights we can survive out in these conditions.
“Good waking, bug,” I grumble as I untangle myself from Vesper and reach for the zipper.
“‘Bug,’” Svetlana repeats. “I’m going to relish gutting you when the time comes.”
“I’d like to see you try,” I grunt. “You’re smaller than my forearm.”
“And I am bigger than Vesper’s,” she fires back. “You should know better than to underestimate my size. Bigger does not equal better. Surely you know that with the size of your—”
“Enough,” Vesper laughs, moving in the sleeping bag. “We should get dressed.”
“We should,” I agree. “It’s going to be cold once we get out of this sleeping bag, so get dressed fast.” I shuffle around. “I’ll get dressed first so you have more time in the warmth.”
Her eyes watch me carefully at my offer, but I don’t linger. We’ll have to get dressed at some point. Better to grit my teeth and get it done now.
I feel her eyes on me as I slide from the sleeping bag and reach for my pants.
Though the frigid cold immediately makes my skin pebble, her eyes keep me warm as I become aware of her gaze tracing over my ass and scarred back.
Tugging my shirt over my head, I shiver at the feeling of the cold material against my heated skin.
I don’t complain. Instead, I reach for her clothing and move toward her.
“Here,” I say. “It’s better to dress in the sleeping bag if you’re able. Let ’em warm up inside first. They’re cold as fuck.”
She takes her clothing from my hand and shoves them into the sleeping bag, waiting for them to warm up.