Chapter 24 Locke #2
“I don’t want to talk about the next trial,” Esme says softly. “Or what’s waiting for me at the summit.”
I pause, looking up at her. She’s exhausted, not just in body but in soul, a bone-deep weariness that comes from carrying too many burdens for too long. There’s something unraveling and rebuilding in her all at once, like a tapestry being unmade and rewoven with different threads.
“I just want to be. Just for tonight.” She pleads, as if I would ever deny her anything, as if I could. The very thought is absurd. I’d move mountains, drain oceans, tear down the veil between realms if she asked me.
She looks so small, so vulnerable, yet so incredibly strong. A contradiction of fierce resilience wrapped in delicate grace. Her eyes are pools of unspoken need with the ability to drown a man willingly. Her mouth, a soft invitation promising salvation or damnation, perhaps both.
“Then be,” I say softly, my voice a gentle caress in the quiet of the room. Two simple words carrying the weight of permission she never needed to ask for.
She crosses the space between us, sitting down on the floor beside me.
Her presence is a comfort, a warmth that seeps into my bones, melting away every barrier I’ve constructed over decades.
She leans into me, her head resting on my shoulder.
“I’m not asking for a distraction,” she adds, her voice steady despite the vulnerability in her request. “I’m asking for something real. ”
I don’t breathe, I wait as she continues, suspended in this moment between what was and what could be. The fire pops and crackles, marking time in the silence.
She shifts slightly, her shoulder brushing mine, the contact sending ripples of awareness through my skin. “And right now. . .what’s real is you.”
This is our truth laid bare in front of us, impossible to ignore any longer.
From the start, I felt the connection between us, that invisible thread pulling us together despite all logic, despite our different realms, despite everything that should keep us apart.
I fought it, denied it, buried it beneath duty and obligation, but there is no mistaking this inevitability.
I’ve felt it, in every heartbeat I’ve spent pretending I didn’t. In every glance I’ve stolen when I thought she wouldn’t notice. In every moment my body has shifted to protect hers without conscious thought.
“I’ve been watching you since that first moment,” I admit, voice low and rough with honesty. “Telling myself this was about duty. About proximity. About tension I could ignore. But it’s not.”
I reach for her hand, and she lets me take it, our fingers intertwining like they were designed to fit together. Her skin against mine feels like coming home to a place I’ve never been.
“It’s you,” I say, rough and raw. “And I’m tired of pretending otherwise.”
She leans in closer, her forehead resting against mine. Our breaths mingle, sharing the same air in this intimate space. “Then stop pretending.”
I turn to her, cupping her face in my hands. Her skin is warm against my palms, impossibly soft. Her eyes are luminous, reflecting the firelight, and I see my own longing mirrored back at me. The air between us crackles with anticipation, with possibilities unfolding like stars being born.
She climbs onto my lap, straddling me, her hands sliding up my chest with confident deliberation.
I can feel her fingertips tracing patterns through my shirt, mapping me as if committing my form to memory.
She kisses me, and it’s slow at first, reverent, a benediction.
Then it deepens, need and desire sparking between us like a live wire.
Her breath hitches, her body pressing against mine, every curve and line fitting perfectly against me as if we were carved from the same stone, separated only to find each other again.
Behind us, the chair creaks. Sam shifts awake, his eyes watching us with an intensity that should make me uncomfortable, that should trigger every territorial instinct I possess, but it doesn’t.
Instead, it feels right, like we’re all pieces of the same puzzle finally fitting together after being scattered across time and space.
“Sam—” Esme starts, tension lining her shoulders as she pulls back slightly, but he lifts a hand, the gesture calm and assured.
“No,” he says, voice thick with emotion yet surprisingly clear. “I’m not mad. I’ve been watching you both for days. Watching her. Watching you.” He looks at me, eyes steady and knowing. “And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t see it coming.”
The fire crackles between us, the only sound in the room as he stands, his large frame unfolding from the chair with unexpected grace for someone so formidable.
“I think. . .” He swallows, choosing his words with care. “I think I’ve been selfish. I didn’t mean to wedge myself between you and Micah, and I sure as hell don’t want to do it now with this.”
“Sam,” she breathes, her voice laced with something fragile, not quite regret, not quite relief, but something balanced precariously between the two.
He smiles, but it’s weighted with a knowledge that seems older than his years. “My wolf is possessive. It’s in my blood to claim. But this? This thing between you and her? It’s not a threat. It’s truth.”
He stands and steps closer, his voice lower now, steadier, as if speaking an oath. “There’s room in your heart, Esme. Room for all of us. For what you have with Micah. For what we have now. And for this—” He glances at me, acknowledgment passing between us. “For Locke.”
I blink, startled by the directness, by the lack of challenge where I expected battle. In my world, nothing comes without conflict, without blood spilled. This acceptance feels foreign, almost suspicious in its sincerity.
Sam doesn’t stop, continuing with a certainty that leaves no room for doubt. “I’m not falling in love with Locke. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” His lips twitch slightly, a shadow of humor. “But if this is what you want. What you need, then I have to make space for that. For him.”
He turns to me again, appraising me with a look that sees beyond surface to essence. “He’s already proven he can protect you. Probably even better than I can. That. . .that makes him part of this. Part of us.”
Us. The word rings in the air like a vow, like a binding spell more powerful than any magic.
I never thought I would ever be a part of anything beyond duty and court politics.
All my life, it’s been me and Rue, and even then, we were thrust apart for my father’s agenda, for the endless machinations of the Night Court.
This though, this is what I want. What I choose.
What I claim for myself, not what has been thrust upon me.
Then he turns back to Esme, his expression softening with something that can only be love.
“I want what’s best for you,” he says. “And he is. Just like I am.”
The silence that follows feels holy, sacred.
Esme rises slowly, crossing the small space between them. “You’re sure?” she asks, voice trembling with the magnitude of this moment, this shift that cannot be undone.
Sam steps forward and presses a kiss to her temple, the gesture tender and affirming. “I’m sure.”
Sam turns and sits back down in the chair by the bed and smirks, something knowing in his expression. “You want him, Angel?”
Esme steps back, eyes wide as she looks at him, surprised by the shift in his demeanor, then back at me. Her gaze is molten, full of promise and hunger. “I want you both.”
Sam shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “Not tonight. Tonight, I want to watch you fall apart in his arms.”
I meet Sam’s gaze, and there’s a silent understanding between us, an agreement forged without words.
We’ve reached the point of no return, crossed a threshold that will forever alter the course of all our lives.
After tonight, she’s mine. No, she’s ours.
Whatever comes for her at the top of that mountain will have to go through both of us first.
I stand, scoop Esme up in my arms and carry her to the plush rug in front of the fire.
I strip her of her nightgown, revealing her smooth, deep brown skin, scattered with cinnamon freckles that seem to glow in the firelight.
I worship her body with my hands, kneading her breast, lapping and tugging at each nipple reverently, my tongue teases, licking the sweet sweat from her skin.
I trace every curve, every line, until she’s writhing beneath me, her breath coming in desperate gasps.
I can feel her arousal, smell her need, and it drives me wild. I slip a finger inside her wet heat, pussy leaking for me, then another, her essence coating my hand as I stroke her clit, teasing her, bringing her to the brink and then pulling back, again and again.
She whimpers in frustration, her hips bucking against my hand. “Locke, please.”
I smile, a dark, wicked smile. “Please what, Starlight?”
Her eyes meet mine, pleading. “I need you. All of you.”
I give her what she needs. I stand and strip out of my clothes, her eyes watching my every move as she drinks me in.
Naked, I stroke my cock, the tip dripping with precum, but I hold back to Esme’s dismay.
She writhes, letting her hands wander, palming her breast with one hand while playing with her pussy with the other.
“Sam. I think Esme doesn’t want to leave you out. Show our little warrior how hard we’ve made you,” I say, looking over my shoulder at the wolf. I can tell he’s on the edge.
“Please, Sam,” Esme pants, eyes trained on Sam as he takes his dick out and begins to slowly stroke himself.
“Spread your legs, Starlight. Let me get lost between your thighs, bask in the sweetness of your pussy,” I say, dropping to my knees and burying my face in her heat.
With long licks between her folds, she bucks and squirms as I devour every inch of her, sucking her clit between my teeth, biting gently.
She cums, her body convulsing, her cry of pleasure echoing through the room.
I don’t let her catch her breath before I’m sinking into her, my cock filling her completely, her body arching to meet mine. We move together, our bodies in sync, our breath mingling, our hearts beating as one. The world falls away, and it’s just us, lost in each other, drowning in sensation.
Her orgasm hits her like a wave, her body convulsing around mine, her cry of pleasure echoing through the room. I follow her over the edge as Sam shouts her name from across the room. My release rips through me like a hurricane, leaving me shattered and whole all at once.
In the aftermath, we lie there, tangled together, our breathing hearts steadying. I hold her close, her body fitting against mine like it was made for me. I know, without a doubt, that I will never let her go.
Tomorrow, we face the trials. Tomorrow, we fight for our future. Tonight, we are here, in this moment, and it’s enough. It has to be. Because tomorrow isn’t promised, and I won’t waste a single second of the time we have.