62. Vesper
VESPER
I’m exhausted. My body is starting to drag as I move around the Half-Moon Hotel bar area. But none of that matters when I catch Locke’s eye from across the room.
He’s sitting with Stevie, the Ophanim talking animatedly about something called Fashion Week.
But as Stevie talks to him, his eyes are on me.
When he catches me looking, the corner of his lips curve and he tilts his head toward me.
I smile back, some soft thing in my chest melting at the small action.
We’ve been through so much together in the last month.
It was necessary for survival, but at any point, one of us could have chosen to leave the other behind. We didn’t have to stick together.
Now I can’t imagine this place without him.
We’ve been dancing around our attraction to each other for a while now.
Part of me thinks it could be a bad idea to let those feelings fester.
Ultimately, it’s Dox’s voice in my head that reminds me that caring for people isn’t a weakness.
Despite Dross doing a number on all of us, despite loyalty truly being a weakness in many ways, it’s a strength in the ways that matter.
You’re never alone. You have someone to help.
You can lean on them when you’re hurting.
Locke has become that. I’m not sure I can lean on Havoc yet, and Stryker, well I definitely can’t trust him. Cipher is here, but he’s trapped by his coding a lot of time and he isn’t physically here. Locke, I know I can ask him for anything and he’d do his best to accommodate.
I’d kiss you right now, but these lips touched hers. I need to scrub the layers off before I press them to yours.
He’d said those words to me after he’d killed Madam Polly. Those words are now burned into my memory. Remembering them now, I lick my suddenly dry lips, and Locke’s eyes follow the movement. His eyes flick back up to mine, and I watch as he stands mid-sentence.
“Sorry, Steve,” Locke tells the Ophanim. “I need to do something.”
“Whatever, Lockey Poo,” Stevie grumbles and floats off to talk to someone else about his interests.
Locke strides slowly toward me, his hands in his pockets. He stops half a meter in front of me, his eyes tracing my face.
“Hey,” he says, smiling at me.
“Hey,” I reply, tilting my head back to look up at him.
We stare at each other for a few long moments, silent, as if neither one of us knows how to proceed. I’m tired still, but staring up at him like this, desire flickering in his eyes, I’ve never felt more energized.
“So . . .” I start, deciding that maybe I need to be the first one to say it. “About that kiss?”
His lips part. “Yeah? I do owe you one, don’t I?”
“You do,” I reply.
He looks around. “Right here?”
Know that I would enjoy watching.
I glance around and find Stryker already watching from a place at the bar, a crystal glass in his hand that he clenches tightly.
I raise my brow at him and then look around the bar again.
Havoc is sitting in a dark corner, alone and away from everyone else.
His eyes, too, focus on me and Locke, but he doesn’t give anything away in his expression. I look back up at Locke and shrug.
“Why not?”
Svetlana scuttles across my shoulder and leaps onto the small cocktail table we’re sitting at. “That is my cue to have a drink,” she says, laughing. “I shall keep the Warden company.”
I wink at her and tilt my head back to better stare at Locke. “Well?” I ask when he doesn’t immediately move.
He leans down and braces his large hands on the arms of the chair I’m sitting in.
Sitting in this higher chair like this, it forces him to slump over to reach me.
His face stops millimeters from mine, his eyes tracing my face.
I reach up and cup his jaw and he leans into my touch, his eyes fluttering closed as he revels in the feeling of my skin against his.
“If I make you uncomfortable, tell me,” I whisper. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
I don’t know how long he was with Mother Remainder, but she didn’t put the barcode on just any concubine.
Those were reserved for her favorites, the ones she planned to keep until death.
Locke’s tattoo isn’t new. He’d been under her thumb for a long time, and I don’t want to trigger any sort of trauma he may have brought with him.
“We can take things slow,” I continue. “If you prefer.”
He chuckles under his breath and those eyes flip open.
“I’ve wanted nothing more than to strip you bare since we first stepped foot in the Harrow,” he breaths.
“Slow is not what I need.” He covers my hand against his face when I go to pull away, keeping me there.
He swallows audibly. “I just need . . . I need you to touch me, Hyena.”
His hunger reflects in his eyes, uncertain hunger he doesn’t quite know how to handle. How long has it been since he’s been touched by someone he wanted to be? How long has it been since someone focused on him instead of themselves?
“I’ll touch you as much as you want,” I tell him, reaching up to press my other hand to his jaw so that I’m cupping his face. “Whatever you need.”
“I need you,” he chokes out. “Desperately.”
I smile. “Then have me.”
His eyes widen, and then he’s closing the final distance between us.
His lips press against mine, hesitantly at first, as if it’s been a long time since he’s kissed anyone.
I wrap my arm around him and thread my fingers through his hair, encouraging him as his lips start to move.
It’s gentle at first, almost reverent. And then he groans against my lips and opens himself up, sweeping his tongue against my lips and taking control.
I moan against him, sinking into the kiss.
I’m as desperate as he is. I hadn’t realized it before, but I’ve been thinking about this kiss for weeks now, thinking about what it would be like, how he would taste, how he would hold me.
When his hand comes around the back of my neck as he sinks deeper into his confidence, I learn the last bits of information I needed.
He’s never had control of this situation, not while belonging to Mother Remainder, so I give him all control, letting him lead me, letting him decide what happens next.
He breaks the kiss, panting as he presses his forehead against mine.
“I’ve never been the kind to claim things just for the fun of it,” he murmurs.
“I’m pretty comfortable with letting them go.
Dross trained us that way.” He takes a deep breath.
“Until you. I want to make you mine so bad,” he groans.
“It’s getting worse. So much worse. I’ll do anything to make you mine. ”
My hands start to shake where I hold onto him. “Anything?”
“Anything,” he chokes out. “But I know that I will be a burden on you if we continue this,” he admits, his eyes fluttering open. “And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m not strong enough to be selfless about it. I’m sorry that I’m some asshole that asks anything of you at all—”
“Locke,” I say, holding onto him, forcing him to look me in the eyes. “Stop apologizing.” I press my lips to his in the gentlest of kisses, a promise, a reassurance. “Even if you were a burden to bear,” I murmur, “I would gladly carry you.”
He blinks rapidly and clears his throat. “But I’m a Bone Breaker.”
“And I’m a Beast Bound,” I nod. “And that’s all okay. We don’t even know what that means. When we do, it doesn’t matter. I’ve got you, remember? Just like you’ve got me.”
His hand tightens the barest amount. “So, this is happening then?”
“If you want it to,” I nod. “You’re in control here, Locke.”
His chest rises and falls rapidly. “You’re certain?”
“Completely,” I reassure him. “Whatever you—ah!”
I panic for a split second when Locke reaches down and lifts me from the chair.
My arms wrap around his neck instinctually as he cradles me against his chest. He’s gentle with me, making sure I’m comfortable, before he starts taking long strides toward the healing rooms. I glance behind us and get a good look at Svetlana jumping around on the table, shouting her excitement.
“Don’t forget to chop his head off after!” she calls. “It’s tradition!”
I snort, but we’re too far away from her too fast for me to shout back at her.
So instead, my eyes flick between Stryker who stares after us with dark eyes and Havoc who narrows his eyes and tosses back a drink.
He stands and disappears quickly, far quicker than we’re disappearing.
Svetlana flies into the air after him, chasing him down.
“I’ve got you,” Locke says as we reach the room he’d been given the key to.
I don’t doubt his ability to hold me. Locke’s strength is unmatched by mine. He carries me as if I weigh nothing at all, as if I’m as light as a feather. His arms are strong and sturdy as he kicks his door open, strides inside, and then kicks it shut behind us.
The beds in the Half-Moon Hotel are larger, big enough for two, and I’m so grateful for that now, but it wouldn’t have mattered. This has been building for so long, I’d have been happy with a mat on the floor.
He lays me on the bed and then comes over me, his large shoulders blocking out the light above as he presses his lips against my collarbone. “Touch me,” he begs. “Please.”
I run my hands up his arms, along his shoulders, and he shivers at my touch. He moans as he presses his lips along my skin, as he revels in the feeling of my palms against his skin.
“I need you,” he pants. “I need you so bad.”