Heathens

A DARK STALKER ROMANCE

ALTA HENSLEY

Copyright © 2024 by Stormy Night Publications and Alta Hensley

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.

www.StormyNightPublications.com

Hensley, Alta

Heathens

Cover Design by Emily Wittig

This book is intended for adults only.

Dedication

Here’s to the Heathens in each one of us.

We can try to run from the darkness,

or we can face it and invite the dark

to come and play.

Prologue

His mask made of bone said it all. He was a beast incarnate. Primal. Untamed and merciless. And I knew one thing.

Run.

These were the rules of the sinister game. I’d run, he’d chase, and then when he caught me, he could do with me whatever he chose. But facing it head on…

Staring at the man in the stag mask head on…

Though he was a man simply in costume, there was nothing less animalistic in how he presented himself. I knew this was part of The Hunt. I knew this was the ritual. Every weekend after the Harvest Moon, submission was the only currency, and my hunter’s desires were the rule of law. But actually seeing it. Actually feeling it…

Run.

This was part of the primal play. Raw. Sadistic. Depraved. Thirsty. We were nothing more than Heathens.

And I only had one person to blame. Me. I put the red light bulb over the door of my front porch. I invited the darkness onto my property. I consented to this. I agreed…

But what if I changed my mind? What if I made a mistake?

Too late.

Run.

Chapter 1

Locke

The smell of death and tears is a stench one can never forget.

The scent of funerals.

An odor you can’t wash away.

But this funeral was different. There were no tears.

Not because we weren’t ripped to shreds as we said goodbye to Gabriel Brooks, but because the men and women in this room lacked the ability to cry, to feel, to express anything but hardness.

Medusa had inflicted her curse on our souls years ago.

The curse of stone.

Even Gabriel’s only daughter stood next to the intricate urn without even the slightest speck of moisture in her darkened eyes.

I approached her, my heart heavy with sympathy for her loss. “I’m sorry, Storee.” I took her hand in mine. “He didn’t deserve to go like this.”

Her eyes flickered toward me, and I could see the pain and anger simmering beneath the surface. “Deserve? Isn’t this how he was destined to die? You can’t be a criminal, a thief, a hustler and expect to live to be an old man, right?”

I was taken aback by her words. But then again, I shouldn’t have been. Storee Brooks was a young woman who always spoke her mind. Although she barely reached my shoulder in height, her dark, wild curls gave away just how spirited and fiery she could be.

Untamed.

She glanced at the people milling about, whispering and watching. “I’m sure many in this room believe he got what was coming to him.”

I shook my head and squeezed her hand. “Not here. Everyone who came today is mourning the man. He’s a local of Heathens Hollow. One of ours. And everyone on the island is paying their respects to that fact. His spilled blood is theirs. Just as your grief is.”

And I spoke the truth. Living in a small town, it always seemed like there was only one way to truly leave Heathens Hollow, and that was by ash being tossed to the sea foam crashing on the jagged rocks that surrounded the island. Small towns, especially this town, had a way of holding their residents close. Though the island’s grip could strangle, it also embraced during times like this.

Gabriel was my best friend, an honorary brother. Part of me died the day he did. Everything inside me was shattered, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever recover. And I also knew I wasn’t the only one who felt that way. Yes, Gabriel had enemies, but he also had many friends.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For handling all this.”

“You’re not alone.”

She leaned in, her voice low. “But I am.”

I squeezed her hand tighter. “I’m always going to be here. Always.”

Storee gave a small nod before pulling her hand away. I watched as she turned on her heel and walked out of the funeral home. I knew that she needed her space to grieve, but I wasn’t prepared to let her go just yet.

I followed her out of the moss-covered stone building and onto the empty streets of Heathens Hollow. It was a small town, but it had a feeling of isolation that made it seem like a world of its own. The only sounds were the waves crashing on the shore in the distance and the occasional seagull squawking overhead.

As we walked along the cobblestone path, I saw the tears finally starting to stream down her face. She didn’t try to hide them, didn’t wipe them away. She just let them flow freely, a physical representation of the pain she was feeling inside.

“I hate this place sometimes,” she muttered under her breath. “I hate what it does to people.”

“Heathens Hollow?” I asked, though I knew that was what she was referring to.

She nodded. “It’s a black hole. It sucks you in and never lets go. My father knew that, but he couldn’t escape it. And now he’s gone.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just walked beside her in silence. We passed by buildings and shops, some of them closed for the day in honor of Gabriel’s passing. The few people we did come across nodded their heads in respect as we passed by.

“He always said he didn’t want a funeral,” Storee said after a few minutes. “He wanted to just be thrown into the ocean.”

“We’ll do that. Together,” I offered.

She stopped and turned around, her eyes red and puffy. She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand, but they kept flowing down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, avoiding my gaze. “You’ve already done so much. I’ll try to find a way to pay you back for—”

“Don’t be,” I interrupted, taking a step closer to her. “You don’t have to apologize for anything. And don’t even think about the money.”

She scoffed bitterly. “That’s all my father thought about. Money. How to get more, how to reach for the sun and not get burned. Well… he got burned this time.”

I winced at her words. They were like a knife in my chest, reminding me of just how my best friend had died—a shotgun bullet to the face.

Gruesome.

A message that he was not worthy to be seen again. Even if we didn’t want to cast his ashes to sea, the killer who shot him made sure we weren’t given any other option.

Trying to keep my voice steady, I said, “We can’t change what happened.”

Storee looked up at me, her eyes filled with despair. She turned away, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. “Can I ask you something?”

Not wanting her to distance herself from me, I pulled her close. She hesitated for a moment before melting into the embrace, leaning her head against my chest.

“Anything,” I said, feeling the overwhelming need to never let her go.

“Do you know who did it? Do you know who killed my father?”

“No,” I told her.

Chapter 2

Storee

One year later…

The cold wind tore through the tattered edges of my fishmonger’s apron, sending shivers down my spine as I stood at the edge of the dock on the rocky shoreline. The eerie fog that enveloped the island of Heathens Hollow clung to my damp skin, making the weight of the world even heavier. It was as if the island itself wanted to subdue me, to force me into submission. But I refused to let it win.

“Hey, Storee,” called out a gruff voice from behind me. I turned to see Joe, a fisherman I worked with regularly, struggling with his net full of fish. “Need some help?”

I shook my head and flashed him a quick smile. “No, thanks, Joe. I’ve got this,” I replied, my voice steady despite the chill that whispered through my bones.

The independence that clawed at my heart wouldn’t allow me to accept help, not even from the familiar faces that dotted the small fisherman’s town. I was half the size of these men, but I was stronger than I appeared. Determination and years of earned muscle gave me that edge.

“Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug, moving on to unload his catch.

The salty tang of the ocean filled my nostrils as I grabbed the handle of my cart full of fish and began to haul it back toward the market. I didn’t have much time before my next job and needed to get a move on.

My days were spent gutting and hauling fish to the local markets and buyers, the metallic scent of fishy blood staining my hands. My nights were consumed by serving the island’s elite at private parties—those held at the Godwins’ mansion, Olympus, being the most extravagant of all. The wealthy patrons barely noticed my existence, but their indifference suited me just fine. I preferred to blend into the background, like a phantom lurking in the shadows.

Heathens Hollow was an old fisherman’s island hidden in the fog of the Puget Sound, just under four hours by boat from Seattle. There were two very distinct class structures living beneath the evergreen trees and drenched in the constant rain.

The very rich and the working-class poor.

I was on the side of the poor.

The market was busy as usual, with people haggling over the prices of fish and other goods. I made my way to a stall, nodding to the familiar faces as I passed. As I began unpacking the catch, my best friend approached, breathless.

“Hey,” Fiora said. “The gig tonight got pushed up an hour. The caterer wants more help setting up. We need to get to Olympus Manor now.”

I glanced down at my hands coated in fish guts. “Now?”

“I don’t know why you work this stupid job.” Fiora eyed me up from head to toe. “I can get you enough serving gigs to make up for this one easily.”

“I like to diversify.” I gave her a smile and wink.

“Yeah, well, you and I both know there are other ways of making more money too,” she began.

“Fiora…” I warned. “Not this again.”

I knew she was referring to The Hunt. It was a seasonal, pagan-like ritual that happened on Heathens Hollow after the Harvest Moon where rich assholes dressed up in stag masks of bone and chased women into the woods to fuck them. The Harvest Moon kickstarted the hunts, but then they occurred every weekend after and consumed the island.

Crazy sounding would be an understatement.

Did it sound barbaric? That was because it was.

The payout was good if you agreed to be one of the hunted, although I didn’t want to know just how good, for fear I’d be tempted to be part of the depravity. And every weekend, around this time, Fiora would try to convince me that it was the answer to all my financial woes. I had heard all of the justifications by not just her but everyone ever since I had become of the age where I could actually be part of the ‘festivities’:

It’s just one night.

You don’t know who the person fucking you is, so it’s not like you have to face them again.

It’s just part of a long-standing tradition.

Everyone on Heathens Hollow has done it at least once.

You get a basket full of jewels, expensive shoes, money, and other gifts on your front porch as a reward for your part in the chase.

It’s not being a whore. It’s just having a little fun.

It’s what makes Heathens Hollow, Heathens Hollow.

None of her reasoning worked on me, however. I had no intention of ever being part of this wicked game. Tradition or not, I was never going to be hunted by a man in a mask and fucked just so I could get a basket of goodies that may or may not pay my rent that month.

Or at least that was what I told myself. Although the temptation and the curiosity grew each day, I’d never admit as much.

“You’re being a prude,” she snapped back. “Seriously, one night a month, and you’d never have to gut a fish again. And they don’t hold it during the winter. Just from the Harvest Moon and the weekends before the first snow flies. So you’re about to lose your window if you don’t act fast.”

“We aren’t going to discuss it.”

“We should,” she pressed.

“Let’s get to the legit job, okay? I think I’ll stick with the fish guts for now.”

My best friend and I had had this discussion over and over, and it always ended the same way.

Me smelling like fish.

Fiora rolled her eyes. “Suit yourself. Just hurry and clean up. We don’t want to keep the caterer waiting. I’ll drive while you try to clean your stinky ass.”

I shook my head, grabbing a rag to wipe what I could off my hands. I quickly packed up my stall, changed, and followed Fiora through the crowded market, the stench of salt and fish fading as we made our way to the opulent mansion on the outskirts of town.

We rushed to Olympus Manor, the sound of our heels clacking on the pavement filling the quiet night air. As we approached the grand entrance, the imposing gates creaked open, revealing the sprawling mansion that lay beyond. The wealthy guests who would soon fill the halls of the manor lived a life I wanted no part of. Not really.

My father had wanted it. He had promised me that one day…

But my father had died trying to reach the impossible. His dreams were his demise.

I was a realist. And a survivor because of it.

We were quickly ushered in by one of the many hired staff members, and I made my way to the kitchen to join the other servers. The caterer, a small woman with a sharp tongue and even sharper knife skills, barked orders at us as we rushed to set up tables and prepare hors d’oeuvres.

The guests began to arrive, each one more ostentatious than the last. The smell of saltwater mixed with the scent of expensive perfumes and colognes as we made our way through the grand halls adorned with priceless artwork and opulent furnishings became my evening norm.

“Storee,” the caterer said with a curt nod, handing me a tray of hors d’oeuvres. “Get these out to the guests, and make sure the champagne glasses are never empty. We’re expected to provide exceptional service. Even more so since all the Godwins are present tonight.”

I nodded, my mind already in work mode as I made my way to the ballroom.

The Godwins were like royalty on this island. They might as well have been wearing crowns since they actually owned all the land and everyone on the island were merely renters. They were our landlords… or our captors depending on who you asked.

Troy Godwin was the living patriarch and an asshole. His adult children weren’t all that bad—again, depending on who you asked—but they still scared the shit out of me.

They were haunted. No question about it. Something dark lurked inside each one of them. Apollo, Ares, and their sister Athena were three people I had no intention of ever getting to know. Something about them whispered of death and mayhem. Not that they’d ever want to become friends with the likes of me.

Heathens Hollow residents were mere peasants to them.

Unless you were one of the rich. And there were also plenty of rich who lived on this island. The rich, the famous, the powerful all mingled at these parties, and I had learned how to serve them just the way they all expected.

The room was alive with the chatter of the elite, their expensive attire and sparkling jewelry glimmering under the chandeliers. Flashes of laughter and the clinking of glasses created an atmosphere of carefree indulgence, a stark contrast to the struggles faced by my fellow islanders just beyond these gilded walls. I moved through the crowd with ease, my training as a waitress not failing me now.

As I made my way to the center of the room, I saw him. Damn.

Locke Hartwell.

My father’s best friend, and my honorary guardian since his death. Locke’s constant oversight wasn’t something I necessarily wanted or had asked for, but it had been forced upon me whether I liked it or not.

He leaned against the bar, a glass of whiskey in hand. He was dressed in a designer suit, his chiseled jaw tightening the minute he saw me. His eyes followed me through the room, before finally locking with mine. I quickly looked away and continued my service, my heart pounding in my chest.

He was a handsome man, but a stern one. His dark hair was peppered on the sides with gray, giving him a distinguished look that commanded respect. He had a presence that filled the entire ballroom, and I could feel his gaze on me the entire time I worked. I tried to ignore him, but every time I glanced in his direction, he seemed to be watching me intently with those dark brown eyes of his.

We exchanged pleasantries as we passed by each other throughout the night, but there was an unmistakable tension between us. Finally, after hours of catering to the guests’ every whim, it was time for me to go home.

Cleaning up the last of the trays, I made my way toward the kitchen when Locke called out to me.

“Storee,” he said in a low voice.

I stopped in my tracks and turned around to face him. He stood in front of me, his arms folded across his chest in a casual stance. There was something about how he looked at me that made my heart flutter and my stomach tighten up in knots.

I was in trouble.

I’d known he’d be pissed. He was always angry when I worked these events and he’d caught me. He thought the job was beneath me, and he also hated me mingling with ‘these people.’ Even though he was one of them and mingled with all.

“Hello, Locke.” I placed the tray of old hors d’oeuvres down on the bar.

Locke was well into middle age but showed absolutely no signs of either an encroaching paunch or a rapidly surrendering hairline. If anything, he was looking leaner and meaner than ever since my father’s death. I was beginning to think he lived on hot black coffee or whiskey and not much else.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” His piercing brown eyes stared at me, and I could feel the weight of his concern as he watched. There was something both comforting and intimidating about his presence; a sense of authority that demanded obedience but also promised protection.

I shook my head and sighed. “I need the money, Locke. We’ve had this discussion a million times.”

“That’s no reason to slave away for these people,” he replied, his face looking more aged than before. He wasn’t the type to mince words. “You’ve got a trust fund. You don’t need this.”

“I’m not taking your money,” I shot back.

“It was your father’s.”

I rolled my eyes and patted his arm, eager to move on to the next topic. “We both know that’s a lie.” His eyes burned into me as if he could read my mind. I gave him a weak smile. “This is a good job.”

I glanced down at my hands and wondered if he could smell the remnants of fish. If he knew I was still working the docks, he’d be livid. He’d all but forbidden me from keeping up with that source of employment.

He reached for my wrist and pulled me close to his chest. He looked down at me, his eyes hard and his brows furrowed. “You need to stop working these jobs.” His face then softened. “But we’ll discuss this more over lunch tomorrow.”

“Yes, lunch.” I knew better than to ever think I could skip one of our bi-monthly lunch dates that he insisted on after my father’s death.

He stared down at me, his eyes glued to mine. “I mean it, Storee. We are going to discuss this need you have to be so independent. Stubbornly so. Before you know it, you’re going to be miserable, broken, and wishing you had listened to me. You’ve seen enough people on this island work themselves to death. I don’t want that for you.” He took a deep breath, relaxing his shoulders, his domineering demeanor softening slightly as he regarded me with genuine concern. “But it’s been a long night for you.” He glanced down at my feet, which were aching, not that I’d ever confess that fact to him. “I’m sure you need to rest.”

I nodded, and with that, he released me and turned to leave.

“Tomorrow,” he said again over his shoulder.

Chapter 3

Locke

Owning The Vault used to give me a sense of pride, accomplishment, power even. Holding a dark secret of Heathens Hollow in the palm of my hands was a responsibility I didn’t take lightly. To own an invite-only sex club was not for the faint of heart and not for a man who didn’t tango deep within the darkness.

I remembered the day when I first laid eyes on what would become The Vault. It had been a dilapidated building, long abandoned by its previous owners. Once a mighty bank for the rich but left for ruin and forgotten. But I saw potential in it, as did my business partners: Merrick Creed, Soren Thorne, and Braken Frost. We saw a place where people could come and explore their wildest desires without judgment or shame. A place for rich and powerful assholes with a kinky taste in the bedroom just like us.

Over the years, we’d built a reputation for ourselves as the owners of The Vault. People knew that if they wanted to experience something truly erotic, they needed to come to us.

The Vault was a sanctuary for those who lived on the fringes of society, those who pushed past the boundaries of the norm. It was a place where they could live out every fantasy and feed every hunger.

And we delivered.

The Vault was Heathens Hollow. Heathens Hollow was The Vault.

But tonight, instead of feeling pride, accomplishment, and power, I felt frustration.

Storee Brooks being the center of the emotion.

I tried to keep my distance, to remind myself that she was my dead friend’s daughter. But at the same time, I had an obligation to watch over her and keep her safe. I was her guardian whether she liked it or not.

And it was pretty obvious she didn’t like it.

It took all my might tonight when I saw her working as the waitress at that party not to flip her over my shoulder, spank her stubborn ass, and carry her home where I could keep her locked away, so no one could ever come close to her again.

Nice and safe. Forever untouched.

But I knew that was not an option, as much as I hated to admit it. Storee was a beautiful woman, and despite her fiery spirit, she was vulnerable in this world. And in my world, vulnerability could cost her everything, including her life.

I had already lost someone I loved. I sure as hell wasn’t going to allow it again.

I had watched her from afar, the way she moved through the crowd with ease, her long legs striding gracefully and her curves enticingly showcased beneath the tight black dress she wore.

Her body was built for sin.

And as I watched as she moved from table to table, a tray of drinks in hand, I had gritted my teeth, trying to keep my temper in check. The men at the party couldn’t seem to take their eyes off her. It made my blood boil with jealousy and possessiveness.

I knew I shouldn’t feel this way. She wasn’t mine.

Far from it.

As she passed by me, our eyes met, and I saw a flicker of defiance in her gaze. She knew I was watching her, and she didn’t like it. But I couldn’t help it. I was drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

Trying to erase the memory of her at the party from my thoughts, I sat in a high-back leather chair with a whiskey in hand. Merrick sat to my left, Soren to my right, and Braken next to him. We were chatting about business, but my attention kept straying.

I knew I shouldn’t be thinking about her like this. She was off limits. But the more I tried to push her out of my mind, the more my thoughts kept returning to her.

It wasn’t until I heard Merrick clear his throat that I realized I had zoned out completely. Embarrassed, I tried to focus back on the conversation at hand.

“The Hunt begins in three days. Is everything on track for that?” Soren asked.

“Everything’s running smoothly like normal,” Merrick said. “Numbers of participating women are up this season, which is a good thing. Once we sent out the memo to all the men that the baskets they leave the next morning were getting a little weak, their egos stepped in, and now it’s a competition of who can outbuy who. Talk on Heathens Hollow is spreading and it’s in our favor.”

We oversaw the long-standing tradition of The Hunt. And though it ran like a well-oiled machine, the four of us always met and made sure we weren’t dropping the ball. And although we didn’t create the event, we had taken it on and become the organizers to make sure the sinful legacy lived on. Seemed only fitting that The Vault spearheaded the events.

But as the meeting dragged on, my frustration only grew. Like every night at The Vault, a sex party was in full swing around me, with half-clothed revelers exploring their desires and pushing their limits. Everywhere I looked, people were engaged in intimate acts, both gentle and brutal.

The scent of perfume and sweat filled the air. Laughter and moans of pleasure mixed with the sound of orders given and received. There were tears and cries, too, as some of the participants pushed themselves beyond their comfort zones. It was a wild and chaotic scene, yet there was an underlying current of respect and understanding.

I took another sip of my drink and then spotted a woman that looked like Storee—brown hair, haunted eyes, and fucking stunning. She was on her knees, servicing a group of men, taking turns licking their hard cocks.

I felt my blood boil, and I had half a mind to storm over there and drag her out of the club by her hair wrapped in my fist.

She’s not Storee.

That woman is not her.

Good thing or those men would be dead. I’d cut their fingers off one by one, and then their dicks right before I’d gut them. How dare they look at her that way, how—

She’s not Storee…

I downed the rest of my whiskey, trying to numb the feeling of desire mixed with rage that coursed through me.

“You good, man?” Braken asked. “You’ve been off all night.”

I shrugged. “Long day.”

But it wasn’t just a long day that was bothering me. It was the fact that Storee was out there alone, exposed and unprotected from all sorts of dangerous predators that lurked in the shadows.

No one was watching her.

No one was keeping her safe.

I couldn’t stand the thought of something happening to her. I also hated that she felt the need to work odd jobs just to make a buck, when I could fix every worry she had.

If she’d just let me.

But I also couldn’t trust myself around her. Every time I saw her, my control slipped a little more. I knew I couldn’t let my feelings for her get in the way of my duty to protect her, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I stood up abruptly, causing the other men to pause in their conversation.

“I’m calling it a night,” I said, my voice gruff. “I have lunch with Storee tomorrow, and—”

Merrick smirked. “We get it. See ya.”

Without waiting for a response from the others, I marched out of the sex-infused room and made my way down the hallway to the back exit. As I pushed open the door, the cool night air hit me like a slap in the face. It did little to ease the fire that had been burning inside me all night.

Leaning against the brick wall of the building, I tried to calm myself down.

I needed to see her.

Needed to make sure she got home safe.

I needed to watch her from afar.

She didn’t need to know. Just like I did every night.

I needed to watch.

From the shadows, I needed to keep her safe.

Chapter 4

Storee

The moon hung low in the Pacific Northwest sky, casting an eerie glow over Heathens Hollow. The island had always been unsettling, but now it felt as if the air itself was charged with a restless energy that whispered secrets to those who dared to listen. Shadows danced across the cobblestone paths and the damp, salty breeze carried the faint scent of decay.

The moonlight made me feel as if someone was always watching me. Lurking. I never felt alone when the moon rose.

As I walked through the streets, my mind buzzed from my conversation with Locke. Which often happened with that man. I knew he was angry to see me working the event, and he’d be even angrier if he knew I was still working the docks, but it’s not like there were a lot of employment opportunities in Heathens Hollow. And unless I wanted to move to Seattle, as many islanders felt they had no choice but to do, my blue-collar fate was sealed.

Yes, I had access to money. Dirty money. Guilt money.

Blood money.

Money I refused to touch.

My father had worked for the Godwins. He had done shady, criminal acts for that family. He was so hungry for money, for power, and for respect. He also liked the limelight and the attention he got. He liked to party, drink, do drugs, and sleep with all the ladies who coveted a man in a suit and a big wad of cash in his pocket.

I may have been young, but I wasn’t blind to how my father put food on our table. And though they ruled my father’s death a cold case… I wasn’t stupid either. The Godwins held supreme power over Heathens Hollow and beyond with an iron fist, and those who dared to cross them often met with unfortunate accidents. There were no cold cases in their world. They knew everything. They were Gods Among Men.

They had known what my father was up to. Just how greedy he’d become.

As I walked toward my small bungalow on Cottage Row that sat on the edge of the harbor, I could see the lighthouse in the distance, its solitary white beam shining like a beacon against the darkening night.

My path wound its way through an array of quaint cottages with weathered green roofs, each glowing in its own unique color. Home to fishermen, dockworkers, and merchants, the small dwellings lined the edge of the harbor in a straight path leading up to the thick woods nearby. The sounds of waves crashing against the shore, seagulls squawking, and the creaks of boats in the harbor were soothing yet haunting at the same time.

Heathens Hollow—beauty and darkness woven as one.

The sun never shines. It’s afraid of this island. Fearful of our ghosts.

As I got closer to home, my thoughts returned to Locke. He was a man of many secrets, and I knew that he had guilt over my father’s death, though he never told me why. He had once been my father’s best friend and they’d worked closely together, but something had gone wrong between them shortly before my father’s death. I remembered hearing Locke warn my father that he was flying too close to the sun.

That image stayed with me always.

Clearly, my father didn’t listen to him because my father most certainly got burned, leaving me an orphan.

When I finally arrived home, I saw Fiora standing by the water’s edge, her tiny frame silhouetted against the moonlit sky. She turned toward me as I approached, her eyes gleaming in the darkness.

“I would have driven you home,” she said.

I shrugged. “I needed the walk to clear my head and unwind from the party. Sorry, I should have said goodbye.”

I walked up beside her, looking out onto the harbor. I lived in a small one-bedroom cottage that might as well be called a shack, but at least I had an amazing view. Plus, Fiora lived a couple of cottages down, so I had a friend nearby.

She sighed. “Do you ever think about leaving this place?”

“No,” I answered quickly.

I hated that type of thinking. My father always thought about us packing up and living in Seattle. Heathens Hollow was only two hours away from the city, but it felt like a million miles from the life we lived.

Fiora nodded understandingly. “I get it. This place is like an abyss. It suffocates you and never lets you inhale deeply.”

I smiled wryly. “It’s not all bad. I mean, we have the ocean. And the sea life. And the—”

“Stop trying to convince yourself,” she interrupted. “You’re not happy here. You never have been. Your father wasn’t happy here either.”

“This is home.”

“We’re too good for this place. We deserve to be happy, to be free from the darkness that hangs over Heathens Hollow.”

“Hard night at work tonight?” I asked with a slight chuckle. “You’re awfully moody.”

“It sucked. It always sucks.” She turned to look at me. “Which is why I really want you to consider The Hunt.” She raised her hand to silence me before I could object. “And before you give me the same excuses, hear me out. It starts in two nights, and all I ask is you consider it. I was like you at first too. The thought of doing it made me feel like I was whoring myself out. And maybe that’s how you see me now. But I’m telling you this because you’re my best friend and I trust you… I think you’ll like it. I think you’ll enjoy the thrill of it as much as I did.”

“It sounds… brutal.”

“It is,” Fiora said with a nod. “But it’s also exhilarating, and oddly… sexy. I’m agreeing to do it again, and not just because the basket of goods I got last time was unlike any gifts I’ve ever been given. But I’m agreeing because… I haven’t been able to get the sensations of what I felt out of my mind since.”

“The idea of having sex with a complete stranger is just not my cup of—”

“It’s more than just sex. I can’t explain it but—”

“It’s having sex with one of those rich fucks we just served raw oysters and champagne to.”

Fiora returned her attention to the sea. “It doesn’t feel like you’re having sex with a man. I know that sounds crazy, and even saying the words out loud is almost unbelievable to me, but something happened that night. He’s in a bone mask, he chases, you run, and when it finally happens… it’s animalistic. Primal. It was the first time I ever really felt alive. Blood was pumping through me, electricity even. I felt like a different person to be honest. I felt alive. I felt empowered. And I want to feel that way all the time. And I want you to feel that way too.”

The look in her eyes was real. She wanted it. She wanted to do it again.

“I don’t know, Fiora. I’m skeptical.”

“So was I. It wasn’t a decision I made lightly. I don’t sleep around, and I have no intention of changing that. But the way I saw it was that it was one night. One night to experience the unknown. One night to leave behind everything and everyone you ever knew, to feel free, to feel alive. Do you really want to spend the next forty years of your life working those docks, struggling to put food on your table and make ends meet, and then die without ever really living? Aren’t you tired of the same thing every single day? You’re an artist, Storee. You paint. That’s what you’re meant to do. Not clean guts all day.”

She had a point. I sighed. But painting for a living was only something fools dreamed of. Hell… I hardly had enough money to pay for the paint and brushes I used. Painting was a hobby. An expensive one.

But Fiora’s words did ring true when she spoke of feeling free and alive. I felt nothing but… hollow.

“I’m not asking you to sell your soul. I’m not asking you to change who you are. I’m asking you to do this one thing. One night. And see what happens. Take a life-changing risk.”

I nodded. “I’ll think about it.” Suddenly the practical, reasonable side of me kicked in. “Wait… what about birth control and all that? How do we know we aren’t going to get some rich man’s disease?”

She rolled her eyes. “Storee… they’re vetted. So are we. Which is why if you agree, you need to get to the clinic on Main Street. They know what to do.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. What if people find out? It’s a small town.”

“It’s Heathens Hollow,” she said. “We have The Vault. We have private sex parties. And we’ve had The Hunt for generations. No one judges you. In fact, you’re judged for not being part of the ritual. It’s tradition.”

She was right about that. Heathens Hollow was often known by people as the kinky vacation destination. The Vault was a club located in an old bank that had themed sex parties for the members and the invited. The Vault was also co-owned by Locke Hartwell, though it was a topic of conversation not allowed between us. It was almost as if I was supposed to pretend I didn’t know he owned it with a few other men.

I also knew that after the party at Olympus Manor tonight, many would end their evening fucking at The Vault.

Including Locke.

And The Hunt represented all that was Heathens Hollow. There wasn’t a soul on the island who wasn’t aware of what happened here after the Harvest Moon. We might not know exactly what happened in the forest when someone was caught or all that was entailed. But we knew it happened. We knew there were rules to the game. An etiquette to be followed.

Once you agreed, you put up the red light bulb on your porch. This was your one, and only one, time to consent. Once you turned the light on, there was no backing out. The hunt was on.

We sat in silence for a few moments, watching the waves crash against the shoreline, as I contemplated Fiora’s words. The idea of The Hunt was both terrifying and alluring. The thought of being chased and caught by a stranger ignited a primal instinct that stirred something deep inside me. But the idea of putting myself in such a dangerous position was also frightening.

I couldn’t believe I was even considering it, but the idea of feeling alive and free was tempting. Fiora was right—I was tired of the same thing every day. I wanted something more, something different. The Hunt could be that something.

“What about Locke?” I blurted out, surprising even myself.

I hadn’t meant to mention him, but his presence at the party tonight had been weighing heavily on my mind. I still felt his presence nearby, as crazy as that might sound.

Fiora raised an eyebrow in question. “What about him? He’s not your daddy.”

I smiled at her words and her petulant tone. “No, he’s not my daddy, though he gives off those vibes for sure.”

“You two seem to have a… complicated relationship.”

I snorted. Complicated was an understatement. “If he finds out I did this… I think his head would explode.”

Fiora gave me a sympathetic smile. “Don’t let him get in your mind.”

Easier said than done.

I stared out at the ocean, weighing my options.

“I’ll do it,” I said firmly, shocking myself as the words easily escaped my lips. “Yeah… I’ll do it.”

Chapter 5

Locke

I needed to be closer to her. Normally, I could quench my thirst by watching from the woods, far enough to not risk being seen, but close enough that I could still see her.

But not tonight.

Tonight I needed to be outside her window… looking in.

The moon was nearly full and bright, casting an eerie glow over the forest. Creeping silently through the darkness, I could feel the cool breeze on my skin as I approached her window, my eyes locked on her silhouette.

I could see her figure through the window, painting as she often did every night. Wearing a white tank, splattered with colorful stains, she looked completely lost in her work. I watched as she dipped her brush into different colors, mixing them together effortlessly, creating a beautiful masterpiece.

I couldn’t help but watch her every move, my desire for her growing stronger with every passing moment as she occasionally sipped from a glass of red wine. As I watched her, I longed to be a part of her world. To be the subject of her paintings, to be the muse that inspired her art. I knew it was impossible, but the desire burned within me with an intensity I couldn’t ignore.

Normally when I watched, it was to make sure she was safe. Or at least that was what I told myself to help ease the guilt. I never wanted to admit that I secretly wanted her.

But fuck me… I did.

She didn’t have curtains. Why the fuck didn’t she have curtains? Anyone could look inside and see her.

I glanced down at my boots on the wet dirt beneath her window. There needed to be bushes or something to get in the way of someone being able to break their way inside. Bushes with thorns. Something that would slow down an intruder.

Why was there nothing outside this window to protect her?

My mind raced with the possibilities of what could happen to her. What if someone else saw her through the window? Would they have the same desire as I did? Would they be able to resist the temptation to break in and take her for themselves?

I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else watching her like I was. She was mine. My obsession, my addiction, my everything. And tonight, as I stared at her through the window, I realized just how fucked up I was over her.

Storee had become my life.

The only thing that mattered.

But I needed to stay away.

I would stay away.

I was only going to watch.

I took a step closer to the window, my heart pounding in my chest. She was so close, yet so far away. I could see the brushstrokes on the painting, the way her hand moved with such grace. It was mesmerizing.

For a moment, I forgot about the danger. I forgot about the fact that I was standing outside her window. All I could think about was her, and how badly I wanted her.

I knew that staying away was the right thing to do. But I couldn’t resist the temptation to watch her. To see the way she moved, the way her body swayed to the music that played softly in the background, the way her fingers moved gracefully over the canvas.

I could feel my body heating up as I watched her, my hands clenching into fists with the effort to resist the urge to touch her.

I needed to calm down. Breathe. Just watch.

But as she turned around and I could see the way her eyes sparkled in the moonlight, my dick hardened.

I took a step closer, my breath shallow as I watched her swipe her hair behind her ear and tilt her head back to take another sip of wine.

I knew I was being reckless, but I couldn’t help myself. The sound of her singing softly in the darkness was too much temptation for me to ignore.

Fuck me, I couldn’t even tell you why.

There was no reason for me to break the promise I’d made to myself to stay away, no logical reason to give in to my needs, no excuse for what I was about to do.

Other than the fact that I wanted to.

Other than the fact that I needed to.

I moved silently across the yard until I reached her front door, knocking lightly.

Everything in my body told me to go back to the woods. Back to my everyday life.

But my body refused to listen to my mind.

She opened the door, her eyes widening in surprise to see me standing on her front porch.

“Locke? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?” She stepped outside, closing the door behind her, and leaned against it, facing me. “What’s wrong?”

I looked into her eyes, my heart racing in my chest.

What was wrong with me? I had never been nervous around a woman.

But there was something about Storee that made me feel so fucking nervous.

I studied her face, noticing the way the moonlight reflected off her skin, the way her eyes sparkled in the darkness. I was captivated by the sight of her.

I turned to face the sea, shimmering beneath the moon. “Promise me you won’t work for the Godwins again.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a slight smile tug at her lips. Her eyes narrowed and she shook her head. “It’s a job. A paycheck. We’ve had this talk over and over.”

I took a step closer, my eyes locked on hers. I could demand. I could threaten. But I wasn’t going to. “Promise me.”

Her lips slightly parted as she sighed. “You can’t control everything, Locke. I’m not the innocent little girl you think I am. You have to trust that I can take care of myself. The Godwins are harmless. Besides, I’m just catering for them. Not like my dad.”

I moved closer. “I need you to promise you’ll keep your distance from that family.”

“Why?”

“I haven’t asked you for anything, but I am now.”

She looked down and took a step closer, placing her hand on my chest, her fingers gently digging into my skin. “It’s just a job.”

“If you need money—”

“I need to earn money,” she interrupted. “But I do promise you that I’ll be careful. I am careful. You have to trust me on that.”

I studied her face, her eyes, searching for any hint of her caving and giving in to my wants, but she looked so strong and steadfast. It was a lost cause, unless I wanted to throw out my dominance card, and I wasn’t up for that fight tonight.

She looked back up at me, her eyes glowing in the moonlight. “I’m not my father.”

“I know.”

“So trust that I can make better decisions than him.”

“I don’t like it.”

She gave me a soft smile. “I know. And I thank you for always watching over me, but—”

Nodding in understanding, I said, “I get it.”

I could feel the heat from her body as I stood close to her, I could see the way her chest rose and fell as she breathed.

Her breath touched my lips as I stared into her eyes. A gust of wind blew her hair across her chest. The smell of lavender and sage surrounded me.

I needed to get out of here. I wasn’t strong enough to resist her another second. I was too weak, too hungry.

One taste of her lips was all I needed.

I needed to pull her close to me and run my fingers through her hair.

I needed her.

But I couldn’t have her.

She was off limits.

Forbidden.

Leave her alone.

Walk away.

I struggled to fight the urge to kiss her, to pull her into my arms, to run my tongue across her lips. The flames of desire licked at my body, heat filled every cell, every nerve. I had to have her.

My body was frozen in place, every muscle tense, my nerves on high alert.

I finally broke our gaze, staring off into the woods. “I have to go.”

Storee stepped forward, reaching up to place her hand on mine. “Are you sure?” She glanced over her shoulder at her door. “It’s not much inside, and not really clean, but uh… you’re welcome to come in and—”

Her touch burned through me, my pulse racing as her fingertips scraped over my skin.

I clenched my jaw as my eyes met hers. I stepped away, breaking her touch, my heart racing. I couldn’t do this, not tonight, not ever.

“It’s late, and I have a lot of work to do still.” I forced a smile, pretending to be calm. Inside, I was dying. “Goodnight, Storee. I’ll see you tomorrow for lunch.”

I turned and walked away, taking a deep breath as I put the trees between us.

I’d made the right choice.

I’d done the right thing.

Staying away was the right choice because she was getting under my skin.

I had to fight the hunger, the need to feel her lips on mine, the burning desire to feel her body in my arms.

Stay away.

I turned and looked at her window as I had done when this night began.

Watching.

My cock was throbbing, my heart hammered in my chest. My mouth was dry, and all I could think about was her naked body, her soft lips, her smooth skin.

I could still feel her touch on my skin, the sensation of her fingers burning into me.

I had to get away. I was losing my fucking mind.

Chapter 6

Storee

I walked up to the entrance of The Porthole Diner—a popular hangout for the locals that the flood of tourists overlooked because it appeared like a place the Board of Health should have condemned years ago. It was a strange and peculiar little spot, with faded wooden panels and peeling paint, the windows streaked with grime and sea salt, and the door hung on rusting hinges. But the food was good.

And I knew exactly where they got the fish. Fresh.

As I ascended the somewhat rickety staircase and adjusted my slim skirt, I suddenly wished I’d gone with one that was a bit longer and dowdier. Maybe I should have just stuck with my go-to jeans and paint-splattered tee. It wouldn’t do to appear at all sexy around Locke Hartwell. The man was overprotective and would worry about unwanted attention I could get just by walking down the street.

I stood in the doorway, looking at my reflection for the briefest of seconds. I worked hard to love my body, to appreciate my beauty, but it was hard whenever I was around Locke. I suddenly felt like I was stepping back into my awkward puberty years. Although my outfit may have been too sexy, it was impeccable—a black blouse and gray skirt from a secondhand store that had cost less than this meal was going to, even though it was more than I usually spent on clothing. One of my only necklaces, which had belonged to my mother, rested against my collarbone. The moonstone pendant was the only thing I had on that was of any real monetary value.

My mother had died at a young age, and my father had been busy building his name for the Godwin family and was hardly ever around. My father wasn’t high enough up the chain of command to provide much more than a roof over our heads. Every man for himself was the way I was brought up. Sure, we’d had moments when we were flush with money, but then my father seemed to always make a bad business deal that would cost us everything.

Up and down. Down and up.

A yo-yo of have or have not.

Story of my life.

I’d been cutting coupons since I could hold the scissors safely in my hands, and my adult life hadn’t changed anything.

I opened the door and pasted a smile on my face. The restaurant choice had been mine—it was the cheapest place in Heathens Hollow since Locke steadfastly refused to eat at a fast food joint, and I insisted on us splitting the bill. It was a battle fought and eventually won on my part, but Locke never liked the idea of going Dutch. Maybe it was the fact that if he paid, our casual twice a month lunches would feel like a date to me. And a date with my deceased father’s best friend wasn’t an option.

I was overdressed, but I had to do something to counter his casual elegance as his shirt stretched across the breadth of his shoulders, hugging the bulging muscles of his arms as he leaned forward to reach for his coffee cup.

Conservatively cropped black hair and thick black eyebrows framed eyes darker than any man ought to be allowed to have. He was perpetually tanned due to his Mediterranean heritage. He was tall, broad, and solid, in every possible way.

Locke Hartwell was hard and serious—except when it came to me.

He’d always had a soft spot for me. I used to watch him when I was barely eighteen—before I lived on my own and still resided under my father’s roof. I had seen the softening that took over his expression whenever he looked at me. His whole demeanor changed when he was around me. The innocent love and warmth in his eyes was almost painful to see.

Very painful to me.

It wasn’t the kind of love I had wanted.

He acted like an honorary uncle, and for a young woman who had a schoolgirl crush on a much older and powerful man, the demeaning pats on the head, or the way he always acted as if I were a child—even now—crushed the dream of there ever being more.

Locke was one of those rare men who knew exactly what he was about at all times. He exuded confidence and intelligence. Born of meager beginnings, he’d run with a line of formidable men, but he had built a name to be feared and respected on his own. When he met my father, who was involved in the Godwin family business dealings, he was already running his own empire, and growing it even bigger.

Locke wasn’t flashy or boorish, but classy and steady. And he made class and steadfastness incredibly sexy.

The air around him crackled, while he sat back and watched what happened.

But since my father’s death, he’d been away more and more, and I couldn’t say I blamed him. He’d lost a close friend when my father was murdered. The moment that bullet had ended it all, Locke had lost someone who was practically family, and seeing me only reminded him of that.

I wasn’t the responsibility of Locke Hartwell even though he had sworn to my father that he would forever protect and look after me.

Slipping into our usual booth opposite him, I looked up quickly to find Locke staring intently at me. My heart stopped. It was disconcerting for anyone to pay that much attention to my every move—I did my best to blend into the woodwork. There must be something wrong.

“What? Do I have toilet paper on my shoe or something on my face?”

He almost smiled. His smiles were always rare events—he wasn’t the joke a minute type. “No, I just forget sometimes how much you act like your father.”

“I do not,” I defended staunchly. “We aren’t a thing alike.”

“You’re just as stubborn as he is. Last night proves my point.”

The waitress appeared, and I ordered my boring usual—fish and chips. It was also one of the cheapest, but most filling, things on the menu. I could see Locke grimacing over a menu that hadn’t changed since Kennedy was in office. He finally settled on his own usual—fish and chips.

Taking a sip of my tepid tap water, I corrected, “I may be stubborn. But I’m not like him. My dad was—well, you know how my dad was.”

Everyone had loved my father—on a personal level. I also knew he’d been feared on the streets as being a killer and had a reputation of being beyond ruthless, but at home and around friends, he had been charming and could light up the room with his boisterous energy. He’d had one major flaw, however.

He made poor choices.

He was a dreamer with lofty goals. He was thirsty for power, and wasn’t afraid to make enemies if it were to end in a payday. And in the end, that had cost him his life.

Locke didn’t say a word, just raised his eyebrow as he seemed to be studying me even more.

I sighed and laced my fingers on the tabletop.

His eyes narrowed on me enough to make me fidget with my napkin.

“Anyway, how have things been going with you?” I asked, deliberately attempting to change the odd energy I was feeling. “How’s The Vault?”

Locke held my eyes for just a millisecond longer, letting me know that he knew exactly what I was doing. “All right. Busy.”

“Hiring?” I asked with a smile.

I was teasing him. As much as I would have died for a waitress job at his sex club due to the amount I could make in tips alone, Locke had already made it quite clear that I would never be working there as long as he was alive. He had said time and time again that The Vault was no place for a girl like me.

“Funny,” he mumbled. But he continued to stare at me as if taking in every dark secret I possessed.

Guilt flooded me. It was as if he knew the conversation I’d had with Fiora last night. He was connected enough to have ears everywhere… but could he?

No… he’d be livid if he knew. I’d be a dead woman walking.

I shifted in my seat. He had a habit of doing that—of paying closer attention to me than I was used to anyone doing. Commenting on something I’d said that no one else had heard, making me feel special, as if I mattered much more than I knew I did. He did it in a very father figure fashion, as casual as a man like him could be.

And every time he did it, every time those all too knowing eyes settled on me, my core clenched.

Even Fiora had seen it. She’d mentioned that my relationship with Locke was complicated. That would be an extreme understatement. I had been harboring a horrid secret throughout my late adolescence until now, one that I fully intended to take to the grave with me.

I was in love with my father’s best friend.

It hadn’t happened gradually, either. I had been introduced to Locke when he was invited to dinner one night, and I had lost my heart to him on first sight when I was just eighteen. My father was sadly resigned that I had chosen not to attend college in Seattle, but we were trying to make the best of it. I came into the room and saw Locke sitting there—in my usual chair—and I knew I was a goner, that whatever gurgles of feeling I’d had for any boys before were no more than emotional indigestion.

Locke Hartwell was all man, and I instantly became hooked.

This man had reached out and grabbed a hold of my barely beating heart and made me feel alive, made me feel like I could do anything. He then quickly looked away and began talking business with my father. Confused with my rush of emotions, I took a seat as far away from my new obsession as I could get.

What I’d felt then toward Locke had never gone away, and never diminished. To the contrary, the longer I knew him, the more acute my responses became. It got so that I could barely stand to be in the same room with him, and yet I couldn’t stay away. He and my father had always been close, and since they were in the same ‘circle of friends,’ they spent a lot of time together.

I tried desperately not to feel the way I did and was careful not to reveal any of my feelings toward Locke to anyone. There wasn’t another living soul who knew how I felt about him. I had kept it all inside and smiled and laughed and ate dinner with them as if it was nothing more than me being Daddy’s little girl, curious about his crime and underground doings.

Locke still unknowingly held my heart in his hands, but I would never encroach on my father’s territory, even after death. It would be wrong, and I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. It wasn’t about the age to me, or that I should be calling Locke Uncle Locke, rather than picturing myself having sex with him.

It was the fact that my father expected Locke to watch over me… not fuck me.

Locke occasionally called to ask me out to dinner, or to accompany him to a social function, but as hard as it was, I always declined. I didn’t know how far I could be trusted with him, and I refused to do anything that might dishonor my father’s memory. I was quite sure that being seen around town with your father’s dear friend fell well into impropriety, so I always turned him down.

Lunch was safe… or at least I kept telling myself that.

Just like every other bi-monthly meal, we sat and talked about the weather, what we had been doing for the past couple of weeks, and other inconsequential topics. Although not terribly exciting, it was comfortable and always made me feel a sense of calm.

Toward the end of the meal, he threw his napkin on his plate. “Next time, we’re going someplace where the food is decent.”

“This is decent,” I peeped indignantly.

That eyebrow shot up as he pinned me with a glance. “It’s always the same. Next time we’re going to Ghost Pines.”

I pursed my lips. “The pretentious seafood restaurant? I can’t afford it.”

Another near smile. “But I can, and I’m taking you. For dinner. And I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer. I work too damn hard for my money to be eating in dives like this. And there are far too many good restaurants in Heathens Hollow to be wasting our time here eating the same thing over and over again.”

I held my breath, my eyes skittering away from his to the neutral territory of the scratched Formica tabletop. I knew—just from being around him—that Locke was a very dominant man. Certainly not abusively so—well, at least not toward women—in any way, but there was never any question as to who was in charge in his relationship with me.

Locke had never hesitated to lay down the law in more ways than one.

In a way I’d never forget.

Locke Hartwell had spanked me.

Chapter 7

Storee

Yes, Locke Hartwell had spanked me.

God, even thinking about that statement made me want to blush and giggle like an adolescent schoolgirl.

But it was a day I would never forget.

Never.

I had come fervently knocking on Locke’s door, looking for a refuge after having had a bit of a fender bender while trying to parallel park on Main Street. I’d barely been able to get out much of anything beyond, “Oh, man, am I in trouble! You have to help me keep it from my dad. Please.”

That Lincoln Town Car was as close to a baby as my dad had now that I was grown, and he had saved nearly a year for it. I’d driven it because I had yet to save up enough money to buy my own.

I had taken it without telling my father.

And now it was in need of repair—preferably before he missed it.

After Locke gave me a onceover to make sure I wasn’t hurt, his look of concern had turned to one of anger.

“Have you been drinking?” he had asked.

Shit. Of course he’d know. There wasn’t a thing that got past that man.

“Yes, but I’m not drunk. I swear. Just one.” I hadn’t been lying. I wasn’t drunk, and I was pretty sure I was still legally under the limit to be able to drive, but regardless… I shouldn’t have driven in his eyes.

Coming to him for refuge had been a grave mistake. My father’s wrath would have been nothing in comparison to Locke’s.

I barely made it through the door before he had my pants and panties down. He put his foot up on the seat of a tapestried chair he had in the foyer and hauled me over his knee. I was hanging there, over his leg. My feet didn’t touch the floor, and neither could my hands.

I worried the whole time I was going to overbalance and end up falling on my head, but I should have known better. I wasn’t going anywhere until he let me go, which was when my butt was about the color of the red paint I had used earlier for a sunset picture.

He stopped—eventually—and tugged me into the living room, and I could see my ass in the tri-fold mirror over a narrow table before he dropped onto the couch, pulled me over his lap, and started up again.

He spanked me so hard and long, and I worried it would never end.

I think the only reason he stopped was because his hand started to hurt rather than him having mercy on me. I had to then go home and deal with the lecture from my father with a sore behind.

I never told him or anyone that I had been disciplined by Locke Hartwell.

An incident that had only fueled my fantasies and obsession with the man.

I was shifting as if I could feel the spanking even now, though it had happened years ago.

“Storee? Storee, are you alright?” Locke waved his hand in front of my face, trying to get me to come back to him. It wasn’t like me to space out like that, at least not unless I was painting.

“I’m here, sorry.” I wrestled my mind away from the vivid memories of the man who was currently sitting less than two feet away from me and when he had spanked my bare ass.

I crossed my legs delicately under the table, but it was really just to see if I could alleviate the ache those thoughts created in several places at once—in my heart, in my mind.

But clenching my legs together only served to help me realize my trip down memory lane had caused my pussy to leak, soaking my panties.

“You were miles away. What were you thinking?” Locke asked.

I racked my brain to come up with an answer that was not provocative or related in any way to what I’d been rolling around in my mind. “That I can’t afford Ghost Pines. I’ll meet you here again in two weeks.”

I started to scoot across the maroon vinyl bench, but his hand over mine stopped me dead. His touch felt as if he were an ER doctor laying a live paddle on my hand. Locke had never touched me at lunch, and I was surprised by the warmth of his fingertips on my skin.

“You’re not listening to me.” That voice was like a swatch of rich velvet being pulled over a chunk of rough granite. It was soft, but it commanded obedience. My nipples loved it, begging with tight, aching peaks for just a little of his attention. “Two weeks, on the fifth, at Ghost Pines. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

I only got the ‘n’ sound of ‘no’ out before he cut in.

“Not one word. And while we are on the topic of money. You have a trust fund. It’s time you use it instead of working parties like last night.”

“It’s honest work.”

“The people you serve… can be dangerous.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m just a waitress. I’m not doing anything dangerous.”

“And I told you that you have access to money. Your father left you money.”

“And I know that is a lie. My father didn’t have money, and when he did, it didn’t last long. You set this up for me, and though I appreciate your kindness, I’m a grown woman. I’m not accepting a handout.”

“Storee…”

We’d have this fight almost every lunch. And every lunch it would end with him sighing and me winning. I never questioned why he let me win, as I knew he was a man who always got what he wanted, but at least on this topic, he relented.

I glared at him, but continued to get out of the booth, clutching the check for my lunch like a banner to ward him off. I didn’t want to take his charity in any way. Not companionship-wise, and certainly not money-wise.

We both paid, then he walked me out to a fern- and mushroom-lined trail that led to Cottage Row, shaking his head as he always did as I was about to say goodbye. “I don’t know why you don’t just let me drive you home.”

“I like the walk.”

“Yeah, you and your walks.” He grimaced. “You need a car. I don’t like the idea of you walking after dark.”

“Well, if you hired me as a cigar girl or something at your swanky club, then maybe I could buy a vehicle. Not my fault you won’t let me work there.”

I knew by bringing up The Vault again, he would drop the subject of buying a car since clearly the thought of me walking through his establishment’s doors was a no go. I was playing dirty, but it would change the subject quickly.

He took hold of my hand briefly and squeezed it. A casual goodbye. “Remember. The fifth. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“Uh-huh. You’re too busy for that. You’ll have something else to do that night. Like smoking cigars and drinking expensive bourbon.”

Locke frowned. “Seven,” he growled. “Text me when you get home.”

That was it. He’d ordered, and I knew from past experiences with him that I’d better obey.

Or else.

Would he spank me again if I said no to dinner at Ghost Pines?

And what would he say if he knew I had agreed to The Hunt?

I shivered at the thought, then walked down the trail home and tried to forget about Locke Hartwell. I did have something else to focus on…

Getting ready for the Harvest Moon.

Chapter 8

Storee

Damn, I hated the hints that winter was near—snow was uncommon for my town, but the beginning of this fall had been unusually wetter and colder than normal for Heathens Hollow, and there was talk that the winter might bring harsher weather.

I slung my purse over my shoulder, then climbed the three steps to the only home—a cottage in Heathens Hollow—that I not only adored, but one that I, the brilliant starving artist, could afford. At this point, I was much more starving than brilliant. I’d already realized the cold hard truth about being an artist was that you had to die in order to be appreciated, and despite the fact that I was largely alone in this world with only a handful of friends, I wasn’t in any particular hurry to leave it.

I plunked my keys and purse on the countertop of my galley kitchen, then flipped on the ceiling light that illuminated my small cottage, and all of my ‘children.’

That was how I thought of my paintings—all of them. They were like the children I’d never had. Probably never would have. I stuck to those things I loved—the town of Heathens Hollow, the buildings, the people—as much as possible, but occasionally indulged in a portrait or two. The canvases were lined up around the perimeter of the cramped bungalow spilling color all around.

I couldn’t have picked a favorite amongst the non-portraits if I had to. I loved them all equally. The daily life of the town and I were partners, always had been. My visions of the energy that flowed on the streets played out in the incredibly detailed canvases before me, and every time I looked at them, they magically transported me to the streets of the town I loved but also hated at times.

I never felt as much at peace as I did when I was painting by the harbor. Everything else—every worry, every daunting phone call, every pang of loss or regret—escaped my soul, and I was left open and vulnerable but safe and sound in the arms of an island I would forever call home.

I always added more to the paintings than just what I saw. Red flowers, or roses in particular—they were a testament to my father who’d worked hard to keep the family fed, but on those rare days off, he’d spent his time growing roses in the back yard in memory of my mother. I never could get over their stark beauty, so I strived to reproduce it, never quite managing to match the images in my mind.

I sat down on the beat-up old couch that also served as my bed many a night since it seemed to make me feel less lonely than sleeping alone in my bed, and flipped on the TV, but my eye was already caught by the canvases that were in front of me. Two portraits—one of my father and one of Locke. They were bigger than any of the others. One was still on the easel because I couldn’t resist tinkering with it, although it had been finished long ago. They were both done from memory, one a tribute and the other… the other a sad testimonial to what might have been—to what still lived inside me, and always would.

A sick obsession.

A silly girl’s dream of what she could never have.

They were my best works, and could never, would never be seen by anyone.

The portrait of my father was perfection itself—just as he had often been in my eyes. Familiar tears welled as I stared into my father’s clear blue eyes.

I’d painted it six months after my father died, painting for nearly a week straight, barely stopping for food or sleep. When it was done, I had collapsed into a heap on the couch, much as I had this evening, just staring at him as if it held the key to my salvation.

It was a masterpiece, and it would never see the light of day. It was mine and only mine.

Locke, on the other hand, seemed to smolder on the canvas. I’d always wondered why the fabric didn’t smoke beneath the paint. It was him, in all his dominant, self-assured, unbelievably sexy glory. His head was just slightly cocked, chin down, one coal black eyebrow raised the tiniest bit. That expression would be enough to stop the heart of any woman from eighteen to eighty.

That was partly why I almost always kept it at the back of my closet—because that look was just too intense for comfort.

I’d portrayed him the way I always saw him—in crisp slacks and his black shirt—but had taken the liberty of making him look much more rumpled than I had ever seen him. As if he were just recovering from a particularly deep, sexual kiss and was about to reach for me to turn me onto the desk beneath him. The usual black cotton shirt was pulled out of his waistband, several of the buttons of his shirt opened so that it hung just artfully enough to display the smattering of chest hair over the tanned, muscular ripples beneath. He was leaning back against a desk, his arms folded on his chest.

I always imagined that that must be what he looked like just before sex.

That painting wasn’t so much a portrait as a desire unfulfilled. It was the way I wished, in my heart of hearts, that he would look at me.

It was funny, because if he ever did look at me like that—as if he were going to sweep me up into his arms and carry me to the bedroom to ravish me—I would turn tail and run into the next state.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want Locke. I did.

More than almost anything in the world. My passion for him was as deep and true as my passion for painting, but it was also more raw and uncontrolled. That was one of the reasons that, although I had always been close to Locke and maintained that relationship even after my father’s death, I had never allowed myself to become particularly comfortable around the man.

My feelings wouldn’t allow for comfort, and seeing him too regularly, being reminded of what I would never, ever have, was just a bit too much.

My only saving grace had been that I didn’t think my father knew of my fixation on a man completely out of my childish league.

After Locke had spanked my bare ass, my dad had noticed that I tended to refuse to go to dinner with the two of them like I used to, and that I rarely made an appearance at the house if I thought Locke was going to be there, and he told me outright that he understood.

That Locke made a lot of people nervous.

That Locke’s world was a scary place, and he didn’t want me to be part of it at all. Hypocritical since my father had been delving even deeper into the Godwin family and making deals with even darker men on the side.

I had choked on the lemonade I was drinking, and managed not to disgrace myself by telling Dad that the reason I was uncomfortable around Locke was that he could make me wet just by his mere existence. I let my dad think what he wanted to think.

No one in this world knew just how vulnerable I was—or could be—to his best friend.

Most particularly not the man himself.

My phone rang, and I picked it up instantly, expecting her call.

“You haven’t changed your mind, have you?” Fiora said on the other end.

“I should, but no.”

“Good. Because tomorrow is opening night, and they have a party called Heathens. It’s this really cool pagan-like party that kicks off the event. Now that you’re signed up, you can go with me.”

I wasn’t really a party person, but I could already tell that Fiora wasn’t asking. She was all but telling me that I was attending whether I liked it or not.

“Sounds good. Do we wear clothes?” I was half joking, but then realized there was a chance we wouldn’t.

Jesus Christ, what had I gotten myself into?

“Yes. But you do need a mask. Everyone wears a mask to the party. To get us all in the animalistic mood.” She paused. “And before you say you don’t have one, I do. You can be a butterfly.”

“Great,” I said with a smile. “It’s a date.”

Frankly, I was excited. Anything to distract me from my current thoughts.

After hanging up, I got up and poured myself a glass of water, coming back to stand in front of my version of Locke and eying him with a glare I would never dare use in real life. I loved him. I wanted him. But at the same time, I hated him because he’d only see me as his friend’s kid and nothing more. I knew he loved me. But as family.

Uncle Locke.

A minuscule part of me worried that somehow, my father had known about the lustful thoughts that had filled my mind whenever Locke was within a three-mile radius. That somehow, I’d caused his death with those naughty, taboo thoughts.

Sinners must pay the price.

That maybe my punishment for being such an awful daughter was God taking my father away from me forever.

And yet, despite the needless guilt that sometimes snuck up on me, I still coveted him. Although, as far as I was concerned, he was just as off limits since my dad died as he had been while he was alive.

Locke didn’t want me. He didn’t need me. He kept seeing me out of the goodness of his heart, and because I was all he had left.

I snorted. It wasn’t like he had much choice. He was alone in this world just as I was.

“Why do you torture me?” I whispered at the portrait.

Sometimes I hated him at least as much as I loved him.

I stood there and stared at my image of perfection, of what I ached for but could never have as it seared its way slowly through my heart.

The Hunt would be good for me. Something and someone to focus on other than this ghost of a man who haunted me.

Chapter 9

Storee

The days leading up to The Hunt were a blur of nerves and excitement. I couldn’t believe I was actually going through with this. I went to the clinic on Main Street, did the necessary precautions, and then waited for the full moon to arrive.

There were legal documents that surprised me but then it made sense. I literally felt as if a part of me was signing my soul to the devil. I might as well have pricked my finger and signed the contract of consent with blood. Because once I did… there was no safe word. No backing out. No way to turn around once you stepped off the cliff into the darkness.

The contract promised no harm would come to us, nothing fatal, and nothing lasting. But the more we fought, the more our hunter would fight back. There was no refusal once we agreed.

You consent when you put the red light on. It’s your one and only chance to do so. After the light glows crimson, you will only have one choice.

Run.

I knew I was crazy for doing this. The sane voice in my head told me to stop and then to go smack some sense into Fiora for doing this herself. But once I started… the curiosity, the thrill, the thoughts going through my mind became too much.

Walking to the Heathens opening with Fiora, I should have seen it coming. Of course it would be hosted there. Of course…

“I can’t go to The Vault. You know that Locke will lose his mind if sees me there,” I said to Fiora, freezing as I realized our destination.

“Come on! This is where the party is at. It’s the one time of the year that they allow anyone in. It’s not just members only tonight or by invite,” she whined. “And you told me you were going to do The Hunt. Attending Heathens is part of it. It’s the kickoff party.”

With an exasperated sigh, I added, “Locke is one of the owners. Free for all or not, he won’t allow me inside.”

“Storee,” she continued to press. “It’s Heathens! This is a party we don’t want to miss.”

I shrugged. “I’m fine. I don’t want to go to a sex party anyway. The Vault has never appealed to me. It’s just a bunch of rich fucks and public sex.”

“Exactly, and it appeals to me! And I don’t want to go alone. So at least come for a bit as moral support. Please.”

I shook my head, but before I could get another word out, Fiora cut me off.

“People will be wearing masks and dressed all pagan and shit. We can just blend in with the masses. Look how many people are entering. There will be hundreds. People come from all over for this party.” She pulled two masks out from her bag. “We wear these. Locke will be too busy to spot you anyway.”

I sighed, knowing that Fiora wouldn’t back down until she got her way. “Fine,” I said eventually. “But we stick together, yeah?” I placed the butterfly mask over my face and tied the ribbon behind my head.

“Absolutely!” Fiora exclaimed, pulling me into a hug. “You won’t regret this, Storee. I promise.”

As we made our way to The Vault, the thumping bass of the music grew louder and louder. Tribal drums cracked through the salty air.

I could feel the excitement building inside me, mixed with a hint of nerves. The Vault was notorious for its wild parties, but I had never been brave enough to attend one before. And Heathens was the party of all parties. Hedonism. Animalistic desires. Primal urges. It was the kickoff party for all The Hunts that were about to occur. Supposedly there was only one rule.

Fuck.

You must fuck.

But now that I had agreed to be part of The Hunt, it only made sense that I attended tonight.

Or at least that was what I was going to keep telling myself to silence the warning bells going off in my head.

But was going to The Vault pushing it too far?

Locke had forbidden it, and even if he hadn’t, I had never been sexually bold before.

At least not before agreeing to be part of The Hunt the other night.

Now, I was morphing into something… else.

The thumping bass of the drums grew louder and louder. The line to get in snaked around the block, giving us no choice but to join the masses. When we finally approached the entrance, I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. Fiora was grinning from ear to ear, already slipping on her mask in anticipation. A sense of anonymity washed over me as I made my way inside.

I hoped my butterfly covering would be enough for Locke to not spot me in the crowd, but knowing him… it was only a matter of time until he did.

The bouncer at the door gave us a onceover, his eyes lingering on Fiora’s barely-there outfit. I could see the lust in his eyes when he cast his attention on hers and then the look of disinterest when he scanned my plain black dress I wore that didn’t scream sexy in the slightest.

As we stepped into the main room, I was hit with a wave of sensory overload. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sex, and bodies writhed together on the dance floor. I could feel the heat of their passion from where I stood, and a flush crept up my neck.

Men in black cloaks chanted, drums were beaten by large leather mallets, animal pelts hung around them, bones dangled in the shadows, and everything screamed ritual.

The club was a riot of color and sound. People were dancing everywhere, their bodies writhing to the beat of the music. Some were dressed in elaborate costumes, while others wore nothing but a provocative grin.

Wild abandon surrounded us.

Fiora grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the bar. “Let’s get a drink,” she shouted over the music. “And then we can explore.”

I nodded, grateful for the distraction.

When we finally made it through the masses, the room was nothing but writhing bodies and pulsing lights. I could feel the heat from the tightly packed bodies around us, and my breaths came in short, sharp gasps.

There were far too many people around the bar to ever have a chance of actually getting a drink unless we were super aggressive. The good news about all the bodies was it made it easier to blend in. Locke actually may not be able to spot me after all with how many people were here.

Aside from appearing to have the entire population of Heathens Hollow present, it seemed as if half of Seattle had made the trip to the island to attend as well.

Fiora leaned in close to my ear, her breath hot against my skin. “This is a lost cause. Too many people here. Let’s go dance instead,” she shouted over the music. “I want to feel the energy.”

As we made our way through the crowd, I saw things that made my eyes widen in shock. Couples were openly having sex on the dance floor, and in dark corners of the club. It was like nothing I had ever seen before.

As we danced, a pair of hands slid around my waist, pulling me into a body that was hard and lean. I was about to pull away, but the scent of sandalwood and leather wrapped around me, and my resolve melted away.

I turned, coming face to face with a man who was a perfect stranger, but who seemed to understand everything I needed in this moment. His dark eyes danced with mischief behind the wolf mask he wore.

It was just a dance. It was just a night.

I needed to let go, right?

But what about Locke? It was just a matter of time until he found me here, and once he did, my dancing intimately with a strange and masked man would only enrage him further.

I knew I shouldn’t be doing this, but something about the danger made it all the more thrilling.

In that moment, with the stranger’s hands on my hips, his body pressed against mine, I couldn’t find it in me to care about anything but right now.

The music shifted, becoming slower and more sensual. The chants became haunting, and the drums nearly pulled the heathen from each and every one of us.

Bodies around us moved with a new rhythm, and I felt the stranger’s hands tighten around my waist. His lips brushed against the shell of my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

“You’re so beautiful,” he growled, his voice husky and low.

His hands slid down to my ass, gripping me tightly as we moved in time to the music.

I knew that I was crossing a line, that I was playing with fire, but in that moment, I didn’t care. I was lost in the sensations, in the throbbing beat of the music, in the heat of my desire. For the first time in a long time, I was out of my head. And I liked it.

The stranger’s hands glided up to my breasts, kneading them through the fabric of my dress, and I moaned softly, my head falling against his chest.

The man growled softly again, and I could feel his arousal pressing against me. He was no longer a man, but the wolf.

I was drunk on the heady mix of desire and danger, and I knew I wanted more.

But then guilt attacked my very core. This was Locke’s business. His.

He’d hate for me to act this way.

He’d be livid.

And I actually cared about how he felt.

The combination of desire and guilt were a heady mixture.

It was only when Fiora’s hand landed on my arm, her voice barely audible over the music, that I snapped back to reality.

“Storee, Locke is here,” she said, her gaze darting across the room.

I felt a pit form in my stomach as I turned around, scanning the crowd until I saw him. He stood on the fringes of the dance floor, his piercing brown eyes locked on me and the stranger I was dancing with.

Locke didn’t wear a mask.

He didn’t need to. He appeared more beastly than all the men in this room combined.

I froze, unsure of what to do. Fiora squeezed my arm, pulling me closer to her.

“Just go with it,” she said, her voice low. “Pretend like he’s not even here.”

I tried to follow her advice, but every time I moved, I felt Locke’s gaze burning into me. The stranger’s hands were still on my hips, and I had never felt so uncomfortable in my life.

I pulled back, panting heavily, and saw Locke marching toward us, his face contorted with rage. My heart sank, knowing that I had just made a grave mistake.

“Storee,” he snarled as he cleared the distance between us. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The stranger stepped back, but I remained frozen in place, my mind blank. I had no answer for him, no excuse that he would accept.

His eyes were like daggers as they cut into me.

“Locke—” I tried to explain, but he cut me off with a sharp wave of his hand.

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” he growled, his voice tight with anger. “What were you thinking? Were you even thinking? I specifically told you that I never wanted you inside The Vault. I trusted you to respect my wishes.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I wasn’t even sure he could hear me over the booming drums. “It’s not what you think.”

Locke’s eyes narrowed as he considered me. His hand was still on my arm, and I could feel the tension from where his fingers dug into my skin.

“Fiora and I were just—”

“What I think, Storee, is that you’re making me look like a fool,” he boomed, his hands falling to his sides. “Get your ass back to my table. Now.” He then glared at Fiora. “You shouldn’t have brought her here.”

Fiora opened her mouth to protest, but then clearly thought better of it and shut her lips with a nod.

“We can go,” she suggested.

“No. The damage has been done. She betrayed my trust and came. So why leave now?”

His words cut me to the core, and I felt a stab of pain deep in my chest. The pain was so intense that it was all I could do not to double over. The last person I wanted to betray was Locke.

The wolf-stranger stepped in, his voice low. “There’s no need to be a dick about it,” he said. “Just tell her to go if you want her to go.”

Locke turned, his glare locking on the man. “Who the hell are you to tell me what to do and how to do it?”

The man took a step forward, his lips curling back into a deadly smile. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with, old man. Now, I suggest you back up before I lose my temper.”

I stood frozen as the two men squared off, each of them standing their ground in front of me. My heart skipped as I looked from one to the other, wondering if the night could possibly get any worse.

Locke’s hands balled into fists, and he took another step toward the stranger. “Listen, little boy. You don’t know who the fuck you’re dealing with. So unless you want to find out the hard way, get the fuck out of my club.”

“Your club?” the man asked. Realization of who Locke was must have sunk in. “I uh… sorry. I don’t want any issues. Your club, your rules.”

The man cast me one last look, his eyes filled with a flicker of new fear, before he turned and melted into the throng of people on the dance floor.

Locke wrapped his arm protectively around me, pulling me close to his side. He led me back to his VIP table in the furthest corner of the room, which was full of the co-owners of The Vault. My feet felt like lead as I stumbled along beside him. I could feel Fiora trailing behind us.

“Locke…” I tried to explain.

“I don’t want to hear it,” he said, his voice harsh. “Just sit down with us. With me.”

He was tense as he walked, the angry energy rolling off of him in black waves.

Locke slid into the leather booth, eyeing me with a frown as I followed him, feeling the stares of judgment from his friends. I didn’t know all of them well, but I knew them enough to hate the fact that they had seen me grinding against some stranger in a wolf mask. All of these men had been friends with my father. It was almost as if I had been caught by a room full of my… dad. A room full of watchful dads.

I wanted to crawl under the table and hide, but I forced myself to hold my head high, hoping to appear strong despite my complete humiliation.

No one spoke, but the silence felt awkward. And invasive. I could feel their eyes boring into me, weighing me down.

Fiora scooted in next to me and whispered in my ear, “There could be worse places we are forced to sit in our ‘time out.’” I saw the way she scanned her eyes across the table of men.

Yes, they were all handsome in their own way. All of them were packed with muscle. All of them were cut from the same cloth as Locke.

All of them were scary.

She was right; it could be worse.

Except I still had to face Locke.

My blood turned to ice as I tried to figure out what I was going to say. I had no excuse. He was right. I’d betrayed his trust. I had known The Vault was off limits.

But when I turned to find his gaze, his eyes were burning into me, and I couldn’t think of a single thing to say that would make things better.

Chapter 10

Locke

That boy had been lucky I hadn’t cut off every single one of his fingers for daring to touch Storee the way he had. I had never felt such a possessive rage in my life.

Homicidal.

And Storee—I had specifically told her to never attend The Vault, and here she was.

My heart had stuttered.

I thought of how beautiful she had been, dancing in that simple black dress, her hair curling around her high neck. The butterfly mask on her face doing little to conceal her beauty.

I thought of the way her eyes had flashed when she had seen me, the way she had been outrageously flirting with a complete stranger, in clear defiance of my instructions.

And I thought of the way that cock-less boy had whispered in Storee’s ear. The way he had run his fingers over her body. The way he had stood so close to her, and I felt such deadly rage it scared me.

I would have killed him.

I would have killed him right there. If he hadn’t been a guest, I would have. His lifeless, bloody body with the wolf mask would have littered my club’s floor if he had even dared push me another second.

An icy shiver ran through my body.

I had wanted to kill for her.

“Locke,” she said, leaning into me so I could hear her over the loud music of the club. “I don’t have to stay.”

“You’re here now,” I said, not wanting to have her leave my side. “I’m not going to allow you and Fiora to leave without my escort. There are too many visitors from the mainland here tonight. It’s not safe. And since I don’t feel it appropriate for me to leave yet, you are here with me until I do. Next to me at all times.”

Braken was the first of my friends to speak. “Well, let’s get these ladies a drink.” He reached for the bottle of chilled champagne in the center of the table and poured Storee and Fiora a glass.

Fiora happily took hers and drank, but Storee seemed uncertain, hesitant.

I wasn’t in the mood to celebrate, but I also didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable next to me either. So I pushed the glass to her and ordered, “Drink.”

I noticed Fiora giggle and lean into Storee’s ear. Though she was trying to be discreet, I could hear her say, “Do you call him Daddy? Yes, Daddy. Whatever you say, Daddy. How can I please you, Daddy?”

Storee smirked and playfully jabbed her friend in the gut with her elbow.

I didn’t give a fuck if I was coming across as overbearing. She was mine to watch over. And the minute I got distracted, look what happened. I should have known she was coming here. This shouldn’t have been a surprise.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her every move. The way her slender fingers wrapped around the crystal flute, the way she sipped the champagne, the way the bubbles danced on her lips. I wanted nothing more than to wrap my arms around her, to claim her as mine. But I knew I couldn’t.

Storee’s eyes met mine. She leaned in closer to me, her body brushing so near that I could feel her heat.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her lips so close to my ear that her breath caressed my skin. “I didn’t mean to make you angry. I know this is your club, and I also know you had asked me to not ever come here. I should have respected that.”

I tried to maintain my composure, but the heat of her body next to mine was making it difficult.

“It’s not just about coming to The Vault. It’s about putting yourself in potentially dangerous situations. You need to be more careful,” I said, my voice low and rough. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

She smiled at me, her eyes lowering to her drink. “I know you don’t.” She took a sip and then added, “But I don’t always need to be your concern. You don’t owe me anything.”

I gritted my teeth, trying to control the urge to pull her onto my lap and show her just how possessive I could be. That she was most definitely my concern, and I owed her everything.

“Your father was my best friend. I owe it to Gabriel to continue to watch over you,” I said, my tone flat and unyielding. “I want to keep you safe. That’s all.”

She frowned at me, her eyes searching mine. “The Vault isn’t dangerous. Sex isn’t dangerous.”

“The people who come here can be, and the sex we like… can most definitely be dangerous.”

I glanced at my partners, my best friends, my found family sitting around the table and knew these men would always have my back. They’d make sure nothing would happen to me, and also that nothing would happen to Storee. But that still didn’t mean I felt she was safe in an environment like this.

Especially tonight.

The theme for the party was Heathens for a reason. Simply casting my eyes out to the crowd full of naked people engaged in sexual acts made me worry for her safety. It wasn’t just the risk of physical danger, but also the emotional danger of being in a place like this. I didn’t want her to be exposed to that kind of debauchery, to be corrupted by the darkness that lurked in the shadows of this club. I wasn’t so naïve as to believe she was a virgin, but she most definitely wasn’t experienced in anything besides a vanilla-flavored dick from time to time.

The Vault was completely out of her league.

And I sure as fuck didn’t want another man to touch her, or even think about fucking her.

Picturing that wolf fucker touching her… I was losing my cool again.

But I had to keep up appearances. I was the owner of The Vault, and I had to be seen as someone who was in control, someone who wasn’t rattled by anything.

I leaned in closer to Storee, taking her chin in my hand and forcing her to look at me. “I need you to understand that I will always keep you safe. Nothing will happen to you while I’m around, do you understand?”

She nodded, her eyes locked on mine. “I understand.”

“And places like this.” My stare darted to the dance floor. “Acts like this… Are not for girls like you.”

I released her chin, and she leaned back in her chair. “But you have to trust me too,” she said softly. “I’m not a child anymore, Locke. I can take care of myself. In ways you have no idea.”

I smiled at her, my fingers itching to run through her hair. “I know you can. But that doesn’t mean I won’t worry about you.”

She leaned in again, her lips brushing against my ear. “I like it when you worry about me.”

I nearly groaned. The heat of her breath on my skin was almost too much to handle. I had to pull away from her, had to regain some kind of control over myself.

I cleared my throat, turning to Braken. “What’s the status on security tonight?”

He shifted in his chair, his eyes scanning the crowd. “Everything’s under control. We’ve got men stationed throughout the club, and we’re keeping a close eye on the guests.”

I nodded, taking a sip of my drink. “Good.”

But my attention wasn’t on the security anymore. It was on Storee. It was always on Storee.

“Is it always this busy here before The Hunt?” Fiora leaned across Storee to ask me.

I looked at Storee and then at Fiora. “How do you know about The Hunt?” My question was more directed toward Storee, but since Fiora was her best friend, I assumed if she knew, then so did Storee.

Fiora smiled. “Everyone knows about The Hunt.”

“Yes, it’s always this busy,” I answered, not wanting to dive any deeper into the yearly ritual. “The island is full of strangers and devious thoughts.”

The last thing I wanted to do was talk about the sexual depravity of the yearly hunting season with my dead friend’s daughter.

A squeal in the distance caught my attention as a man swooped a naked woman over his shoulder and spanked her ass for all to see. The crowd was getting rowdier, and the sexual tension in the air was almost palpable. The party was in full swing. It was as if I’d stepped back into time during a Viking pagan ritual but with massive levels of sex.

I saw women and men having sex in the open and in the shadows. Some were having oral sex, some were masturbating, and others were fucking standing up, against any and every wall.

Cocks were on display everywhere and pussies waiting to accept them. But tonight wasn’t about voyeurism for me. I needed to make sure everything was running smoothly.

Feeling my dick harden, which seemed particularly wrong considering I was sitting next to Storee, I stood up from the table, motioning for Braken and the others to follow me. “Let’s do a walk around, make sure everything’s secure.” I looked down at Storee. “You and Fiora stay here. Order whatever you want to drink. When I get back, I’ll escort you home. Stay here until I do.”

They all nodded, and we made our way through the club, checking in with the security guards stationed throughout. I could feel Storee’s eyes on me, and it was taking all my willpower to not glance back at her.

Braken must have seen the distress on my face because he spoke up. “You okay, man?”

I nodded, trying to shake off whatever feelings I was having. “I’m just pissed she’s here.”

He chuckled. “Clearly. But you need to relax. She’s fine. She’s safe. You can’t wrap the girl in bubble wrap, you know.”

I could hear the smile in his voice, and it helped ease my tension a bit. Maybe I was overreacting.

Maybe.

“You think you got this under control?” I asked him. “I’d like to get her and her friend home before everyone on this island is shitty drunk. You know how Heathens Hollow gets before the first hunt.”

Braken nodded and patted my back. “Go.”

Chapter 11

Storee

“You’re coming home with me,” Locke said, as he took my hand after we dropped Fiora off at her cottage and turned us back toward The Vault where I knew his car was parked.

I tugged on his hand, but his grip only tightened. “What? Why? We’re almost to my place.”

“Because the island is full of strangers tonight. Everyone is drunk and celebrating Heathens, and I don’t feel safe having you stay in your cottage alone.” He glared at me. “And I don’t feel like explaining myself further.”

A wave of heat washed over me as Locke’s grip on my hand tightened. The way he looked at me with such intensity almost made me forget my earlier objections.

I hesitated, but something about the way he spoke made me feel like he truly was worried about my safety. “Fine,” I relented, “but only because I know I made you angry tonight, and I feel bad. I guess the least I can do is follow your wishes now.”

Locke chuckled wryly, his lips twisting into a wicked smile. “You act as if I was asking and you’re in a position to give your permission.” He leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear. “There will be consequences for angering me tonight.”

My heart raced as I tried to process his words. What did he mean by consequences?

I pushed back the fear that was starting to bubble up inside me and forced my feet to walk. I knew Locke well enough to know that he was a man of his word, and I had a feeling that I had just signed myself up for something that I couldn’t back out of.

We reached his car, and he opened the door for me, gesturing for me to get in. I slid into the passenger seat, and he shut the door behind me before walking around to the driver’s side.

The ride to his house was silent, except for the sound of the engine, the beating of my heart, and a slight ringing in my ears.

When we arrived at his house, he led me inside, his grip still firm on my hand. The house was dimly lit, and my heart raced as I followed him through the front door.

His house was big and beautifully designed with expensive furniture and a minimalist decor. I felt out of place, as usual in his elegant surroundings, as he led me to the living room. He gestured for me to sit on the couch and disappeared into the kitchen, only to return minutes later with two glasses of whiskey.

He handed me one glass and sat down next to me. “Drink,” he ordered, his eyes fixed on mine.

I hesitated for a second before taking a sip. The whiskey was smooth and burned down my throat, leaving a warm feeling in my stomach. I took another sip, feeling braver now that the alcohol was coursing through my veins.

Locke took his time sipping his whiskey, his eyes never leaving mine. I shifted in my seat, feeling uncomfortable under his gaze. The silence between us was deafening, and I couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking.

Finally, Locke spoke. “You know, you have a lot of nerve, provoking me like that. I set rules for a reason. The Vault is off limits.”

I took another sip of my whiskey, trying to calm the nervous fluttering in my stomach. “I didn’t mean to provoke you. I was just trying to have some fun like everyone else does in this town. I’ve never been part of Heathens before and, well… it seemed like now was as good a time as any.”

Locke scoffed. “Fun? You call flaunting yourself in front of every man on this island fun? You were rubbing yourself on a complete stranger. You didn’t even know who that man was.”

I frowned, feeling defensive. “I wasn’t flaunting myself. I was just dancing. And isn’t the entire point of the masked event to not know who anyone is?”

“Dancing? That wasn’t dancing, that was seduction. Dangerous seduction.”

I bristled at his accusation. “I wasn’t trying to seduce anyone. I was just enjoying myself.”

Locke leaned closer, his eyes darkening with anger. “He was seducing you, Storee. And you can’t just do whatever you want without thinking of the consequences.”

I felt a spark of anger flare up inside me. “I’m a grown woman, Locke. I don’t need you to tell me what to do. I said I was sorry for crossing into your domain, but I’m not sorry for dancing with another man. I’m not a little girl anymore. I don’t have a curfew and a bedtime.”

Locke’s eyes followed my every move as I took another drink of my whiskey, his gaze intense and unwavering. He slowly leaned in closer to me, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. I could feel the heat radiating off his body, and it made my skin tingle.

“You’re right,” he finally said. “I’m a man of action. Not words. I don’t need to tell you anything. I need to show you.”

He stood up and took hold of his belt buckle, effortlessly undoing it and yanking the leather through the loops with a hissing swoosh that made my heart skip.

He folded the leather in his hand, his intense stare never leaving mine.

My mouth went dry as I watched him, my heart beating faster with every passing second. I knew what was coming next, and yet, I couldn’t look away. I was both scared and excited, a feeling I had never experienced before.

Locke took a step closer to me, his belt still in his hand. “Stand up,” he commanded, his voice low and rough as he spoke. “Bend over the couch.” His grip tightened on his belt.

“What?” I squeaked. “No. I’m sorry. I apologized.”

“I hate apologies.”

“You can’t just,” I looked at the belt, “whip me with that.”

“I can. And I will.”

Before I could respond, he yanked me off the couch and bent me over the arm rest. The cool leather kissed the skin of my thighs as Locke moved behind me, one hand resting on my back while the other held the belt.

I jerked when he raised the hem of my little black dress, exposing my lace thong.

“By the time I’m done with you, you’ll never want to step foot inside The Vault again.”

Without warning, he brought the belt down hard across my backside. I gasped, the pain radiating through me. He spanked me again, and I cried out.

The pain was intense, but so was the pleasure. I had never felt anything like it before, and it was all I could do to not beg for more.

Locke continued to spank me, the sound of the leather striking my skin echoing through the room. Each time he brought the leather down, a wave of pleasure coursed through my body, nearly making me moan.

My mind wanted the spanking to stop, but my body clearly didn’t. I feared if he kept going for much longer, there would be no way to hide what this punishment was doing to me. I’d be mortified for Locke to know that his act of discipline wasn’t exactly teaching me the lesson he was hoping to achieve.

My body reacted to his dominance as he brought the belt down on my ass, each strike leaving a burning sensation in its wake. I had never felt so alive before, and a big part of me didn’t want this moment to end. I could feel my pussy getting wetter with every strike, and it was all I could do not to start rubbing myself against the couch.

After what seemed like a lifetime, but also not long enough, Locke stopped and rubbed my burning rear. I let out a sigh of relief, feeling my heart slow down.

“I don’t want an apology from you again,” he said, his voice still low and dangerous. “Do you understand?”

I nodded.

“Say it,” he demanded, his hand tightening around the leather and bringing it down on my ass one more time.

“I won’t do it again,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

“Louder.” He brought the leather down upon me again, harder than all the times before.

“I won’t do it again!” I cried, the pain in my ass intensifying.

“Good girl,” he said, loosening his grip on the belt. “Now, get up.”

I stood up, trying to shake the pain out of my legs.

He took a step closer to me, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me closer to him, his lips finding the top of my head as he gave me a comforting kiss.

A wave of lust washed over me, and my body swayed toward him, wanting more. I wanted so much more than just comfort.

He ran his hand down the length of my back, lowering the dress back down because I had forgotten to do it myself.

He gently rubbed the burning flesh of my ass before giving it a small smack. I gasped, feeling my pussy pulsing with excitement.

For the first time, Locke spoke, his voice breathy and thick. “I’m not a man to test. Hopefully, you understand that now.”

His hand cupped my face to his chest in an embrace as I silently nodded. My face was heated in embarrassment, my head spun, but I cuddled into his warmth with the need to be closer.

“I promised myself that I’d always keep you safe,” he said. “Don’t make it so hard for me.”

I remained silent, absorbing the sensations and what had just occurred. I should be livid. I should be demanding that he let me go. And yet, I had never felt so protected and… loved… before in my life.

I was also wetter than I had ever been before, and I could only hope he would take me right then and there.

But he didn’t. He only kissed me on my forehead before he stepped away from the couch and let me straighten my dress.

“Come with me.” He grabbed my hand and led me up the stairs to the bedrooms. “It’s late and we both have had a long night.”

He opened the door to the guest room, and my heart sank. Without him saying another word, I knew that our evening would be coming to an end. Him leaving me to sleep alone, as I’d done before in his house as a guest, was more of a punishment than the spanking had been.

I walked inside the room, seeing the spare bed.

“Goodnight, Storee,” he said from the doorway.

I turned to look at him. “Goodnight, Locke.”

He smiled and closed the door behind himself. I could hear his soft footsteps fade away into the darkness as I gingerly sat down on the bed.

I tried to push the thoughts of Locke and the belting incident out of my mind, but it was no use. Every part of my body still tingled with excitement and a throbbing dull ache.

I collapsed onto the bed, my eyes closed and my brain feeling like a rock. Thoughts of him spanking me filled my mind, and I found myself grinding against the bed.

I bit my lip and ran my hand over my pussy, feeling the wetness seeping through my panties. I pinched my nipple through the fabric of my dress and wished he was still there so he could punish me again.

I furiously rubbed my clit through my wet panties, the friction sending waves of pleasure through me. I pinched harder, the pain mixed with pleasure causing my hips to buck.

But the orgasm wasn’t going to come. Just like having any chance of my fantasy of Locke come to fruition.

I lay there for a moment, breathing heavily until I finally calmed down. I turned off the lamp next to the bed and curled up under the covers. My mind buzzed. Sighing in frustration, I gave up on the quest of satisfying my needs, just like I needed to give up on this childhood crush of mine.

Chapter 12

Storee

I couldn’t quite make out the sound I was hearing as I walked down the stairs in the morning.

Whipping?

Leather hitting something?

It was coming from the back room, which I knew to be Locke’s gym.

“Locke?” I called out, not sure if I was interrupting something.

Oh, god, please don’t have me walk in on him having sex with someone?

“Locke?” I called out again. “I need to get home, but I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”

I approached the door to the back room and hesitated for a moment. The sounds I was hearing could be sexual, and I didn’t want to intrude on Locke’s private life. But then again, he had invited me to stay the night, and I had a feeling that he would be angry if I simply left without saying goodbye first.

I pushed open the door and was immediately hit with the scent of sweat and… Locke’s bare—very muscular—chest. My eyes took a few moments to adjust to the dim lighting, but when they did, I was fully greeted with a sight that made my heart race.

Locke was in the center of the room, shirtless, wearing gray sweats, and covered in a sheen of sweat. His muscular chest was heaving, and his eyes were closed in concentration as he jumped rope in front of a full mirror.

The whipping sound was the rapid speed of the rope hitting the floor as the sexiest man I had ever seen was working out with headphones in his ears and oblivious that I stood with my mouth agape and my body frozen in place. His movements were fluid and graceful, as if he and the rope were one entity moving in perfect unison. I couldn’t help but admire the way his muscles flexed and bulged with each jump.

Locke’s body was a work of art, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the sight in front of me. I felt like I was catching a glimpse of something intimate yet powerful. I’d had no idea that he had so many tattoos on his upper arms and chest, and they only added to the raw masculinity that emanated from him.

The sight of his sculpted body and the sound of the rope hitting the floor were hypnotic, and I was drawn in like a moth to a flame. He had a V of muscles leading to the waistband of his sweats, and I couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to run my fingers along his skin, to feel his muscles tense and relax beneath my touch. My mind drifted to what it would feel like to have him pressed up against me, sweaty and musky, as he whispered naughty things in my ear.

As he finished up his routine and caught sight of me in the reflection of the mirror, his expression transformed from one of concentration to one of surprise. He quickly removed his headphones and turned toward me, giving me a full view of his chiseled jaw and intense dark eyes.

“Hey,” he said, his voice husky from the workout. “Didn’t hear you come in.”

“Sorry,” I said, feeling embarrassed for interrupting him, trying to keep my eyes from wandering lower than his chest. “I just wanted to say goodbye before I left. I didn’t mean to interrupt your workout.”

His eyes locked onto mine, and I could feel the heat emanating from his body. He had been working out for a while, and his muscles were pumped, his veins bulging as if they were about to burst.

“It’s fine,” he said, flashing me a smile that made my knees weak. “You’re always welcome here, you know that.”

I nodded, unable to find the words to respond as he walked toward me, his bare chest glistening with sweat. It was like a scene straight out of my wildest fantasies.

“Are you ready to leave already?” he asked, setting down the jump rope.

“Uh, yeah,” I managed to stammer out. “I need to get to work.”

Locke walked over to me, his eyes never leaving mine. He was so close I could feel the heat emanating off of his body, and I found myself inhaling his scent—a musky, masculine smell that made my knees weak.

“I’ll take you home.” He reached for his shirt and put it on, which was a true shame.

“You don’t have to do that,” I said, feeling awkward and unsure of what was happening.

“I insist,” he replied, his voice low and commanding, his hand coming up to rest on my lower back. “It’s no trouble at all.”

As we walked toward his car, I could feel his eyes on me, and it made me nervous. I wasn’t used to feeling so exposed and vulnerable, especially to someone like Locke, who exuded power and confidence in every move he made. But as he opened the car door for me and helped me in, I would have hit my head on the frame of the car if it hadn’t been for Locke’s hand blocking, protecting me.

“Careful there,” he said as he reached over and fastened the seatbelt for me. He then walked to his side of the car and got inside.

The ride was quiet, but the tension between us was palpable. I could feel his eyes on me, his gaze burning into my skin, and it made me feel both desired and intimidated.

“So about last night,” he began.

I groaned. “Oh, please don’t make us talk about it.” I playfully held my ears.

He chuckled. “It was a well-deserved spanking, Storee.”

“One that we won’t discuss again,” I said, hating how heated my face was growing. I could only imagine how red I was.

“As long as you learned your lesson and don’t make me do it again,” he said, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “But I have to admit, you took it like a champ.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the slight smile that tugged at my lips. “I’m glad you’re amused.”

I had never been so mortified but also so attracted to someone, and the thought of what could happen between us made my body hum with anticipation.

Locke pulled up outside my cottage, and I was hit with a sense of disappointment that the car ride was over.

I felt like I was walking on a tightrope, one wrong move and everything could come crashing down.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual.

“Anytime,” he replied, turning to face me.

We sat in the car for a few moments longer, me not wanting to break the spell that seemed to be cast between us.

Finally, Locke leaned in and brushed his lips against my cheek. “Take care of yourself, Storee,” he whispered, his breath hot against my skin. “See you soon.”

I climbed out of the car, feeling his gaze on me until I got to the door. My heart was beating out of my chest as I fumbled with the keys, my hands shaking. I turned and waved goodbye before I made any more of a fool of myself than I already had.

As I entered my cottage and shut the door behind me, I let out a deep breath that I didn’t even realize I’d been holding. My mind raced, and my body still buzzed with the energy from being near Locke. I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his body had looked as he worked out, or the way his hand had felt on my lower back as he’d helped me into the car.

I needed to distract myself, so I decided to take a shower. As I undressed, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and cringed at the sight. My hair was a mess, and my face was flushed, giving away my embarrassment. I stepped into the shower and let the hot water wash over me, trying to clear my mind of all thoughts of Locke.

But as I closed my eyes and let the water cascade down my body, I couldn’t help but imagine Locke being in the shower with me, his hands on my body, his lips on my neck. I shook my head, trying to clear the image from my mind, but it was no use. The more I tried to push it away, the stronger the desire became.

No! No! This was Locke! An impossibility. A never can be.

Yes, I needed to distract myself, and luckily I had just the thing to do so.

The Hunt.

I needed something. I had to focus on anything else besides the man who was controlling every single thought of mine.

He was the one who had been warning me about danger. But if he only knew that the real danger was me. Me and my poisonous thoughts.

Chapter 13

Locke

Leaving Storee alone in her cottage after driving her home this morning was damn near impossible. I wanted to stay and watch in the distance like I had done so many nights before. But the island was full of people lingering about, and there was no way I wouldn’t get caught as the creepy stalker in the forest that I was. Trying to get her out of my mind all day was no easy task. All I could think of was her and the way her perfect ass had looked as I took my belt to it last night.

She needed to know I was a man to be feared when crossed, but had I gone too far?

Would she learn from what happened or only rebel more? Had I pushed her away?

I threw my reading glasses down onto the top of my solid mahogany desk, pinching the bridge of my nose hard. My eyes settled where they always did when I gave them free rein—which wasn’t often in my busy life running companies and acting as one of the operating managers of The Vault.

It was the picture of Gabriel, my best friend, and the family I had become part of. We were all posed around the table during a vacation.

Since we all adored the snow, we’d taken a trip in the middle of the winter one year. We spent our time racing each other on snowmobiles, skiing down the mountain through inches of fresh powder, and traversing the slopes on snowboards. But we’d also taken a couple of days and gone down to the cape, thoroughly enjoying the fact that we practically had the place to ourselves. I had taken my thirty-five millimeter on our walks and had gotten some great shots of the sea, and even better candid photos of Storee as she stared off into what she called heaven.

Next to the picture, I also had a picture of Storee with the ocean highlighting every delicate and beautiful feature she had.

I had been teasing her unmercifully about how bundled up she was, so she’d knocked down the hood of her jacket, and I had caught her at a moment I always thought of as most herself—turned back toward me, away from the sea, her hair streaming out behind her, a big as life grin on her face that made me ache to smile back at her—even years later.

I was sick of feeling the way I had since Gabriel’s death—cold and empty and lonely. I missed his friendship, but I also missed the sense of family I’d had with him and his daughter. It was even getting to the point where I was sick of work, which was absolutely unheard of for me. Rising in power was everything I strived toward. Or at least it had been.

I was also sick of the guilt.

I should have saved Gabriel.

I shouldn’t have let him die.

And I sure as hell shouldn’t let his murderer go unpunished.

But I was a flawed man in so many fucking ways.

Where did I even begin to redeem myself?

I’d always been a loner. Like Storee, I’d also lost my father to murder. I’d grown up with my mom as a single parent. I had ended up having to spend an inordinate amount of time with the wrong kind of people trying to prove myself in the underbelly of the world for the sake of my father’s memory. I knew I was quiet and serious even from childhood, and it wasn’t until I grew up and filled out that I began to get much in the way of attention from anyone else. Once my shoulders began to broaden and my voice dropped sexily, nearly every girl in school ran after me.

But I had none of it.

I’d seen my mother’s battle, working herself to the bone to run a struggling household with only the help of her young son, trying to make a decent life for him and get the things he wanted. I had made up my mind early on that I was going to make enough money that my mother wasn’t going to have to work anymore, and I’d run and grow an empire to its full potential no matter how dirty my hands had to get to get there.

And my hands didn’t just get dirty—they got filthy.

But I was determined to be the man that my father and his father’s father would be proud of.

The Hartwell name would not be lost, and I would keep their memory alive. The name would be synonymous with power.

My dreams had been realized to an incredible extent, due to some smart business moves and connecting with the right people. I had been able to keep my mother comfortable until the day she peacefully passed. I had made her proud regardless if it was crime money that paid the bills. It’s all she ever knew, and she never once judged me for it.

The only thing that had been missing in my life was a special woman. I wanted an equal partner.

I wanted a strong woman—strong enough to submit and allow me to protect her at all costs. To fully trust that her man would do what was right and always have his woman’s best interest at heart.

I would also dominate the woman I loved and then fuck her brains out after—although this wasn’t something that I revealed to every woman I dated, and there were definitely some who could have used a good session with my belt. I had let those ladies go with absolutely no regrets. I didn’t want a bratty woman. I didn’t want a woman to act submissive.

No. I wanted a woman who craved it.

I was into some kinky shit when it came to sex, and the right woman had yet to come along to feed my desires.

I was an alpha asshole and had no shame in admitting it.

That wasn’t to say that I hadn’t had a lot of women in my life. I had. Ever since I’d gotten smacked upside the head with the load of testosterone that was puberty, I’d had almost more women hanging around me than I could deal with. In high school, the girls would practically stalk me. And the older they got, the subtler they became, but there were no fewer of them. And when they knew I was connected to the mafia, assassins, thieves, and just overall bad guys, they should have been smart and run away.

They had done the complete opposite. And then of course, owning The Vault had only fueled my desire more. I owned a playground where every fantasy could be met with parties and people like me could quench our every thirst.

Sometimes I didn’t mind a casual fuck. Sometimes I wanted to be left alone. It was a balance that I’d been happy with as long as I’d had Gabriel and his daughter as my surrogate family to ground me. To keep my ego in check and remind me that I was a human being who still enjoyed meatloaf and watching a Sunday night football game with a buddy. But now that he was dead… things seemed darker, and I wasn’t rebounding as I should.

I worked around death used as consequences for deals gone bad. I had lost more friends than I could count. You couldn’t be where I was in the circle I frequented and expect to grow old or have friends who did the same. Not unless you were dying old behind bars.

But my friendship with Gabriel had been different.

Gabriel had been my normal.

Now I just felt like a dark motherfucker again. Alone.

Work helped—the length of my work weeks was getting to be ridiculous. They were the things of which legends were made. But the solace was empty. Beyond the isolation, there were miles and miles of nothingness, and I considered walking away from the dark world altogether. I knew that my partners at The Vault would shit themselves if I left. But I was growing weary of being there every night. I had no desire to take part in the parties. I wasn’t sure what the fuck was going on, but the dynamic of our club was changing and it no longer had the same appeal to me that it once had. Even though the club was packed on most nights, I was over smoking cigars and drinking whiskey with men who didn’t measure up to Gabriel.

It was getting old, or I was getting lonely. Or I just needed a fucking attitude check.

I wasn’t sure what the fuck to do, but I was tired and sick of just about everything. I needed to get my shit together.

The one bright spot in my life was the only social engagement I cared to keep—my twice a month lunches with Storee.

She’d been a rock for me when Gabriel died, even though I was supposed to comfort her as she grieved for her father, and I wasn’t about to forget that. I’d always liked Storee, although I knew that she was completely off limits. She was much younger than me and the daughter of my best friend.

Was she fucking beautiful? Hell, yes.

But the answer was no. No fucking way would I even consider her.

Was I lying to myself? Hell, yes.

I considered. Fuck me, I had considered every time I jacked off after a dinner with them.

She was of age… barely.

But I was a total shithead and an absolute creep for doing so.

I owned it. I owned just how fucked up I was.

In a perfect world, and if I were a good man, I would have never considered plunging my cock deep inside of her.

But the world was far from perfect, and I most certainly wasn’t a good man.

But I’d hidden my lustful thoughts from Gabriel, and for that, I was proud.

Storee couldn’t have been any more uncomfortable around me if she’d tried—fidgeting, stuttering, and never meeting my eyes the entire time she was in my presence. She’d only gotten a little better about it since we’d been lunching.

I probably should have let her off the hook about the lunches, but I wanted to stay as close to Gabriel’s daughter as I could, and being with Storee reminded me, in a sad sort of way, what it was like to have someone you loved in your life. She was as close to family as I had. And I enjoyed the lunches, once I pulled her out of her shell. Storee was smart, and when she was comfortable, had a biting wit that I enjoyed. She had a look of purity but not blatantly so. She’d gotten her lovely, naturally curly hair directly from her father. If she was talking about something she was interested in—like her art—her face lit up from within.

She certainly had gotten more than her fair share of her father’s stubbornness, though, and adamantly refused to let me take her to lunch, or to go to dinner with me. I was so determined not to scare her off and lose any sense of normal that I had left, that I’d hesitated for a long time to put my foot down. But at our last lunch, I’d just decided that I wasn’t going to let her have her way.

She’d also gotten a heaping helping of Gabriel’s pride. She wouldn’t even let me pick up her lunch even though my paying for her food was a drop in the bucket compared to what I made in a day. She’d practically gotten into a physical fight with me the first time we went out because of that.

Apparently, my look of warning didn’t work on her. It sure as hell scared all the people who worked for me, but not Storee. She hadn’t so much as batted an eyelash at me.

She made me want to kiss her, and that impulse sent me reeling out of my chair, my back to the picture of Gabriel and his daughter, as if I couldn’t bear for the images within the frame to see my shame. I hadn’t had the impulse to kiss someone for so long, it physically hurt me to consider it. To say nothing of how guilty it made me feel. Not only was I contemplating kissing someone much younger than me, but I was contemplating kissing Gabriel’s daughter. His fucking daughter!

Forbidden.

Wrong.

So fucked up.

Once the idea formed in my mind, however, I found that I couldn’t let it go. It haunted me, sneaking into my consciousness when I least expected it. Visions of taking that little body and tugging it against mine, letting my hands sweep up into all that hair, bending her head back for my deep, passionate kiss, letting my lips slide slowly over hers—

I shook my head.

Fuck me. I had done a lot of bad things in my life. But these thoughts… nothing I’d ever done was as bad as this. She was still a damn kid. Legal age or not, this girl was no match for me. Angelic. Perfect. She had no business being pursued by the damn devil.

My thoughts were interrupted by my office door being thrown open.

“Locke, there’s something you need to see,” Braken said as he marched into my office without warning. He threw down a sheet of paper on my desk.

I cleared my throat and tried to focus my attention on the business he was presenting to me rather than where my mind had been.

“That’s the list of participants of The Hunt. I thought you’d like to know Storee Brooks is on the list.”

“What the fuck?” I stared down at her name in disbelief.

“You want me to remove her name?” Braken asked. “Although she already got the tests, signed the contract, and has the red light bulb. The Hunt’s tomorrow night. I’m not sure I can stop the ball that is already rolling.”

“Fuck!”

“Unless you go and get the light back from her, there’s no guarantee that someone won’t see it and act on it.”

I slammed my hand down on my desk. “Motherfucker.” I took a deep breath to control the rage coursing through me.

“I can get someone we trust to choose her to hunt. At least then you’ll know she’ll be… safe,” Braken offered.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“I don’t know Storee as well as you,” Braken continued, “but even if you stop this hunt, there is always next weekend and the weekend after. If she has her mind set on doing this…”

“I know.”

“You could forbid it. We could try to ban her.”

I shook my head. “I know Storee. There’s only so much she will take. She’s stubborn and if she feels we’re treating her like a kid or differently than any other woman on this island…” I took another deep breath. Picturing her with another man, even one hand-selected, gutted me. “She’s my responsibility. I’ll find someone. I’ll handle it.”

Braken nodded and made his way toward my door to leave, wise enough to pick up on the fact that I was in no mood for further conversation. “I’ll leave it with you then.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, feeling as if the man had just punched me in the gut.

When Braken closed the door behind himself, I quickly pulled up the security camera feed on my camera to see for myself. I wasn’t proud of the fact that I’d had it installed a year ago. A hidden camera that I had facing Storee’s front porch so I could watch her comings and goings. And I also wasn’t proud of the fact that the security camera footage only fed this urge to always watch over her.

Always watching.

Every night. Every morning. Always.

I was trying to be good.

I was trying not to watch it every day and every night like I had.

I had been trying to break the addiction.

But look what happened when I fucking tried to pull away from watching her.

Look what happened when I took my eyes away for a minute.

She had turned the red light on.

Chapter 14

Storee

Throw caution to the wind for once in my life. It was time.

My father was the risk taker. I was not.

My father took chances. I did not.

My father was dead. I might as well be.

It was fucking time. It was time I lived. It was time I felt alive.

The night finally arrived, and I flicked on the red light bulb on my porch and waited.

My heart pounded in my chest as I counted down the minutes for my hunter to arrive. I stared up at the beacon of red. My signal that I was game to play.

The rules were simple: the man in the bone mask would chase me, and I had to outrun him for as long as I could. And then, when it was time, he would catch me and we would… do whatever he wanted to do.

I wore a white lace nightgown and stood barefoot—as the rules of the game dictated.

As I waited, I tried to calm my nerves by taking deep breaths and focusing on the task at hand. I knew that once the chase started, there would be no turning back.

Suddenly, I heard a sound in the distance. It was faint at first, but it grew louder and louder until I could make out the sound as a whistle. Singsong-like and haunting. I’d heard it before growing up on Heathens Hollow. But never for me. This time, the whistle was for me.

It was the sound the hunter made to warn its prey.

Eerie, melodic, and terrifying.

The Hunt was about to begin.

I took one last deep breath and stepped off my porch, into the darkness. The angle of the cottages blocked Fiora’s front porch from my view, so I couldn’t tell if she was still waiting for her hunter or if her chase had already begun.

I glanced around, trying to spot my own masked man. The moon shone high in the sky, casting a haunting glow over everything. I could see the shadows of trees and bushes moving, but I couldn’t tell if it was just my imagination or if the hunter was really closing in on me.

My heart pounded so hard I thought it would burst out of my chest. My palms were getting sweaty as I waited for the hunter to arrive. I took a deep breath and focused on not passing out. The game had begun, and I couldn’t afford to panic.

I knew that the hunter was out there, somewhere, watching me.

Suddenly, I heard a twig snap somewhere to my left. I spun around, heart racing, trying to catch a glimpse of my hunter. But I saw nothing.

My nerves were getting the best of me. I needed to focus.

Then I heard it again. This time, the sound was closer. I whipped around, eyes searching frantically for any sign of the hunter.

Then another whistle…

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

My heart raced faster as the sound grew closer and closer. My breaths came out in short gasps as I tried not to scream out for help.

What the hell did I just do?

Why the fuck would I sign up for this?

This was insanity!

I could see the mist from my breath in the cool night air, adding to the demented atmosphere around me.

And then I saw him. A shadowy figure in a bone mask emerged from behind a tree and began to stalk toward me. He wore black gloves and a hooded sweatshirt that covered his hair, and he blended with the night. My heart leapt into my throat as I realized that the chase had truly begun.

His mask made of bone said it all. He was a beast. Primal. And I knew one thing.

Run.

These were the rules. I’d run, he’d chase, and then when he caught me, he could do with me however he chose. But facing it head on…

Staring at the beast in the stag mask head on…

Though he was a man simply in costume, there was nothing less animalistic in how he presented himself. I knew this was part of The Hunt. I knew this was the ritual. But actually seeing it. Actually feeling it…

Run.

I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I could reason with him. But before I could even open my mouth, he lunged at me. I dodged out of the way, barely avoiding his grip. I could feel the heat of his breath on my neck as I ran deeper into the forest.

There were grunts and pants, as if the man had morphed into an actual stag.

The thrill of the chase was intoxicating, but it was also terrifying. The trees rushed past me in a blur as I struggled to keep pace with my racing heart. But no matter how fast I ran, I could still hear the thud of his footsteps behind me.

I cursed myself for ever agreeing to this madness.

But it was too late for regrets now. I knew I couldn’t keep this up forever. Sooner or later, he’d catch me. And when he did, I had no doubt he’d show me no mercy.

Branches scraped against my skin, but I didn’t slow down. I had to put distance between myself and the man in the mask. I wasn’t ready yet.

I couldn’t give him my body yet.

I couldn’t give him my body at all.

What had I done?

My foot caught on a rock, sending me sprawling onto the ground. Before I could scramble to my feet, the beast was upon me. He towered over me, his massive frame casting a shadow over my trembling form.

I saw the fierce glint in his masked eyes, and I knew one thing. Resistance was futile. I was his to do with as he pleased.

His gloved hand grabbed me roughly by the arm, bruising my flesh as he hauled me to my feet. I stumbled forward, trying to keep up as he dragged me deeper through the forest. I could hear his heavy breathing and the sound of his boots pounding the earth beneath us.

I wanted to tell him he was hurting me. To tell him he was being too rough, but I feared that would only fuel him more.

Finally, he stopped, and I looked around to see that we were deep in the heart of the forest. The masked man pushed me to the ground, and I scrambled backwards, hoping to put some distance between us.

But he was too quick, and he pounced on top of me, his massive frame pinning me to the ground. The heat radiated off his body as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against my skin.

“Please,” I whimpered, knowing it was useless, but unable to stop myself. “Please don’t hurt me.” My pounding heartbeat merged into one savage rhythm.

The beast let out a low, guttural growl, his stag mask staring down at me. I could hear the sound of his heavy breathing and feel the weight of his body pressing me further into the ground. He leaned in closer, his hot breath on my cheek.

The beast in the stag mask said nothing, demanded nothing.

Instead, he lowered his head, his antlers grazing my cheek in a way that was both threatening and strangely erotic. There was a dark energy that both repelled and attracted. I shuddered, unsure of whether to be afraid or aroused. The thought of resistance never even occurred to me. It was all part of the ritual, right?

This was The Hunt.

I put the red light bulb over the door of my front porch. I consented to this. I agreed…

But what if I changed my mind? What if I made a mistake?

Not giving me another second to process my thoughts, he flipped me over onto my stomach, pushing my face into the dirt beneath me. The fabric of my nightgown was raised, and my panties were torn off in such a swift motion that I could do nothing but gasp, earth filling my mouth as I did.

I wasn’t sure if I should fight or enjoy. I wasn’t sure whether to resist or submit. I wasn’t sure whether this would be violent or passionate lovemaking. I was lost in the shock of the moment. As with the chase, I no longer knew what was reality and what was ritual. What was okay, and what most certainly was not.

“No,” I cried out, though my voice was muffled against the cold ground.

More dirt pushed past my lips, and with every deep inhale, the pungent scent of soil crept up my nose.

The sound of a condom wrapper being torn was both relieving and horrifying. This dubious descent down to the pits of hell would at least be safe. Safe…

He didn’t stop there, and I moaned as I felt the head of his cock pressing hard against my pussy, the flesh giving way to his girth. With one quick thrust, he was inside me, making me cry out in pain as he filled me.

He was too fucking big.

With one hand on my back to keep me pinned to the earth, he took the other and cupped my ass, squeezing it hard, pulling me further into him. He thrust hard and fast, grabbing my hair and yanking my head back.

I felt him inside me, his thick cock giving me no option other than to moan against the coolness of the night’s air. With one forceful thrust, he pulled my body flush against his, his hand tugging at my hair hard. I cried out in pain, tears forming in my eyes.

He fucked me without mercy. He fucked me without any care for my comfort. He didn’t ask if it was okay. He didn’t ask what I wanted. He just fucked me.

I groaned in pleasure, as confused as I was scared. The pain and pleasure of his roughness seemed to meld together in a way that was both frightening and erotic. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to feel. I didn’t know how to live in this moment.

I dug into the ground, blackening beneath my nails, and I cried out again, though the thickness of the forest seemed to suffocate any cries.

Besides… tonight was The Hunt. My cries would not be the only ones heard in Heathens Hollow.

I knew this was part of the ritual.

Somewhere deep in my mind, I knew this was how The Hunt went.

But somewhere deeper in my mind, I knew that I was not safe, and I was not protected.

With every brutal thrust, my fear that I was in way over my head grew more palpable.

Had I gone too far?

We were past that…

But I had been warned.

Once the light turns red…

With every thrust, he pulled my hair, and with every thrust, I yelped. The pain it brought was incredible, but it was strangely… sexy.

As much as I tried to fight it, I could feel my body growing warm, the heat intensifying with every thrust.

I could feel myself being brought to climax.

And then the beast withdrew his cock from my pussy. He didn’t pull out for long, and before I could even catch my breath, his hot dick pressed against my tight asshole.

With one powerful thrust, he was inside me. I howled in shock, his girth only allowing him to penetrate me halfway. It hurt, it hurt so fucking bad.

I felt so dirty. I felt so violated. I felt so wrong.

Yet my body also was willing.

I kept grinding against him, keeping his cock wedged inside me, my ass so blissfully full. I ground against him, hoping that somehow, just maybe, I could take him all inside me.

The primal took over.

The primal became me just as it was part of my hunter.

The primal won.

Primal fucking. Wild, animalistic fucking. And I loved it.

I hated it.

I loved it again.

It filled me with shame. So much fucking shame.

Then, as suddenly as he had begun, he slowed down, the power of his thrusts diminishing. I whimpered in protest, wanting him to continue. I loved the way he was fucking me. But he stopped. He pulled out completely, and my body shuddered in disappointment.

He didn’t say anything, but I could hear his heavy breathing as he yanked his pants back on. I rolled over onto my back to stare up at his stag mask, trying to find a hint of expression in the hollow sockets of the bone. Something that might tell me what was going through his mind.

There was nothing.

There were so many shadows, the darkness cloaking him in disguise even more than the mask did.

He hunched down beside me, his fingers touching my cheek. I flinched, unsure of what he was going to do.

Would he slap me?

Would he hurt me?

Slowly, softly, he traced the line of my jaw with his gloved hand, tilting my head up toward his. My pulse grew faster, my breath coming out in short, excited pants. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what he was going to do. I didn’t know what to say.

I didn’t even know how to feel.

And then, just like that, he was gone.

He was gone…

Chapter 15

Locke

If I dove into the waves below, would the Kraken be there to catch me?

I asked myself this question every single night after I watched her. After I stood in the shadows stalking Storee Brooks like she was nothing but prey.

Once she was inside, tucked away safely, I’d stand on the edge of a cliff, staring down below feeling nothing but guilt and shame for the feelings I had for her. For the addiction I couldn’t fight.

I had to watch. I had to keep her safe. There were no other choices.

But I didn’t have to act.

Tonight I had acted. Fuck me, I had acted.

Tonight as I stood on my cliff of penance, I knew I had taken it too far.

I had just wanted to teach her a lesson. Scare her, punish her even, so she’d learn to never do something like that again.

But I’d hunted her. I’d fucked her. I’d crossed the line.

Jesus fucking Christ, what was wrong with me? It was Storee! Storee. The daughter of my best friend. Who the fuck did shit like this?

Me. That was who. A goddamn monster.

My chest heaved. “Fuck.” I slammed my fist into the nearest tree with enough force to cut my knuckles and split the skin of my hand open.

“Trees don’t bleed,” Braken’s voice said from behind me. “If you’re going to bust your knuckles at least make it worth it. Hit someone who deserves it.”

I kept my back to him, staring at the sea below.

Braken didn’t take the hint and walked up to stand beside me. He held a similar mask to the one I still held in my non-bloody hand. We clearly were both partaking in The Hunt. But I was the only true monster.

“I wanted to scare the shit out of her. To make sure she’d never do something like this again. I knew if I just forbid it, she’d do what she wanted anyway. She’s stubborn.”

“She is. Like her father,” Braken agreed.

“But I took it too far. I hurt her. I fucking hurt her.”

“That happens on The Hunt. It’s part of it. She knew that. She didn’t go into this blindly.”

“I tossed her to the ground. I fucked her like an animal.”

Braken nodded. “We were all animals tonight.”

“But she isn’t,” I argued.

“If it hadn’t been you, it would have been someone else,” Braken pointed out.

I tossed my stag mask to the ground. “It shouldn’t have been me.”

Braken chuckled. “If it was any other man, I’d be helping you dig a six-foot hole for the poor soul rather than convincing you to step away from the cliff.”

“I’m not going to jump. That would be too easy. I deserve to pay penance for what I did tonight, not be put out of my misery.”

“You fucked her. No sin in that.”

I turned to face him. “She’s Gabriel’s daughter, dude! I fucked my best friend’s daughter, and she doesn’t even know it was me. And I didn’t just fuck her. I lost control. I took all of her. All. I treated her like an animal!”

Not fazed in the slightest by my raised voice and the visible rage that shook me, Braken casually asked, “Would you have preferred her to know it was you?”

“Fuck, no. How would we ever move past that?”

“It was one night,” Braken said. “Did you scare her? Did you achieve your goal?”

“I sure as fuck hope so.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “I just left her there in the dirt. Alone. Cold. Taken and abused. I sure as fuck hope she learned her lesson from that and would never turn the red light on again.”

Braken shrugged. “So we move on. That’s what the night is about. One night of primal passion. You gave. She took. It’s done.” He patted my back. “Let’s go home. You can beat the shit out of yourself again tomorrow. It’s been a long night. No regrets, my man.”

“No regrets,” I mumbled, reciting a chant he and I had been saying since we were kids. It was our motto for when we fucked up but there wasn’t anything we could do about it after the fact.

And the truth of the matter was that part of my black soul didn’t have any regrets. I fucking should have. I should. But I had dreamed of what had happened tonight.

I’d dreamed of Storee’s sexy body. I’d dreamed of her scent. Her sounds. Her touch.

I dreamed of her warmth. Her hotness. Her tightness. Her wetness. Her moans. The list went on and on…

But it wasn’t supposed to happen like it did.

Not The Hunt. Not where I was the hunter and she the prey.

And then when it was all over, I’d just left her there. Alone in the dirt.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said, picking up my mask.

I spun on my heel and stormed back to her cottage. I had to make sure she got home safely. I had to watch from afar like I did every night, but this time was even more important because she had been in danger because of me.

Me.

My chest rose and fell with each step.

I was angry. Incensed. Out of control.

My hands shook.

I was the beast behind the bone mask in every way.

I was truly one of the Heathens that made up this island.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

I was supposed to be her protector. I was supposed to be her savior. I was supposed to keep her away from the monsters, not deliver her to one.

But she’d put the red light on. She’d given me no choice. If it hadn’t been me, it would have been someone else. I couldn’t let that happen. She had given me no choice—

Fuck that.

I hadn’t had to actually have sex with her. I could have just chased her and scared her enough to make sure she’d never want to be part of The Hunt again. I hadn’t had to be weak and actually act like a beast.

But I did…

When I arrived at her cottage, I stood in the shadows and watched. The lights were all off. Everything was dark, but there was movement in the house.

I wanted to make sure she was okay. To make sure she was safe. I wanted to see her face, but I didn’t have the strength to walk across the street. Nor did I have the strength to go closer and tell her the truth.

That the masked man she’d fucked tonight was me.

She surprised me when she opened the door.

Her hair was tangled. Her mouth was swollen. Her eyes were red and puffy. And she was so fucking dirty.

Storee still had on her white nightgown, but it was torn. The right strap was completely ripped away. The hem revealed her thighs and the front was exposed so that I could see her breasts. I swallowed the lump in my throat and tried to look away but couldn’t.

She glanced up at the moon, out at the sea, and then scanned her surroundings as if searching for another glimpse of her hunter.

She then looked up at the red light bulb on her porch and paused.

I wanted her to take it out and crush it into a million pieces, but she didn’t.

Fine. I’d do it for her because this night would never happen again. I was going to make damn sure of it.

Chapter 16

Storee

Well? was the text I got from Fiora the next morning.

I was uncertain what to say, and it took me a minute to text back.

Me: It was… wow.

My body ached in all the right places, and my soul felt alive. I hadn’t felt so revived and exhilarated in maybe forever.

Fiora: I told you!

Me: I can’t believe I went through with it.

Fiora: Worth it, right? And not just because of the basket.

Oh, yeah, the basket. I had completely forgotten about the basket that was supposed to be left for me on the porch as my reward. I had been so preoccupied with the memories of what was by far the most thrilling and savage sex of my life that I had forgotten all about the next stage of the game.

Me: I have to go see what’s inside my basket. Hold on…

I went to the front porch, and sure enough a huge basket was waiting for me. It was the adult version of Easter. I carefully lifted the basket and carried it inside, placing it on the kitchen table. As I opened the lid, I gasped at the extravagance of the contents.

The first thing that caught my eye was a Tiffany box. My heart raced as I lifted the little blue box from the basket and opened it slowly. Inside was a stunning diamond necklace, more beautiful than anything I had ever seen. It sparkled in the morning light, casting little rainbow colors around the room. I couldn’t believe it was actually for me.

But that wasn’t all. There were also several bottles of expensive champagne and wine and a box of gourmet chocolates. There was also a voucher for a spa day at Sea Foam—a medical spa that only the richest of Heathens Hollow visited. But beneath all of that, there were also expensive paintbrushes, something I had been wanting to get for myself for ages but could never justify the cost. There were also tubes of expensive paint in the richest of blues and greens, and my favorite kind of sketchbook.

My heart swelled with gratitude. The basket was perfect. I couldn’t stop grinning like a fool.

As I was admiring my new treasures, my phone beeped again. It was a message from Fiora.

Fiora: So, what do you think?

Me: It’s amazing, I typed back enthusiastically.

Fiora: Did you get an envelope?

I reached into the very bottom and saw a small envelope meant for a thank you card. I opened it and counted twenty hundred-dollar bills.

Me: Holy hell!

Fiora: I told you! So are you going to do it again tonight?

How could I not? Making the money I had in my hand would have taken me two months of gutting fish and that’s only if I’d busted my ass.

Me: For sure.

My phone rang and I saw it was Locke. I quickly sent Fiora one last text telling her I needed to get in the shower and I’d talk later before answering.

“Let’s meet for breakfast,” Locke said. Even though he was on the other end of the phone, I could almost see his expression that told me he wasn’t asking. He was telling. It wasn’t an option.

“Breakfast?”

We never met for breakfast. Only lunch. And only twice a month. This was not our norm.

“Meet me at Gale’s in an hour,” he added.

“Okay…”

Before I could say another word or change my mind, Locke hung up.

I stared at my phone for a few seconds and then let out a deep sigh. I knew this breakfast was not going to be a casual affair. Locke never did anything without a reason. Something was definitely up.

I spent the next hour frantically running around my place, trying to get myself together. I wanted to look my best for Locke; I always did. I threw on a simple floral dress, a pair of brown boots, and let my hair do what it wanted unrestrained before grabbing my purse and heading out the door. Gale’s was only a few blocks away from my cottage, so it wouldn’t take me long to walk there.

When I arrived, Locke was already there, sitting at a table in the corner. He looked up as I approached, his expression inscrutable. I walked toward him, my heart beating a little faster than usual. He stood up as I reached the table and pulled out a chair for me. I sat down across from him, waiting for him to speak.

“Good morning,” I said, trying to break the tension.

Locke nodded. “Good morning.” I couldn’t detect any emotion in his voice, but his eyes were burning with intensity.

Oh, god… did he know? Did he know I participated in The Hunt last night, and he brought me here to scold me?

No…

If he knew, he wouldn’t be able to contain his rage right now. No way would he be able to.

The silence stretched between us as we both took sips of our coffee. Wondering what was going on, I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.

We ordered our breakfast, and then Locke finally broke the silence. “I want to talk about the other night. When I spanked you for coming to my club.”

My face heated and I suddenly wished I could climb under the table and hide in embarrassment. Why for the love of god did he have to bring that up? I had hoped we would never discuss it again.

Locke leaned in closer to me, his eyes boring into mine. “I did that because I care about you, you know that.” His voice was low and husky, sending a shiver down my spine.

“I know,” I whispered, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks again.

“But I also did it because I wanted to make sure you never try to come back to The Vault. You’re better than that place. You’re not a heathen like the rest. You shouldn’t be part of everything… dark… that’s on the island.”

“You are,” I said, sipping my coffee. “Are you saying I’m better than you?”

“Yes. Most definitely.”

“You’ve always made The Vault sound so dark and depraved. It’s not. It’s just a club where people have sex. Sex isn’t bad, you know.”

He smirked. “No, far from bad. But still, I don’t want you part of that. I’ve always made a point to shield you from that part of my life. I’d like to keep it that way.”

“It’s part of you. A big part.”

“Yes,” he said with a nod.

“Well, the way I see it, anything that is that big a part of your life can’t be that bad.”

Locke grinned at me, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Is that so? You think that just because it’s a big part of my life, it can’t be bad?”

I shrugged. “It’s just an observation.”

Locke leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. “Okay, let me ask you this. Would you ever go back to The Vault if I allowed it?”

I hesitated, unsure of how to answer. “I don’t know. I mean, I guess it would depend on if I’d have you and your partners watching my every move.” I gave him a smile. “My guess is you’d all attach a chastity belt on me the minute I walked through the door.” I took a deep breath, gathering my thoughts. “I don’t know, Locke. I mean, it’s not like I’m dying to go back or anything, but… I don’t know. There’s something about it that’s… exciting. Maybe a little adventurous.”

Locke’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Adventurous? In what way?”

I shrugged again, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “I don’t know. It’s just… different, you know? Like, I feel like I’m exploring a part of myself that I never even knew existed. And that’s kind of scary, but also… kind of amazing. There’s something enticing about the shadows that lurk there.”

Locke was silent for a moment, studying me carefully. Finally, he spoke. “Is that why you participated in The Hunt last night?” His expression changed instantly, his eyes narrowing and his jaw clenching.

He knew.

But of course he knew. How could he not?

I fidgeted in my seat, feeling exposed under his stare. I didn’t want to have this conversation, but I knew Locke well enough to know there was no getting out of it.

“I don’t know why I did it,” I confessed. “Curiosity, I suppose.”

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

“I know, I know,” I said, holding up my hands in surrender. “But I wanted to see what it was like. I wanted to experience it for myself.”

“And how was it?” he asked. “The experience?”

Before I could respond, our food arrived, and we both took a few bites, the tension between us still palpable. Finally, I spoke up, “It was intense.”

My pussy and ass were still sore from what happened to me last night, and yet… my body felt more alive than it ever had before.

Locke’s eyes darkened, and I could see the tension in his jaw. “Promise me you won’t do it again. I don’t want you to ever put that red light back on.”

I hesitated, feeling a twinge of rebellion rising within me. I didn’t want to be told what to do. I didn’t want to be… parented.

“I’m not a fragile little flower, Locke. I can handle myself. I know that may be hard for you to accept but—”

Locke cut me off, his voice hard and commanding. “I never said you were fragile. I won’t allow you to put yourself in danger like that again.”

I felt a surge of heat between my legs at his words. The possessiveness in his tone always did that to me.

“You put yourself in unnecessary danger,” he continued. “You don’t know the kind of people that are involved in The Hunt. You don’t know what they’re capable of.”

“There are rules to The Hunt,” I defended.

“Rules don’t apply to men who have broken them their entire lives. Remember that. These men are not all rule followers. Their wealth, their power all came because of that. Ruthlessness is the currency in my world.”

“I understand,” I said, feeling the weight of his concern. The same ruthlessness was what got my father killed. I wasn’t immune to ruthlessness.

Locke’s eyes softened a fraction, and he reached across the table to take my hand. “I just worry about you. You mean everything to me, and I don’t want anything to happen to you. I also don’t want to ever picture you running through the woods being chased by a man. It makes me homicidal. And unless you want to visit me twice a month for our lunch dates at the prison because I’m serving time for murder, grant me this one wish. No more hunts.”

I couldn’t hold in the laugh. “I see your point. I do.”

Locke’s expression relaxed slightly at my laugh, but his grip on my hand remained firm. “Good. I’ll always worry about you, you know that.”

I nodded.

“Then it’s settled,” he said. “Unless you want a repeat punishment like the one I gave you, you’ll stay away from The Hunt.”

The heat returned to my face at the mention of the spanking he had given me.

“I’ll be good,” I promised, biting my lower lip, hoping he didn’t notice that I wasn’t exactly saying I wouldn’t participate again.

The truth of the matter… I still wanted to.

Tonight. The weekend wasn’t over yet.

And I could barely wait.

But my ass didn’t have a death wish, so there was no way I was going to admit that while sitting across from him.

Seemingly satisfied with my answer, Locke grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Good. Now, let’s eat. I don’t want to talk about The Hunt anymore.”

Chapter 17

Locke

I fucking loved The Vault. You wouldn’t know it by the way I’d insisted Storee stay away from my club, but I loved everything about the place that my best friends and I built from just a kinky idea.

It exuded class and elegance even though it was coated in sex and desire. The decor was tasteful and refined, with plush velvet couches and dim lighting that just begged for intimate encounters. I loved watching the patrons, dressed to the nines in their fetish gear, exploring their deepest desires in our safe and nonjudgmental space.

As the night went on, the club was filling up with more and more people. The air was thick with the scent of leather, sweat, and lust. I made my way through the crowd, checking on the staff and ensuring everyone was having a good time. My business partners were in the conference room waiting for me for our scheduled meeting.

As I made my way toward the conference room, I noticed a woman sitting alone at the bar, nursing her drink. Her eyes were trained on me, and I could feel her gaze following my every move as I walked. I was accustomed to women watching me, but lately I hadn’t been in the mood to partake in any of the fun.

I had only one person on my mind.

She was becoming my drug.

A pull that I couldn’t control.

I itched to see her again. I craved to be outside her cottage watching from afar. But after last night, I promised myself that I’d behave.

I’d somehow break the addiction.

I’d focus on The Vault. I’d spend all my attention on work.

Not Storee.

Not her.

The truth of the matter was that I didn’t want to see her with another man. And I most certainly didn’t want to see her acting in a sexual way with anyone. My possessiveness grew stronger by the day even though I couldn’t have her.

And since last night and my own self-imposed promise, I found myself constantly thinking about Storee. She was gorgeous, with a perfect body and a sharp wit that always kept me on my toes. And her pussy had been so tight, so—

I tried desperately to push her out of my mind, but every time I closed my eyes, I saw her. I saw her naked, her curves accentuated by the moonlight as I chased her down in the forest like prey as I hunted what was mine—should be mine.

I pictured her writhing beneath me, her body quivering with pleasure. And every time I saw her, my desire for her grew stronger.

“You look a million miles away,” Soren said, waving his hand in front of my face. “You good, man?”

I blinked away the image of Storee moaning beneath my body. “Yeah, fine.” I nodded for my partners to continue with the meeting.

Merrick glanced down at a pile of papers. “Something must be in the air because we have more participants in this year’s season for The Hunt than ever before. We may have to bring on more help.”

“Were there any issues last night?” Braken asked.

“None,” Soren answered. “Everything’s running smooth so far.”

“What’s crazy is how many women who participated last night are still wanting to do it again tonight. Not even a pause to rest,” Merrick said with a wicked smile. “Something’s in the air.”

“Let me see the list,” I said, reaching for the paper.

Braken lifted a brow as I scanned the list of names. “Is she on the list?” he asked me, clearly understanding why I wanted to see.

“Fuck,” I murmured, my throat tight. I had to blink a couple of times to make sure I was actually seeing what I was seeing. “Fuck! Fuck!”

“Storee signed up again?” Braken asked, then leaned back in his chair and ran his hand through his hair. “Fuck. I thought you made sure you scared her away last night.”

“I fucking did!” I hit the top of the table with my fist. “I did!”

Merrick shrugged. “Then let her do it. She’s a grown woman.”

I rubbed my forehead where a headache had formed.

Merrick continued, “I know you feel responsible for Gabriel’s death.”

“Even though it’s not your fault,” Braken cut in. “You couldn’t have stopped the inevitable.”

I shot daggers at Braken. “Really, dude? So it’s cool that I allowed my best friend to go meet the Grim Reaper and did nothing about it? Because that’s what I fucking did.”

“Gabriel made his decision. He knew he was playing with fire with how many double dealings he was in. You warned him,” Soren said.

Clearly, all my friends were on the same page… one I was not on.

“We should have had his back. If we had been there, he’d still be here,” I said. We’d had this conversation before, but these fuckers weren’t listening.

“We’d be dead,” Braken said. “Gabriel walked into an ambush.”

“One that he orchestrated,” Soren added. “Sorry, Locke. I know this is hard to hear, but Gabriel fucked up. He made poor choices all the time, and his last one just happened to be fatal.”

Braken reached for a bottle of bourbon and began pouring us all a glass. “Not your fault. Not anyone’s fault but his own.”

I glanced around the table, making eye contact with each of my friends. “Doesn’t it bother any of you that we don’t know who actually killed him?”

Braken shrugged. “Most likely it was the Godwin family.”

“And you don’t think we should do something about that?” I asked.

“Not unless you have your own death wish,” Soren said.

“He was our friend,” I said, feeling as if I had been punched multiple times by my partners’ words.

Braken poured me another glass of bourbon. “He was.”

“It kills me not knowing who killed him. And why exactly,” I confessed.

“Then find out,” Braken suggested. “Go to the source. You’ve always been close with Apollo. He’ll tell you if his family did it or not.”

“And what if they did? What if we know for sure?” I asked.

“Unless you want to end up like Gabriel, you do nothing,” Soren warned. “But maybe at least knowing the facts will help. I agree with Braken. The guilt is clearly eating you up, so maybe at least knowing will help you face that demon head on.”

Merrick nodded and said, “And Storee’s not your responsibility. She’s not a little girl who needs a father figure.” He raised his hands when I gave him a death glare. “Don’t get me wrong. I like the girl. I do. But she deserves to live her life as she sees fit. You’re suffocating her.”

I downed the bourbon in my glass in one gulp, the liquid burning a trail down my throat. “I’m not letting her do The Hunt tonight. That’s final.”

Braken shook his head. “Good luck trying to stop her.” He sipped his bourbon and added, “The way I see it is you can either let some dude hunt her like any other woman, or you hunt her again like you did last night.”

Soren’s and Merrick’s eyebrows both rose, eyes wide. They hadn’t been privy to the information that Braken just shared.

“You fucked Storee?” Soren asked with a chuckle. “Wow, didn’t see that coming.”

Merrick smirked. “I did. Just a matter of time.”

“You fuckers need to shut up,” I said between clenched teeth. I didn’t want to discuss Storee any longer. “Let’s move on. I’ll handle Storee. She’s my concern. Not any of yours.”

I glared at my partners in crime in warning to drop the subject.

They all had shit-eating grins on their faces. They meant well, but they were pissing me off. I slammed my fist on the table again before I stood and walked away.

This morning she’d told me she wasn’t going to do it again.

Or did she?

Running the conversation we had over breakfast in my head, I realized she carefully avoided actually saying those words.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Storee had every intention of turning her red light on, and there was nothing I could do to stop her.

I rolled my neck and walked toward the exit to get ready for the night.

I had to prepare for a hunt.

Chapter 18

Locke

I often wondered if she knew she was being watched. If she could sense it in her soul. I often caught her pausing on her front porch, glancing toward the forest, darting her eyes side to side.

She never spotted the camera hidden on her porch, although I often felt she looked directly at it. Directly at me. Our eyes locking through the lens.

I often wondered if she knew I watched her, and she simply let me.

As if she knew I only watched to make sure she was safe. To protect her. To keep danger away.

But tonight was different. Tonight she’d be my prey.

Again.

I watched her turn on the red light over her porch. The signal.

The beacon.

The one and only consent.

She was ready for the hunt.

There was a fire in her eyes, a passion that burned brighter than anything I had ever seen before. But tonight, that fire would be mine.

She was wearing a white nightgown with bare feet as were the rules of the night. Her hair was styled in loose waves that cascaded down her back. She looked stunning, and I couldn’t wait to have her all to myself.

My heart raced as I slipped on my bone mask.

This was my favorite part—the thrill of the hunt. The thought of capturing her, making her mine, made my dick hard.

I crept through the darkness, careful not to make a sound. She was waiting for me beneath the glow of the red light, but she didn’t know where I was coming from. I was like a shadow, moving through the trees with ease.

It would just be a matter of time until she bolted from her porch and ran toward the forest with me chasing her from behind.

Pursing my lips together, I released the whistle that signaled the hunt had begun. An eerie sound. A haunting one. A sound that spoke volumes.

Run.

She didn’t disappoint. As soon as the whistle echoed through the forest, she took off in a sprint, her white gown billowing behind her like a ghostly apparition. Her bare feet pounded on the forest floor, the sound crunching through the dead leaves of the trees, urging me on. Her breaths came in short gasps as she ran, her fear pushing her to go faster.

I followed her, my senses heightened as I navigated through the trees. Every step I took was calculated, every movement deliberate. She was quick, but I was quicker. I could almost taste her fear. It was like a drug that fueled me, making me stronger and faster.

We ran for what seemed like hours, our breaths ragged and our bodies slick with sweat. I could feel her getting closer, her scent filling my nostrils. It was a heady mix of desire and fear, a smell that made my mouth water.

Storee was like a deer, a beautiful, fragile creature that had no idea what was coming for her. But unlike a deer, she wanted this. She craved it. Otherwise she wouldn’t have put the red light on. The primal urge was deep inside her. She needed this.

And so did I.

Finally, we reached the clearing, the moon casting a pale glow over everything. She stopped suddenly, turning around to face me, her eyes wild, her chest heaving.

I stepped forward, my bone mask concealing my true identity. All she could see was a monster.

I was the monster.

I reached out and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her back toward me. She let out a scream, but I covered her mouth with my gloved hand, silencing her. I could feel her heart beating wildly in her chest, her body trembling with the unknown.

It was time to hurt her.

To teach her a lesson for agreeing to The Hunt.

I had warned her against it. I had all but forbid it.

Now I had to teach my little doe that pain came with pleasure.

Her nightgown ripped easily against the strength of my fingers, and I ravaged it until her body was bared in front of me.

Fuck, she was gorgeous.

I released my hand from her mouth, letting her scream.

It was a beautiful sound, a sound that made me harder.

I fucking loved it.

I pressed my body against hers, pinning her to the tree behind her.

I could feel her breasts pushed into my chest, her nipples hardening at the contact.

She struggled, but it was useless.

I was stronger.

It was intoxicating, the look of terror in her eyes as I reached for her neck. She tried to fight me, but I was too quick. I grabbed her by the throat, making it harder for her to breathe, and pulled her against me.

Her eyes locked with mine.

I pushed my hips against hers, letting her feel my arousal. Even through my pants, I could feel her wetness. She was turned on, her body aching for me.

I didn’t say a word. I didn’t need to.

She was afraid. Afraid of me. The monster. The hunter. The beast.

But her body hungered for the darkness I brought. I could smell it.

I could hear her gasping for air, her small hands clawing at my fingers in an effort to free herself from my grasp.

I could feel her pounding heart against my chest, thumping wildly, and yet her pussy got wetter with each second that passed.

She continued to struggle, trying to pull my hands away from her neck and I smiled, enjoying every second. The more she fought me, the harder my cock got.

I could feel her pulse against my fingers—fast, but not ready to give up.

She’d put herself in this position. I’d warned her. I’d told her no.

I thrust my fingers in and out of her pussy, tormenting her with pleasure. It was a slow torture, but she needed to be punished.

I felt a primal urge to bite her, to suck her blood right from her neck. But I didn’t.

Instead, I pressed my mouth against hers, kissing her hard. Her fear tasted like honey. It was delicious. Sweet like candy.

My tongue forced its way into her mouth, exploring every corner, slipping over her tongue. I bit down on it hard, twisting it. She gasped, and it was like music. I didn’t care that she was crying.

I wanted her to be afraid. To be afraid of The Hunt so she’d never do this again.

She needed to learn.

I could feel her body quivering against mine, her wet pussy soaking my fingers. Her body ached for me, the source of her own pleasure.

My cock twitched at the thought of her pussy. I needed to be inside her. I needed to make her scream out in need. I wanted to hear her beg for me to fuck her.

I forced my fingers in deeper, spreading her pussy wide. She gasped, her body trembling with my every touch.

“Please, let me go,” she begged.

That was the last thing I wanted to do.

I burrowed my fingers deep inside her, feeling her tight walls stretch around me. She sobbed, and it was music to my ears. I wanted to hear her scream, writhing in my arms.

“Please,” she begged again.

I let out a slow breath, my mouth so close to her ear she could feel the heat of my breath on her neck. I nipped the delicate flesh. It was a warning.

I was going to make her come.

She was going to come for me, writhing in my arms as I made her body explode with pleasure.

My fingers thrust in and out of her pussy, fucking her harder.

She needed to fucking learn.

I pulled my mouth away from her ear, kissing her cheek, her neck, her lips. She was so warm. So soft.

It was almost too easy to push her over the edge.

I pulled my rigid cock out of my pants and forced it into her cunt, filling it completely. She moaned in pain, arching her back.

I thrust inside her, over and over again, slamming her up against the tree.

Her face reddened, and she moaned with each thrust.

“Please,” she whimpered against my lips, making my dick twitch. “Please fuck me. Fuck me.”

It was a beautiful thing to hear.

She gasped, her lips parting, her eyes closing.

I could feel her pussy tighten around me, squeezing my cock as the orgasm took hold of her body.

I thrust hard against her, letting her ride out her climax, listening to the sounds of her moans and screams. The more she cried, the harder I fucked her.

My eyes were on her body, watching as the orgasm took over.

She was so fucking hot. My lust-filled eyes were focused on her breasts, the way they bounced with every thrust, the way her nipples hardened when I squeezed her neck.

She felt so small, so delicate in my arms.

And then, I let go.

I thrust inside her once, twice, and then I came.

The pleasure ripped through every part of my body, overwhelming me.

I groaned out loud, the sound guttural and animalistic.

I still had my hand wrapped around her neck, and I squeezed, the pleasure of her orgasm making my cock twitch.

The forest around us disappeared into the background. The only thing that existed for me was her.

She was mine now.

She had to be.

I was never letting her go.

I pulled my cock out of her, watching her body shudder. Her pussy used and open, wet and sticky.

And just as quickly as I emerged from the shadows, I returned to them.

Leaving her alone.

Lesson learned.

Chapter 19

Storee

“Put the black dress you got in your basket on and be ready in thirty minutes,” Locke said on the other end of the phone.

The fact that he knew I’d received a black dress in my basket this morning told me all I needed to know.

Locke knew I had done The Hunt, and there would be hell to pay.

Of course he’d know what was in my basket and the gifts I received. He oversaw The Hunt. I was pretty sure there was very little he didn’t know about what occurred during the event.

“We’re going to Ghost Pines tonight,” he added.

“Tonight?”

He had mentioned us going, but it was still too soon. And did he really plan on lecturing me at the fanciest restaurant on the island?

“I’ll pick you up in thirty,” he said before hanging up the phone.

As soon as Locke hung up on me, I paced back and forth in my room. I knew I was in deep trouble. It wasn’t as if I thought I’d be able to keep it a secret from Locke. The reality was that deep down, I think I knew he’d find out. Maybe I was testing him. Pushing him. But why?

I slipped the black dress over my head. The fabric clung to my curves, the neckline plunging low enough to reveal the swell of my breasts. Since he clearly knew of my gifts, I decided finally to wear the diamond necklace I’d received in my first basket. Ghost Pines was so freaking fancy, at least I’d look the part and maybe I wouldn’t be called out for being an imposter.

This wasn’t how I thought I’d be spending my evening. I had blown off work at the docks today to recover from last night. The money and jewels from my basket helped ease my guilt about taking a sick day. I had an evening of binge-watching TV and popcorn ahead of me. Not this. But classic Locke Hartwell. When he demanded something, you did it.

Thirty minutes later, I was ready and waiting outside my cottage when his sleek black car pulled up to the curb. The door opened, and Locke emerged, dressed in a sharp suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and chiseled torso.

His piercing brown eyes scanned me from head to toe before finally settling on my face. “You look beautiful,” he said, his voice melting my nervousness slightly.

I couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. I had messed up, and I knew it. “I know you didn’t want me to do The Hunt,” I muttered, looking down at the ground, deciding to cut straight to the chase. “But—”

Locke’s expression remained unchanged. “We’ll discuss it at dinner,” he said, offering me his arm.

The drive to Ghost Pines was silent, the only sound the hum of the car’s engine. As we pulled up to the valet, I felt a knot form in my stomach. Locke stepped out of the car, his hand extended to help me out. I took it reluctantly, feeling the cool touch of his skin against mine.

We made our way through the crowded restaurant, the scent of expensive perfume and cologne filling the air. The hostess led us to a private table in the corner, away from prying eyes, which I was grateful for.

I didn’t belong in a place like this, and at least this way, no one could see the fraud trying to awkwardly fit in.

Locke ordered a bottle of red wine, and we both sat in silence until it was poured and the waiter left the table.

“You gave me your word that you wouldn’t do The Hunt again,” he said, his voice cold and unforgiving.

There was a long silence between us, the only sound the distant murmur of other patrons. I could feel Locke’s eyes on me, studying me carefully.

“I know you feel I gave you my word,” I began after sipping from my wine. “But I didn’t promise. I didn’t actually say it.”

Locke’s eyes bored into mine, and for a moment, I thought he was going to say something else. But then, he took a long sip of wine and leaned back in his chair.

“Are we really going to play that game?” he finally said, his eyes flickering with anger.

I swallowed thickly, knowing that there was no way to talk my way out of this. But there was something inside me that couldn’t resist the thrill of The Hunt. The danger, the adrenaline rush, it was like a drug that I couldn’t get enough of.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I couldn’t help myself. The Hunt is addictive, and I think you know that.”

Locke’s eyes narrowed, and I could feel the tension in the air.

I continued, “You don’t have an issue with anyone else on this island being part of it. You host it. You. And I can bet money you wore your own bone mask last night too. I think you’re being a hypocrite. You yourself condone The Hunt.”

Locke sighed, his face softening slightly. “You’re different.”

“You aren’t my father, Locke.”

My words seemed as if they were a slap to his face by the way he flinched, but he quickly composed himself and took another sip of wine.

“I know I’m not your father,” he began slowly. “But I took you under my wing when your father died. You’re my responsibility.”

“I’m a grown woman just like every other participant. I consented to this,” I said, trying to sound confident. “I wanted to be part of this.”

Locke shook his head, his expression disappointed. “Gabriel would kill me if he was still alive. No way in hell would he allow this.”

“He’s dead,” I said with more bite in my tone than I’d intended. “And no matter how much you try to shelter and overprotect me, nothing will change that fact.”

Locke’s eyes widened at my words, and I immediately regretted them. But the damage had been done, and the tension between us had reached a boiling point.

For a long moment, Locke simply stared at me, his eyes unreadable. And then, he let out a long sigh and leaned forward.

“You’re right,” Locke finally said. “He is dead. But that doesn’t mean we forget his wishes.”

He took a deep breath and set down his wineglass. I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off.

“And you promised.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so we sat in silence once again. The waiter came by to take our orders, but I couldn’t even decide what to eat. My mind was elsewhere, thinking about what Locke had said. Luckily, Locke ordered steaks for both of us so I didn’t have to.

“You’re right,” I finally said, surprising myself. “I shouldn’t have gone behind your back like that. I’m sorry.”

I glanced around the restaurant, taking in the beauty and charm of the place for the first time. Even though it was elegant, there was something calm and soothing about it as well. It was a small, intimate space with dim lighting that cast a warm glow over everything. The walls were adorned with paintings and photographs, and a jazz trio played softly in the corner. It was the perfect setting for a romantic dinner.

“But I’m not sorry I did The Hunt,” I added. “I’m just sorry I was sneaky about it with you.”

Locke nodded, but I could still see the disappointment in his eyes. He was silent, which was actually worse than if he were screaming and yelling at me. I hated not being able to read him. Not knowing what he was thinking. For someone that I knew so well, I often felt I knew nothing at all.

“Can I ask you something?” I finally said after taking a sip of my own wine. “Why? Why do you feel this need to watch over me the way you do? And don’t just say it’s because you were best friends with my dad.”

Locke leaned back in his chair, his eyes distant as he gathered his thoughts. “Your father and I were more than just best friends. We were brothers. We went through everything together, all the experiences of two boys living on Heathens Hollow. I don’t have memories that don’t involve him. When he died, a part of me died with him.”

I could see the pain etched on his face, and I reached across the table to take his hand.

“You remind me of him,” Locke said quietly. “You have the same fire in your eyes that Gabriel had. The same restlessness. And I see so much of him in you. That same stubborn and impulsive streak, and it scares the fucking life out of me. I don’t want to see you end up where he did.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I took another sip of wine and looked down at the table.

“I know I can’t protect you from everything,” Locke continued. “But I’ll be damned if I don’t try.”

We sat in silence for a few more minutes, sipping our wine, eating our food when it arrived, and enjoying each other’s company.

Suddenly, Locke stopped eating and stared at me, his expression unreadable. “I need to tell you something,” he said, his voice low.

I nodded, unsure of what was coming next.

“I’ve been keeping something from you,” Locke began slowly. “Something that I think you need to know.”

I felt a nervous knot form in my stomach as I waited for him to continue.

“I could have stopped your father from being killed. The guilt of that eats me up every fucking day.”

My heart felt like it stopped beating for a moment as the words sank in. “What do you mean? How could you have stopped it?”

Locke took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving mine. “Your father was getting in bad deals with a lot of people. I knew that. All the owners of The Vault knew. We warned him. We gave him shit. Hell, I even offered him a shitload of money. But we didn’t stop him. We let him be Gabriel because that’s who he was.”

I sat in stunned silence, the weight of his words crushing me.

“We all knew he was crossing the wrong people, but we didn’t step in. I didn’t step in, and I fucking should have,” Locke said, his voice heavy with regret.

Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes as I thought about my father. He had made mistakes, but he didn’t deserve to die. But they were his mistakes. His alone.

“You couldn’t have stopped it, and you know it. Even if you stopped him that night, it was just a matter of time. My father thought he was invincible.” I took a deep breath and finally looked up at him. “His mistakes weren’t yours. You have to let that guilt go.”

“There are things about this world I live in, that your father lived in, that you don’t know and maybe can’t understand.”

“You’re assuming,” I said. “It might surprise you how much I actually do know. And trust me. I understand.”

“I wish I could go back and change things. Act. It fucking haunts me that I didn’t act.”

“He fucked up. Doesn’t mean he deserved to die. But you couldn’t have prevented it. I know that much. So stop feeling so guilty. He wouldn’t want that for you.”

Locke nodded, his expression still heavy. “I know. But it doesn’t change the fact that I could have tried harder. Done more. It’s part of the reason why I keep such a stronghold on you. I don’t want anything to ever happen to you and then have to live with that guilt as well.”

I squeezed his hand tightly. “But you can’t suffocate me.”

“If I could lock you in a box and forever keep you safe, I would. I’m not going to apologize for that,” he said firmly, his statement acting as the period to the last sentence of our conversation.

We finished our meal in comfortable silence, but the atmosphere had shifted. The air was thick with emotion, and neither of us knew quite how to break it. I could feel Locke’s eyes on me, studying me like he was trying to memorize every feature of my face.

“I understand why you’d want to do The Hunt,” he finally said. “And I know you’re a grown woman.” He released a deep breath. “Trust me, I do.”

My face heated from the intensity in which he looked at me.

“But?” I asked, knowing there had to be something more.

“I mentioned this before. The visual of you being chased by a man through the forest is…” he swallowed hard, “too much for me to take.”

My blush continued to intensify, and a stirring of confusing emotions formed in my belly. His eyes were dark, his lips set in a firm line. I could tell he was struggling to keep his emotions in check.

I decided to give the man some mercy. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll keep the red light off next weekend. I can’t promise you more than that,” I said with a playful smile. “But as payment for this nice dinner, I’ll cut you a break.”

Locke leaned forward and took my hands in his, his gaze intense. “Good. Because I was sitting here wondering how I could lock you in a tower and throw away the key. But I also didn’t want to make a scene in the restaurant.” He glanced around the room with a twinkle of playfulness in his eyes.

I couldn’t help but laugh at his comment, the tension between us finally lifting.

“But,” Locke continued, his voice low and serious, “I won’t stop worrying about you. I can’t help it. It’s who I am.”

“I know,” I said softly, my eyes meeting his. “But you have to trust me too. Trust that I can take care of myself. There are things about me that—” I took a calming breath. “I really can stand on my own two feet. I’m stronger than you think.”

Locke nodded slowly, and I could see the conflict in his eyes. He wanted to protect me, to keep me safe, but he also knew that I needed my own independence. It was a delicate balance, one that we would always be navigating.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said suddenly, standing up and pulling me up with him.

I didn’t protest as he paid the bill and led me outside. The stars above us twinkled in the sky, and I felt a sense of peace settle over me. For a moment, everything was right in the world.

Locke had managed to do one thing. He’d made me feel safe, protected, and watched over. And I’d never truly felt that way before him.

Chapter 20

Storee

I needed to keep my word at least once and remove the red light bulb. I didn’t want to risk the temptation of flipping the light switch on tonight, so if I removed the bulb and crushed it into a million pieces, then the temptation would no longer be there.

Taking a chair onto the porch to stand on, I reached up and unscrewed the red bulb from the overhead light fixture. Torn between my desire and my word, I stood there for what felt like hours. It was as if my body knew what was about to happen, and it was trying to stop me from making a grave mistake.

But then something caught my eye.

Don’t look to the furthest corner of the porch awning, my mind screamed.

I think I always knew it was there. Deep down. But I didn’t want to face that reality. Face what that meant, and face if I liked it or hated it.

The video camera.

There was a video camera hidden on my porch, tucked away just enough behind a beam that I had never seen it before.

He was watching. He had always been watching.

There wasn’t a question in my mind that Locke had installed it. That he was keeping tabs on me. I knew.

I knew.

My heart pounded in my chest as I turned to face the camera. The cool night air seemed to disappear as a wave of heat washed over me, and I felt sweat begin to bead on my forehead. The camera sat there, quietly watching me as it had always done. It was like a silent sentinel, something that had always been there but was never acknowledged. Something that was always present, yet never spoken of.

I couldn’t help but feel exposed, like all my secrets were suddenly laid bare for the world to see. I thought back to all the things I had done in the privacy of my porch, all the things I had said and the secrets I had shared. All of it had been caught on tape.

Violated.

My own private space, my own little world, and he had been watching it all.

But why? Why had he been watching me all this time? What did he hope to gain from it?

The questions swirled around in my head as I stood there, staring at the camera. I knew I needed to destroy it, to destroy the evidence of my life being watched and recorded. But something held me back.

Was it a sick game? A twisted form of pleasure? Or was there something deeper, something that he was too afraid to admit?

I should be raging. Livid.

But why wasn’t I?

I took a step closer to the camera, examining it carefully. It was a small, inconspicuous device, almost invisible against the backdrop of the porch awning. But it had been there all along, silently watching and recording my every move.

I felt a strange pull, an inexplicable attraction to the man behind the camera. It was as if my anger had been replaced by a strange sense of connection, a bond that I couldn’t explain. I knew it was wrong, I knew I was supposed to hate him for what he had done, but I also felt safe. Protected.

No.

This was wrong.

Wrong.

Locke couldn’t just put a camera on my front porch and not expect me to be mad when it was discovered.

Were there other cameras?

Knowing him? Yes.

Was it endearing? Just a man determined to watch over me?

I shook my head, trying to push those thoughts away. This was not normal; this was not healthy. But as I looked back at the camera, I felt a sense of longing, of desire.

I wanted to be seen.

Did he see me?

I reached out and gently touched the camera, as if trying to form a connection through the cold metal casing.

Was he watching now? Was he waiting for this moment? Was he watching to see if I’d take down the red light?

And what if I didn’t?

Would he come?

The thought of him coming to the porch made my heart race with anticipation. I wondered what would happen if he showed up, what he would say or do. Would he be angry with me for not removing the red light bulb?

Would he punish me again?

I shook my head, trying to rid myself of those thoughts. I couldn’t allow myself to be tempted by him any longer, and yet I was.

This was a game to him. I knew it.

Well…

If he wanted a game, I’d play. I peered into the lens and said, “If you want the red light to come down, do it yourself. Otherwise… The Hunt is on.”

Challenge accepted.

I waited for a response as if one would come, my heart pounding in anticipation. The silence was deafening, and I wondered if he was even watching. Maybe I was a fool to believe the camera was even his. Maybe it had been left by the tenants before.

No.

I knew Locke well enough. This was all him. I could smell his scent all over this.

I hopped off the chair, defiantly flipped the red light on, turned and walked into my house, my mind racing with thoughts of what was to come if he didn’t come. What if he didn’t care?

Then I’d have no choice but to participate in The Hunt again.

A risk to teach Locke a lesson that I wasn’t some naive little girl.

I couldn’t let him continue to invade my privacy, to watch me like some sort of sick voyeur without there being consequences. But at the same time, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement building inside of me.

What would he do? Would he come and do The Hunt himself?

I stood on the porch beneath the red hue like before. Wearing white, barefoot, and waiting. But something felt different. Something was off.

Silencing the warning bells in my head, I tried to convince myself that it was simply because Locke was waiting to catch me in the act. That I was simply waiting for the confrontation.

But why hadn’t he come yet?

Why hadn’t he stormed onto my porch and demanded that I turn off the light? At least then I could confront him about the camera, we’d fight, but then all would be forgiven.

Simple, right?

So why wasn’t he here yet?

Maybe this was a game of chicken. He’d wait to see how far I’d go. Would I break my word to him again?

Maybe I should go inside. Maybe I should—

A whistle cut through the forest. The singsong melody I recognized all too well.

The Hunt would begin.

I glanced around, hoping to see him storming my way, rage in his eyes.

Where the fuck was Locke?

The whistle grew louder, and I knew the man in the mask would come.

But unlike the two nights prior when I’d participated, I didn’t want this. I was just testing Locke. I was just—

Fuck!

I didn’t want this!

The man in the mask emerging from the shadows wasn’t Locke.

Oh, dear god. I was expecting Locke, and he wasn’t him. This man wasn’t even the same as the one the two nights prior. Fuck! This was a completely different man. I could tell by his height and his build.

Yes, he wore the bone mask like the man who hunted me before, but this was a stranger. This was a man come to claim me in the most primal of ways, but this wasn’t who I was expecting.

My mind screamed at me to run, but my body was frozen in fear. The stranger’s intense gaze locked on to me, and I felt a shiver run down my spine.

I’d made a mistake. I’d made a huge mistake.

Run!

It was my only choice.

But I couldn’t move. My body was frozen with terror. The stranger stepped forward, his leather boots thudding against the wooden floorboards of my porch. He towered over me, his broad shoulders filling the small space. His eyes were hidden behind the mask, but I could feel his gaze piercing into my soul.

Oh, god. No. This wasn’t Locke. Where was Locke?

He reached out and grabbed me by the wrist, his grip tight and unyielding. I tried to pull away, but he was too strong.

“Let go of me!” I screamed, but he only tightened his hold.

I struggled against him, determined to break free and run as far away as I could. I had to find Locke. He’d be able to save me.

Tears stung at the corners of my eyes as I realized the gravity of my situation. I was at the mercy of this stranger, and there was no one coming to save me.

The stranger pulled me closer to him, his hot breath on my neck. I shuddered at the feel of his hand sliding up my arm, his fingers rough and callused against my skin. I felt sick with fear and disgust.

Screaming and shoving him with all my weight, I was able to break free just long enough to jump off the porch and run toward the sea. I wasn’t going to run to the woods like all the other times.

No, this time was different.

I needed to get away. Now!

Run!

My feet pounded against the sand, the sound of my heart racing in my ears. I could hear the stranger’s footsteps behind me, his laughter echoing through the night air.

I could hear his ragged breaths coming closer and closer, and I knew that I had to keep moving. I chanced a glance back and saw him gaining on me. Panic rose in my chest as I stumbled over a jagged rock, nearly falling face first into the sand.

But I had to keep going. I had to keep running.

When I reached the water’s edge, I didn’t stop. I plunged into the icy depths, feeling the shock of the cold water take my breath away. I kicked and thrashed my way through the waves, feeling the weight of my clothes dragging me down.

I couldn’t stop.

I wouldn’t stop until I was far away from that stranger and his bone mask.

I didn’t know how far I could run before he caught up to me, but I had to try. I had to find a way to escape.

The moon was high in the sky, casting a deathly glow over the deserted beach. I stumbled over rocks hidden beneath the shallow water leading to the wave breaks used for the harbor, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t afford to slow down. I made my way to the pile of rocks and began to climb. I knew I couldn’t outrun this man. But maybe I could be more nimble and climb faster.

Higher and higher I climbed until I reached the top of the rocks. I was panting and gasping for breath, but I felt a flicker of hope ignite within me. Maybe I could get away after all. But as I turned to face my pursuer, my hope quickly turned to despair. The stranger was climbing up after me, his bone mask glinting in the moonlight. He was determined to catch me, and I knew that I had very little time left to escape.

But I was running out of space to go. Once I reached the top of the rocks, the only way down would be to jump into the sea below.

As I looked down at the waves crashing below me, I knew that the only way out was to jump. I couldn’t afford to hesitate, not even for a second. I took a deep breath and readied myself to jump, but the stranger was right behind me. Before I could even move, he grabbed me by the ankle and pulled me back down to the rocks.

I screamed as my head hit the rocks and stars exploded in my vision. The stranger loomed over me, his bone mask gleaming in the moonlight. He didn’t speak, but I could feel the malice radiating from him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked, speaking for the first time. “Are you crazy!”

And then everything went black.

Chapter 21

Locke

Braken found me in the office at The Vault. I knew something was wrong before he even opened his mouth.

“There’s been an accident,” he said. “But she’s okay.”

“Who? What happened?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

Braken took a deep breath. “It’s Storee. She was in an accident tonight, but she’s in the hospital, and they say she’s going to be okay.”

“What the fuck?” Why would Braken be notified and not me?

“I got a call from James Doren who participated in The Hunt tonight. He was hunting… Storee and—”

Rage sizzled through me. “What did that asshole do?”

Braken raised his hands and shook his head. “Of course we’ll investigate, but James swears he did nothing wrong. He said Storee got spooked or something and really ran. Climbed some rocks, slipped, and got knocked unconscious. He took her straight to the hospital.”

I slammed my fist on the table, unable to contain my anger. “Motherfucker! She told me she wasn’t doing it. She—” I stood up from my chair and grabbed my coat from its back. I shouldn’t have simply taken her word. I should have double checked the list.

“I didn’t pay close attention to the participants this weekend,” Braken said. “I should have—”

“Let’s go. We need to get to her,” I interrupted, hating only myself for not predicting something like this could happen.

Everything went by me in a blur as I stormed into the clinic determined to find Storee immediately.

“I’m here for Storee Brooks,” I said to the front desk. “I’m her father.”

The young woman from the desk looked up at me skeptically, clearly knowing exactly who I was. Heathens Hollow wasn’t a large town, and everyone knew everyone. But when she nodded, most likely grateful I gave her the easy out to cover her ass if anyone questioned her about only letting next of kin in the emergency room, I knew I’d chosen wisely to lie.

“She’s in the back waiting for the doctor to come in and speak with her.”

Without waiting another second I rushed to the back room, the sound of my boots echoing through the sterile halls. As I pushed open the door, I saw Storee sitting on the edge of the examination table, her hands clasped together tightly in her lap. She looked up at me with wide, tearstained eyes as I moved toward her.

“Locke,” she whispered, relief visible on her face.

She wore the white nightgown that was required for The Hunt. It was dirty and torn, and I instantly removed my jacket and put it over her shoulders. She was barefoot and appeared so broken.

“What happened, sweetheart?” I asked, concern lacing my voice. I sat down on the edge of the bed, taking her hand in mine. “Are you okay?”

She nodded her head, the tears spilling over. “I’m fine. I slipped and hit my head, but I’m okay.”

I looked at her, waiting for her to continue.

“I know I promised you I wouldn’t do The Hunt again. And, well…” her voice trembled, “…I’m sorry. I should have listened. But it’s not exactly what you think. I… everything just snowballed out of control.”

I felt my blood boil at the thought of another man hunting her… touching her… claiming her.

“What did the man do?” I somehow asked between clenched teeth.

I stood up, my fists balled. I needed to call Braken and demand a hit on the asshole who did this to her.

She shook her head. “Nothing. I ran as fast as I could to really get away. No game this time. I then climbed some rocks and fell. Next thing I knew, I was here. But nothing happened… sexually.” She looked up at me, her lip trembling. “You were right. I was in over my head. I’m sorry for not listening to you, for putting myself in danger. I know that I can be impulsive, that I don’t always think things through, but I promise you, I won’t do that again. I’ll listen to you from now on. But I was doing it because…”

I didn’t know what to say. Part of me wanted to scold her, punish her, lock her away so no one could ever come near her again, and to tell her that she was damn right she wouldn’t be doing The Hunt again. That I wouldn’t let anything like this happen to her again. But another part of me understood that she was just scared, that she had made a mistake and was apologizing for it. So instead, I pulled her closer to me, holding her tight as I whispered into her ear, “You don’t have to apologize, Storee. You’re safe now, and that’s all that matters.”

I sat down beside her and wrapped my arm around her shoulders, trying to soothe her as we waited for the doctor to arrive.

“I found the camera on my porch,” she said softly. “It was you, right? Watching?”

I hesitated for a moment before nodding my head. “Yes,” I admitted, “I was keeping an eye on you.” I wasn’t going to apologize but I wasn’t going to lie either.

“Has it always been there? Have you been watching me ever since—”

“Your father died,” I cut in. “I had to make sure you’d stay safe. Security.”

“I’m not mad,” she said. “Or at least not anymore. But I was going to teach you a lesson about spying.” She looked up at me with tears in her eyes. “It sounds stupid now, but I thought you would see me turn on the red light. I thought you’d come and stop me. I thought…” She trailed off, unable to finish her sentence.

“I should have been there,” I said, feeling the fury rage inside of me. “I didn’t see. I wasn’t watching. Fuck. Fuck—”

“It’s not your fault,” she interrupted. “I was playing a stupid game, and it backfired.”

I hugged her tighter, feeling a surge of possessiveness and protectiveness wash over me. I couldn’t let her go, not after what she had been through. I had to keep her with me, safe and sound. Locked up if I had to. Anything to never lose her.

“No more tears,” I said, lifting her chin up so that she could look me in the eye. “It’s over. You’re safe.”

She nodded, tears still streaming down her face. “I wasn’t breaking my promise in the way you think. I only turned on the red light to get your attention.”

I wiped her tears away with my thumb, then leaned in to kiss her forehead. “You got it. You most certainly have my attention now.”

The door opened, and a young doctor walked in, her eyes quickly scanning the room before settling on Storee. The doctor approached with a clipboard in her hand, a sympathetic smile on her face.

“Hello, Storee. I’m Dr. Williams. How are you feeling?” she asked.

“I’m okay,” Storee said, her voice still trembling.

Dr. Williams nodded, flipping through the pages on her clipboard. “Well, your CT scan came back clear, so that’s good news. But it looks like you’ve had quite the night. I want you to take it easy for the next few days, okay?”

Storee nodded, and the doctor scribbled something down on her clipboard before turning to me.

“Are you her father?” she asked.

I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I should continue the lie, but then decided against it. “No, I’m her… friend. Her close friend,” I said.

The doctor gave me a knowing look but didn’t say anything as she stood to leave the room. “Make sure she stays awake for the next couple of hours and keep an eye on her. If her symptoms get worse, bring her back in immediately.”

I thanked the doctor and helped Storee off the examination table, carrying her out of the clinic and toward my car. I cradled her against my chest, wondering if I’d ever be able to put her down now that I had her in my arms. She protested, but no way was I going to allow her to walk out of the clinic without any shoes on.

Once we were inside the car, I turned to her. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked, reaching out to brush a strand of hair out of her face.

She nodded, her eyes downcast. “I’m just embarrassed. And I’m sorry you had to come so late at night.”

I started my engine. “Stop apologizing. I told you, I hate apologies.” I pulled out onto the street, turning the direction toward my house rather than Storee’s. Before she could protest, I said, “You’re coming home with me. I need to keep an eye on you.”

“Wait. What? Locke—”

“Storee, I’m not asking. You need someone to take care of you, and that someone is me,” I said firmly, cutting off her protests. “You’re in no condition to be alone right now, and I don’t want to risk anything happening to you again.”

She sighed, but nodded her head in agreement as she leaned back against the seat. I could see the exhaustion etched on her face, and I knew that she needed rest.

I turned my attention back to the road, my mind already working on a plan to keep her safe. She had promised me she wouldn’t do The Hunt, and yet she broke her word. I should be furious.

Maybe I was.

As if reading my mind, she said, “You have every right to be mad at me.”

She fell silent, staring out the window as we drove toward my house. I knew she was still scared, still shaken up from the events of the night. But I also knew that she felt guilt for not following through on what she’d told me.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my temper, my hand gripping the steering wheel tighter. “It’s not about being mad,” I said finally, breaking the silence. “It’s about keeping you safe.” I took another deep breath, not sure I wanted to hear the answer. “You said nothing happened, but,” I swallowed hard, “did that man succeed in The Hunt?”

She shook her head. “No. Once it started, I knew something was different. Off. So I panicked and ran. I wanted it to end.”

“You can’t end The Hunt once it starts.”

“I know. But I tried.”

“Why did you feel it was off?” I was still waiting for her to give me any reason to call my partners at The Vault and demand the execution of the fucker who’d hunted her. If she so much as gave me a hint that he’d broken protocol in the slightest, he was a dead man.

“It wasn’t like the first time I did The Hunt. I guess I wanted—” She shrugged, stopping mid-sentence, her eyes still fixed on the passing scenery outside.

We drove the rest of the way in silence, the only sound the hum of the engine and the occasional shuffling sound of Storee repositioning in her seat. When we finally pulled up to my house, I helped her out of the car and carried her inside.

As soon as we entered my living room, I pulled out a blanket and draped it around Storee’s shoulders. She looked up at me, her eyes searching mine for something that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

I didn’t know what to say. Instead, I guided her to the couch and sat beside her, my arm still wrapped around her shoulders. She leaned into me, and I could feel her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked, repeating my earlier question.

She nodded, her head resting against my chest. “Why do you do this, Locke? Why do you protect me?”

I leaned in closer to her, my eyes never leaving hers. “Because I care about you, Storee.”

She looked away, her eyes downcast. “Like a father?”

I frowned, not liking the implications of her question. “No, not like a father. Something more,” I admitted, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

Storee looked up at me, her eyes wide with surprise. “What… what do you mean, ‘something more’?”

I knew I was treading on dangerous ground here, but I couldn’t help myself. I had cared about Storee for a long time, and now that she was sitting here, vulnerable and scared, I knew that I couldn’t hold back any longer.

“I mean that I’ve always had feelings for you, Storee. Deep feelings. And seeing you so close to danger tonight… it made me realize that I can’t keep pretending that I’m just your friend. I want to be more than that. I want to protect you, take care of you, be there for you no matter what. And not just from afar.”

For a moment, Storee just stared at me, her mouth hanging open in shock. But then, slowly, she reached up and touched my cheek, her fingers tracing the lines of my face.

“I’ve always cared about you too, Locke,” she whispered. “But I never knew if you felt the same way. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship by saying something. I didn’t—”

I didn’t give her a chance to say another word, leaning in and capturing her lips with mine. She hesitated for a moment before responding, her hands finding their way to my shirt as she pulled me closer.

She looked up at me, her lips parted just slightly, her eyes wide and nervous.

My hands gripped her arms. I could feel the softness of her skin, the heat of her body. “I should not be doing this.”

I had no idea why I was. The only logical explanation was that I was desperate for her, willing to do anything to have her, even if only for a moment.

I reached up and brushed a strand of hair from her face, my fingers gently tracing her cheek. I could feel her breath on my lips as she stared into my eyes.

I slammed my lips against her, taking what I needed, pleasing the craving that was raging in my body. I wasn’t a man anymore. I was an animal. A fucking beast. Once again, I was losing control around this woman.

She melted against me, her mouth opening for me, her breath mingling with mine.

I growled as her tongue wrapped around mine, her hands gripping my shirt, pulling me closer to her.

I deepened the kiss, my hands winding around her waist. This was the moment I had been waiting for, the moment I had wanted for so long. And now that it was finally happening, I couldn’t hold back any longer. I wanted her, all of her.

Storee moaned into my mouth, her hands trailing down to my hips as she pulled me closer. I could feel the heat radiating off her body, her desire for me evident in the way she was responding to my touch.

The kiss was intense, fueled by the emotions we had both kept hidden for so long. I could feel the heat rising between us as our tongues tangled together, and I knew that we were teetering on the edge of something dangerous.

But I couldn’t stop myself. Not when Storee was in my arms, her body pressed against mine, and her lips moving in perfect sync with the kiss.

I knew I would regret it in the morning, but I didn’t care. This was my chance to have her, to make her mine, and I wasn’t going to let it slip through my fingers.

I slid my hands up and down her back, letting them rest on her waist before I reached up and pulled her white nightgown over her head, letting it drop to the floor beside the couch.

Storee Brooks was wearing white panties and nothing else.

She looked up at me, her eyes filled with lust. She didn’t say anything, though, and neither did I. Instead, I dipped my head down again, letting my lips trail down her neck as my hands moved over her smooth skin. She moaned out loud and I could feel her hands tugging at my shirt, trying to pull it over my head. I resisted, though, and instead slid my hand down over her breast, willing myself to go slower.

I wasn’t some teenager, desperate to get my first piece of ass, and I wanted to savor this moment. I wanted to take in every inch of Storee’s delicate skin, the way it felt under my fingertips.

When my hands reached her breasts, I took my time, gently caressing her, letting my fingertips brush against her nipple, feeling it harden under my touch. She grabbed my shirt again, this time tugging at it more aggressively until I finally relented, pulling it off and tossing it aside.

As soon as I took off my shirt, I could feel her hands reaching up to my shoulders, her soft fingers tracing the outlines of my body. I could feel her pulse, racing against my fingertips.

“Once we start,” I warned.

“We don’t stop,” she finished the sentence for me.

Chapter 22

Storee

I couldn’t control my panting as Locke pushed my legs apart, running his fingers over the white cotton of my panties.

He pulled the fabric to the side as he found my wet clit and rubbed.

I arched my back and moaned. I was desperate for him to be inside me, but at the same time, I wanted him to take his time.

Slowly, he pulled down my panties. I shivered as his hands trailed down my legs and he gently squeezed my ankles.

Then, as he pulled my legs apart, I felt his warm breath against my pussy. I bit my lip, waiting for him to part me with his tongue.

When I felt his tongue slip between my folds, I let out a tremulous moan. His tongue was wide and flat, licking my slit from the bottom all the way up. I pushed my hips forward, desperate for more of his touch.

“Please,” I begged.

His tongue caressed my clit then, swirling around it in circles, teasing me. I whimpered, my eyes closed, as I bit down on my lip. I wanted him, now. I just needed a little more of his tongue, a little more of his touch.

“Please, Locke,” I begged again.

I had never asked the man for anything, and yet I was now. I was begging. Pleading for him to take me. My first ask of my father’s best friend wasn’t for money. It wasn’t for security. It wasn’t for any of the things Locke had tried so hard in the past to offer.

No.

My ask was for something so sordid, so wrong, so debauched.

My first ask of him was for him to fuck me.

To fuck me on his couch like a dirty little slut.

He didn’t hesitate, parting my folds with his tongue and lapping at my clit. He moved his hands up and down my inner thighs, every so often brushing against my pussy, driving me crazy with need.

My body was on fire, and I could feel myself getting wetter and wetter as he continued to lick my clit.

His tongue slowed down its movements, and I felt it pushing against me, slipping inside my folds some more. I moaned as his tongue dove deeper, exploring me as his finger caressed my clit.

I was writhing under his touch, my hips grinding against the couch. I was drenched, my desire for Locke so intense that I could feel my pussy throbbing for more.

I was on the edge, the first signs of an orgasm rising inside me. But Locke wasn’t done yet, and he seemed determined to take his time as he brought his face to mine, his lips inches from where my moans and gasps blended as one.

“I want to be gentle. I want to be slow. But I’m not that kind of man,” he growled, his lips hovering over mine.

I could hear my moans becoming louder in response, muting only when he pressed his lips to mine, his tongue sliding into my mouth, exploring me. The taste of my own arousal on the kiss ignited a more animalistic need inside of me.

“I don’t need gentle or slow. Fuck me like you want to.”

I was breathless, but I needed Locke to take me hard. I needed him to show a part of himself that he had yet to reveal to me, to be the passionate man that was underneath the cool exterior.

He growled as he pulled away, reaching over to his wallet and extracting a condom. With his eyes burning into mine, he pulled his own pants down, freeing his hard cock.

I shivered as I stared down at it, noticing that it was longer and thicker than I’d expected it to be. My body was ready for him, my mind spinning with lust and desire, but my heart was having a harder time acclimating to the idea of having sex with Locke.

I was staring at Locke’s dick!

I could feel my heart beginning to pound faster, in fear of where this might lead me.

But as Locke’s body covered mine, his bare chest pressing against my sensitive breasts, I let that fear go.

The air around us was heavy, thick with tension. The quiet that fell on us was broken only by the sound of our harsh breathing as I waited for Locke to make the next move.

Finally, he grabbed my legs and pulled me toward him. I was still sitting on the couch, but my ass was hanging off the edge. I wrapped my legs around his back, pulling him closer as I felt his hard cock pressing against me.

“Fuck me, Locke. Please.”

And with that, he thrust inside me, his cock filling me up as I let out a shuddering moan.

My words had been my undoing, because I could feel his cock throbbing inside me, as if my sex had driven him wild. He moaned as he pushed himself deeper, his cock buried inside of me.

He was big. Too big.

The stretch of my pussy reminded me of the night—

It was as if my body remembered how it felt to be fucked by Locke. And yet there was no way—

I felt him pull out of me and flip me around. I was facing the back of the couch, my ass high in the air as Locke pushed me down, his cock finding its way back into me.

I moaned loudly, my hands resting on the couch and my face buried in the cushions. I could feel him pounding me, his cock slamming into my pussy while his pelvis pressed against my ass.

He grunted as he fucked me, and my breath was muffled just as it had been with the musty dirt of the forest during the nights of The Hunt.

His breathing sounded the same, his growls sent the same chill through my body, and his cock spread me to the point where I had no choice but to cry out.

But this was Locke.

Not the bone-masked hunter.

Locke. Just Locke.

His hands slapped against my ass, the sound crackling through the room, and I could feel the sting of his strikes spread out over my flesh as he continued to pound me.

His grip on my hips tightened, my legs trembling as he slammed into me.

My head was swimming—my pussy throbbing, my body ached to feel him deeper, and the ache between my legs was growing more and more intense. Each of Locke’s thrusts forced me to spread my legs wider, and I could feel them growing stiff with pain as I struggled to bend them at the knee.

“Fuck me harder, Locke.”

I could hear the tremor in my voice, the excitement licking at my skin.

“You like that, Storee?” he grunted.

He picked up speed, his cock slamming against my ass as he fucked me like an animal. The sounds of his cock sliding in and out of me were mixed with the sound of my moans, the desperation in his voice fueling the growing fire of my lust.

“You like how I fuck you, Storee?” he growled as his hands left my hips and wrapped around my waist. “You like it when I spank this ass of yours, don’t you?”

He pulled me toward him, his cock pushing deeper inside my pussy until I thought it might split me in two. I let out a moan, and then felt his cock pulsing inside me.

“Because after tonight, you’ll never fuck another man again. Never again.” He then spanked my ass harder than he had before. So hard that I cried out as I gripped the cushion of the couch. “And if you ever break a promise to me again, and do something so fucking foolish again,” he spanked me even harder, his broad palm sparking fire on the flesh of my ass, “I’ll take a belt to you again.”

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t have gotten the words out even if I’d tried. I was lost in the moment, pinned by his hard cock, taking every inch of him as he pulled my hair and spanked my ass.

His warning was everything I’d ever wanted to hear.

I wanted him to claim me; to make me his.

I wanted to be punished when I was bad, and rewarded when I was good.

He slipped his hands around my waist, moving them up until I felt his fingers slide inside my pussy. His fingers were coated with my juices, his hand moving back and forth, plunging in deeper and deeper until he was pressing against my G-spot.

I felt my body tense up, feeling the tightening of my pussy as it throbbed against his fingers and around his cock. The double penetration hurt but felt so fucking good at the same time.

That was all it took.

I gasped as the orgasm tore through me, my body quivering as I felt his cock throbbing.

His thrusts were wild and raging.

The mix of pain and pleasure grew in intensity as his cock ripped into me, but I loved it.

“This pussy is mine. Mine.”

He thrust harder one last time, burying his cock in me, and I could feel him coming, filling up the condom inside of me.

I felt his hands on the small of my back, rubbing it gently as I caught my breath.

“You look amazing like that,” Locke whispered to me, running his fingers through my hair.

“How do I look?” I murmured, my voice thick with exhaustion. I knew I was still on all fours, ass in the air, but had yet to move from the position he’d fucked me in.

“Don’t move an inch,” Locke ordered, as he got up from the couch. Although I didn’t think I could move if I wanted to. Not yet, at least.

He walked into the kitchen. In the corner of my eye, I could see him coming back with a wet towel.

I turned my neck, and realized his naked form was everything I had imagined it would be. My eyes roamed over his body, admiring the broad shoulders, the thick, strong arms, and the defined chest. A man who was a perfect balance of sexiness and masculinity.

“Spread your legs,” he instructed. “And keep that perfect ass of yours in the air unless you want me to spank it some more.”

I obediently did as he asked and felt the cool cloth on my pussy.

Maybe I should have been bashful. Maybe I should have closed my legs and tried to hide my body beneath the pillows of the couch.

But when Locke ordered, I often complied. And after what he just did to me, I only had one desire…

To do whatever the fuck Locke wanted.

He washed me gently, wiping away all traces of the sex that had taken place.

I moaned, the sound mixing with that of the cloth stroking my skin. As Locke gently cleaned me, rubbing my pussy, and then my ass, and then my thighs, I remained in position never having felt so cherished before. But also so submissive, and so dominated.

And he was enjoying this—taking care of me.

“Good girl,” Locke whispered as he finished.

The ache in my pussy was still there, the throbbing between my thighs still present, but the sound of Locke’s voice in my head was a comfort.

“I’m going to take you to bed so you can get some rest. But my bed, so you’re there in the morning so I can fuck you again… and again.”

I gasped as the realization that I had just been fucked in the living room, and Locke was taking me to his bed to fuck me again dawned on me.

He pulled me to my feet, his arms wrapping around me and then sliding down until they were under my legs. I gasped as he picked me up, carrying me to the bedroom.

“There’s no turning back, Storee,” he whispered to me, his lips finding my ear. “You thought I was protective and overbearing before… Now you’re going to see what it means when you’re truly mine.”

Chapter 23

Storee

I hardly remembered falling asleep in Locke’s arms. I was so exhausted that darkness fell quickly. But when I opened my eyes again, the sun was barely beginning to rise, and I felt his arms tighten around me as his naked body was spooned up against me.

I shifted slightly to feel his body closer to mine, enjoying the warm and comforting embrace. He stirred, and I felt his breath on my neck before he pressed his lips against my skin.

“It’s still early. Go back to sleep,” he murmured, his voice deep and husky.

He pressed his hard cock between my ass cheeks, and I moved my hips slightly back against him in a silent invitation.

My wet pussy welcomed him when his dick found its way to my opening. He pressed in, just the head, and then withdrew it as I moaned in frustration. He pressed in again, just the head, then pulled it out. He repeated the motion over and over as I slowly became frantic with each thrust.

I arched my back as I felt him kissing and sucking the skin on my neck and shoulders.

“Go back to sleep,” he softly commanded.

He moved his hips forward again and I could feel his cock press against my wetness as the head grazed against my clit. The sensation was more than I could handle, and I pushed my hips back, taking him inside me.

He was still for a moment, tightening his hold on me. “Now we sleep like this.”

He pushed his hips forward again, forcing me to move with him until he was buried inside me. He stilled again and whispered, “Go to sleep, Storee. It’s not morning yet.”

“Sleep?” I whined, wiggling my butt against him. “With you in me?”

“Yes.” He nipped at my shoulder. “I think we may be sleeping with my dick plugging your pussy from now on.” I could feel his smile against my skin. “I like it.”

The stimulation was too much; the feeling of his heavy balls against me, his hard cock inside me, the warmth of his breath on my skin, and the feel of his muscular body holding me tight—I couldn’t help it. My body came and I groaned loudly, unable to contain myself.

“Good girl.” He kissed me on the neck. “Now go back to sleep.”

I didn’t want to give in to the sated sleep, but I was quickly succumbing to the pleasure of having his cock filling my pussy. I sighed as I accepted that I would be asleep in a few minutes.

I woke once more before the sun was up, the subtle movements of his body against mine making me aware that his hard cock was still inside of me.

“Shh,” I heard him say as he kissed me again. “Go back to sleep.”

It wasn’t hard to do as he asked, his cock inside me giving me a sense of security and comfort that acted like the most powerful sedative.

Sleep came easy.

I didn’t wake again until I felt his hard cock slide out of my pussy. I lifted my head to look over my shoulder at him and found Locke smiling back at me.

Locke Hartwell.

A man I never thought I’d be in the same bed with.

“Is this really us?” I asked. “You and me. Here?”

The warmth of his body seemed to melt all my worries away as I snuggled closer to him.

“It is. Does that bother you? Regrets?”

“Not at all. You?” I asked.

“I have enough regrets in life,” he said. “You will never be one of them.” He ran his hand over the bump on my head. “How’s your head today?”

“Surprisingly fine. I think you kept me… distracted.”

“Did you sleep well?” he asked as he stretched, his muscles rippling along his arms and torso.

“Really well,” I admitted. I almost added that his cock being inside of me helped but reason set in before I did. “What about you?”

“Better than I expected. I’ve never spent a full night with a woman before.”

I looked at him like he had two heads. “What?”

“I’ve never shared my bed with anyone after sex.” He shrugged. “I’ve always slept alone.”

“You’ve never shared a bed?” I asked, disbelieving.

Locke was a very handsome man. I couldn’t imagine that there had ever been a time in his life when he had not shared a bed with a woman. I knew he never had a long-term relationship, or at least one I knew of. But not having someone spend the night seemed odd.

He shook his head. “No. Never.”

“But why?” I asked.

He leaned over me and brushed the hair out of my face. “I’m not a nice man, Storee. I’m selfish. I’m possessive. I’m demanding. I’m rough. And I’ve been distracted with… life. I don’t just share my bed.”

The words settled over me like a blanket. I liked them. I liked knowing that he was telling me the truth. I liked knowing he was not a player and had not just shared a bed with me because it was convenient. I liked knowing that I had his full attention.

“I don’t share my bed with just anyone,” he said, reading my mind.

I nodded. “I’m glad it’s me.”

“Are you?” he asked, his face serious. “Are you really glad to be with me?”

His eyes looked me over with a fierce intensity that stunned me.

“Yes.”

“Things changed between us last night.”

I nodded, still stunned that we’d crossed the line I’d never thought possible.

“You’re mine now.”

I smiled and pushed my face to his chest. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It could be.” He ran a hand over my ass, his fingers trailing down to the wetness of my pussy. “I’m demanding.”

“I know.” My smile grew.

“I’ll keep my cock in you all the time. I’ll fuck you whenever I want.”

I felt the wetness between my legs start to drip down my thighs.

“I’ll order you to keep your mouth on my cock. I’ll keep you naked. I’ll make you come for me as many times as I want.”

I breathed out. “Okay.”

“I won’t let you out of my sight for long.”

“Are you trying to scare me?”

Locke brushed his lips against mine. “I’m trying to make sure you understand exactly what you’re getting into. I take what I want, when I want it. I can be firm and ungiving. I’m not going to be soft with you, or gentle. I’m going to fuck you hard.” He pushed me to my back and spread my legs, sliding back inside me. “But I’ll always keep you safe.” He pushed his cock deeper and then pulled back out. “I’m going to give you pleasure all the time. And I’ll be the one who makes sure you have everything you need.” He thrust deeper than before. “But I’ll also give you pain. I’ll make you cry out my name on a regular basis.”

I nodded, letting out a helpless moan as I spread my legs around him. “Okay.”

“And I’m going to keep you in my bed every night.”

I shuddered as he slid his cock back and forth. “Okay.”

“I’ll keep my cock in you so deep and so full I’ll be sure you remember that you’re mine.”

I groaned. “Locke…”

“You’re going to be mine, Storee. Every time you look at me, you’ll think of my cock fucking you. You’ll think of my hands on you. You’ll remember that I’m the only thing that feels good.”

“Yes,” I moaned, unable to think clearly, unable to move.

“How do you feel about that?” he asked, staring down at me, smiling.

“Locke!” I groaned.

“How do you feel about being mine, Storee?”

My eyes closed as the pleasure of his cock filling me overrode my ability to think. Locke was all I felt. He was all I knew. And I was completely overwhelmed by the sensation.

“I already am.” My words were breathy. “I’m yours.”

He thrust into me harder. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I’m yours,” I moaned. “I’m yours.”

“I’ll slap your ass when you need to be reminded who you belong to.”

“Okay,” I agreed.

“You won’t ever need for anything again.”

“Please, Locke—I need more.”

“More what, Storee?”

“Your cock. I need your cock.” I arched my back, trying to take his cock deeper.

He stopped. “Do you understand how it will be?”

“Yes,” I whispered, my eyes closed.

“I’ll make your body feel things you’ve never felt before. I’ll make sure you’re in a constant state of arousal.” He rolled me onto my stomach and spread my legs wider. “I’ll push you to the edge of ecstasy and then I’ll pull back and deny you.” He slid his fingers across my clit. “If you think about another man, I’ll bring you to your knees in pain.”

I nodded, his threat not sending the shivers of fear through me like I knew it should.

“Do you understand?” he asked again.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

I had never called a man ‘sir’ before, but with Locke it was natural. His dominance earned that respect. It flowed off my tongue with ease and caused my pussy to clench as I said the word.

“Good girl.” He pushed his cock into me, harder this time. “You’re not to touch yourself without my permission.”

“Okay,” I moaned.

His cock thrust into me, hard and deep. “Say it.”

“I’m not to touch myself without your permission.”

“Good.” He thrust into me again. “What will I do if you disobey me?”

“I’m not going to disobey you,” I panted.

He slapped my ass and I yelped.

“You’ll have plenty of time to get used to it. Because you’re going to be naked in my bed, covered in my scent, for the rest of your life.”

“Yes,” I moaned.

His hand came down on my ass with a hard slap.

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re going to take my cock every morning when I wake up. You’re going to spread your legs for me and take my cock down your throat until I’ve had my fill.”

“Yes,” I breathed, my head arching back and resting on his arm.

“I’m going to fuck your ass and make you come. I’m going to shove my cock down your throat and make you swallow my load.”

“Yes,” I moaned, his words sending shocks through my body.

“You’re going to come harder for me than you’ve ever come before.”

I couldn’t speak. I could only moan in response. I let out a cry as he started to fuck me harder, his fingers pressing on my clit.

He pulled me up to my knees and forced my face down.

“I’m older than you, Storee. So much fucking older.”

Though his statement of truth should have acted like a splash of cold water, it actually did the opposite. Our harsh reality was something that had always kept us apart, but now that we were facing it head on, my body reacted as it was always meant to act.

I came, hard, my hips jerking forward, my eyes closed, my body shaking.

“You’re mine, Storee,” he answered, his thrusts becoming faster, harder. He let out a low groan and came, filling me with his seed. “Mine.”

Chapter 24

Storee

I got out of Locke’s car, blinking against the bright sunlight. Wearing nothing but his oversized nightshirt, I was doing the epic version of the walk of shame.

And my luck…

Fiora happened to be walking to my house as I did.

My best friend’s wide eyes said it all.

I groaned inwardly as I saw Fiora’s expression. She was never going to let me hear the end of this, and I wasn’t ready for the questioning that I knew was about to come. I wasn’t going to keep last night with Locke a secret for long from Fiora. But I hadn’t expected to face the reality of what just happened so soon. I hadn’t even had time to process it myself.

I’d just had a night of incredible sex with my father’s best friend. How could I just casually mention that to my own best friend?

Fiora let out a low whistle as she met me on the porch. “I always knew you were a bit of a prude, but it looks like you’re finally living your life. The Hunt seems to have unleashed your inner beast.”

I bit my lip as I fumbled in my purse for the keys to my cottage, wondering how I could ever explain the events of last night to her. But as my mind drifted back to the passionate sex with Locke, I tried not to focus on the warm sensation between my legs.

“I… I just stayed at Locke’s place last night,” I stuttered, not wanting to delve too deeply into the details.

Fiora’s eyes widened even more, and she let out a gasp. “Oh, my god, did you finally hook up with him?”

I could feel my cheeks turning bright red as I nodded my head, confirming her suspicions.

Fiora let out a loud squeal. “I thought you did The Hunt last night. You said you were going to. How did you end up hooking up with Locke?”

I nervously tugged at the hem of the shirt, trying to cover as much skin as possible as I opened the door. “It’s a long story,” I stammered out, hoping to salvage some of my dignity. “I did The Hunt… or at least I was going to. And well… I slipped and fell and ended up in the hospital. I hit my head.”

“Oh, Jesus. Are you okay?”

I nodded. “I’m fine. But they must have called Locke, and he came to pick me up. He insisted I stay the night at his place so he could keep an eye on me.”

“Right,” Fiora replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “He just wanted to keep an eye on you.”

I hurried inside my house, hoping to get in before Fiora could pin me down for exact details. “I know, I know. It’s a lot to take in. I’m barely taking it all in myself. It’s crazy. I mean, I…” I trailed off, not sure how to continue.

“How was it?” she pressed on. “Good?”

I nodded, my cheeks heating and no doubt flaming red.

I didn’t know what to say. There were so many emotions swirling in my head. It had been incredible. It had been the most passionate thing I’d ever experienced. And I’d never felt so close to someone in my entire life as I had with Locke.

He’d given me a night that I would never forget. But at the same time, I felt horrible. We’d crossed a line. And now, how did we go back? What if Locke realized it was all a mistake and would now keep his distance from me? What if I lost him being in my life? All because of one night.

“It’s… complicated,” I finally answered.

Fiora rolled her eyes as she made her way to the kitchen, turning on the coffeepot. “Stop saying that. Of course it’s complicated. But who the fuck cares? Enjoy the ride.”

I shook my head, sighing as I dropped into the kitchen chair. The events of last night were already beginning to fade into the distance. It was like Locke had given me a wonderful dream, but now I had to wake up to my real boring life. “I think the ride has to stop here. It has potential to get really messy.”

“Messy can be fun.” Fiora reached for two coffee mugs and leaned up against the counter as the coffee brewed.

Wanting to change the subject, I asked, “Are you going to work the event tonight at Olympus Manor?”

Fiora shook her head. “I’m exhausted from last night. I don’t feel up to being on my feet all night, serving rich men expensive drinks. I got enough money to pass on this one. You?”

“Yeah, I’m going to work it.” Much to Locke’s dismay, I was sure. He was under the belief I was coming home to rest.

We sat in a comfortable silence, sipping our coffee, until Fiora cleared her throat. “So, are you going to tell me what happened with you and Locke? I want the dirty details.”

“I…” I trailed off, looking down into my coffee cup.

I still didn’t know how I was going to explain what had happened. I wanted to say it was a mistake, but the more I thought about it, the more I knew it was the only thing that made sense. It was like when you went on a roller coaster, and you thought it would be scary and thrilling. But in the end, it was a lot of fun, and you laughed at how scared you were.

This was the same way. Had I crossed a line? Absolutely. But it was a line I had been ready to cross for a long time. It felt so right and so liberating.

“He’s really dominating,” I finally said.

Fiora smirked. “I think that is a given. I’ve seen him around you. He plays the sexy daddy vibes perfectly.”

Hearing the word ‘daddy’ in the same sentence as Locke creeped me out, considering his relationship to my actual father. “Don’t call him that.”

“Why? It’s sexy as fuck.”

I let out a frustrated sigh. “Because it makes him sound old.”

“He is old.”

“Fiora! You aren’t helping with all the fucked-up emotions going on in my head.”

“Fine. Sorry. I’ll lay off the daddy talk.” She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling. “So… what was it like?”

“It was… I don’t know. Incredible? I don’t know what I was expecting. It was just so different than anything I’ve ever felt. When Locke took control, he just… knew what I needed. And I feel so close to him that it just made it all more intense. I mean, it was like I was in his head, and he could read my mind. Or maybe our minds just work together. I don’t know. It just seems so natural. And now I feel like I’m going to lose him. I don’t have any idea how to go back to being his family friend. Even though I know I should, I don’t want to.”

Fiora smiled. “Then don’t go back to being his family friend. Be his lover.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“I don’t know Locke well. But the one thing I do know about him is he is a man who likes to be in control. My guess,” Fiora paused as she took a sip of her coffee. “He’s not going to let you make the decision for him. I think he’s going to take over and decide for both of you.”

Chapter 25

Locke

I should have forbidden her to work the party tonight. Not that Storee would have listened to me, but if I’d insisted at all cost, at least I wouldn’t be standing here in Olympus Manor feeling as if I wanted to rip the eyeballs out of every man who was watching her with a look of lust in their eyes.

Even though she was simply a waitress at the party, I could see so many of these men were picturing her in other positions and thinking about ways that she could serve them besides just bringing them a cocktail.

I tried to ignore the thoughts that were creeping into my head and focus instead on the task at hand. I was here to speak with Apollo about Gabriel’s death.

Braken was right. I had been putting my head in the sand, and the guilt of the unknown was far worse than hearing the truth.

I needed to hear how Gabriel was murdered. And by whom. I had a good idea, but I needed to know for sure, and Apollo was the man who could give me the answers.

But as I watched Storee move from table to table, her hips swaying and her tight dress hugging her every curve, I found it hard to concentrate on anything else. The way she smiled and flirted with the men made my blood boil, but I couldn’t deny the fact that she was good at her job.

I took a deep breath and walked toward the bar, trying to block out the intoxicating way Storee’s eyes kept locking with mine throughout the night. Apollo was sitting at the other end of the counter, sipping a glass of whiskey. He noticed my presence and raised an eyebrow.

“Locke,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight. I thought you’d be busy with The Vault and The Hunts happening this weekend.”

“That I am. But I need to talk to you,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. “Something I’ve been meaning to do.”

Apollo took another sip of his whiskey and swirled it around in his glass.

“It’s about Gabriel. I need to know who killed him.”

Apollo raised an eyebrow again, studying me for a moment. “And you’re asking me because you think I had something to do with his death?”

I nodded. “You or your brother.”

His twin brother, Ares, was the known killer in the Godwin family. The hitman. Apollo wasn’t really one to kill.

“My brother’s dead.”

I nodded again. “And I’m sorry for your loss. But he was still alive when Gabriel was killed.”

Apollo leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing. “What makes you think my family had anything to do with it?”

“The night Gabriel died, he was going to Seattle.”

Apollo’s expression remained neutral. “Gabriel worked for the Godwin family. Why would you think we’d kill him?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You know why.”

“Because he was fucking over my family? Doing side deals with my competitors? Is that what you’re talking about?” Apollo leaned in closer, his voice low and sinister. “And because we’ve been friends for a long time, I’m going to act like I don’t know that you were aware of what Gabriel was doing behind my back. I’d hate to think you’d fuck me and my family over too.”

Apollo sighed and took another sip of his drink.

“Look, Locke. I understand your suspicions, but I can assure you that neither I nor my family had anything to do with Gabriel’s death. In fact, I believe justice is owed for what happened to him. Always have.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

Apollo nodded. “Yes. Gabriel was a valuable asset to our organization even with his flaws, and his death has left a dark hole. But I can tell you this much: his killer didn’t act on my orders or my family’s.”

I studied him for a moment, trying to gauge if he was telling the truth. But his expression remained unreadable.

“Ares wouldn’t have?” Apollo’s brother had a temper.

“I know what Ares did and didn’t do. I’m telling you right now, the Godwins weren’t involved.”

I turned to leave, but Apollo’s voice stopped me. “And what if I had killed Gabriel? What if I answered your question with a yes tonight? Then what?”

I gritted my teeth, knowing exactly where this was going. “I think it’s best for our long-standing friendship that I don’t answer that.”

Tipping his glass at me before taking another sip of his whiskey, Apollo said, “I agree.” His stare darted to Storee who was bending down to pick up a discarded napkin, the fabric of her dress inching up her thigh, revealing entirely too much skin. “I’ve tried to give her money. Tried to honor Gabriel’s memory by making sure his daughter is cared for. She won’t take a cent. Insists on working these parties instead.”

I nodded. “She’s stubborn. She won’t take money from me either.”

Apollo nodded in agreement before taking another sip of his drink. “Her father was a stubborn son of a bitch too. To his detriment.”

Apollo raised his glass in a farewell gesture before turning his attention back to the partygoers.

I focused my attention back on Storee. She was moving her head from side to side, appearing to work out a kink in her neck. She shifted from one foot to the other, no doubt the heels she wore killing her feet.

She was tired.

I marched over to where she was picking up empty glasses and placing them on a tray.

“Time to go home,” I said.

Storee looked up at me, her eyes widening in surprise. “What? I can’t just leave in the middle of the party. I’m working.”

“You’re tired.”

She smirked. “So? I’m always tired. It’s called working.”

I clenched my jaw, knowing that I needed to get her out of here before I did something I would regret. “I said it’s time to go home. Now.”

“And I’m telling you I have to work.”

I grabbed her arm, pulling her close to me so I could whisper in her ear. “You’re not working anymore. You’re coming home with me.”

She yanked her arm back, her eyes snapping with anger. “I’m not your property, Locke. And I’m certainly not going anywhere with you.”

I leaned in closer, my voice low and dangerous. “You’re coming with me, Storee. I won’t ask again.”

Storee raised her chin defiantly. “And if I refuse?”

I didn’t hesitate. “I warned you last night and this morning… multiple times… what it meant the moment you and I fucked. Do we need a reminder?”

She scoffed. “What, are you jealous? You don’t own me, Locke.”

I leaned in close to her, my voice low and menacing. “I don’t want any man looking at you like they want to rip your clothes off. You’re mine now. I warned you.”

“I don’t want to upset the Godwins by leaving.”

“I’ll handle the Godwins.”

She looked at me for a moment, her eyes scanning my face before nodding. “Fine. I’ll go with you. But I’m doing this because I want to, not because you’re making me.”

I didn’t say anything, just grabbed her hand and led her out of the party and into my car.

As soon as we were in the car, I slammed my foot onto the gas pedal and sped away from the party, not bothering to look back. Storee sat in silence, her eyes trained on the passing scenery outside the window. I could feel the tension mounting between us like a coiled snake.

“I don’t like being told what to do,” she said finally, breaking the silence.

“I know,” I replied evenly. “But you need to understand that I’m not just anyone. I’m not some guy you can just fuck and forget about. I’m not a one-night stand.”

“I didn’t think that’s what this was,” she retorted, her voice rising in frustration.

“Then what did you think it was, Storee?” I asked. I glanced at her quickly before focusing back on the road. “And I don’t want you working those parties anymore. I never liked it, and now that you’re mine, I definitely don’t want you there.”

Storee was quiet for a few moments before speaking again. “I don’t like feeling like I’m someone’s possession, Locke.”

“I don’t see you as a possession,” I replied. “I see you as mine. Mine to protect, mine to care for, mine to make sure you never have to work as hard as you do. The days of you working multiple jobs are over.” I glanced over at her, but then returned my focus to the road. “If you truly enjoy the jobs, that would be different. Do you?”

“Well… no. I don’t. But—”

“Then it’s time you start focusing on actually doing what you enjoy.”

Storee looked down at her hands, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what you’re in this for. But I know what I want. And I don’t want to be treated like some kind of object.”

“I don’t treat you like an object. I treat you like my woman.”

“I’m not your woman.”

“You are now.”

Storee’s eyes widened at my words, and I could see her mind working with the implications of what I had said.

“But being your woman doesn’t mean I have to give up my freedom or my identity,” Storee replied, her voice growing firmer. “I want to be with you, Locke, but I won’t lose myself in the process.”

“I don’t want you to lose yourself,” I said, my tone softening. “I want to help you find yourself.”

I knew that I had to tread carefully with Storee. She was a fiercely independent woman, and the last thing I wanted was to scare her off.

“I’m not trying to change who you are, Storee,” I added, trying to break the tension. “I just want to take care of you. You don’t have to work yourself to the bone anymore.”

She looked at me, her eyes searching mine. “And what do you want in return?”

I shrugged. “Just… you.”

Chapter 26

Storee

“I really should go back to my place,” I said as we entered Locke’s house. “I need a shower and all my clothes are at my house.”

“You don’t need any clothes,” he picked me up into his arms and headed toward the bathroom, “and a shower is exactly what I had in mind.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck, feeling his muscles tense and flex beneath my fingers as he carried me, and my heart raced. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I had been crushing on Locke for a lifetime, and now here we were, in his house, and he was carrying me into the shower with him like two lovers who had always been together would do.

So normal. So easy.

He kicked the bathroom door shut behind us and set me down on the counter, his hands moving to the hem of my dress. He pulled it over my head, his gaze drinking in the sight of my bare skin as he turned on the water.

He leaned in, his lips trailing over the curve of my neck, leaving a trail of fiery kisses in their wake. My nails dug into his shoulders as he nibbled at my sensitive skin. His hands ran down my sides, the tips of his fingers trailing over my skin in a teasing caress.

“Don’t ever fight with me again,” he said with another kiss.

“Is that what we had? A fight?” I smiled, holding back a laugh. The fact that Locke thought our conversation was a fight was comical.

Locke was firm, domineering, even scary at times in the way he could stare into my very soul. But I had never actually seen him lose control or shout. If his version of a fight was what we had in the car, then I’d take that any day.

He pulled back, his eyes meeting mine. They were smoldering with lust, his hands moving to the waistband of his pants. “As close to a fight as I want us to ever have.”

He quickly shed his clothes, his body taut and toned, and stepped into the shower. I followed him, my body buzzing with excitement and anticipation. The hot water cascaded over us, steam rising up around us as we stood under the spray, his hands traveling over my body, tracing every curve and dip.

His lips claimed mine in a deep and possessive kiss.

I lost myself in the feel of his hot, wet body pressed against mine, the feel of his hands exploring my curves and caressing my skin.

I gasped as he cupped my breasts, his thumbs flicking over my nipples, sending waves of pleasure through me. He stepped closer, his erection pressing into my stomach as his lips found mine once more.

Our tongues danced together as we explored each other’s mouths, our bodies pressed tightly together as the water continued to rain down on us. I moaned as he trailed kisses down my neck, his hands sliding lower and lower until they reached the apex of my thighs.

He parted my folds with his fingers, his thumb finding my clit as he began to stroke it in a circular motion. I let out a cry of pleasure, my body shuddering as he brought me closer and closer to the edge.

He lifted me up and pressed me against the shower wall, his mouth finding my breasts once more as he pounded into my body. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my nails digging into his back as he drove me wild with pleasure.

I cried out his name as I came, my body bucking against his as he continued to thrust into me.

“Locke, Locke,” I panted.

“That’s it, baby girl. Only my name on those perfect lips of yours.”

I never wanted it to stop. I never wanted to be apart from him. I wanted to be close to him, to feel him move inside me, for the rest of my life.

And then I was tumbling, over the edge, my body shuddering as another orgasm swept over me, leaving me quivering with pleasure.

His thrusts grew deeper and deeper, more erratic as he shuddered, spilling his hot seed into me. He lowered his head and placed a final kiss on my lips.

We stood there, our bodies pressed together, as we both regained our breath. We stayed there for a moment before Locke turned off the water and pulled back. He set me down on the shower floor, kissing my forehead one last time.

He took my hand and stepped out of the shower, water cascading down our bodies as he wrapped us in fluffy towels, brushed my hair gently with his fingers, and led me to the bed.

“I’m not letting you go home tonight,” he said as he climbed in, tugging me down next to him.

“I don’t want you to let me go home.” I smiled and curled up beside him.

“Good,” he whispered in my ear, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me close. “It’s late, and we’re both tired. It would have been awful if I had to spank you for fighting with me again.”

Giggling at his threat, I nuzzled against him, happy in his arms. “You can’t always threaten to spank me when you don’t get your way.”

“I can. I will.”

Rubbing my hand on his bare chest, still damp from the shower, I decided I should mention something I hadn’t yet. “Umm… Locke?”

“Yes.” His voice was heavy with sleep nearing.

“I’m on the pill.”

He tensed slightly but didn’t say anything.

“I mean… you’ve come inside me and, well… I just wanted you to know that we’ve been safe.”

Jesus, getting the words out felt so awkward, but I didn’t want him to be nervous that a pregnancy scare could be in our future.

There was a long, drawn-out silence before he spoke. “I know.”

“You know?” I was a bit surprised but then realized he had access to my files because of The Hunt. I just hadn’t assumed he had read them.

Maybe I should have felt as if he’d overstepped by reading my personal file.

Maybe I should have been upset that he was too nosey and should have looked the other way when my file came across his desk.

But I didn’t feel that way at all.

I liked it.

I liked knowing he’d peeked inside.

I liked it a lot.

“I make it a point to know everything about you, Storee. Always.”

I felt Locke’s body relax beside me, the steady rise and fall of his chest matching my own. Pressing a final kiss against his chest, I closed my eyes and let sleep claim me.

Chapter 27

Storee

Five days, one hundred and twenty hours, and very few of those hours not spent with Locke Hartwell.

I should have known what it would mean once I crossed the line with a man like him. He never tried to hide the fact that he was a possessive man, and now that I had given him a piece of myself, I was his entirely.

His touch spoke volumes. Every time his hand grazed my skin, every time his lips met mine, I knew that I was his and his alone. It was intoxicating, the way he made me feel. But it was also terrifying.

I knew that with Locke, there was no going back. He had a hold on me that I couldn’t shake, no matter how hard I tried. And the harder I tried to resist him, the more he pulled me in. I was addicted to the way his hand would wrap around my waist, the way his lips would trail down my neck, and the way his body would intertwine with mine.

As the days passed, our passion only grew stronger. We explored each other’s bodies with a fervent hunger, always craving more. He would whisper dirty things in my ear, making me blush from his words alone. I loved every single moment of it. But with each day, I began to realize that I couldn’t stay in this bubble forever. Eventually, I would have to face reality and deal with my life. I had responsibilities. Bills. Life that didn’t revolve around Locke.

“I need to get back to work today,” I said, my voice low and somber as I finished getting dressed and ready to start reality. It was time. Long overdue.

“Not today,” he said, his voice still groggy from sleep and no morning coffee yet. “I have something to show you. A surprise.”

“Surprises and fun have to wait. I need to deal with the real world. Not just Locke Hartwell’s bedroom,” I said, pulling my hair up into a ponytail and using the mirror above the sink to apply my makeup. “I can’t stay here forever. I have a life to get back to.”

I had taken five days off from work, and now I had five days to make up for. I could only imagine the looks I was about to receive from everyone at the docks, but I knew I had to pick up the slack somehow.

“You have me. You don’t need your other life,” he countered.

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not a kept woman, Locke.”

“As much as I’d like to make you one,” he said, kissing me on the back of my neck as he reached for my hand, “I have a better idea.” He tugged me toward the door. “Come on. There’s someplace I want to show you.”

“You’re going to make me miss another day,” I grumbled as he led me to his car.

“Trust me,” he said, helping me into the front seat. “You’re going to love it.”

I sighed, giving in. Whatever Locke wanted, Locke got. I had learned that much in the past few days.

He drove through the winding roads until we reached Main Street, about a block from The Vault. The area was full of cute little shops, but it was still too early for any of them to be open, so I wasn’t really sure why we were parking.

“What’s going on?” I asked, as he led me toward an empty shop with a For Lease sign hanging in the window.

He pulled out some keys and opened the door with a flourish, ushering me inside, revealing a dark, empty room.

“Surprise,” he said, grinning widely. “This is for you.”

I froze, pulling away from him slowly. “What did you just say?”

“It’s for you and your art.”

“My art?”

“It’s time you start taking your passion seriously, and you need a space to do that.” He pointed to the large windows in the front. “We’ll keep these covered until you feel ready. But once you have enough pieces to show, we can open you up fully as a gallery.”

I glanced around the empty space, my mind trying to grasp what was happening.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “There’s no way.”

His eyes flashed with an almost primal determination. “It’s a great idea. You’ll be able to have art showings here and get some good exposure in the community. People will want to see what you have to offer.”

“I don’t have the money to do any of this,” I said. “This is too much,” I said, shaking my head as I backed toward the door. “I can’t accept this, Locke.”

“Why not?” His eyes darkened.

“This breaks all of the rules. You can’t just give me an art studio,” I said, backing away from him. “It’s not right.”

He smirked. “Last I checked, I made the rules.”

I couldn’t tell if it was the look on his face, or if it was my own racing heart, but I felt like I was going to throw up.

“I can’t believe you leased this place for me.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t. I bought the entire building. It’ll be a good investment. You will be a good investment,” he said, stalking toward me. “You’re going to go far with your art. I know it.”

“Locke—”

His hands were on my body before I could even think to move away. “I know you want to support yourself. I know you don’t want to be a kept woman as you put it. I understand all of that. But I also know you don’t love working the harbor or serving rich fucks. If you did, I’d step away and let you do what you love. But I know you hate every second of it. I’m simply telling you to follow your dream. Reach for it.”

I pushed him back. “No, Locke. This is crazy!”

“I don’t care,” he said, pulling me into his arms and kissing me. “Be crazy.”

He tasted like desire. Like sin. I couldn’t think straight when his lips were on me. I couldn’t fight it. I wouldn’t fight it.

The sound of his phone interrupted us. He pulled away, the longing clear in his face as he looked at me. He took a deep breath, and I could see the restraint in his eyes. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and glanced down at the screen, before looking back at me.

“I have to go take care of this,” he said, kissing me lightly on the lips. “You think about what I said. We can talk about it tonight.”

“Tonight?”

He smirked. “I’m taking you to The Vault. There’s another Heathens party to kick off The Hunt this weekend.”

My eyes widened. “What? Why?”

“Seems only fair. I’m expecting you to allow me into this part of your life. Your new business, your new future. It only makes sense to allow you to enter my world too.”

I nodded, trying to catch my breath. If I was still alive when he got back, I was sure it would be a miracle. I felt as if I was going to have a heart attack.

He touched my cheek with his hand, and for a moment, I forgot my own name. “I’ll see you soon.”

I stood there in the empty space for a long time, trying to figure out what had just happened. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I had a decision to make.

For once in my life, I could forget about everything but my own happiness. For once in my life, I could do what I wanted, and not what I had to. For once in my life, I was being given the opportunity to chase my dreams.

It was unnerving. The thought of being able to start a life without fear, without worry, without the constant need to survive.

And that scared the hell out of me.

Chapter 28

Storee

“If we go inside, then there are rules for you to follow. My rules,” Locke said near my ear, his breath hot against my skin.

I nodded eagerly, willing to agree to anything if it meant he’d let me enter his sex club that I had been forbidden to attend before. I wasn’t going to question his change of heart. The fact that I was finally being granted access to the club was too exciting to dwell on for long.

“And if you break my rules,” he added, “there will be consequences.”

My heart skipped and I swallowed hard. A smart woman would have questioned the word ‘consequences’ but my curiosity and need to enter the club took over.

He turned to face me, his eyes darkening with lust. “My first rule,” he said, his voice low and raspy, “is that you will obey my every command. You will do everything I tell you to, without question or hesitation. Do you understand?”

I nodded, feeling a thrill run through me.

“Good,” he said. “Because tonight, you will be mine. Completely and utterly. And if you dare to disobey me, you will be punished.”

I felt a shiver run down my spine at his words, and I wasn’t sure what ‘mine’ meant and how it was any different than all the other times he’d claimed I was his, but I liked the sound of it now. It sounded more intense.

“I understand,” I said.

He reached forward and took my chin in his hand. “I’m possessive. Insanely so. I don’t want you looking at another cock. Every time I see your eyes linger on another man, I’ll keep a tally. You won’t like if I have a total at the end of the night.”

I felt an electric jolt as I swallowed. “Okay,” I said as he opened the door and led us past the line of people waiting for their turn to enter.

Holding the hand of the owner of The Vault definitely had its perks as we walked to the front of the line and made our way down the stairs to where all the festivities were.

Loud, tribal music thumped through the large room. I glanced around, my eyes wide, taking in the erotic scene before me.

The club was dark, with dim lighting, and black and red decor. The DJ was spinning music that sounded like a cross between tribal and house. The music matched the club’s intensity—dark, sexual, hard.

I glanced to my right and caught a glimpse of a woman wearing a leather harness. Her tits were strapped up and she had a chain connecting her nipples. Her partner was fastened onto her with a similar set of nipple clamps. The look on her face was pure bliss, and I suddenly felt a rush of heat spread through me as I imagined myself in her place.

Another woman wearing nothing but small pieces of fur was performing a sort of burlesque dance that was more striptease than anything else. Her slow dance was punctuated by sensual moves and the sounds of the crowd’s moans.

The music was loud, and I was lost in its rhythms. I felt hot and tingly all over—on fire.

Locke squeezed my hand, breaking my trance. He leaned over to my ear and said, “We’re going to go sit over there.”

I recognized the VIP table that the owners of The Vault sat at the last time I snuck in. Chilled champagne was waiting as were his business partners.

“Come,” Locke said, pulling me through the crowd.

As we weaved our way through the sea of dancers, I was suddenly more nervous than ever. I knew Merrick, Soren, and Braken, and tonight shouldn’t be any different than all the other times that I had seen them before.

Except it was.

Tonight I was here with Locke. I was his.

And I was pretty sure they knew it.

And if they hadn’t, when Locke sat down on the edge of the leather booth and tugged me down onto his lap, there was no question.

My face heated up as I blushed at the way they all took notice of how Locke’s hand rested on my hip, possessively holding me to him.

“You finally allowing Storee to come out and play?” Soren asked, his voice booming above the music.

“She’s here with me. Just me,” Locke said as he poured us both a glass of champagne.

“Hi,” I said, my voice breathy.

I felt a fresh rush of heat race to my core as I leaned back into his chest, loving the sense of being claimed.

He shifted me on his lap until I was fully sitting on him, my dress riding up and exposing more of my legs. He had a way of making me feel tiny, delicate, and… as if I belonged. His hands roamed up and down my thighs, lightly rubbing the soft skin.

A moment later, a woman in red lingerie approached the table and stood, hands clasped in front of her, her eyes downcast.

“There’s our good girl,” Soren said. “Are you thirsty?”

The woman nodded, and said, “Yes, Sir.”

Soren leaned back against the leather, spreading his legs. “Go ahead then. Drink.”

The woman dropped to her knees and crawled beneath the table. I watched in stunned silence as she settled between Soren’s legs. His cock was exposed as his pants rode down his hips.

A moment later, the woman’s pretty mouth was wrapped around his cock and he was exhaling loudly.

I leaned back so I could get a better look, arching my neck at the first public blowjob I’d ever seen. I breathed out when I saw Soren reach out and grab the woman by her red hair. He didn’t thrust, he just held her, using her for his pleasure.

The woman’s eyes were cast down, her mouth moving up and down on his cock. Her hands were on her knees, her ass sticking up in the air. I could see her thighs trembling and I was sure she was close to orgasm simply from drinking from his cock.

Locke’s thumb rubbed up and down my inner thigh, edging closer to my panties. “Be careful, baby girl. I’d hate to have to punish you for breaking my rules.”

I bit my lip as I watched with wide eyes as the woman licked Soren’s dick. “She’s really doing that,” I whispered, my face burning with embarrassment and arousal from being caught watching.

“She’s a good cum slut,” Locke said as he stroked my thigh. “She’s going to drink from every cock at this table.”

Jealousy shot through me at the thought of her sucking Locke’s cock. My eyes widened as Soren’s dick glistened from her mouth. She opened her mouth and let Soren’s cock slip between her lips again and again. Faster and faster until Soren tugged on her hair and let out a guttural moan, coming in her mouth.

She was panting by the time she reached Merrick’s lap, his cock already out and waiting for her.

“Can I have another, Sir?” she asked, leaning into his lap and licking his cock from base to tip.

“You want some more cock, hmm?” Merrick asked as he stroked his shaft.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Then suck away,” he said, taking a drink of his cocktail as if having a woman between his legs giving him head was a normal occurrence.

And for these men, I had no doubt it was.

The table blocked most of my view and the only way I’d be able to truly see the act was by repositioning. But then Locke would know I was trying to see.

I looked up at Merrick’s face as he clearly was having his dick sucked beneath the table, and there was something dark in his eyes.

“Do you like watching?” Locke asked in my ear.

“Yes,” I whispered, my voice strangled. “But you said I couldn’t.”

“I said there would be consequences. That’s very different.”

My head was spinning, and my body throbbed with need. I was torn between wanting to see what was happening under the table and being too scared to try.

I sighed as I turned back toward Locke and saw him completely focused on my face and nothing else. Locke’s hand kept up a slow, easy rhythm on my thigh. His touch, in spite of being so soft, was as arousing as anything else in this room.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“Truth?”

“Always.”

“That I don’t want her to have a turn with you. I don’t want her sucking your cock,” I confessed.

My breath caught in my chest as I looked again at his friends and saw that the woman’s mouth was still wrapped around Merrick’s cock. But by the look on his face, he was close to completion and then she’d be moving on to Braken who was next in line.

But then… It would be Locke’s turn and the idea made me sizzle with rage.

I closed my eyes as he whispered in my ear. His breath was hot and warm as he spoke. “Will it make you jealous?”

“I already am,” I whispered.

“Oh?”

I nodded as he kissed my neck and nibbled on my ear. My breathing was heavy, and I tried to steady myself as I looked across the table as Merrick moaned against the whiskey he sipped as he came. I heard the girl’s muffled moans grow louder as she drank from his cock again.

She then moved on to Braken.

I had a better view this time, since Braken sat to Locke’s right.

“You want me all to yourself?”

My wet pussy clenched with need as I imagined all of him inside of me. I wanted his cock inside of me so badly—needed it. I looked up at him for a long moment, before admitting, “I don’t want any other woman touching you.”

His eyes were on mine as I spoke. The words were out, there between us. And the moment I said them, I knew it was the truth.

“I want you to be selfish. I want you to want me so badly that you’ll do anything to have me,” he said as he licked my earlobe, his teeth biting it gently.

I closed my eyes as he bit down and pulled it into his mouth. I felt his cock throb beneath me, and I leaned back, moaning as he licked around the shell of my ear.

A soft gasp escaped my lips when I saw the woman under the table was now sucking Braken’s cock and moaning louder.

My attention was on Braken’s face, on his hands tangled in her hair, his head thrown back.

I whimpered as Locke’s cock pressed against my ass.

“You better not be looking at his cock, baby girl,” he warned.

“It’s hard not to.”

She continued sucking as her throat swallowed Braken’s cock and she moaned loudly.

“Are you going to be a bad girl and look at his hard dick again?” Locke asked.

I looked up at Locke’s face and the lust in his eyes made me gasp. “Th-this isn’t fair.”

The woman shook as Braken pushed his cock inside of her, her cries muffled by his cock.

I closed my eyes and turned my head away, pretending like I hadn’t been staring at Braken at all.

“Good girl,” he said, stroking my thigh. “You don’t want to violate my rules, do you?” His teeth grazed my neck. “I want you to know you’re mine. Just mine. Only mine.”

My back arched as he trailed a finger along the edge of my panties. I’d never been so turned on, so desperate for someone before in my life. He made me feel so alive, more than I ever had before.

His voice was low. Seductive. “But I’ll make this promise to you right now. I’m yours. Just yours. Only yours from this night on.”

“Did we just have the exclusive talk at The Vault?” I asked with a giggle.

“We fucking did.”

Chapter 29

Locke

Taking her to my club had been a bad idea. Not for all the reasons I’d thought but because controlling myself right now, when all I wanted to do was to fuck her right here and now, was killing me. But I wasn’t going to allow anyone to even get a peek of her skin.

She was mine.

All mine.

“Let’s go upstairs to the office,” I said into her ear, following it with a nip. The thought of having her all to myself, with no prying eyes or interruptions, made me harden even more.

She shuddered and let out a soft moan, sending a jolt of desire through my body.

“Someone has a punishment waiting for them too,” I added.

I took her hand and led her through the crowded dance floor, making sure to keep her close to me. I could feel the eyes of the men in the room on her, but I didn’t care. She was mine and no one else’s.

Once we were safely inside the office, I locked the door behind us, pushed her against the wall, and kissed her deeply, my hands roaming over her body. She responded eagerly, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me closer.

“Someone has a punishment coming,” I repeated, trailing kisses down her neck. “I warned you.”

“That’s not fair. It was right in front of me.”

“My rules are my rules.”

I slid my hand up her dress, feeling the wetness between her legs. She moaned softly, arching her hips toward me.

“I can’t wait another second,” I growled, lifting her up and carrying her over to the desk. I pushed everything off of it and laid her down, pulling off her clothes with a hunger that I couldn’t contain any longer.

She was naked, beautiful, her chest rising and falling as her pouty lips opened, beckoning me to claim her as mine. She was a motherfucking siren and would surely be my undoing.

But at least she was finally mine.

Mine to do with as I pleased.

I buried my face between her thighs, licking and sucking on her clit until she was panting and writhing in pleasure.

When I finally stood up and unfastened my belt, she looked up at me with a mixture of fear and desire in her eyes. I knew what she was thinking—was I going to use the belt on her?

I reached for it and wrapped it around my hand, slapping it into my palm. Her eyes widened, her cheeks flushed.

“Did you stare at another man’s cock?” I asked.

“Well, technically I was watching another woman suck a cock. That’s different.”

I internally smiled at how damn cute she was, but I wasn’t going to show it. Keeping my face firm, I asked, “And what did I say I’d do if you looked at another man’s cock?”

“That there would be consequences.”

“Exactly.”

Still holding the belt tight in my hand, I grabbed her chin and kissed her hard, our tongues dancing together. She was still tense, her muscles coiled in anticipation, but I could feel her submitting to me with every passing second as I claimed her mouth.

I reached down and grabbed her hands, pulling them over her head and pinning her to the desk. She let out a small whimper, and I kissed her again, harder this time.

Not hesitating any longer, I flipped her onto her belly and raised the belt. “This is going to hurt, baby girl. Get ready.”

I clenched my fist around the belt and brought it down on her thigh. She jumped, her back arched, and she cried out.

I did it again, this time harder, and she squealed.

“Fuck, that hurts,” she moaned, burying her face in the wood of my desk.

I continued spanking her, harder and harder, pausing only to admire how the red marks I was creating on her ass contrasted with her porcelain skin. I didn’t want to hurt her, but I knew she needed this. She needed to know that she was mine and mine alone.

By the time I had finished spanking her, her punished flesh was pink and hot, and she was begging me.

“Please, Locke,” she whimpered. “Please, stop.”

“You’ve been a good girl,” I praised as I kissed the hot skin of her ass, tossing the belt to the side.

I slid my fingers between her legs, pushing past her folds and playing with her clit, taking away all the pain.

Bringing my tongue to her anus, I licked her there before spreading her cheeks apart and kissing the pink inside. She gasped, pushing her ass up for more.

“But your punishment isn’t over yet,” I said as I pinched her clit gently.

A small whimper was her only response.

“I just spanked this ass. Now I’m going to fuck it.”

I kissed her ass again before ridding myself of my own clothing, not being able to resist being buried inside of her any longer. I took a half second to reach for the lubrication I knew was kept in the bottom drawer of the desk.

After all, I was a merciful man.

Her eyes stayed focused on me the entire time, but she held position and kept her ass upturned over my desk.

Waiting.

I coated my cock with the lube before running it up and down her ass crack, teasing her before finally pushing my finger into her asshole. She was tight, impossibly tight, and I realized that the last time I took her ass it was far more aggressive, primal, and no doubt painful.

She was moaning lewdly, gripping the side of the desk and spreading her legs as much as she could.

“You dirty little girl,” I growled, spanking her again. “You like that? You like knowing my cock is about to enter your ass?”

“Yes,” she moaned.

“Good. Because the more you relax, the more you accept that this is going to happen, the easier this will be.”

I grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her head back. She yelped and looked back at me with wild eyes, lust and desire reflecting in them.

“I’m going to fuck your ass until you scream out my name, and you’re going to love every second of it.”

She moaned loudly, pushing her backside up against me. We didn’t need any more words.

Grabbing her hips, I slid inside of her inch after inch, watching as my cock disappeared inside her. Spreading her ass apart, I started to fuck her slowly, alternating between shallow strokes and deep, hard thrusts. I wasn’t gentle. I wasn’t going to stop.

I didn’t tell her how beautiful she was, or how much I loved her, or how good she tasted.

I didn’t need to.

I fucked her hard and rough, a growl growing in my throat with every passing second. She was moaning and writhing beneath me. She pushed her ass up to meet my every thrust, as if she couldn’t get me deep enough inside of her, as if she couldn’t get enough of me. By the time I was ready to come, she was covered in sweat, panting, her fingers digging into the desk.

“Please, Locke,” she whimpered. “Please fuck my ass harder.”

Grinning, I did just that. “Tell me what you want, baby girl,” I demanded.

“Fuck my ass, Locke!” she shouted.

“Scream, baby girl.”

“Locke!” she cried out as I drove my cock all the way into her ass, digging my fingers into her hips.

“Such a good girl.”

Those words sent her over the edge, and with a loud cry she came around my cock, squeezing and milking me until I couldn’t hold out any longer.

“I’m going to come,” I growled, pushing her further. “I’m going to come inside of your tight little ass.”

“Yes, yes,” she cried out. “Do it. Fuck me. Make me yours.”

My orgasm was violent, my cock pulsing and convulsing inside of her as I filled her ass with my cum.

I pulled out, watching as my cum dripped down her ass and coated my cock.

She collapsed on the desk, her body trembling, her skin flushed.

“I think I’m going to have to take you home tonight and do that again, and again all night,” I said, pulling her up to me. “And again in the morning.”

“I think I can live with that,” she said with a coy smile.

“Good. Because if I have anything to say about it, you’ll never leave my side.”

Chapter 30

Storee

A year ago if someone would have told me that I’d be fucking Locke Hartwell again and again and again, I would have laughed hysterically and called them insane. And yet, here I was. I couldn’t believe it myself. Locke Hartwell, the man I used to deny, resist, try never to make eye contact with, was now the one I craved.

As we lay together in his bed, spent and satisfied, I tried not to think of the possibility that reality could come crashing back and we would have to face the fact that we were two different people living two different lives. As much as he claimed I was his… was that really a possibility?

Mine.

Does mine really exist?

“I’m going to get in the shower,” he said as he kissed my neck and ran his fingers in a trail down my stomach. “I’ll be right back.”

I watched as he got up and walked toward the bathroom, his muscular and toned back glistening in the dim light of the room.

As I lay there, lost in thought, I heard the sound of water running in the shower. The temptation to join him was strong, but my stomach rumbled, and I wanted to make us a snack instead. I got up from the bed and padded barefoot to his closet to find something of his to wear.

I looked through his closet filled with designer clothing. I picked out a white button-up shirt and slid it on, leaving the buttons undone. The shirt was big on me, but it smelled of his cologne and I felt comforted by the scent. I smiled to myself, knowing that Locke would appreciate the sight of me wearing his clothes.

As I exited the closet, something caught the corner of my eye. Something deep in my gut told me not to look closer. Not to snoop. Not to dig into the shadows where I didn’t belong. And yet that tiny voice in my head that was so strong, so clear, and so loud told me to look anyway. Moving one of his hanging suits aside, I saw it.

The bone stag mask.

The same mask that had stared back at me as it hunted me down. Fucking me. Claiming me.

Every man on this island, most definitely every man who was a member of The Vault, owned a stag mask. It wouldn’t be a surprise to find a mask in Locke’s closet. But this mask… I recognized this mask. Every groove, every discoloration to the bone, every single detail had been ingrained into my memory. I knew this mask.

“What the fuck?” I whispered.

Was this real?

Could this really be happening?

I stared at the bone stag mask in front of me and felt like I was going to faint. I breathed deeply and tried to stay rational. I tried to tell myself that the bone stag mask wasn’t here, that Locke didn’t know what it was or that it was hidden in his closet.

A chill ran through my body as I looked at it. I grabbed it and held it up in the light, turning it over to see if there was any way it could be anything else.

“No,” I whispered again as I held it with a trembling hand. I knew it was his, I knew it. There was no doubt in my mind.

I dropped the mask and tried to push it into the shadows where I’d found it. But what could I do?

As if I was in a trance, I made my way to the bathroom where the shower was still running.

I quietly opened the door and stepped inside.

Locke stood under the hot spray of the shower completely naked. His back was to me as he rinsed the sweat and cum from his body. His muscles tensed as he reached for the body wash. I thought about running away. I thought about closing the door and never looking back. But I couldn’t. My heart raced as I stood, stunned by the sight of him.

He leaned his head back, letting the water pour down his body.

When Locke stepped out of the shower, he was wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Water droplets cascaded down his sculpted chest and abs. He looked at me and his eyes were filled with lust.

“I love when you wear my clothes,” he said.

Without saying a word, he pressed his body against mine, pinning me against the wall. He took my face in his hands and kissed me deeply, his tongue exploring my mouth. His hands roamed over my body, touching me in all the right places.

As if on stunned autopilot, I moaned into his mouth as he lifted me up and carried me to the bed, laying me down gently. He climbed on top of me and continued kissing me, trailing kisses down my neck and chest. My body was on fire with desire for him.

And yet…

I closed my eyes and saw the bone mask staring back at me.

This couldn’t be real.

It couldn’t be real…

I recognized his cock.

It was the same cock.

Fuck me… how did I not see this before?

Though we had sex multiple times with him hidden behind the bone mask, I had no doubt in my mind that Locke had been the masked man during The Hunt.

He was the man who chased me.

Who threw me to the ground.

Who fucked me hard while I cried out in primal pleasure.

I may not have recognized the man then.

But I did now.

It was Locke all along.

And now as his cock was buried inside of me, not only did I recognize the appearance, I recognized the feel.

How he thrust.

How his cock pulsed against my inner walls.

How his breath hitched.

How he moaned low.

How did I not see this before?

Part of me wanted to stop him and demand answers. I should. I should scream and shout. I should call him a monster for what he did to me. How dare he have sex with me and not let me know. He crossed a line!

And yet, it was a line that I deep down had wanted crossed. And I wanted it crossed again, and again, and again.

I wanted him to fuck me until I was raw like all those times before.

I wanted to run, for him to chase me, and for my Heathen to come.

His cock throbbed inside me as he fucked me hard.

I reached up and grabbed the back of his head, pulling him down for a searing kiss.

He fucked me with the same intensity I kissed him with, like we were both trying to devour the other.

I felt the familiar tightening of my cunt walls. My breaths coming out in short gasps. My thighs were sweaty, and I felt my pussy drenching him with my desire.

“You want to come, baby girl?” he asked in a throaty low voice.

I nodded into his ear, bringing my tongue out to lick.

“Say it.”

My eyes rolled back into my head as I felt his hand squeeze my ass. “I want to come. Please.”

He pulled my hips back to meet his thrusts, digging his fingers into my flesh. “Come for me. Now.”

My orgasm washed over me, and I screamed out in pleasure. My walls gripped and released, squeezing him tightly.

His cock throbbed and he roared into my ear. His hands coming up to cup my face as his lips found mine.

He kissed me like we were lovers.

Like we had been together for years.

I felt him releasing inside of me, and in my weakened state I felt my own emotions bubbling up.

He pulled out of me slowly and turned my body around to face him.

“Stay with me?” he asked, and I nodded. I didn’t know how or why I just knew it was what I needed.

Locke took me to the bathroom and showered me, washing me as tenderly as he could.

This was so different than when he had left me those times before on the cold ground… alone.

My Heathen was a man tonight.

He didn’t fuck me like a monster. He fucked me with passion and care.

He dried me off and walked me into his room and pulled me down on the bed with him.

“Sleep,” he said as he pulled me into his arms.

I wanted to feel safe with him.

I wanted to belong to him.

I knew it was insane. How could I feel anything but rage. I knew his secret. I knew what he had done.

But I didn’t want to tell him.

Why?

He pulled away from me a little as he looked down into my eyes. “Is everything okay?”

I nodded and curled against his warm skin.

His hand ran through my hair and then he kissed me on the forehead. I lay in his arms knowing I had been deceived, taken, fucked by someone I knew without consent.

I hadn’t agreed to fuck Locke those nights.

I’d agreed to fuck a masked stranger.

Although I laid there thinking…

Knowing I wanted him to do it again.

I was losing my mind.

I was losing my fucking mind.

My stomach flipped and turned.

How could this be?

How could I have not known?

How could he have done this to me?

I didn’t move. I remained still, numb.

“Baby girl, what’s wrong?” he asked, clearly sensing the madness taking hold over me.

I looked up at him and saw the concern and care in his eyes and I broke down. I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry, I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him and ask him how he could have done this to me. But instead, I faltered.

“You… Locke. You…” I stammered as I tried to make sense of the man I was staring at.

He looked confused.

“How could you?” I asked. Rage was reaching the surface. So close. So fucking close.

I watched Locke’s expression change.

“You fucking took what wasn’t yours!” I yelled as I pushed him away, somehow finding the courage and fight that had been locked inside of me.

He tried to grab me again, but I moved away from him and jumped off the bed, backing away from him.

“You fucking stalked me! You fucked me while you hid your identity!”

“Storee… calm down.”

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down! You fucked me as my screams filled the forest! And you left me there! You left me there in the dirt!” I yelled as the tears came. “It wasn’t just a stranger. It was you! You!”

Insanity had fully set in now.

Locke sat up fully, calm and collected. “You turned on the red light. You consented the minute you—”

“I didn’t consent to you! Not to you!”

I buried my face in my hands, the tears now streaming down my face.

“Storee, let’s talk this out.”

“You fucking stole what wasn’t yours. You took what you thought you could have. But you can’t have me! You can’t fucking have me!”

I looked at Locke as he stood there motionless, clearly stunned. He didn’t move. He didn’t say anything.

I felt my chest tighten as I thought about the attacks in the forest.

The bone stag mask.

I couldn’t think. I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t think at all.

“It killed me when I found out you wanted to be part of The Hunt,” he began in his cool and even tone. “I tried to stop you. I tried to stop me.”

“What was I? Some fucking possession to you?” I screamed. “Did you think this was fun? Did you sit around the table with your friends and laugh about me? That I was too stupid to know? Young, naive Storee. Just a little girl who needed to be taught a lesson of what happens when she wants to play with the adults.”

“You know I didn’t.”

“I don’t know anything about you anymore! I don’t think I know you at all!”

I grabbed my clothing from the floor and ran out of Locke’s bedroom.

I wiped away the tears as I ran outside and into the dark night. My head was spinning. My heart was racing. I was in pain. So much fucking pain.

I ran and I ran.

Just like the nights of The Hunt.

I ran.

But this time, I knew he wasn’t chasing me.

Chapter 31

Locke

A bullet through the man’s skull was the only answer, and I was surprised—no, disappointed—at myself for just now coming to the conclusion on how to handle Gabriel’s death.

Out of all my business partners, I wouldn’t consider myself the violent one. Maybe unhinged at times, but definitely not violent. My mind, my connections, and my name alone were usually all I ever needed to have people fear me enough to not mess with me. But this deep ache in my gut wasn’t going to go away until I knew vengeance had been met.

I took a deep breath and leaned back in my chair, staring blankly at the wall in front of me. Braken had sent a text letting me know he had news and was on his way to The Vault to tell me in person. I didn’t need to know any more than that he was coming with a name.

The name of the dead man walking.

I reached for the bottle of scotch on my desk and poured myself a glass, taking a long sip as I tried to focus on the task at hand and not on Storee. Not on the way her eyes had looked at me as she’d stormed out of my house a week ago. I didn’t want to picture the way her lip quivered as she tried not to cry. I didn’t want to think about how I had destroyed the only good thing I had in my life.

The least I could do was avenge her father’s death.

I took another sip of scotch, my thoughts turning to the future. Once I had the name of Gabriel’s killer, I would make him pay. I would hunt him down, and I would make him suffer. I would take away everything he held dear, just as he had taken away everything Storee had held dear.

It was the least I could do for upsetting her the way I did. I was trying so desperately to hide the monster I was from her. But it was inevitable that she’d eventually discover the beast inside.

And she had.

There was nothing to hide anymore. Nothing at all.

Braken marched into the office, his face a mask of stoicism as always. He shut the door behind him, took out a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to me without a word. I took the paper from him and saw a name written in bold letters: “Valentino DeMarco.”

I looked up at Braken with a raised eyebrow, silently asking him if this was a joke. He shook his head, and I knew he was serious.

I knew Valentino DeMarco. He was a big-time dealer with a heavy grip on shipping in Seattle and had a reputation for being ruthless. I knew he was someone Gabriel had been in business with before his death, so it made sense. Valentino also worked closely with the Godwin family as well as their sister company Poseidon Enterprises. I needed to know there was no connection.

As if reading my mind, Braken said, “It wasn’t tied to the Godwins. I made sure.”

I balled up the piece of paper in my fist and threw it across the room. “I want him dead,” I growled.

Braken hesitated for a moment before he said, “He already is. Dead.” He took a deep breath. “Someone got to him before we could.”

My heart sank at the news. I had been looking forward to taking justice into my own hands, to feel the satisfaction of pulling the trigger and knowing that I had avenged Gabriel’s death. But now that chance was snatched away from me.

I stood up from my chair and walked over to the window, staring out at the harbor below. “Who?” Men like Valentino had a lot of enemies and a short life span. But I still wanted to know who had rid the world of Gabriel’s killer.

“No answers there. But I can keep digging if you want. I will say this though…” Braken cleared the distance between us and stood next to me, his hands in his pockets. “We know Storee is safe now. For sure. We always assumed she was, but now we know.”

“You know for a fact he acted alone? Wasn’t ordered to kill by anyone?”

“I’m sure,” Braken said. “Gabriel fucked him over. Valentino didn’t keep the kill secret.”

I closed my eyes, trying to quiet the storm of emotions inside me. The ache in my gut had turned into a searing pain, and the only thing that would quell it was Storee.

But just like my chance of seeking revenge, I had lost her too.

“Find out who did it,” I said, turning back to Braken. “I want to know who killed him.”

Braken nodded, his expression unreadable. “I’ll start asking around.”

I walked back to my desk, pouring myself another glass of scotch. The burn of the alcohol felt good, helping to numb the pain in my chest. I couldn’t stop thinking about Storee, about how much I had screwed things up with her.

“You want to talk about it?” Braken asked, sitting in the chair across from me, reaching for the scotch and pouring himself his own drink.

“About what?”

“Storee. It’s no secret something happened between the two of you. You’ve been sulking for a week, we haven’t seen her around you, and… dude, I know you. What happened?”

“I fucked up. I pushed her away when I should have held on tight.”

“I’m sorry, man,” Braken said quietly. “That sucks.”

“Yeah,” I replied, staring down at my glass. “It does. She found out about The Hunt. About me being the one that hunted her. She found the mask, confronted me, and I just stood there like a god damn idiot. I didn’t mean for her to find out like that, but she did. And now she’s gone.”

Braken studied me for a moment before he spoke. “Fix it.”

I shook my head and shrugged. “She deserves better anyway. I was stupid to think that there could ever be something between us.”

There was a long silence, the only sound the soft clinking of ice in our glasses as we took sips of scotch. I tried not to think about Storee, about how much I missed her, about how desperately I wanted to be outside her cottage watching her. Making sure that no one could hurt her.

But as hard as it was, I stayed away.

I was the motherfucker who hurt her.

“I’ll look into who killed Valentino,” Braken said, standing up from his chair. “I’ll also keep an eye on Storee if that helps.” He paused with his hand on the doorknob, looking back at me with a small smile. “Although you’ve never been a man to give up. When you want something, you get it. If you want my advice—”

I looked up at him and made eye contact, silently warning him to shut up.

He didn’t listen. “I think you should dig deep and find that man again,” he said, always being the man to call me out on my shit. “Crawl back from that shame you cast on yourself and climb back to her.”

Chapter 32

Storee

Well, Locke and Fiora had been right about one thing.

I hated this job.

But as I gutted the salmon from this morning’s catch, I tried to power through. The smell of the fish was overwhelming, almost suffocating, but not as suffocating as Locke’s obvious hold over me was. With every slice of my blade, I focused on how I needed to figure out a way to break away.

But did I truly want that?

I tried to shake off those thoughts, but they lingered. I didn’t want to admit it, but there was a part of me that enjoyed being under his control. Under his watch.

Was it so awful that he was the man who had hunted me? Was it so awful that it had been him all along?

The feminist in me screamed yes. The strong-willed woman I prided myself to be demanded I never speak to the man again. The independent female who made up my very core was already coming up with an escape plan.

But then there was another part of me.

The part of me that longed to be with Locke Hartwell.

The part of me that wanted to rush back into his arms.

The fish had never smelled so repugnant before, but my thoughts were even more putrid. I knew it was irrational, but my attraction toward Locke was undeniable. My thoughts were consumed by Locke’s piercing gaze and his commanding presence. I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help the way my body reacted to him. Even the mere thought of him made my skin crawl with anticipation.

I finished gutting the salmon and threw it into the bin. I wiped my hands on my apron just as Fiora approached with a frown on her face.

“Why the hell are you here?”

“I have bills to pay,” I answered, trying not to make eye contact with my best friend. I didn’t want her to see just how upset and torn I was.

“That’s what The Hunt this weekend is for.”

Shaking my head, I said, “I’m not doing The Hunt anymore. I’m over it.”

Fiora crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at me. “It’s Locke, isn’t it?”

I bristled at the accusation. “That’s not true. Me not doing The Hunt has nothing to do with him. I quenched my curiosity and now I’m done. Time to get back to the real world.”

“Of gutting fish?” she asked.

“Yeah. Reality.”

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” Fiora said, coming closer to me. “I know something’s going on between you two. And I know it’s not just friendship.”

I swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in my throat. “He’s just my father’s best friend.”

Fiora rolled her eyes. “Please. I know you better than you know yourself. You’re in love with the guy.”

“I am not!” I protested, knowing it was a lie.

“I’m not judging you,” Fiora said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I just want you to be honest with yourself. Do you really want to be here with the stinky fish all your life, denying your true feelings? Or do you want to finally be brave enough to admit them? There’s no shame in admitting you love him, you know?”

I felt my cheeks flush red hot, and I couldn’t meet Fiora’s gaze. Everything she said was true, but it was so much easier to deny it than to confront it. I had been lying to myself for so long, thinking that my feelings for Locke were purely physical. But the truth was I was deeply in love with him. And it was a love that was doomed from the start.

“I can’t love him,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “He was my father’s friend. He’s older, more sophisticated, and more… And he’s the one who hunted me. I just found out. He’s been watching me without me knowing, and he was the man behind the mask.”

Fiora’s eyes widened, and she inhaled deeply. “Okay… Wow. So it was him the entire time?”

I nodded.

“Hmm… that complicates things.”

I scoffed. “You think?”

“But you guys are complicated. Always have been. It is what it is. But he’s also the one who’s been protecting you,” Fiora pointed out gently. “Loving you from afar.”

“I know,” I said, feeling a tear slip down my cheek. “But how can I trust someone who’s been lying to me all this time?”

“Has he been? Lying? Did you ever ask him and he denied it?”

“Well, no. But—” I shrugged, unsure of the answer. “Maybe not lying, per se. But he’s been keeping secrets from me. And I don’t know what else he’s hiding.”

Fiora nodded in understanding. “That’s fair. But we all have secrets. And you should talk to him. Hear him out. Maybe there’s a reason why he didn’t tell you everything right away.”

She was right… we all had secrets. I was no different in that regard.

“I don’t know,” I said, wiping away my tears. “It’s just all so confusing. And I don’t know if I can handle it.”

“You can, and you will,” Fiora said, giving me a reassuring pat on the back. “You just have to decide what you want. And whether or not you’re willing to take a risk. You don’t want to be sitting here gutting fish, wondering what could have been.”

Taking a deep breath, I looked back at Fiora. “You’re right. I need to talk to Locke. But I don’t even know how to bring it up. The last time I saw him I was so angry. I said mean things. He may not want to ever see or speak to me again.”

Fiora grinned and glanced over my shoulder. “I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Locke’s footsteps I heard behind me.

Fiora pulled me into a hug, holding me tightly. “I’ll call you later. But stop hiding. Stop fighting. And put down the bloody fish when you talk to him.” She pulled away, winked at me, and left.

I dropped the fish in the bin, not realizing I had been holding the slimy creature in my hand the entire time. Wiping my hands on my apron again, I slowly turned around to face the man who had been haunting my dreams and consuming my thoughts. Locke stood there, tall and imposing, his dark hair tousled by the wind. His eyes locked onto mine, and I felt my heart skip a beat.

“Locke,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Storee,” he replied, his voice low and husky.

We stood there in silence for a moment, just looking at each other. His expression was unreadable, his intense gaze piercing through me like a hot knife through butter.

“I know you’re expecting an apology,” he said finally, taking a step toward me. “But I’m not going to give you that.”

I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat. “Right. You don’t like apologies. I know.” I took a step back, feeling a wave of anger wash over me. “So why are you here then?”

“I know you’re angry. And you have every right to be. But I want you to understand why I did what I did. Why I watched you all those months. Why I hunted you.”

Locke took a step closer to me, reaching out to touch my arm. I flinched, pulling away from him. I wasn’t strong enough to resist his touch. I knew this.

“Are you going to try to explain away everything? Like it’s all okay? Like you didn’t deceive me? Violate me?”

“Is that what you feel? Violated?”

I crossed my arms, not wanting to give away the fact that I had been hoping he would come here and beg forgiveness, take me into his arms, kiss me, and promise me the world. “I’m not sure what I feel.”

“I want you to know that I didn’t do it out of malice. I did it because I care about you. I wanted to protect you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Protect me? By stalking me? By chasing me and fucking me in the forest without me knowing it was you? Are you serious right now?”

Locke took a deep breath. “When your father died, I didn’t know who did it. I had a good idea, but I didn’t know for a fact. I also didn’t know if your life was in danger next. Again, I was pretty sure you weren’t going to be harmed, but I also wasn’t sure. All the uncertainty drove me crazy. The guilt I carried about Gabriel’s death ate me alive. And the only thing I had to ground me even the slightest was you. I sure as hell wasn’t going to risk anything happening to you.”

I leaned in, narrowing my eyes. “And how does secretly fucking me fit into all that?”

“Because I didn’t want it to be anyone else doing it,” he countered. “I couldn’t stand the idea of you being with another man.”

Locke reached out to touch my face. I jerked my head away, feeling his touch as if it were a burn.

“Don’t do that,” I said, trying to keep my voice level. “Don’t pretend that this is okay. It’s not.”

Locke sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I came here to tell you something else. I decided to finally look into who killed your father.”

My heart stopped.

“I’ve been keeping my head in the fucking sand for far too long.”

My ears rang. My throat closed.

“You deserve closure. You deserve to know the truth. We both do.”

My stomach churned.

“I found out who did it,” Locke said, his voice low and serious.

My blood froze as I looked up at him.

He reached out to touch my arm, but I didn’t flinch this time. Instead, I let him touch me, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine.

“My goal was to kill him. Make him pay. Do what I should have done the minute it happened,” he said, his voice fierce. “I had two goals in mind. Making sure you’re safe. Making sure justice is served.”

My mind raced, trying to process everything he had said.

“But I found out today that someone got to him first. Someone already killed him shortly after Gabriel’s death.” Locke’s eyes were on me, waiting for my response.

“I know,” I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He raised an eyebrow at me. “What do you mean you know?”

I parted my lips to say the words I never thought I’d tell a single soul, closed them, but then finally said, “Because I was the one that killed my father’s murderer.”

Locke’s eyes widened. “What?”

I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of my confession bearing down on me. “I killed him. I found out he was the one responsible for my father’s death, and I wanted to make sure he’d pay. I wanted revenge, and I couldn’t stop myself. I wasn’t going to allow my father’s murderer to walk away.”

Locke’s expression was unreadable, his eyes dark and intense as he absorbed my words. “You killed him,” he repeated, as if trying to wrap his head around the idea.

I nodded again. “I did.”

Locke stepped back, shock evident on his face.

“I didn’t know who to turn to, who to trust. I couldn’t even talk to you about it because I was afraid of everything and everyone. I was angry, and like my father… impulsive.”

He shook his head, looking at me with disbelief. “Why wouldn’t you come to me? To Merrick, Soren, or Braken. We could have helped you. We could have—”

“It was something I felt I needed to do. I needed to take control. Me. So I went to Apollo and asked for his help to find out who the killer was. Once I knew… well…” I didn’t want to tell the story. I didn’t want to relive that awful night. But I also wanted to finally be honest with Locke. “Once it was over, I no longer felt afraid. I no longer felt so out of control. My father no longer haunted me.”

“Are you fucking crazy! You could have gotten yourself killed,” he boomed.

“Stop!” I shouted at him, leaning in and stabbing my finger into his chest. “Stop treating me like a child. I don’t know what I have to do to prove to you that I am not some innocent little girl that needs your fucking pampering. I did something that none of you men did. I took control. I wasn’t going to wonder who and when. I found out. I took care of it. Is that the actions of the sweet, innocent child you’ve always considered me?”

Locke’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tensing as he glared down at me. I could feel the heat radiating off his body, his anger boiling just beneath the surface. “You’re right, you’re not a child. But you’re as fucking reckless as your father and look where that landed him. And you don’t get to decide to just step into this dark world he lived in and then act like all is fine afterwards. That’s not how the world works. There could be ramifications for what you did.”

“Apollo said he’d handle it. He told me I was good and to not worry.” I hated telling Locke that I had turned to someone else besides him for protection, but I had.

“You should have told me.” Locke’s voice was deep, serious, and I could see a fire burning within his eyes.

“Yeah, well,” I said between clenched teeth, “there were a lot of things you should have told me too. Clearly, you and I like to keep secrets.”

Locke’s eyes bored into mine, and for a moment, I thought he was going to lash out. But instead, he took a deep breath and stepped back.

“My life was out of control,” I said, calmer. “I had to do something. Me. Not you, not anyone else. Me.”

“I understand that,” he said, his voice low and measured. “I understand wanting to take control, to do something about the pain you’re feeling. But you have to understand that what you did was dangerous. You could have gotten yourself killed.”

I shook my head. “No. I took control of my own safety. Me. I made sure that no one would be lurking in the shadows to hurt me. I wanted to go to sleep every night and know there was no boogie man in the darkness waiting for me. I wanted to end it. Me.” I took a big step away from him and reached for my bin of fish and began pushing it up the cobblestone path. “I did what I had to do to survive. To make sure I could go on living another day. You don’t wait for someone else to save you.”

Locke’s hand shot out, gripping my wrist tightly. “You can’t just take justice in your own hands.”

“Why? You were going to. Right?” I shook his hand free and continued to push the fish to the market. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a living to make. Me. Alone.”

Chapter 33

Storee

I should have known better than to think Locke would just let me leave and not follow me home. And maybe a part of me was happy that he didn’t just let me go. Maybe I wanted a man to fight for me so I didn’t have to always be the fighter. Maybe—

“I’m busy, Locke,” I said, my stubborn ass not willing to budge. “I need to get cleaned up,” I added as I opened my front door, trying to close it quickly behind me.

Locke’s foot came between the door and the frame, halting my attempt to shut him out completely. He pushed his way into my small bungalow, his tall frame filling up the space as he looked around, taking in my messy living room. His eyes finally landed on me, and I felt a shiver run down my spine as I realized how close he was standing to me.

Locke crossed his arms, his chiseled jaw clenching in frustration. “We aren’t done.”

My stomach flipped at the sound of his deep voice. I knew I should be angry with him for following me, but I couldn’t deny the way my body reacted to him. The way my pulse quickened and my skin tingled whenever he was near.

“I have nothing to say to you, Locke,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

He leaned in, his lips brushing over my ear as he whispered, “You’re mine, Storee. And I’m not going to let you go.”

I shivered again, but this time it wasn’t from fear. It was from the thrill of excitement that his words and his touch brought. Maybe I did want him to fight for me. Maybe I did want him to be the one to take, but there was still something inside that wanted to resist.

“Locke, I’m serious,” I said, my voice shaking slightly. “You and I can’t just—”

But Locke wasn’t listening. He stepped closer to me, his hand reaching out to cup my chin and tilt my head up to meet his eyes. “You can try to push me away all you want, baby girl,” he said, his breath hot against my cheek. “But we both know you want me just as much as I want you.”

I shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, feeling self-conscious in my messy hair and stained clothes. But even as I tried to pull away from him, my body seemed to gravitate toward him, drawn to his heady scent and masculine presence.

Before I could protest, his lips crashed down on mine, his kiss fierce and possessive. And as much as I tried to fight it, I found myself melting into him, my hands tangling in his hair as I kissed him back just as fiercely. My body responded eagerly, my arms wrapping around his neck as I deepened the kiss. It was like a fire had been ignited between us, and I couldn’t resist the heat.

Locke’s hands left my chin, trailing down my body as he pulled me closer, pressing his hard length against me. I moaned into his mouth, my thoughts and inhibitions slipping away as his touch consumed me.

When he finally pulled away, he was breathing heavily, his eyes dark with desire. “I’m not letting you go, Storee,” he said, his voice so low and demanding.

And in that moment, I knew that he was right. I didn’t want him to let me go. I wanted to be his, completely.

But there was still that voice in my head.

Run. Run!

No… let him catch you.

“But, Locke, I can’t just lose myself to you. I can’t give up my strength. I can’t have you watching my every move, protecting me to a point where I can’t breathe. Where I can’t be me. I need you to accept me. Or let me leave.”

His eyes narrowed and I could see the possessive anger flashing in them. “You don’t get it, do you?” he said sharply, his voice cold and hard. “I don’t want anything else, Storee. I just want you. Every single part of you. I always have. Always.”

“And my father? Will he forever haunt us? Forever standing between us?”

He pulled me even closer, his hand cradling the back of my head. “Nothing is standing between us except you and me,” he said, ending my protest with his lips crashing down on mine. “I’m done resisting. And I’m done letting you.”

As his lips moved hungrily against mine, I felt my resistance crumbling. Locke was right. My father’s shadow had been hanging over us for long enough, and it was time to let it go. It was time to let myself go and give in to the powerful force that was pulling me toward this man.

As his lips trailed down my neck, I tried to push the doubts away. Locke was right. I was his and there was no point in denying it any longer. But there was still one question I needed answered.

“And the fact that I killed my father’s killer?” I pulled away from him and took a step back, putting space between us so I could look into his eyes. “What does that mean? For us?”

Locke didn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes searching mine as if trying to find the truth. Finally, he stepped closer to me, his expression softening. “I’ve been haunted by his ghost ever since his death because unlike you, I didn’t act like I’d wanted. I didn’t seek revenge when every part of my body screamed for me to. I didn’t face the monster. I fucking regret that. I regret it every single day of my life. But you, you faced it head on. You did what you had to do to protect yourself.” He smirked. “All along I thought I needed to protect you. Shelter you. Clearly, you took care of that yourself. I’ve never been more impressed and in awe of how powerful and strong someone else is as I am now.”

I looked up at Locke, tears streaming down my face. It was the first time he had ever said anything like that to me. I felt a sudden wave of emotion sweep over me, but I didn’t know what to do with it. I didn’t know how to process it.

Locke reached out to touch my face, his fingers wiping away my tears. “I just wish it was me who had pulled the trigger,” he said softly. “I wanted to be the man who burned down the world for you to keep you safe.”

I leaned in, my lips brushing against his. “You didn’t need to. I held the match myself.”

“I see that now, baby girl. I do.”

“I need you to see me, Locke. Really see me.”

“I do. Trust me on that. All I do is watch you, and that will never stop.”

I nodded. “Maybe. From afar. But you don’t really see me. You see the woman you want to see. You see purity, white, and nothing but good. But I’m laced with shadows.”

Locke stared at me, his expression turning solemn. “I see more than you think, Storee. I see your struggles, your pain, your courage. I see the strength it takes for you to face each day. The independence in you, the need to be your own person. But I see the softness in your heart and the fire in your soul. I see the darkness, but I also see the light.”

Locke’s hand reached out to cup my cheek, his touch gentle and reassuring. “I see you. All of you. And nothing you’ve done or could ever do would change that. You’re not just purity and white. You’re complex, and flawed, and beautiful. And I love every inch of you.”

I felt my resistance crumbling under his gaze. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, letting go of my fears and doubts. When I opened them again, I looked straight at Locke. “I love you.”

And with that, Locke leaned in and kissed me, his lips hot and hungry against mine. It was a kiss that set me on fire, igniting every part of me.

He tasted of whiskey and smoke, his hands roaming over my body with a hunger that matched my own.

Without a word, Locke lifted me up and carried me to the bed. He undressed me slowly, his eyes never leaving mine as he revealed each inch of my skin. And when I was fully naked before him, he gazed at me with a hunger that made my core ache.

He was watching me. Seeing me.

“Fuck me,” I said, allowing the bold words to flow from my lips, not fearing any form of judgment from this man.

Locke didn’t speak, his eyes holding mine as he undressed. Then he was naked before me, his body hard and firm, demanding to be explored.

I took my time, crawling up on the bed, trailing my fingers up his body, savoring the feel of his hot skin under my touch.

I let my lips follow the path my fingers left, kissing, nipping, and licking every inch of him as I went, the taste of him delicious in my mouth.

I took my time, enjoying the way his body responded to my mouth, his cock growing harder as I worked my way down toward it.

Taking him in my hands, I stroked him, the feeling of his velvet skin on my palms making my heart race. His cock was big, hard, and ready for my mouth.

I parted my lips and took him all in, my eyes locking with his as I gripped his thighs, holding him as he fucked my mouth.

I watched his face as I pleasured him, his eyes fluttering shut at the first touch of my tongue on his shaft. He was so beautifully responsive, every gasp, moan, and groan only urging me on as I licked and sucked him.

I felt his hands on my head, his fingers entwined in my hair, guiding me into the rhythm he wanted. His head fell back as he thrust his hips upward, pushing himself deeper into my mouth.

I continued to suck him, my lips stretched tightly around his girth. I closed my eyes, concentrating on the taste of him on my tongue, the way his cock slid in and out of my mouth, the way every twitch and jerk brought him closer to his release. Sweet pleasure exploded through me as I felt his cock grow even harder, his fingers tightening their grip in my hair. His moans and groans became louder, but I didn’t want him to come just yet.

I wanted more. I needed more.

Crawling back up his body, kissing my way to his mouth, I straddled his hips.

I waited for him to slip his hands between my thighs, to touch me, to guide me to where he wanted me. But he didn’t. He kept his hands on my hips, holding me as he gazed up at me.

I looked down at him, seeing the longing in his eyes as he looked up at me.

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” he said. “I want to see what lurks in those shadows of yours.”

He took my hand and pressed it against my pussy. And then, he guided my fingers between my folds, showing me what he wanted.

“Touch yourself, Storee. Give yourself pleasure. I fucking love your independence. I love that you don’t need me.”

“I don’t need you. But I choose you,” I gasped as I pressed my fingers against my pussy and slowly slid them inside.

I pulled my fingers out, then pushed them back inside, my wetness coating my skin. Locke’s eyes were focused on my pussy, watching my every move. I moved my hand faster, pressing my fingers deep inside. My clit was swollen under my fingers, the pleasure building with every stroke.

Locke reached out to press his thumb on my clit, the feel of his skin on me sending a shockwave through my system.

“That’s it. Come for me, Storee. Come for me while I watch.”

I was so close, the pleasure inside me swelling up and out of control.

“I want to come with you inside me,” I said, holding back the pleasure.

He growled and reached for me, lacing his fingers into mine as he sat up, flipping our bodies so that I was beneath him.

I looked up at him as he hovered over me, his face stern and intense. He lowered his head and kissed me, his lips hot against mine.

“You want this?” he asked. “You want me inside you?”

I nodded, feeling my body tremble under his touch. “Yes,” I said, my voice barely audible as my moans took over. “Yes, I want you.”

He began to move, thrusting his cock deep inside me. His movements were slow and deliberate, all of it orchestrated to bring out pleasure upon pleasure, until I couldn’t tell one from the other.

With every thrust, he pushed me closer to the edge, my orgasm building upon itself, growing stronger and stronger.

I reached up and held onto his shoulders, the strength of his muscles under my fingers making my heart race even more.

I tilted my hips upward, meeting him thrust for thrust, my body on fire as my breath hitched.

“That’s it,” he growled as he pulled my legs higher around his waist, plunging deeper inside me. “Give it to me. Let go.”

He leaned down and bit my lower lip. The pain took me to another place, my head falling back as his pelvis collided with my clit, sending fireworks exploding behind my eyelids.

I came hard, screaming his name into the empty room. My pussy clenched around his cock, his strokes becoming harder and faster as he fucked me through my orgasm.

I felt his cock harden and grow even bigger inside me, his thrusts more urgent as he neared his own climax. “Shit, Storee,” he said. “I’m so close.”

“Come inside me, Locke. Give me your cum.”

Our voices mingled together as he let go, his cock pumping his release into me.

I could feel his cum filling me as he gripped my hips, holding me in place as he thrust into me, prolonging his orgasm for as long as he could.

When he was done, he collapsed on top of me, our bodies still linked as one.

He raised his head and looked at me, then kissed me softly on the lips. “You’re so beautiful,” he said. “You’re so fucking beautiful, and I love you. I love every part of you. Good and bad. Light and dark.”

I stroked his face, then traced the line of his jaw, feeling the stubble on his skin under my fingertips.

I tilted my head and pressed my lips to his, kissing him hard. My heart swelled with emotion as I listened to his words. I’d never felt his emotions as clearly as I did in that moment. Pure, unadulterated love coursed through his veins, filling every part of him.

I had no recollection of how we fell asleep. I just remembered waking up, my head resting on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

My eyes fluttered open, and I found myself staring up at him. He was looking down on me.

Watching.

I wondered if he’d always watch over me. If my future was to always be watched by Locke Hartwell. Strong woman or not, I liked it. I liked it a lot.

“How long have you been watching me?” I asked, my voice husky from the quick nap.

His lips stretched into a half-smirk. “I never stopped. I can’t get enough of you. I’ll never get enough.”

I closed my eyes and listened to his heartbeat. This was what I wanted, what I’d always wanted. I ran my fingertip in circles on his skin.

“Be careful what you wish for, Locke. You and I together could be a dangerous pair.”

“We already are,” he said, tightening his hold around me. “I want more, Storee. I want more of you. I want all of you.”

I threaded my fingers through his. “I’m yours,” I said, smiling up at him. “I may just make you chase me through a forest from time to time to get me,” I teased with a giggle.

His lips crashed into mine before pulling back enough to growl, “And I will. Because we’re heathens, baby. Nothing can change that.”

“Heathens,” I repeated.

And the darkness continues on…

Tangled in the vines of this mighty family tree, the Godwin family rules over Heathens Hollow. They are gods who walk the earth. They are the monsters, the beasts, the villains in the story. They are the vipers who strike their enemies when they least expect it. The Godwin family wields the mighty thunderbolt like Zeus, and yet they have secrets. Dark, even deadly secrets.

Ready to feed the obsession?

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Villains Are Made

Villains Are Made

Apollo Godwin

“You shouldn’t have come,” my brother says as I approach, not trying to hide the sound of my boots mucking their way across the rain-soaked ground.

Ares Godwin stands where I expect to find him. He’s stoically planted with his hands in his pockets on the edge of the cliff overlooking the Salish Sea. Olympus Manor—our family estate—to his left, and the tree of forgiveness to his right.

He doesn’t turn to face me, but keeps his eyes focused on the water crashing into and over the rocks below. “Does the family think I’m going to skip out on bail and leave the country? Is that why they sent you?”

I huff as I stand next to him, mimicking his stance. “Hardly. And they didn’t send me. You should know better than that.”

Through the corner of my eye, I see the side of Ares’s mouth lift in a smirk. “Scared I’d jump to my death then?”

“I wouldn’t blame you.”

“But you knew I wouldn’t.”

He’s right. I know he won’t. He’s a Godwin. Godwins don’t give up.

We are gods who walk the earth. We are the monsters, the beasts, the villains in the story. We are the vipers who strike our enemies when they least expect it. The Godwin family wields the mighty thunderbolt like Zeus, and yet… somehow the powerful have fallen.

There is a chip in our shield. A crack in our protection. We are vulnerable now, and for the first time in my life, I see my family is human. Flawed. Even weak. Everything has changed.

My brother—my identical twin brother—is going to jail for the rest of his life for murder.

“But you were an asshole for taking the helicopter by yourself. I had to travel here by boat like a true savage,” I say, trying to cut through the thickness of the air with jest.

The island of Heathens Hollow, hidden in the fog of the Puget Sound, beckoned to my brother in his last hours of freedom, and I can completely understand the pull. I knew he’d come, and regardless of how far I had to travel, I’d always be here by his side.

He sighs. “Part of me wishes they’d insist on the death penalty. I think that’s far less severe than having to live in a cage for the rest of my life. Hard to imagine I’m never going to see this view again.”

I turn my head and look at the old willow tree that has stood on the edge of this cliff for centuries. “Have you asked the tree for forgiveness yet?”

Ares chuckles. “I’m not in the mood to whip myself or kneel on rice hours before sentencing, thank you very much.” He shifts his weight, releases a deep breath. “What I’ve done, even that tree can’t forgive.”

The tree of forgiveness… The bane of my siblings’ and my existence. Both our parents forced us to come to this tree to punish ourselves whenever we did anything wrong. They didn’t believe it was their duty to teach us the lesson; rather it was our job to search our inner selves to find the lesson and learn from it ourselves.

I walk over to the leather strap still hanging from the lower branch. “Maybe I should be the one to whip myself.” I look over my shoulder at Ares. “I should be the one going to jail today. Not you.”

“Stop,” he snaps. “We’ve had this conversation over and over, and I’m sick of it.”

“You didn’t kill that man. I did.” There’s a part of me that wants to throw myself off the cliff just so I don’t have to live with this guilt any longer. “I can’t let you take the fall for me. I don’t care what you, Athena, or our father says. I can’t.”

“I’m not going to jail because of you,” Ares adds, his attention going back to the sea. “I’m going to jail because my sins caught up with me.”

“You’ve sacrificed your entire life for this family. There isn’t anything you wouldn’t do for them. But you don’t have to for me. I’m not asking you to.”

“Listen to me,” he says with a voice of fire as he storms toward me. “I’m going to say this one last time so we can put this topic to rest. I’m not taking the fall for you. When they first thought I killed that man, they got my DNA. They were able to trace me back to all the murders I did do in the past. I’m going to jail for all those hits, regardless. Not just the single one you did. There is no reason for you and me to both go to jail. It’s inevitable I’m going down. You don’t need to.” He shrugs. “I couldn’t be the family hit man and not expect to get caught, eventually.”

“You can tell me this until you’re blue in the face, but if I hadn’t killed that man at Medusa Enterprises—in the goddamn boardroom—you’d never have been arrested. It’s because of me you got caught. I was the reckless one.”

“No, it’s because someone was setting you up. Someone took video of that incident and went to the authorities with it. You had no way of knowing you weren’t safe in our building. You had no way of knowing. If anyone is to blame, it’s Medusa security. Footage of you killing someone should have never gotten out the front door. Our family business, our family empire, should have been impenetrable.” He clears the distance between us and places a hand on my shoulder. “This isn’t on you.”

Ares looks over his shoulder at Olympus Manor, and my eyes follow. There is slight movement from the curtain that hangs from the attic window. I smile knowing the manor’s ghost is watching two brothers discuss life and death matters. I wouldn’t expect anything else. This island is full of ghosts. They are the backbone of Heathens Hollow. It’s almost as if the dead rule over all of us.

However, hundreds of people live and do work on the island and have for centuries. But the Godwin family still owns Heathens Hollow. The land is ours and the people merely lease it. The Godwins have owned this island since the Victorian era. It’s a fishing town, just under four hours from Seattle, that houses the rich, the middle class, the poor, and then the Eastsiders. The people who live on the Eastside of the island don’t even have enough to be considered poor.

Though the island is so close to such a big and thriving city, the fact that it remains cloaked in hazy fog for most of the year keeps it somewhat of a secret. Rarely do people speak of this secretive place. Tales are told, but reality is never known. The truth of what happens on this island is… murky. The only way to reach the island is by sea or air, and the isolation only adds to the hidden shadows of this place. It’s dark, dank, gloomy, and even after a rain, a rainbow never forms. This island is not for the fragile or for the man who can’t endure a harsh storm. The full-timers are weathered, cut to the bone, and if someone really wants to know Heathens Hollow, all they have to do is look into the eyes of one of the old fishermen who work the boats at the harbor. Everything you want to know is expressed.

And then there are the wealthy. Not Godwin family wealthy. No one can match us. But there are the second vacation homes, the mansions only visited when the occupants want to swim in dark seclusion. There are still parties fueled by fame, liquor, and sex, but on this island the pace is often slower. The heartbeat of the Pacific northwestern island pauses, beats loudly, then pauses again.

Heathens Hollow is the island of gods and monsters. Innocence is drowned early in life by the crashing waves. Heathens Hollow is… home. Though we live and run our family empire—Medusa Enterprises—from Seattle, Heathens Hollow will forever be our resting ground.

Olympus Manor has served as a beacon, a legacy, a symbol of our family lineage. Though we all have houses in Seattle, this is most definitely our family home. Our ancestors haunt the hallways of the house, they wander the grounds, and they stand over us in protection, even now.

“Remember when we were kids, and we’d stand here on the cliff and howl like we were wolves?” Ares says, clearly reflecting on his past in his last hours of freedom.

“Father hated that,” I say as I see the vision like it was yesterday. “He hated when we acted feral.”

“He hated a lot about us. We weren’t allowed to be kids.”

“We were Godwins. The expectations were—”

“Unrealistic. Always have been,” Ares interrupts.

“You know there still may be a chance Father gets you out of this,” I say. “Troy Godwin never loses.”

Ares smirks. “Maybe. But doubtful. I think the inevitable is pretty set in stone on this one.” He looks down at my left hand and notices what’s missing. “Where’s your wedding ring?”

I run my thumb over the bare skin of my wedding finger. “It’s complicated.”

“Simplify it for me. What’s going on with you and Daphne?” he asks. “I’ve been so wrapped up in my own shit that I clearly didn’t get the memo.”

“No memo… Things are just shit between us,” I confess. “We both want out. A divorce.”

“But you know you can’t,” he finishes for me.

“Godwins don’t divorce,” I parrot the words of my father. “But we’re both tired of living this lie. We don’t love each other, and I don’t think we ever did. I married her so I’d have arm candy at events, and it felt like what society wanted. She married for money. It was essentially an arranged marriage. We want to sever the agreement but can’t.”

He points to my hand. “Taking the ring off makes you feel better?”

“It felt like it was scorching my finger,” I admit. “But we aren’t here to discuss my lame issues. A shitty marriage is nothing compared to what we need to face today.”

“Still… I’m sorry, man. I thought Daphne was one of the good ones.”

“She is,” I confess, not wanting to bash someone who truly has a good heart. “I don’t hate her. I just don’t love her. And she feels the same.”

“That sucks. I hope you can figure it out. Because as you said, Godwins don’t get divorced.”

Hating how the helpless feeling of our fucked-up lives threatens to suffocate me, I take a step back and examine my brother’s appearance and the fact that he’s only wearing casual slacks and a black T-shirt. “Tell me you aren’t wearing that to court.”

Ares looks down at his clothing. “Who cares what I wear. I’ll be in an orange jumpsuit soon enough.”

“Unless Father somehow works his magic.” I loosen my tie and pull it over my head. “In which case, you need to look good. Here, we’re going to switch outfits.”

Ares and I, though twins, couldn’t be more different. He’s the ruthless hitman in the family. The rebel, the dark and mysterious. I, on the other hand, am the chief financial officer of Medusa. Strait-laced, always in a suit, and never a hair out of place. Numbers are my life, and money makes my dick hard. Ares is the brother who cleans up the messes, even though he’s dirtier than all of us combined. We were both born and groomed for these roles. Our father had a master plan for this family, and we are merely soldiers in his war of domination.

The one time I stepped out of our roles and killed someone before Ares had a chance, our empire fell to the ground. I’m the reason for the demise. I should have kept to the numbers.

“I’m not wearing your clothes,” Ares says, shaking his head, but smiling at the idea.

“Yes, you are. Because we’re going to take that chopper back to Seattle, and the minute we land, the press is going to be surrounding us and focused on you. You need to look like a Godwin. Power. Prestige. You are not a broken man. We rise above.” I hand him my tie and then take off my suit jacket. “Strip.”

When he takes my coat from me, he notices the extra weight and reaches into the pocket. Pulling out my passport, wallet with my ID, and a large wad of cash, he shakes his head and says, “I’m not leaving the country. I’m not going to run. It will destroy our family and Medusa, and you know it.”

I continue undressing, ignoring his words.

“I’m not leaving,” he repeats. “Medusa is powerful, but it won’t survive the shitstorm me being on the run will cause. As it is, you guys are going to have your hands full trying to pick up the pieces by having a serial killer in the family. I don’t need to keep the wound open by being on the run. Plus,” he adds, “none of you need the Feds breathing down your throats. We don’t want Athena sharing a cell with me, and you and I both know that she’s damn close to being there.”

When I’m standing in nothing but my underwear, I finally say, “I had a feeling you’d say that. But I had to try.” I point to him. “Get undressed, fucker. I’m cold.”

“Fine,” he says. “But we’re going back to Seattle. I’m going to face this head on.”

I sigh deeply and give a clipped nod. “I still have faith we’ll figure a way out of this.”

“I love you, brother,” Ares says to me. It’s uncharacteristic for him to be so…sensitive, but then again, his life’s about to end.

“I love you.” I point to the tie that he’s ignoring. “You’re a Godwin.”

“What does that mean? Have you ever asked yourself that?” he asks as he does what I say and places my tie around his neck.

“I think you’re about to show us.”

“We need to head back to Seattle,” Ares says, inhaling deeply. He’s taking in the last of Heathens Hollow into his lungs.

I look to Olympus Manor as we slog through the mud to the chopper. “Do you want to go in and say goodbye?”

“I already did. Frankly, that house may be more of a prison than the one I’m going to.”

Ready for more of the Godwin family?

Villains Are Made is next.

Bonus Scene

So, I wrote a scene for Heathens that well… let’s just say it needed to be cut to keep the book from being banned or hidden away in the dungeon. Warning… it’s a really dark and dirty scene!

But if you want to see it…

Click here!

Bonus scene

About the Author

Alta Hensley is a USA TODAY bestselling author of hot, dark and dirty romance. She is also an Amazon Top 10 bestselling author. Being a multi-published author in the romance genre, Alta is known for her dark, gritty alpha heroes, captivating love stories, hot eroticism, and engaging tales of the constant struggle between dominance and submission.

She lives in Astoria, Oregon with her husband, two daughters, and an Australian Shepherd. When she isn't walking the coastline, and drinking beer in her favorite breweries, she is writing about villains who always get their love story and happily ever after.

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