Page 29 of Locke 2

I raised a brow. “Are you asking how close I am with him?”

“How much does he know about you?”

“Very little.”

“Keep it that way.”

I wanted to ask why and maybe even refuse out of old defiant habits, but he was so fucking intimidating suddenly, I swallowed down my words.

“Don’t be a journalist’s next big break,” he said, once again turning his back to me.

“How on earth could I be his next big break?” I asked, taking a step closer to him, but then chickening out and moving in the opposite direction. I watched as he folded a few papers and stuffed them in his pocket. Why was he doing that too?

“You’re a survivor,” he simply answered.

My eyes lost focus. “How can you say that in that way?”

“What way?”

“Like bringing up my past isn’t triggering. It’s mean.”

“I’m not trying to be mean.”

I knew that, but now my mind was racing, and I kept glancing at Aurora in the corner. I shut my eyes again. “This is too much, Locke. Too fast.”

“Have you fucked anyone?” he barrelled through, and the question sucked whatever warmth there was out of the room.

Too gobsmacked to respond, I opened my eyes. He was facing me again, watching me with those empty eyes. Suddenlyso unfeeling. What happened to the man that whispered my name in the darkness, worshipping it?

“That’s personal,” I hissed.

“Yes,” he agreed. “It’s very fucking personal.”

“I mean personal to me, and it’s none of your business.”

“It’s definitely my business, now answer,” he demanded. “Have you fucked anyone?”

He was trying to contain himself. This one thing might unravel him the most.

“Eighteen months is a long time,” I whispered, boldly. “Didn’t you?”

His jaw clenched. His entire body tightened, and he seemed to stop breathing. Then he took small, calculating steps to me, that crack in his empty expression turning vicious. “Who was he?” he demanded in a low voice.

My heart raced as I countered, “Who wasshe?”

I had to admit, the thought soured my soul. I’d thought about it a time or ten thousand. Of him with another woman, doing what he did to me. I might have bitten my clenched fist a time or ten thousand until I’d broken through the skin when the sourness turned to rage.

He was all around me again, his body pressing against mine, and he didn’t stop moving. He shoved me down on the bed, and my breath left my lungs in a whoosh as he climbed over me very slowly. His hand went for my chin this time, though I would have offered him to wrap it around my throat because I was already under his spell.

This damn man and his allure.

And this time I was on my back, and he was on top of me. Exactly what I’d wanted.

He buried his fingers into my chin, forcing my face to look at him. His evil—oh, my god, there was so much of it—was all I could see as he gritted his teeth and stared down at me, unforgiving.

“She was poison,” he answered coldly. “Pure venom, the things she made me do to her. But I knew she would be. It’s why I stole her and then let her go.”

My words almost didn’t reach my mouth when I realised who he was referring to. “Why did you let her go?”

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