Locke : Dark Captive Tale, page 1
LOCKE
R.J. Lewis
Copyright © 2022 R.J. Lewis
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Part One: Abduction
Prologue
Locke
Whoever said light meant good lied. Whoever said that dark meant bad lied, too. They got it backwards. Sometimes darkness was better than the light. Sometimes it was better not to see the monsters. The light exposed too much. It drove away the darkness, which had become a safe place for him. He preferred not having to witness the evil in the eyes of those capable of harm. When they touched him with the light all around them, he found himself crawling into that dark place inside himself. They couldn’t touch that part of him. And if he blackened himself enough, he might never let the light in at all.
Darkness was good.
Darkness was pleasure.
Darkness made him whole.
For years, he was shrouded in it, part of it, until he couldn’t tell himself apart from it.
Except, there were bursts of light every now and then. Like fireworks in a dark, starless sky. Bursting with colours and pain and—
Obsession.
Suddenly, there was raw, unyielding Obsession.
Like a companion, Obsession sat in the darkness with him, consuming him slowly, and it said to him every now and then, “Take her. She’s yours. Take her.”
And he…
He took her, and it hurt, and there was nothing pleasurable about the bursts of light that followed.
Obsession smiled, and Locke yearned for the darkness.
Yearned to cover her in it.
Yearned to hide her in it.
Yearned to make her part of the darkness with him.
“What the fuck have you done, Max?” he would ask myself as Obsession sat beside him, smiling in that predatory way.
“What we had to,” he answered.
One
Kali
Confession:
In my dreams, the powerful figure has me cornered. He presses his body against the length of me, forcing me immobile. In these dreams, I resist him, but only because I like that he tries to force me still. I want him to take me. I want him to ravage me. I want him to decide what I need for me.
I’ve spent too long towing the line, pretending to be alright, pretending the past has no shackles on me. I’m tired of being strong. I’m tired of being in control all the time.
In these dreams, I relinquish my control, and I let this powerful man have it.
And this man is dangerous.
This man is darker than night.
This man is merciless in his quest to have me any way he desires.
In these dreams, I never feel freer than being dominated by a man who wants to lock me up and throw away the key.
-K
*
You don’t grow up in Blackwater without hearing about Max Locke.
He was an enigma.
A cautionary tale.
A being that was more monster than man.
And while he owned almost everything in Blackwater, he was never around, and that was fine by me. I didn’t care. Not the way my friends did. He was a grown ass man, and we were poor college girls that hoarded free condiments from A&W.
“We need more pepper,” I told Sylvia as I did a quick inventory before we left our stamp sized apartment.
“You have so much pepper,” Sylvia argued, grabbing a handful of the tiny packets on the top shelf of the pantry.
“We have no minced meat for pasta this week,” I stressed. “So, we need to go heavy on the pepper.”
“I think they’ve hidden it away now,” she teased, throwing off her house shirt. “They’re probably warning their co-workers about the girl that keeps asking for free water, but then takes handfuls of salt and pepper when they’re not looking—”
“Oh, please,” I scoffed. “What do they care?”
Throwing on a tight white top, she replied, “Maybe they’re passionate about their jobs.”
“They don’t get paid enough to be passionate about their jobs. None of us do.”
“You’re presuming.”
I quirked a brow as I grabbed a half-dead banana on the counter and peeled it. “Are you telling me you care about the people you serve at that coffee shop you work at?”
She strode to me, adjusting her tiny skirt so that it was just below her ass. I glimpsed her over quickly, at her impeccable blonde hair tied back in a pretty updo. Her make-up was flawless, her top teasing the curve of her huge breasts. Sylvia was opposite of me in every way. She was glamourous and soft, confident and unmarred by trauma. In another life, I might have been similar to her.
We’d only been roommates the last six months, but we’d known each other years. Not the greatest friends, but not the worst either. We clicked because she pushed me out of my comfort zone, and I grounded her when she was tempted to go off the rails and catch theft charges. Not that I was a goody-two-shoes or anything. When push came to shove, I didn’t mind throwing down, but I preferred having a tiny circle of friends around me at all times, and never anybody so close that they knew who I really was.
Nobody would be my friend without thinking how tragic I was.
And Sylvia, we’d been buddies since high school, but she didn’t know the real me, either.
She ripped the banana out of my hands before I could eat it and pointed the tip of it at me, grinning. “I’m saying that you’re a pretty little thief, and that we need you stealing other things besides salt and pepper.”
I feigned dismay. “I’m an up-and-coming delinquent. Take it easy on me.”
She rolled her eyes. “How far away are you from being ready?”
I stretched my arms out, showcasing my tights and thin sweater. “Ready now.”
Sylvia’s eyes ran over me, a look of disapproval coming over her. “Uh, no.”
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“You’re dressed like you’re going to a book club.”
“So?”
“So, you’re going to a real club.”
“I’m offended you think a book club is anything less than.”
“And I’m offended that you think you can be my wingman looking like a sad librarian. I mean, come on, is that a stain on your collar?”
I whacked her hands away as she approached to check. “I’m just not in the mood to dress up.”
“But Eric might be there.”
I stilled. “That is so random.”
“I could be right.”
I shot her a suspicious look as she grinned back at me with that mischievous look in her eye. “Oh, my God, Syl, don’t tell me you did what I think you did.”
“You mean, did I happen to let him and Warren know that we were going to Labyrinth to party it up tonight? Maybe. Maybe not.”
Oh, my God.
I twisted away, pacing the kitchen now in search of a paper bag to breathe into. “Shit, Syl, what have you done?”
She crossed her arms, looking giddy. “I invited your year long crush to the club, so what? You guys have been floating around the same group of people for how long now? And he’s always so shy, he is going to need a little steering at this point.”
“You should have told me.”
“You would have said no.”
“Damn you!”
“It’s done, girl.”
My eyes widened as the realization finally hit me. “I can’t go looking like this!”
“Exactly!”
“Oh, my God.”
“I know.”
“What have you done?”
“I’m naughty, what can I say?”
“Damn you!” I cursed again.
“You won’t be damning me when he’s balls deep in you tonight—”
I practically fell to the withered linoleum floor in a fit of giggles as she roared over me; we laughed until tears were streaming down our faces.
“I want to kill you,” I said, catching my breath.
She knelt down to my level and brushed the dark hair from my eyes. “And you will—after we have a good night.”
*
Sylvia was adamant I dress into something eye-catching, specifically from her closet because mine looked like a “blind nun” owned it.
I knew when I slipped on the white bodycon dress that she had stolen it from some high-end store downtown. I didn’t know how she did it, either. Those shops were hard to thieve from, and nobody dared to because they were owned by Max Locke. Apparently, if you were caught stealing from one of his stores you ended up in a ditch, but that was just crazy talk. The guy was hardly ever in town, and when he was, I was sure he had more important things to worry about than us poor girls stealing dresses out of his rich ass store.
I curled my never behaving hair and applied red lipstick on my face. Against my black skin, the colour popped out of me. I grabbed my ID and a clutch I bought at the thrift store, and we left.
We caught two buses into downtown and waited in line for an hour outside the club. I kept a look out for Eric, scanning the sea of young faces for him.
“You think he’ll show?” I anxio
“He’ll show,” she assured me. “And he will be all over you because, damn, Kali, you are hot.”
I gave her a warm look, shaking my head. “Don’t tickle my ear.”
She gave me a crazy look. “You’re insane if you think I am.”
Fighting my blush, I glanced away. I’d spent my entire childhood thinking I was an ugly freak. Relentlessly teased in school for being too skinny, too poor, too smelly; constantly bullied at home by my cousins I had grown up with for my big eyes and slight frame, I never really learned to be comfortable in my skin. I didn’t dwell on it. I knew I wasn’t unfortunate, and I had an ass. Dear god, did I have an ass, and said ass was stuffed in a dress like a turkey on Thanksgiving.
“I think I see Aubrey from work,” I said just then, looking down the line at the brunette at the front.
“The bitch that laughed at your clothes in the office?”
I nodded. “That’s the one.”
“Want me to fuck her up?”
“Let’s not catch charges tonight, Syl.”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course not. We are in a posh area of Blackwater, so my claws are hidden, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be waiting for her rich ass to show up on our turf. I’ll rip her pretty extensions out with my teeth—”
“We’ll never see her near Hawthorne,” I cut in. “She’s too sheltered. Her dad is my creepy boss, and he shelters the shit out of her.”
“She’ll rebel, like they always do.”
Maybe.
I felt a hot wave of hurt wash over me when I thought of her cackling about my clothes when I first began work in the office. In Hawthorne, you never let that shit slide. And because I did nothing, I was sure I had emboldened her to keep the torment coming. These days when she came around, she snickered or gave me long drawn-out stares. If surviving wasn’t my priority, I’d have stood up for myself.
But Sylvia was right.
This wasn’t the place for either of us to lose our shit.
“Are you going to acknowledge her?” Sylvia asked next.
“No way,” I answered. “She’s not even eighteen and has a fake ID if they let her in, and if she sees me, she’ll want to have me fired for knowing that. She wouldn’t even recognize me in this dress anyway.”
“Or the nose piercing.” She was referring to my titanium septum piercing.
I fought back my huff. “You’re always going on about my nose piercing—”
“It doesn’t go with the dress is all.”
Just to shut her up, I flipped it up, hiding it. “Happy?”
She smiled. “Now I am.”
My stomach went tight when we finally got to the front of the line. I produced my ID, keeping a lookout for Eric. Meanwhile, Sylvia fluttered her fake eyelashes at the muscle at the door and he was more entranced by her tits than the actual IDs.
With a tilt of his head, he allowed us in.
Two
Locke
He noticed her first.
And that’s how the story began.
With a little prey who stared too much.
She wasn’t on the agenda. He was here for an entirely different person.
But something about her drew him in. She was absolutely hypnotic in her white dress. He ran his eyes along her form, enraptured by the way her dark skin popped. He wondered how soft she felt. His fingers tingled to run them along her legs, to trace a line up her inner thighs and see just how soft she might be there.
Locke closed his hand into a fist, shaking his head once to clear it.
Beautiful women were not difficult to come by, but he found out very fucking quickly how vapid they could be.
Against his better judgment, he continued to watch her, momentarily imagining her beneath him, wondering what it would feel like to have her nails digging into his skin as she let him obliterate her, hating him and needing him all at once. The perfect song a prey could sing was a tortured cry mixed with a needy moan.
One glimpse at her body, and he shook his head again. She was too polished, too prim. There would be no fight in her. She would cower and beg. She would never let someone like his dirty in. A girl like her demanded to be loved, not choking on a bad man’s cock as he selfishly came down her throat. She was like the airheaded friend she arrived with who was currently searching for a fuckboy’s dick to ride tonight.
And yet…
As Locke looked at her, he caught the way her face fell when her friend wasn’t looking. The way she glanced around the room, a lost look in those dark hypnotic eyes, like she was out of her element. For a split second, he caught the darkness—a look that both pierced him and shook him out of his equilibrium. An unsettling look that he was all too familiar with.
He watched her, unable to tear his gaze away.
A slight tremor when a man drew too close.
A gulp of her throat like she was holding back emotion.
A fake smile of confidence as her friend blasted her with more words.
Who was this beautiful little prey that he'd fucking drop to the ground and worship if she’d only let him fuck her with his hand wrapped firmly around her throat?
Now there was a story he wanted to get to the bottom of.
And fate—that clever little cunt—listened.
Three
Kali
We didn’t get loaded. We were too poor to order drinks, and we didn’t trust any of the dudes around us to order us any, either. We were way too street smart for that, and Hawthorne taught us a thing or two about trusting just anybody.
Still, we had a lot of fun dancing like two crazed idiots. It was tough, but I swallowed back my nerves, my reservations, and tried to let myself go. My head swivelled every few minutes, searching for Eric. He would be easy to spot, given he was six feet tall, blonde, tanned skin and bright blue eyes. He was so fucking hot, it made my chest go mushy just thinking about it.
If he was here, if he wanted me, if he was actually interested in me in that way—which I had a feeling he was because he always stared at me when we hung around the same group of people—how would we fall into each other? Would he dance with me first? Would he kiss me right here on the dance floor? Would he touch me possessively? I had thought about it many times at night. What it would be like to have him over me, warming me up. Would he fuck me hard or slow? I hoped he took me hard. I hoped he wrapped his hand around my throat just a little bit. I hoped he stared at me in the eyes with a dark look in his, speaking to me with just one look that said: I’m going to take it, and I don’t care what you have to say about it. Fight me, take me—it’s going to end with me inside you regardless.
Eric could very well be that kind of man.
A shiver ran down my spine at the thought.
A hot feeling warmed my skin. I looked around, staring at countless faces, wondering why I felt like someone was—
I shook my head, clearing my senses of the silly thought I almost had.
“He’s here!” Sylvia shouted in my ear.
I turned my head and there he was, grinning at me nervously with a beer in hand, that blond hair cropped short, his face boyish and cute.
Still feeling a strange tug in the centre of me I couldn’t explain, I went straight to him.
*
Eric was adorable.
He could hardly look me in the eyes as we talked. We hit it off, taking our conversation to one of the nearby tables. The colourful lights flashed over his dimpled face as he spun the beer around. His cheeks were crimson, his eyes a little glazed. All the nerves I’d built around this moment eased as I detected his awkwardness.
“Do you want to dance?” I asked him eventually.
He flushed. “I got two left feet, Kali.”
“Me too!”
He let out a dry laugh, stumbling over his words. “You know how to dance! I watched you—I mean, not in a creepy way or anything. Just…you know how to dance, Kali. You’re, like, wow, you know? Like…holy shit, swaying your hips and all that. I don’t think there wasn’t a set of eyes on you. You’re just, like, wow.”
“I’ll teach you.”
He shook his head. “I got two left feet—”
“We’ll have fun!”
