Page 18 of Lock

KELLAN

There wasa hand over my mouth.

That was the first thing my brain managed to focus on. Not the weight on the edge of the mattress, not the shadow beside the bed, not the way my heart suddenly slammed against my ribs.

Just a big, calloused palm covering my lips. Warm. Solid. Unfamiliar.

My eyes flew open.

For a second everything blurred—the dark room, the soft lamp in the corner, the shape leaning over me. My pulse roared in my ears. I tried to suck in air around his fingers, and the movement made the shadows sharpen.

Leather. Black shirt. Broad shoulders.

And a face I recognized immediately.

Silas Lachlan.

Lock.

He was right there, close enough that I could see the tiny scar near his jaw, the rough stubble along his cheeks, and the faint line across the bridge of his nose where it had clearlybeen broken once. His hair was dark enough to blend into the shadows, but his eyes—pale, icy blue—cut straight through me.

The shock of recognizing him hit so hard, I simply froze.

I’d dreamed about him the night before.

Except this wasn’t a dream.

“Easy,” he said quietly. His voice was low and calm, like we were talking in a hallway somewhere and not in my bedroom with his hand over my mouth. “Don’t scream.”

My body didn’t get the memo. Every instinct I had screamed danger, danger, danger. I tried to jerk back, but there was nowhere to go. The headboard hit my shoulders. His grip tightened just enough to keep me still.

He smelled like cold air and engine oil and something sharp under it that made my stomach twist. Alpha. Stronger than any scent I’d been around up close. It wrapped around my throat, crowding out thought.

This is real.

This is real.

This is real.

I made a muffled noise against his palm, and his eyes narrowed just a little.

“I’m going to move my hand,” he said. Still calm. Still infuriatingly steady. “If you try to scream, I put it right back and we do this the hard way. You understand?”

I managed a nod. What else could I do? Bite him?

His gaze searched my face like he was checking for a lie. Then he slowly moved his hand away.

Air rushed into my lungs too fast. I coughed once, then slapped a hand over my own mouth, for some reason suddenly I was stupidly aware that I was still in my smallest sleep shorts and a thin tank top. My skin went hot all over.

“Wh—what are you doing here?” I hissed. “You can’t be here. There are guards outside, and my dad?—”

“Your dad’s not here,” Lock cut in. “He’s on the road. And your guards are handled.”

Handled.

My stomach dropped.

“You—” My voice broke, and I swallowed.