Page 63 of Bitter Spirits

“With some dangerous baggage.”

“So what? We all have something we carry, Iz. Even Locke. Do you think you’re the only one to struggle with letting someone in? I don’t know him well, but I’ve watched him watch you for months, and you know what I saw? A cynical man willing to put in the time to earn a cautious woman’s trust. It didn’t matter how many times she pushed him away, because every time he came back, he managed to get a few inches closer to seeing the real heart underneath.”

She rubbed absently at the ache blooming in her chest. “That heart is a fucking mess, Cass.”

“But that’s what makes it so beautiful, babe,” Cass said. “Have you ever heard of Kintsugi?”

The unexpected question tickled a memory of walking through an art gallery displaying stone-fired pieces veined with precious metals. “Isn’t that a Japanese art form where they use gold or silver to mend cracked teacups?”

“Any pottery, actually,” Cass corrected, “but yes, that. As Grayson reminded me recently, when those broken pieces are treasured enough to be pieced back together, even as dented and dinged as they are, what emerges isn’t just stronger but holds more depth and beauty than its original purpose. It’s not tossed away because of a fault or two but instead is cherished for surviving the trauma and turning that damage into something better. And that something better should never be handed over to someone who won’t value it.” She took a second then landed her blow. “Is Locke the kind of person to throw something like that away?”

“No.” The word was soft but heavy with truth.

Cass’s tone gentled even more. “So maybe he’s worth taking a risk for.”

“Maybe.” Her agreement was shaky but carried an edge of hope. “But, gods, Cass⁠—”

“Stop, Iz. Be brave. Not everything ends badly.” Her tone took on the vague nuances that came when Fate spoke through her. “Alone or together, find your balance and make your decision. Otherwise, it will be made for you.”

After hanging up with Cass, Isa forced her way through her own protective walls to heed her friend’s warning and made her decision. Her heart raced under the oversized T-shirt she wore as she padded barefoot down the hall, following the faint trail of light to the living room. She came to the archway and stopped, nerves nibbling at her determination.

Light from somewhere in the kitchen, probably the stove, seeped into the living room to reveal the man waiting in the dark. In nothing but sleep pants, Locke was sprawled on the couch, his hair sticking up as if he’d been running his hands through it. He had his bare feet propped on the edge of a box and a hand around a glass of water resting on his naked abdomen.

His gaze raked over her, hot enough to burn. “You’re up.”

The tone of those two words, and the way he held himself, made her feel… hunted. Her heart was a heavy beat in her chest, but a curl of anticipation unfurled and settled deep, thickening her blood. “I am.”

“Did I wake you?”

“No.” Excitement and dread tripped along her nerves as she took the first step then the second until she was walking into his den. “Cass called.”

He watched her slow approach, the tension singing between them and tightening. “How is she?”

“Good now.” She reached the couch and stopped close enough to feel the soft cotton of his pants.

He angled his head, holding her gaze with predatory patience. “Now?” He dropped his feet and leaned over to set his glass on the floor. “What happened?”

“Long story. Grayson can fill you in when they get back on Wednesday.”

Locke sat back and stretched out his legs, his muscles bunching in interesting places with the movement. “Grayson’s heading back to Phoenix?”

It was hard to follow the conversation when other things kept snagging her attention. Like the way the waist of his pants slipped a little lower, making her core temperature shoot up and exposing an intriguing line that disappeared underneath the material. She felt her body sway the tiniest bit as she tried to stay focused.

“Yeah. Seems he and Cass are a thing now.”

Locke’s chuckle was dark and male. “Damn, Gray works fast. I’ll have to ask for pointers.”

“Why?” The husky question slipped out before she could censor it, desire playing hell with her thoughts. “It’s not like you need them.”

“You sure about that?” Locke reached out and played with the hem of her shirt, his knuckles brushing against her thigh. The touch was light, but that burn in her core deepened as her skin pebbled at the near-innocent touch. Awareness flared in the bright-blue eyes, and his cheeks tightened and colored. His voice dropped to a rough purr. “I’ve been chasing you for a while, and it doesn’t seem like I’m gaining ground.”

She leaned into his touch, wanting more. “You’ve gained more ground than you know.”

“Is that so?” He let go of her shirt to glide his palm up her thigh until it disappeared under her borrowed T-shirt. Hunger and want clashed in his icy-blue gaze as it burned into hers while he traced a toe-curling trail along the edge of her panties. Her body swayed, the tempting touch creating a slow, beautiful ache. He steadied her by sliding his hands to her hips, where they settled against her skin like brands, drawing her forward gently. “Are you still running?”

Heeding his gentle tug, she put a hand on his bare shoulder, a knee on the couch by his hip, then swung her other leg over his lap. A soft whimper escaped her as she settled against him. The evidence of his desire was unmistakable. She dipped her head, her hair falling forward like a curtain until there was nothing but the voracious hunger raging in his eyes.

Her lips were a breath away from his. “No.”