Locked

Locked K.L. Steele Copyright Copyright Locked © 2023 by K.L. Steele All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems without written permission from the author except for the use of brief quotations for the purpose of a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Edited by: ProofsbyPolly Cover design by: © Dez Purington @ Pretty in Ink Creations Artwork by: Priska (@Priska_art) Proof Edit by: SpooksProofs Dedication This one is for everyone who pushed me to follow my dream rather than hide from it, and to those who supported me every step of the way. I made it here because of you. Content Warning If you know me personally, now is your chance to put the book down. Please and thank you. Locked is on the darker side of romance, with a number of scenes/situations that may be uncomfortable for some readers. It is a plot-light introduction to the Blackstone Gates world, with a hefty dose of blood and hand necklaces. The characters in this book are all over the age of 18 years. Please be aware that this novella contains: Blood play Knife play Self-harm Somnophilia Dubcon/noncon Explicit sex scenes Biting Marking Shared releases Multiple partners/group scene Breath play/choking Sexual acts in monster form Prologue LUKA The adrenaline of the chase courses through my veins as I watch Bale hunt the hellhound below me on foot. Both of us are born hunters, and if it wasn't for the fact that we were here on a mission from our father, we would likely enjoy ripping these assholes to shreds a little more. The low-lying mist that surrounds Blackstone Academy, paired with the dark pink hue of the dusk sky, makes it slightly more difficult to see the pair, even with my heightened senses. I track them from just above the trees, watching closely as Bale swipes his hand out, missing the beast by a whisper. He weaves his way through the dense woods, the obsidian-black hound just out of his grasp. His kind are extremely agile, with reflexes well beyond most other supernatural beings. This is the fourth hellhound hunt we’ve had in the last six months, and both of us are getting fucking tired of it. Students that enter the woods surrounding the academy are torn to pieces and left behind as unrecognizable corpses for us to clean up. I had tried to beg our father to let me in on the meetings with the families. The raw emotion in the room would have been heaven to siphon, but Headmaster Pierce is the only one allowed to dole out the bad news. It's bullshit if you ask me, but what do I know? Coursing through the mist, I pull my black wings tight against my back and drop down in front of the beast, halting him in his tracks. My body jolts on impact as I land, tensing immediately when faced with the sheer size of the hound. I suck in a deep breath, preparing for the carnage that is sure to happen. A single look at my twin and his manic smile behind the hound tells me all I need to know about how this is going to go. While I’m confident that we can take him down easily, hellhounds are unpredictable and irrational. My hands fly up, palms facing the beast, in an attempt to show we are not here to attack straight off the bat. As much as Bale would love that, we need information from him first. Where I am fairly rational, well as much as a demon can be anyway, Bale thrives in the chaos. His bloodlust overtakes any rational thought half of the time. He approaches the beast from the tree line, his menacing, amber eyes looking over him in detail and taking in anything that we can report back to identify the asshole. Smoke pours from the hound’s black coat as he looks around, assessing his escape plan. He’s covered in scars, the thick slashes marring his face while his coat has lightened, white patches. Most of them look older, the hair having grown back a lighter shade in some areas, but there are a number of marks on his face that look extremely fresh. This thing is bigger than the last few have been, his coal-like eyes level with my own. “Who’s fucking sending you here?” I growl, stepping closer and watching him snap his teeth toward me in response. We’ve fought demons much more terrifying than him, so his efforts to strike fear fall flat. A gravelly howl tears through him as Bale rips his claws across the hound's heels, forcing him to collapse on the cold, damp ground before he can retaliate. The two of us circle him while he tracks us with his glowing, ember-filled eyes, unable to rise because of his wounds. Someone is sending these beasts up through the gates for something, and we need to figure out who it is, fast. “They have us coming through the gates of hell, and they send two kids to kill us off? Cute.” He laughs, his breathing steadying as his fresh wounds start to heal. Hellhounds have healing abilities, so Bale’s slashes will heal, given that they were a fresh cut with no supernatural power used. The cuts on the arrogant mutt’s face, on the other hand, look to have been done by a demon, one with enough power to stall the healing process. “Who.” Slice. “Fucking.” Slice. “Sent.” Slice. “YOU?” Bale roars, tearing his long, sharp claws into the beast's back with every word. He growls in response, gnashing his teeth in Bale’s direction but missing him completely, frustration marring his scarred face. He starts to