Locke

I don’t know what makes me do it.  Maybe it’s the fact that Ivy seems to think I have no idea what I’m doing.  Maybe it’s the fact that I hate what is going to become my life when I take the stage.  Or maybe it’s the fact that king douche himself, Shawn, is standing in the corner, rubbing his dick through his slacks.  But I take over the stage in moves that I’m sure Ivy has never even dreamed of.  I climb to the top of the ten-foot pole before doing the death drop to the bottom, ending in a split then using my hands only to climb back to the top.  I use every ounce of my upper-body strength to work that pole.  It becomes an extension to my body as I effortlessly dance.  By the time I do my last spin, my body is pulsing with power.

I might hate my life and what I’ve been forced to live, but if this is all that’s left for my future, then I’m going to own it the best I can.  That is until the day I can find my out.  Find a way to escape this madness before I lose hope that there is something better out there for me.

I won’t let this break me.  I’m stronger than that.  I’m Emersyn Rose Keeze, the Princess of Syn, and one day, when I break free of this life, I’ll be a better person because of what I have had to overcome.  I won’t let this define me.

“Well, well…  Was that for me, Emersyn?”  His voice makes me want to puke.  Thick, deep, and full of sexual undertones.  He makes no secret that he wants me with an unhealthy desire.

“No, Shawn.  That was so that Ivy would shut up and let me get off that damn stage.  Definitely not for you.”  I roll my eyes, feeling the power of his glare beating into my naked back.  “Leave the dressing room.  Now.”

His hand reaches out and forcefully grips my forearms, pulling me back to crash against his chest.

“Let go of me, asshole.  You know The Ram won’t like it if you bruise up his fucking Princess of Syn.  How will you explain that one?”

“You little brat.  You think you have the control here?  You think that little princess shit means anything to me?  The Ram will pat me on the back for putting you in your place.”   His warm breath against my neck makes me want to vomit.  God, he’s disgusting.

“Fuck you,” I spit.

“Gladly, Emersyn.  Fucking gladly.”

I’ll give him credit.  He proved me wrong that day.  I put up a good fight, but anything that had been left of my innocence was stolen from me that day, and even though I knew I would eventually get out, something broke inside me.  Whether it was the belief that I could overcome this life, the knowledge that I had in thinking I could escape unharmed, or the fact that every second I’d lived leading up to being roughly raped in the back dressing room of my family’s strip club delivered home the fact that I’m nothing but trash.

Don’t get me wrong.  I know I’m worth more than this life I unfortunately was born into, but something about that day will forever taint a part of my soul.  I’ve worked so hard to keep my mind closed off from the filth that surrounds me.  The mother who thinks of me as some fucked-up version of herself to relive her life through.  The father who looks at me, his own flesh and blood, as an object to make him money.  And the man they’ve promised me to.   This life that has been predetermined since they found out my dad’s top dancer and piece of ass was having his daughter.  The name I was born into, Emersyn, Locus City’s Princess of Syn, the hottest and seediest strip club in south Florida.  Since that fateful day The Ram forgot to pull out of Ivy, I’ve been destined to take the stage.  And like it or not, it’s all I have, and it’s going to be my ticket out of this hell.

Chapter 2—Maddox—Past

“Babe,” I whisper across her skin, pulling the sheet back as I kiss down her naked back.  “Time to wake up.”

I continue softly kissing down her spine, enjoying the fact that, even in her sleep, her body is responding to me.  Goose bumps dance across her creamy skin, and when my breath dances across her body, she shudders slightly.

“Not yet.  I’m too tired,” she whines.

I let out a soft chuckle against the small of her back before nipping her ass with a soft bite.  She moans but continues to doze.

“Mercy, baby, it’s time to go or we’re going to be late.  It’s my last weekend here before I ship out, and as much as I would love to spend that time deep within you, we have places to be.”  Even if those places aren’t any I particularly want to be.

She starts to protest, but I dig my fingers into her ribs and laugh when she starts squealing like a pig and all but falls out of the bed to get away from me.  God, she’s beautiful in the morning.  Her almost-white blond hair is a mess of soft curls, most likely from my grabbing handfuls of it all night.  Her porcelain skin is glowing, my whisker burns showing up around her neck, tits, and thighs.  Her sapphire eyes are bright with mirth.  God, it feels good to see her like this.  The last couple of weeks have left a sense of impending dread thick on my skin, but seeing her like this gives me hope.  Hope that we aren’t drifting apart. That, even though I’m leaving, we’re going to be okay.  Enough hope that I can ignore that dread that still won’t vanish.

Mercedes Hutchens has been my girlfriend for the last four years.  We were friends before that for a few years, and when I decided to take a chance, she became my girl.  And now, my fiancée.  Yeah, I’m a lucky son of a bitch.

It’s been hard on us though.  I’m deployed more than I’m home, and I’m about to leave again.  I know it’s even harder on her.  Especially since I can’t tell her where I go when I leave her sitting at home hoping and praying that I’ll return to her.  She knows as much as I can tell her.  My team, which is made up of seven of the baddest motherfuckers from all over the United States, goes in hot to the deepest pits of hell.  We have days to prepare, sometimes for months, but one thing is always clear.  We don’t fucking speak about shit.

I’ve been doing this shit since I turned eighteen and got the hell out of my house.  And more specifically, got the hell away from Diana Locke.  There isn’t anything about my mother that isn’t toxic.  She’s hated me since I was a snot-nosed brat.  Not my brother, Mason The Perfect, but me—just for being alive.  Forever reminding me that everything I touch is tainted with the blackness she sees in my eyes.