Page 5 of Savage Cravings

The smell of alcohol and bad breath fanned across my face.

I resisted the urge to gag and tilted my head to the side, my hands on his chest, trying to push him away. He ran the tip of his nose up and down my cheek.

“Let go of me,” I pleaded. I hated the tone of my voice.

It was vital to always put on a brave front in the club. Any sign of weakness and the sharks would come out.

But his pressing me up against the wall, combined with the impending attack coming, I was?—

I was fucking scared.

“Please.”

I closed my eyes when he kissed my cheek, trying to swallow the revulsion that wanted to escape my throat.

Finally, he leaned back.

“It’s okay. You’re already mine. I can be patient and wait for you.”

His arms fell away, and I didn’t hesitate. I ran out of there and didn’t look back. His dark chuckle echoed in the hall and followed me all the way to my room.

I unlocked the door and pushed it open.

I didn’t think as I rushed to the emergency go bag and opened it, then shoved everything I had gotten from Dad’s officeinside. My hands shook as I tried to zip it shut. It took a few attempts before I steadied my hands enough to do it.

Where would I go, though?

Where could I start my life again?

My last conversation with my mom came to me.

To New Orleans?

I didn’t know anyone in New Orleans, save for her.

I didn’t know anyone anywhere, though.

I took a deep breath as I slipped out through the back way, headed toward the kitchen. There was a small patio door that led to the backyard. No one should notice me leaving that way.

I hoped the attack wouldn’t happen until later that night, when everyone’s guard was down.

I also had a feeling my dad was the target.

Briefly, I felt a small pinch of guilt. I’d wished so many times for someone to just get him, wished that he would be out of my life for good, and now there was a possibility that would happen.

I could have warned him.

But he made it clear, time and time again, that his daughter had no place in his club. He wouldn’t have listened to me, anyway.

And just because I wished for something, it didn’t mean I was responsible.

Whatever happened tonight, whatever happened to my abusive monster of a father, was not on me. It was the consequence of his own actions.

The guilt lifted as I made it to the kitchen.

I paused when I found a group getting drinks, but they were either too drunk, too high, or too both to notice me.

I was able to sneak out without anyone glancing my way.

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