Page 39 of Daughter of a Monster

She lets out a huff. She’s become a lot more relaxed with me since that first day. “Fine.”

“What made you want to take dance lessons?”

Her brows furrow together. “I didn’t. Mr Priest said I had to.” Her frown changes to a smile. “But don’t worry. I like it now. Oh!” She tugs me onto the dance floor. “This one is my favorite.”

I laugh and start to swing her in a circle. Just about all the songs are her favorite.

But it looks like what Gideon said was true. Maybe I am here for another reason. Jericho Priest wants something from me. I just don’t know what it is. All these thoughts swirl about my head as Ette and I twirl about the dance floor, but when I hear voices outside I untangle myself from her and push open the door, just a fraction. When we’d come in, there was a guard stationed at one of the side doors to the ballroom, now, there is no guard but there is a man dressed in a tuxedo and a woman dressed in barely anything at all. She is basically wearing a leather harness. The man has her pressed against the wall, his hand shoved between her legs. I shut the door, and then open it again cautiously, checking to make sure Ette can’t see. Jericho is there now, he’s pulled the man away from the woman, holding him by the scruff of the neck. The man is intoxicated, it’s clear to see by the glaze to his eyes and the laziness of his smile. Jericho opens the door and shoves both the man and the woman back inside just as Barrett comes jogging up the hall.

“Sorry. I’ve already taken—”

“That’s the second time I’ve found people wandering around in places they shouldn’t be. Do your fucking job!” And then Jericho storms off, leaving Barrett standing stock still, his hand raised in a salute.

“What’s happening out there?” Ette appears by my side, poking her head into the crack of the door.

“Nothing.” I shut the door. “I just thought I heard something. Let’s dance some more.”

Ette yawns widely. “I think I’d like to go to bed now. Will you read me a story?”

I scruff her hair and hold out my hand. “Sure thing. Let’s go.”

It takes three stories before Ette falls asleep. Long stories. But finally, she’s snoring faintly and I’m able to slip out of her room. It’s taken a while, but I’ve learned my way around. Well, at least to most of the common areas anyway. Keeping an eye out for people, I skip down the staircase and creep back to the ballroom. The guard is back at the door so I slip into the studio, pretending that’s where I was heading all along.

I need to see what’s inside that ballroom. Or more specifically, who is inside that ballroom. And what they are doing. If I see any faces I recognize from one of my father’s parties, it will confirm my suspicion that Jericho Priest is working for my father.

When I look out the window, I notice the drapes covering the ballroom windows are open a crack. Hoisting up the glass, I climb outside and crawl on my hands and knees under all the windows until I reach the one that has the slightly open curtains. The lights have been dimmed, so I have to press my face to the glass to see inside.

The room has been fully restored, unlike the dance studio. Chandeliers hang from the ceiling and the walls are decorated in deep blues and golds. Tables of people are dotted around the room, spread with cards. Naked women are sitting on laps. Scantily clad ones are holding trays of drinks. A blanket of smoke hangs over their heads, the result of the cigars balanced between fingers. There’s a familiar air of decadence and depravity, one that I wouldn’t have recognized years ago but now is as heavy and obvious to me as the wealth clearly displayed. I scan the faces, looking for familiarity among the array of people but I recognize no one.

And then I see Jericho. He’s sitting on a chair at the top of the room. He appears so regal. A king overlooking his subjects. And from the look on his face, he’s not impressed. A man approaches. A naked woman walks by his side wearing nothing but a collar and lead. The man holds the lead out. When Jericho takes it, the woman drops to her knees and crawls to his feet, bending to kiss his shoes. And then he lifts his eyes and locks them directly onto mine.

It’s like he knew I was here.

I duck to the ground, heart pounding, and crawl back to the open window of the dance studio. But when my feet hit the floor, I’m yanked backward and shoved against the wall, Jericho pressing against me.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he growls.

My heart beats wildly. His body is pressed against mine. His hips dig into my stomach. His fingers grip my shoulders and his breath is hot on my ear. He turns his head so his eyes can move hungrily across my face as though it holds the answer to his question. His lips are so close to mine I can almost taste them.

Our breath mingles. His are heavy with frustration. Mine are heavy with arousal. Seeing that woman at his feet, the way she crawled to him, made something clench inside me. I wanted to be that woman. I wanted him to claim me as his own. I push into him, pressing against him, challenging him. But Jericho moves away angrily and my body slumps, no longer propped up by his.

What am I thinking?

This man could be evil, just as wicked as my father, and yet here I am, panting over him like someone starved for attention. Jericho runs his hands through his hair. It’s messy once he’s done. Out of place. It makes me wonder if this is what he’d look like in the mornings, all disheveled. I swallow, hoping it will somehow calm the knot of desire in my core.

“Do you know who those people are?” his voice is a low growl. “Do you know…Shit, Berkley. You can’t be here.”

He runs a hand through his hair again and I get caught watching it fall back into place. I imagine my own fingers scraping across his scalp and then try to shake the thoughts from my mind.

The man is shrouded in shadows. Everything I vowed to despise. But something within me craves his darkness. It calls to me as an unexplored part of my soul.

“Just go to your room.” He walks away only to turn back again, his eyes burning with severity. “And stay there. You understand, Miss Berkley?”

I nod, unable to speak.

“I need to hear you say the words,” Jericho growls.

I lick my lips, trying to coax them back into life. “I will go to my room and stay there until morning.”

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