Page 54 of Daughter of a Monster

Jericho doesn’t say anything. He just continues to look at me in a way that makes my chest tight and my tongue loose.

“I was just so naïve, so unaware,” I say. “I honestly thought that I’d been given this life of privilege and I never once stopped to think that it might come with a price.” I flick a gaze Jericho’s way. He’s still looking at me intently, earnestly, as though he’s genuinely interested and not just asking for the sake of it. “My brother didn’t say anything outright. He couldn’t. But he did try to warn me. I was too self-centred, too happy with my life so I didn’t listen. I didn’t want to listen. I thought he was just being overly protective, but he knew the truth. He’d always known. He sheltered it from me in the hope that I’d never have to be exposed to it.”

The rain intensifies, drowning out my voice. We just sit under the shelter and watch the world close around us. The rain is like a blanket of gray draped over the world. It swallows the Sanctuary first, then the gardens and finally the pond and the swans.

Jericho’s silence continues to pull the words from my mouth. “I went from worrying which dress I was going to wear to the school formal to being known as the child of evil.” Without thought, my hand rises and rubs the material covering my scar. “I felt so alone after everything. So confused. I woke up in hospital and my entire life had changed. I was told I was someone else. I had a mother I’d never met before, a father who was a monster and a half-brother who…” I let my voice fade.

There’s no way I can express how I felt over those few weeks. How I still feel now. I feel guilt for my anger. I was upset and angry over being lied to and deceived and yet what my father did to the women he owned was so much worse than anything I was going through.

“Does it still hurt?” Jericho nods to where my hand still rests on my shoulder.

I shake my head. It doesn’t hurt. Not physically. But it hurts to look at it. I’ve been told of what happened that day, but it’s like being told a story of someone else’s life. For me, there’s nothing. Nothing but darkness. I don’t remember the flames, the shots being fired or the mad dash for freedom. I just remember waking up in the hospital and learning that everything I thought about my life was a lie.

“Dance gave me peace. The only thing I had to cling to.”

Jericho clears his throat. His voice is soft and low. “I know what it’s like to need something or someone like that.” Jericho tucks his hands into his pockets and lifts his head, staring out at the rain. I think he’s going to tell me more, but he doesn’t. Instead he changes the subject.

“Gideon used to be terrified of thunderstorms. When my father would get in one of his rages, my mother would tell us to hide under our beds because a thunderstorm was coming.It took him years to realise those thunderstorms and our father were the same terror.”

“Is that why you killed him?” I ask, feeling the intensity of his pain and not realizing how reckless and hurtful the accusation sounds.

Something washes over him, a coldness, a hardness. His jaw clenches and he steps out of the gazebo and into the rain.

“Come inside,” he says gruffly. “You’ll be no good to Ette if you’re sick.”

And then he strides into the rain without a backward glance, leaving me cold and alone and confused.

chapter eighteen

BERKLEY

I’ve finished Ette’s lesson and am about to take her back to her room when Jericho walks into the dance studio. I haven’t seen him since our conversation in the gazebo and my heart leaps into my throat, constricting any words which may have been there. It doesn’t stop my eyes from sweeping over him though. He looks as though he’s just come from a workout. His hair is dark and damp, the ends curling slightly and there’s a towel draped over his shoulders. He’s wearing a plain black t-shirt that hugs his sculptured torso and gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips. Swan feathers float over his forearms. But even dressed so casually, he still looks foreboding.

He hasn’t looked at me yet, hasn’t even acknowledged my presence. It’s like the connection we shared in the rain never existed. Like I imagined it. Or dreamt it.

“Are you here to watch me dance?” Ette asks excitedly, skipping over to him. She seems oblivious to his hostility.

Jericho’s eyes dart to mine before answering. There’s something dangerous in his glare and I close my eyes, steeling myself against my attraction to him.

“I’d love to,” he says finally, without even a hint of a smile.

Ette skips over to the barre and assumes first position. “Right, this is first position,” she says, rattling off everything I’ve taught her so far. Her face is held in utter concentration as she attempts a plié. I’m sure to Jericho it simply looks as though she’s bending and straightening her legs, but he claps anyway, earning a huge grin from Ette.

He squats down to ask her a question. “Do you think you can make your way back to your rooms on your own? Miss Jones will be waiting for you.” My eyes get caught on the bulge of his biceps as he twists the ends of the towel between his hands.

She rolls her eyes. “Of course.”

“Good. I need to talk to Miss Berkley.” His eyes dart my way again and my insides clench despite my wishes. “But remember to go straight there or else Miss Jones might have a conniption.”

“Hey, that’s my word of the day.”

He taps her nose and winks. “I know.”

How he does all this without a smile is beyond me, but Ette doesn’t seem to notice, or if she does, she doesn’t seem to care. She’s just happy he came.

As soon as she’s gone, he turns to me and I fold my arms, making my annoyance clear. I’m sick of his ambivalence. I wish he’d either hate me or love me. This back and forth is confusing.

“Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?” I ask with a hint of condescension.

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