Page 72 of Daughter of a Monster

“Jericho,” I breathe his name and his attentions become harder, firmer. I writhe, unable to escape the delicious torture of his mouth, feeling as though at any moment, I might come undone.

“Be still,” he commands.

And at the sound of his voice, I explode, arching off the bed as the sudden waves of ecstasy crash over me. It wells up so quickly, hits me so suddenly, I cry out.

“What the fuck?” The voice barely registers in my mind, but it makes Jericho leap from the bed, leaving me open and exposed to the visitor. “You’re fucking the daughter of that monster?”

I somehow manage to sit up, scrambling to cover myself with the blankets. Gideon stands in the door, pure rage rippling over his face.

“You’re fucking her?” he says again, his eyes fixed firmly on his brother. “I knew you wanted to but that was before I found out who she was.”

“I wasn’t fucking—”

“You’ve got her juices all over your fucking chin!”

Jericho wipes himself and moves, blocking me from Gideon’s sight. He lowers his voice, almost growling as he speaks unknown words. But Gideon is having none of it. He darts around his brother, finger jutted at me as I scramble to cover myself.

“I know who you are, you little bitch. Your father took Hope from us.” He lunges, throwing himself on the bed in order to get to me. The only thing that stops him is Jericho grabbing his shoulders and tossing him to the ground.

Gideon’s eyes are wild with rage as he glares up at his brother. “How could you?” he hisses. “How could you even touch that—”

“She had no idea who he was, what he did. She’s never even met Hope!” Jericho yells.

Gideon gets to his feet. “I would understand if you wanted to teach her a lesson, fuck her into submission as some sort of revenge, but this.” He shakes his head. “This is fucking unbelievable, Jericho. How could you do this to Hope?”

Jericho stalks towards him, stopping only inches away from his face. “Don’t you dare talk to me about her.”

“Why?” Gideon taunts. “Feeling guilty, brother? Feeling guilty that while Hope is most likely rotting away in some cell you are fucking the daughter of the man who put her there?”

The two brothers clash violently. Jericho slams Gideon against the wall, his elbow pressing against Gideon’s throat.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jericho growls.

“Don’t I?” Gideon laughs, the sound coming out distorted due to the pressure on his windpipe. “What are you going to do? Run a knife into me just like you did our father?”

The two men glare at each other. They stay like that, chests heaving, eyes burning until finally, Jericho lets go. Gideon rubs his throat and twists his head from side to side as though trying to dislodge the memory of Jericho’s grip. His eyes narrow as he changes his focus to me.

“I knew there was something about her. I knew there was some reason you wanted her here.” He juts out that finger again. “You will pay.”

Jericho muscles him out of the room, sliding the lock as soon as the door closes behind them. There’s shouting and yelling. Crashes and thuds. And then everything goes quiet. A cold shudder runs through me. I feel Gideon’s threat right in the pit of my stomach. It’s as though his words have somehow lodged there. In that moment, Gideon Priest looked deranged, unstable.

I’m left naked on the bed, the high of my release coupled with the panic of the last few minutes have left my heart pounding wildly. I’m so confused. My attraction to Jericho Priest is undeniable, but the circumstances surrounding it leave me feeling as though I’m in a haze I can’t escape.

I should be fighting against Jericho, rebelling against my captivity, but if I’m honest with myself, I’d be doing the same thing. I’d do anything to save someone from my father. I’d do anything to make him pay for what he did. But somehow I’ve ended up on the wrong side of the equation.

And even though I’ve been trapped inside this room for days, this is the first time I’ve felt fear. Not of Jericho, but of Gideon. The lock only works one way. I can’t protect myself from him.

The next time the door opens, I jump, scared to see who’s on the other side, but it’s only Mrs Bellamy. She looks at me slumped against the headboard of the bed, one knee pulled to my chest while the other rests on the mattress. She places a tray of food on the bedside cabinet.

“I’m not hungry.” I push the plate away.

“You might be later on.” She pushes the tray back.

I glare up at her, all the resentment I’ve been feeling directed at her instead of the person responsible. Now that I know the truth, my resentment isn’t directed at Jericho. It’s directed at my father. The only reason I’m here, the only reason I’ve had to run time and time again is because of him. There’s fear there too, but it’s directed at Gideon. I’ve never had someone look at me that way before. With such animosity. The air was thick with it. It made it hard to breathe.

“How can you defend him?” I ask her, letting bitterness into my tone. “How can you say he’s a good man when he’s got me locked up like this?” It’s the guilt that makes me say these things. Guilt that I’ve felt ever since the day my life was torn to pieces.

Why didn’t I see the evil in him?

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