Page 79 of Daughter of a Monster

“Sorry you’re feeling uncomfortable.” The way I say it makes me sound every bit as young as he keeps accusing me of being. I clear my throat, attempting to get rid of the whine. “I might know someone. I have my contacts, you know.”

“So you keep saying.” There’s a small smirk on his face as he repeats the same words I had used earlier.

“If you’d just let me—”

“No.”

My heart skips a beat at his tone. It’s a stupid response, one that I’m yet to understand, but the more assertive and commanding he is, the faster my heart beats and the more my blood quickens. It’s a physical reaction I can’t help.

Jericho’s mouth dances over my flesh, teasing and taunting but never touching the place I want it the most. “Please,” I beg, my hands wound into his hair. He lifts his eyes. They are as dark as the night sky.

“No,” he growls, lowering his mouth back to my flesh and continuing the torment.

I sneak a glance at him. Luckily, he’s looking out the window again so I can study him in peace and he can’t see the flush to my cheeks. The man makes me ache. It’s tangible and real. I barely fight the flashes anymore; in fact, I welcome them. Because they are the only times that he’s mine.

Each time I look at him, my mouth goes dry and my hands get a little sweaty. Each time he talks, I tremble at the low gravel of his voice. Each time he looks at me, my brain malfunctions, confusing my attraction for anxiety. Admittedly, the symptoms are similar. Tightness in my chest. Shortness of breath. Heart palpitations. Racing thoughts. Restlessness.

The memory of when he succumbed to our attraction still haunts me. I wake in the middle of the night with need so exquisite it hurts. Sometimes I wander the passageways of the Sanctuary hoping he’ll come find me, but he never does.

So I turn my eyes away from him because it causes too much pain. The lights of the city glow over the rise of the next hill. I sit up a little straighter, eager to see them. They are warm and inviting after such a long time away. So much has happened it feels like an eternity has passed. I keep my eyes fixed on the lights as they get closer and closer. Eventually, instead of a constant glow, they become spots, each individual, until finally, we are passing below them as they illuminate the streets.

Jericho leans forward, talking to Barrett. “Turn here. I need to make a stop first.”

The streetlights become less and less frequent as we travel into the more dubious part of the city. There are women lined along the streets, cars pulled over, the occupants talking to the women, plumes of smoke and vapors casting an eerie glow under the lights.

We pull to a stop when Jericho taps Barrett on the shoulder. He gets out of the car and strides up to one of the women. She doesn’t seem pleased to see him but she accepts his cash after blowing a stream of vapor in his face and then he turns and gets back into the car with a small strip of paper in his hand.

“Making a booking for later?” I taunt.

He doesn’t answer, but he does shut the door with extra force before leaning forward to hand Barrett the piece of paper. Barrett glances at it and then types an address into the GPS.

Jericho has traveled all over the world in his search for his sister Hope. He’s chased down lead after lead only to find most of them pointless, exaggerated, or outright lies. He’s spent millions of dollars. Invested in countless schemes just to get his foot into doors which were then firmly slammed in his face. He’s bribed people. Bought people. Fought people. And the only thing he has to show for it is the monster bound in the basement. My father. The man who owned then sold Hope. The monster who claims he knows nothing.

The drive to our destination is short. Barrett opens my door and Jericho extends his hand. With a deep breath, I take it, stepping out onto the deserted street. My foot is basically healed now. It was a bad sprain and serves as nothing more than a reminder of my escape attempt. It seems silly now, knowing what I know. But it didn’t at the time. At the time I was frightened for my life.

The average person would pass by the metal door on the side of the building without a second thought. They’d think that the man leaning against the wall was nothing more than a person stopping to have a cigarette.

“Name?” he asks casually as we approach.

“Priest,” Jericho replies, placing sunglasses on the top of his head.

The bouncer checks his phone then lifts a brow. “And she is?”

“Mine,” is all Jericho says.

The bouncer holds up his hand. “You know the rules then, put a leash on her.” He nods to me.

Jericho explained the rules when he was trying to dissuade me from coming. Anyone not physically attached to another was considered free. And whoever holds the leash has the right to gift it to another. My mind had instantly gone back to the time I spied on him during one of his famed poker games. Someone had handed him a leash and he’d accepted. Did that mean he’d had sex with the woman on the end of it? I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to hear the answer.

Pulling a leather strip out of his pocket, Jericho clips the end through the metal loop at the base of my throat. He holds up the leash to the man for approval.

The bouncer opens the door.

Searching for Hope

chapter two

BERKLEY

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