Page 82 of Among the Sins of my Father

A crack of lightning whips across the sky.

I lose myself in him. I lose myself in the sensations rippling through me. My body trembles in unison to the thunder. Jericho jerks his hips when the lighting crashes and the force of it, the way he feels inside unleashes a blaze of desire so strong, I cry out, falling forward onto his chest as he pulses and shudders.

And then I lay, panting and clutching onto him as I ride the waves of rapture. Jericho cradles me, his fingers running through the strands of my hair flowing down my back.

I feel safe in his arms.

I feel secure and happy.

Content and, for once, unafraid of what my future might bring.

I am free of my father. Free from being the daughter of a monster.

Now I am slave to one.

I’m not sure how long we lie like that. I’m not sure if we sleep, or if we just drift in and out of consciousness, content in our bliss. Rain splatters heavily against the glass, the soundtrack to our place in paradise.

It’s only when there’s a faint knock on the door that we move. Jericho slides himself out of me, and I slump to the side of his body.

“What?” Jericho snaps, calling out to the visitor behind the door.

It almost makes me laugh. The sternness of him. The surliness that appears mainly when others do.

The door creaks open as Jericho pulls the covers around my shoulders, but no one enters. “Mr Priest,” Mrs Bellamy’s voice calls through the crack.

“What?” he snaps again.

“The police are here.”

chapter thirty-one

BERKLEY

They separate us almost immediately. First, they stay with Jericho, while I wait anxiously downstairs, scared they are going to lead him down in handcuffs. But when the door opens and footsteps descend, it’s only Officer Conway who greets me.

“Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”

I’m not sure anywhere in this house is truly private, but I don’t tell him that. Instead, I lead him to the library, sitting myself down on one of the overstuffed armchairs and tucking my feet in beside me. I’m trying to look casual, as though the reason for this interview isn’t eating inside me.

“I suppose you know why we’re here?”

I nod. “I saw it in the newspaper.”

The headlines had been sensational. ‘Entire Household Slaughtered.’ ‘The Monster’s Revenge?’ ‘City Shocked by Mass Killing.’

They were hard to read. Truth always is.

The officer pulls out a small notepad and a pen. He clicks the cap repeatedly before asking any more questions.

“And you were there that night?”

I nod. “I was.”

The policeman arches a brow. I’m so scared of giving away something I shouldn’t, I’ve made him suspicious already.

“It was my birthday,” I add. “A surprise party.”

“A surprise party that you danced, in costume, fully prepared for?”

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