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Dad’s scowl said he wouldn’t believe anything I told him anyway. He never did when I said I didn’t do something he accused me of doing. One time, he confronted me about some of his missing Xanax pills. He was convinced I’d taken them because I was the child with mental health issues. Meanwhile, I’d stuck my fingers down my little sister’s throat a few hours earlier to help her puke them up after she’d overdosed on them. Christy intended to get high from the medicine but took one too many. I was always the scapegoat.
“Um . . .” I swallowed hard. “I was staying with some friends and lost track of time.” The lie tasted bitter on my tongue.
Mom finally pulled back from the tight embrace, her eyes swollen and red from crying. Snot dripped from her nose, and she sniffled, trying to get rid of it. She grabbed a napkin and dabbed at her face, erasing all the snot and tears.
“We called Layla’s parents, and they said she hasn’t come home either. Why didn’t you girls tell us you would be gone?” Mom exclaimed.
I looked away, staring at the wooden island. The corner was chipped, thanks to the time Dad thought it was a great idea to renovate the kitchen and replace the counters with black tile. He used a hammer to break it apart, discovering a rotted base that needed replacing. Another unfinished project.
“Your mother asked you a question, Grace,” Dad said.
I bit my bottom lip and wrapped my arms around my stomach as it growled. I didn’t eat anything that morning because nothing sounded good.
“Fuck someone,”the same voice in my head from last night said.
I swallowed hard. “We got distracted.”
“What?” Mom cried.
“Better not be because of boys,” Dad said.
They were aware of Sebastian but had no idea of the intimacy in our relationship. We’d promised our parents we wouldn’t have sex until we tied the knot after graduation. I was sure Mom and Dad would disown me if they knew I wasn’t a virgin.
“My little sinner.”I winced at the reminder of Satan’s Priest’s music. That used to be my favorite song, and even worse, Lucien called melittle sinnerbefore he stabbed me to death.
I raised my gaze to Dad’s, staring at him and hoping he believed my next words. “It wasn’t because of boys. We decided to take a little trip since it was the weekend, and Hallow—”
Dad scowled at me, his lip curling. They hated Halloween. They claimed it was the devil’s holiday. If we celebrated, we were opening ourselves up to dark entities that could latch on to us.
Christy believed them. I didn’t.
“Just a ‘little trip’? Are you serious right now, Grace?” Dad growled. “You’ve been gone with no word for three days.”
I winced and averted my gaze, keeping my eyes cast down so I didn’t have to look at my parents.
“I can’t believe you’re putting us in this position,” Dad continued. “We thought you were dead. We called the police and had a search party assembled for you. Now I have to let them know you’re back and that you just wanted a little getaway without letting us know. Do you realize how embarrassing that is?”
I clenched my jaw and raised my eyes, looking straight at Dad’s reddening face.
Because I was dead, Dad. Some cult group violently murdered me in the name of Lucifer.
I shivered at the memory of all the chanting and Lucien telling me I was an offering to be someone’s bride. I still couldn’t unsee the shadows that slithered in the room and the creepy face that stared back at me from the ceiling.
The painting popped into my mind, and I squeezed my thighs together as my clit throbbed. What the hell was wrong with me? I didn’t want a demon to touch or rape me.
I want Sebastian to be rough with me, whether I like it or not.
A fucking rape fantasy, Grace? Seriously?
Dad released an angry sigh. “You’re grounded.”
I wanted to find Lucien, make him look me in the eye, and see that I was still alive. That I had come back and—
I blinked and looked at Dad as what he said finally registered in my mind. “What?” I dropped my hands to my sides and fisted them as rage boiled in my veins. My gums tingled, and I gritted my teeth together to avoid doing anything stupid.
He couldn’t do that. I was eighteen, for God’s sake!
Dad raised his eyes to the ceiling as if he was searching for patience from God. He took a deep breath and lowered his head, glaring at me. “You’re grounded.”
