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A minuscule part of me worried that somehow, my father had known about the lustful thoughts that had filled my mindwhenever Locke was within a three-mile radius. That somehow, I’d caused his death with those naughty, taboo thoughts.
Sinners must pay the price.
That maybe my punishment for being such an awful daughter was God taking my father away from me forever.
And yet, despite the needless guilt that sometimes snuck up on me, I still coveted him. Although, as far as I was concerned, he was just as off limits since my dad died as he had been while he was alive.
Locke didn’t want me. He didn’t need me. He kept seeing me out of the goodness of his heart, and because I was all he had left.
I snorted. It wasn’t like he had much choice. He was alone in this world just as I was.
“Why do you torture me?” I whispered at the portrait.
Sometimes I hated him at least as much as I loved him.
I stood there and stared at my image of perfection, of what I ached for but could never have as it seared its way slowly through my heart.
The Hunt would be good for me. Something and someone to focus on other than this ghost of a man who haunted me.
Chapter 9
Storee
The days leading up to The Hunt were a blur of nerves and excitement. I couldn’t believe I was actually going through with this. I went to the clinic on Main Street, did the necessary precautions, and then waited for the full moon to arrive.
There were legal documents that surprised me but then it made sense. I literally felt as if a part of me was signing my soul to the devil. I might as well have pricked my finger and signed the contract of consent with blood. Because once I did… there was no safe word. No backing out. No way to turn around once you stepped off the cliff into the darkness.
The contract promised no harm would come to us, nothing fatal, and nothing lasting. But the more we fought, the more our hunter would fight back. There was no refusal once we agreed.
You consent when you put the red light on. It’s your one and only chance to do so. After the light glows crimson, you will only have one choice.
Run.
I knew I was crazy for doing this. The sane voice in my head told me to stop and then to go smack some sense into Fiora for doing this herself. But once I started… the curiosity, the thrill, the thoughts going through my mind became too much.
Walking to the Heathens opening with Fiora, I should have seen it coming. Of course it would be hosted there. Of course…
“I can’t go to The Vault. You know that Locke will lose his mind if sees me there,” I said to Fiora, freezing as I realized our destination.
“Come on! This is where the party is at. It’s the one time of the year that they allow anyone in. It’s not just members only tonight or by invite,” she whined. “And you told me you were going to do The Hunt. Attending Heathens is part of it. It’s the kickoff party.”
With an exasperated sigh, I added, “Locke is one of the owners. Free for all or not, he won’t allow me inside.”
“Storee,” she continued to press. “It’s Heathens! This is a party we don’t want to miss.”
I shrugged. “I’m fine. I don’t want to go to a sex party anyway. The Vault has never appealed to me. It’s just a bunch of rich fucks and public sex.”
“Exactly, and it appeals to me! And I don’t want to go alone. So at least come for a bit as moral support. Please.”
I shook my head, but before I could get another word out, Fiora cut me off.
“People will be wearing masks and dressed all pagan and shit. We can just blend in with the masses. Look how many people are entering. There will be hundreds. People come from all over for this party.” She pulled two masks out from her bag. “We wear these. Locke will be too busy to spot you anyway.”
I sighed, knowing that Fiora wouldn’t back down until she got her way. “Fine,” I said eventually. “But we stick together, yeah?” I placed the butterfly mask over my face and tied the ribbon behind my head.
“Absolutely!” Fiora exclaimed, pulling me into a hug. “You won’t regret this, Storee. I promise.”
As we made our way to The Vault, the thumping bass of the music grew louder and louder. Tribal drums cracked through the salty air.
