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"Whether you believe it or not, I want to help. My father has officially crossed a line with you. He’s touched something that doesn’t belong to him. You’re no longer his little puppet on a string. You’re mine. My future. My fucking everything. Believe me when I say that I will fix any mess he gets you into. And I’ll mend your broken soul with mine.”
“Your everything?” I quiver, holding my fist to my lips.
“Mhmm,” he hums sleepily. “You asked me what my favorite color was earlier, and I’ve decided.”
“What is it?” I murmur.
His arms tighten around me, and he nuzzles his face into my neck. “Moss-green. The color of your eyes that darken and lighten, fitting your moods. Darker for when I chase you through the woods and the moon shines in them as I fuck you. Lighter for when you’re genuinely laughing or from pleasure. You are my favorite color. My favorite meal and activity. It’s you. You’re my person.”
I shiver at his words, letting them absorb inside me. He wants me to open up to him and tell him everything I know. Well, that's a can of worms I'm not sure I'm comfortable getting into. Even after his confessions. If he sees me for who I am and for who I've hurt over the years, will he still see me as Journey? Or will he want to cast me aside and leave me? Either way, I know one day, my secrets will be completely exposed.
It's only a matter of time before my monster's world and Jericho's collide, and I'll be smack dab in the middle of it.
Homemade donuts sit in front of me, taunting me to bite into them. Dark chocolate and vanilla frosting drips off the edges, making my stomach rumble and cramp with hunger. I’m nestled between Jericho and Arrow as we sit at the kitchen table, overlooking the wooded land beyond the mansion. My eyes trace the trees, gently waving in the morning breeze lit up by the morning sun.
I lick my lips, avoiding eye contact with the men in the kitchen. Arrow tears into his donut, chomping loudly with an open mouth while staring down at his phone. Loud videos echo through the kitchen, followed by his laugh. Jericho reads the newspaper, covering his face completely. Thank God. I’d rather not have to face the music after last night's shit.
A coffee cup scoots across the table until it’s right under my nose, looking as perfect as ever. I blush, peeking up at Shepp, who smiles at me and then squeezes my shoulder before walking away. He’s been hunched over the stove making donuts and french toast this morning, staying in his own little slice of paradise.
I try not to moan when the perfectly mixed coffee hits my tastebuds, but I fail. The crinkling of the newspaper being set down has the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. I physically feel their heated stares piercing through my skin like a damn X-ray.
But I avoid their looks completely, opting to stare out the window instead and get lost in the memories of why I’m avoiding them today.
Every inch of my body aches with each move I make, reminding me of what I did last night.
I ran through the woods in the pouring rain, fleeing the massive masked man in the kitchen who I thought wanted to kill me. But no. They only wanted to punish me for sneaking out. Or maybe it was for Jericho’s car. Well, tough titties. It was the only vehicle with keys I could find. So, I had to take it. Even if it was futile.
My monster expects me to spy on them and relay everything back. What a damn nightmare.
I sigh to myself as his words bounce around my skull. Every task he’s sent my way, I’ve faced head-on without a second thought. When he says jump. I say, how high? There’s never been a question about it. Sure, there’s been some remorse and dread.
But I’ve done them.
For Sunny. Always. I need my sister back at my side.
So, why do I have this nagging feeling in the back of my head telling me to speak up and tell Jericho everything? The abuse. The jobs he has me go on and how I’m supposed to relay everything back to him.
Probably because last night was semi-liberating. Albeit, out of character for me. There was just something about the way his arms encased my body. I felt safe. Even when my life was in danger. And I haven’t felt safe in so many years that I melted at the opportunity to spill my guts. To my surprise, they opened up, too.
So, what am I supposed to do?
“Are you going to eat them, Kitten?” Arrow asks, biting into a bit of his donut with a satisfied hum. “If you don’t eat them, I will.”
My eyes flash to him, and then I quickly look away. Right. I’m kind of avoiding them. My fingers drum on the table with indecision. What should I do? How do I even collect information on them without it being obvious? Fuck. Or do I do it at all?
“Do you think he poisoned them?” Arrow quips. “He wouldn’t. He likes your pussy too much.” I hear the grin in his voice without looking in his direction.
“You need to eat,” Jericho pipes up, demanding once again that I do something. “Not you,” Jericho barks, slapping a hand away from my donuts. Arrow yelps, mumbling under his breath about Jericho’s bossy ways.
I frown, looking at the donuts again and then at the would-be thief.
Arrow winks, grabbing more from his plate. “He’s right, Kitten. You need to eat and keep up your strength.” Like an animal, he tears into the donut, grunting with every swallow as he continues to scroll through videos. “Because what we did last night? Yeah, that’s not the last of it. I can’t wait to be inside of you again. My dick is calling out your name. He needs a sleeve.”
“A sleeve?” I retort in disgust, wrinkling my nose.
He just wiggles his brows, shoving more donuts into his open mouth. Gross.
“Are you achy this morning?” Jericho asks, sipping his own coffee and watching me.
