Satan's daughter

Elisha’s point of view.

My life is perfect.

My family is wonderful.

And big.

I have two dads, Adam and Cassius Bourne, one mom, Mia, three uncles, Ryan, Martin, and Blaise, two younger brothers, Elijah and Winnie, one sister, Elvana, and then there’s my brother-in-law, Christian, my nephew Robbie, and niece Christa.

But that’s not all. There are more—I just can’t put a title to them. There’s Neil, Elijah’s best friend, his husband Danny, their father Daniel, and his wife, Lyra, who have three kids of their own. Triplets. Neila, Daniela, and the sweetest little boy, Lyric, who has a crush on me. Then there are Lyra’s parents, Jack and Rose.

I love them all with all my heart, but I have to admit that I have favorites. Okay, one favorite, to be more precise. My dad, Adam. He’s not my biological father, but we have a connection that surpasses anything. Blood and DNA.

I love my papa, too. As I said, I love them all with all my heart, but Daddy is Daddy.

But I don’t feel guilty because my brother, Elijah, favors Papa.

My mom is the coolest mom on planet Earth. She’s amazing. She volunteered to be a surrogate mom for Dad and Papa, and so Elijah and I came into the world. Elvana is Blaise’s daughter. Mom and Uncle Blaise tried for years to conceive, but it didn’t happen no matter how many doctors they saw and how many teas and herbs Uncle Blaise consumed. But somehow, after they gave up trying, she got pregnant with Elvana.

Winnie is my stepbrother by law, but I don’t see him like that. I see him as my sweet and innocent tiny true brother.

As for Elijah... well, he’s anything but innocent, but he’s sweet with us, with his family. And I won’t even mention how he acts with Christian, Robbie, and Christa. Like, who are you, and what have you done with my brother?

I’m in college, studying English literature to become a writer, like Papa. Love for writing might be the only thing I got from him besides looks. Everything else I got from Dad.

I’m a rebel, I cuss, I don’t give a shit if someone likes me or not, and I always tell the truth, no matter who I piss off. And I tend to piss off plenty of people.

I don’t have a boyfriend, and I don’t want one.

I’m a virgin, and I’ve never kissed because I want what my parents have. I want to lose all that with someone who can light me up and set me on fire with a look. Even if I won’t be with that person forever, even if it’s not gonna be love. I want the passion, the sparks, the thunder and bolts of lightning that come with that kind of violent storm. I want to die and come back to life.

And up until now, I haven’t found anyone who even made me consider having sex.

My parents are not complaining, though. Especially Dad. He wants me to become a nun, never to be touched by any man because he doesn’t want to kill some bastard for breaking my heart.

His words.

True words.

I know he would do it because I’m his favorite, too. But just as Papa is Elijah’s favorite, Elijah is Papa’s, so we’re all good.

I decided to be abstinent when I was a little girl. Well, Dad was the one who reinforced the idea, telling me that meaningless kisses are gonna take away from that special kiss with the prince that I will spend the rest of my life with. The same prince he’s gonna kill if he so much as raises his voice at me.

As I said, I’m not aiming for the rest of my life, but I don’t want to kiss someone just for the sake of it. There has to be that something. The something I see in my dads, my brother and Christian, Uncle Blaise and Mom, and every couple in our family. I know it exists. I just have to be patient.

I moved away from home to be closer to the Uni, not for the freedom everyone else thinks I wanted. I know that if I wanted to do something, Dad wouldn’t stop me or keep me locked up—as much as he wants to—and they are all open-minded, and most importantly, they trust me. All they ever asked was for me to tell them where I was going, with whom, and how long I would be staying just in case something happened, so they would know who to kill if something did happen to me.

“For fuck’s sake!” As I said, I cuss. And right now, I cuss the idiot who parked their car in front of the gate again.

I left the guy or girl a note the last two times I came home, but it looks like they can’t read.

Well, if civil doesn’t work, then war it is.

I’m driving the Range Rover, which, fortunately for me but unfortunately for his or her Camaro, has a metallic bull bar bumper.

Guess what? Correct. I’m pushing the car away, watching with a kind of satisfaction I haven’t felt in a long time as the hood of the car folds. I even turn off the music and lower my window to hear the sound of revenge.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?” A loud, angry male voice forces me to take my eyes off the beautiful view, and as I look to my right, I see a guy watching helplessly as his car is being folded, then his angry gaze falls on me.

Oh, if looks could kill...

But, as I said, I did leave notes.

“STOP!” he commands in a deep and loud voice as he comes to my side and burns holes through me.

“After I’m done. Just a bit more,” I say with a genuinely calm, sweet smile, and he opens his mouth to say something, but it looks like he’s out of words.

I press the gas a little harder, pushing his car farther until it’s out of the gate’s way, then open my door and jump out, landing right in front of him at arm’s length.

The guy is big. I mean, I’m 5 ft 10, and with my army boots, I’m about 6 ft, but I have to tilt my head almost all the way back to look at him.

Jesus, what did he eat growing up? Did God forget to stop him from growing?

I think he’s 6 ft 7 or so. He has shoulder-length dirty-blond hair, sea-green eyes with a few speckles of yellow around the pupils—pretty fucking awesome if you ask me—a chiseled square jaw that I’m sure could cut diamonds, a perfectly straight nose, thick but groomed eyebrows, and a pair of full lips that I wouldn’t mind kissing. The lower one is just slightly bigger than the upper one, which is heart-shaped.

Hmm...

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” he asks, genuinely curious, and I laugh.

“I might have a few screws loose,” I admit truthfully, and he furrows his eyebrows, looking at me as if he’s not sure if he’s having a nightmare or if this is really happening.

No nightmare, pretty boy. Well, he’s not quite a boy. If I had to guess, I would say that he’s around... 30-35.

“Why in the name of God and all that’s Holy did you do that?” His voice is really deep. Like deep deep deep. I like it.

“Why not?” I ask and shrug my shoulders, and he shakes his head and looks at me as if I’m a specimen from another planet and he’d love to get rid of me.

“Are you... did... what...” He trails off at a loss for words, and I beam from ear to ear. I love doing that to people.

“Look, pretty boy. I left you two notes and told you not to park here anymore. But either you can’t read, which I doubt, or you just didn’t give a shit. So, I chose not to give a shit either and solve the problem in my way,” I explain with a smirk, enjoying the look of bewilderment on his handsome face.

“First of all, I’m not a pretty boy—”

“Yeah, you are. Continue.” I look at him expectantly, and he groans and shakes his head as if he’s wondering again if this is real, and I choose to help him and clear the air.

“To your disappointment, this is really happening. It’s not a nightmare.” I gesture with my hand for him to continue, and he combs his hair with his fingers in exasperation, and my eyes land on his very defined biceps.

Damn, he looks good.

He’s ripped. The white T-shirt, which has a few wet patches on it, sticks to his beautifully handcrafted body, allowing me to see his many muscles flex as he moves and breathes angrily. The V-neck is low enough so I can see a patch of brown chest hair which is as fine as the hair on his strong and tattooed forearms.

Goddamn, his upper body is the embodiment of male. He’s so fucking hot that they should change the expression ‘He looks like a god’ to ‘He looks like Elisha’s new target’.

I look farther down to see what he’s packing, and damn... the bulge in his black jeans is... remarkable, to say the least. Yes, I’m a virgin, but also a pervert.

“I talked to your—”

“Elisha! What did you do?!” Papa’s deep voice interrupts pretty boy over here, and he lets out a breath of relief, happy that someone came to his aid.

Pretty boy, no one can help you when it comes to Satan’s daughter.

I keep that thought to myself and turn to look at Papa, who’s now five feet away from me, striding angrily toward me.

Yeah, I’m not scared.

“Hi, Papa,” I greet with a genuine smile, and he rolls his eyes.

“Don’t hi Papa me. What did you do?”

“I left him two notes, telling him not to park here, but still—”

“I talked to him, Elisha. I told him that it’s okay for him to park here.” He finishes with a low groan, combing his thick dark brown hair with streaks of grey with his fingers in frustration. As I said, I got my looks from him. I hope I’ll age as well as he has. Like fine wine. And he doesn’t look a day over 40.

“Well, nobody informed me. Anyway, I have better things to do. So, nice to meet ya, pretty little thing,” I say and wink at the huge man standing next to me, who looks at me as if he came to a conclusion. And that is that I’m crazy. Good conclusion.

“Elisha! Don’t disrespect our neighbor!” Papa scolds, and I look at him with a fake confused frown.

“How did I disrespect him? I said he’s pretty, which he is. Now, about the little thing... I can’t be sure about it, but you know how they say... if you’re big, you’re packing a small little thin—”

“Elisha! Do not continue that sentence!” Papa looks at me as if he’s ready to glue my mouth shut for the rest of my life, and the big specimen of a god smirks.

“Don’t scold her, Cassius. You’re right, kiddo. But I don’t think you’re old enough to even think about those kinds of things. Cassius, you should take into consideration using parental control. Little girls should be kept under a strict watch.” Oh, how he said it... the smirk... and he even dared to ruffle my hair.

And Papa laughs.

Not for long, though.

“Come, let me tell you something,” I say and grab his T-shirt, pulling him down violently as I rise onto my tippy toes so I can reach his ear.

What I’m about to say can’t be heard by Papa.

“Pretty boy, your idea might have worked with another little girl, but not with me. I’m a natural pervert and there is no parental control that could stop me from watching porn and masturbating to videos which many would consider to be quite disturbing. Now—” I’m interrupted by Papa, who yanks me by my arm.

“Elisha, leave the man alone.” Papa gives me a pointed look, and I look at my pretty boy and smirk.

His smirk falls, and mine gets bigger.

I look him straight in the eyes, then make sure that he sees how my eyes slowly lower until they land on his crotch, then I look back up into his eyes and lick my lips, then bite the lower one.

This is fun.