Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

I threw off the covers and got up out of bed, grabbing my
cell phone off its charger. “I thought I told you to wrap
yourself up,” I mumble, unlocking my screen and scrolling
through my notifications.
She didn’t say anything, but I heard her scoot up to a
sitting position. “When I sleep, too?” she whined. “It’s like a
corset, Damon. I can’t breathe.”
You’ll get used to it.
After thumbing through a couple messages from Will and
some comments on posts, I tossed the phone down onto my
desk and started some music on the computer. Walking to the
closet, I grabbed some slacks and a white shirt and then
stopped, staring at a pair of jeans hanging next to my black
hoodie. Devil’s Night was next week, and a familiar rush
skated through my veins.
I grabbed the jeans, too, and headed for the bathroom to
my left. I had a craving.
“Maybe…” I heard Banks say from the bed. “Maybe I
shouldn’t sleep here anymore, you know?”
I stopped, narrowing my eyes as I turned to look at her.
Her gaze instantly dropped. She knew I didn’t want to talk
about this.
Banks was my father’s daughter, but she was mine and had
been from the day she came to live here. Her mom was some
lowlife slut, one of the many my father had kept on the
payroll, and if her mother hadn’t banged down our door for
money four years ago, I probably never would have known
Banks existed. My father certainly never acknowledged her
and still barely did.
That was fine, though. She wasn’t his. No one could take
her from me.
After the first time we met, I spent days scrounging and
stealing all the money I could find around the house and any
valuables my mother wouldn’t know were missing. It was
thousands of dollars, and Banks’ drug addict mom put on a
show of struggling with the decision for a full twelve seconds