by August Red
He closes his eyes. “Because I wanted you to hate me.” His words are barely above a whisper.
“Hate you? Why?” She watches him struggle with his emotions. “You said I needed to know the whole truth. It’s now or never, Judas.”
“I don’t deserve...”
A man like Judas has probably never opened up. But she’ll keep pushing and pushing, until his defenses break. She is so close… “What don’t you deserve?” Her voice almost begs him to let her in.
“The way you look at me, Belle...” His voice comes out scratchy, broken. “The reason I’ve been… I locked you up in the basement so you would fear me enough to do what I wanted…” He turns his eyes away and she watches them turn into stone when they return to hers. “I couldn’t risk you trying to escape and Vladimir finding you—because he’ll kill you, Belle,” he thunders. For the first time, ever, she sees fear in his eyes. It chills her to the bone. “Threatening your family’s life was the only way to control you. But even after I do that to you, you still tried to look for the good in me,” he rasps. He bows his head to the side. “I hated you then,” he grits out, tormented, “you made me go against a man who’s been my only father and I couldn’t understand why I was helping you. It was killing me but I couldn’t stop myself. Everything I knew—thought I knew…” His eyes lift to hers and harden. “…You just walked into my life and destroyed everything.” She watches him fight the desperation building inside his body, and only then realizes she’s been holding her breath. “That’s why I made the deal. Wanted to play games with you. Wanted you to see the real me. I’m a monster, Belle. The kind of man who uses people, fucks with them just for fun—because that’s what I do.” His voice rises, and his breathing becomes heavy. “It’s who I am. You have no idea what I’m capable of. The things I’ve done... the things I didn’t do.” He raises his hand to glide over the scripture inked into his chest.
“I’m a bastard, Belle.” His eyes are red and glassy with rage. His fists clench so tightly, they’ve gone white. “I’ve hurt men, killed men. There’s nothing in me that should ever be in your life. I don’t deserve the kind of happiness you bring me when I’m near you. The second I came into your life I destroyed it,” he roars. He draws in a shaky breath, bracing himself before continuing in a gruff voice, “I don’t deserve to be looked at the way you look at me. To feel the way you make me feel. All my life I’ve felt wrong in the head. But you make me feel... right. I… don’t deserve it. I’m not a good man and... someone like you... I was determined to make you hate me.”
Her heart sinks, remembering the night that changed her world forever. “Sleep with me and then act as if it meant nothing...” Her voice is small and timid.
He nods, solider-like and uncomfortable. “I needed you to come to me first. Then after I… after we… I planned to act like it meant nothing to me. I wanted you to hate me so much so everything could go back to the way it was. When life was simple. Without these fucking feelings killing me, tearing me apart,” he rumbles. Watching him shudder, he closes his eyes, sighing deeply. When they flicker open, his eyes shuffle everywhere but at her. “I’ve slept with more women than I can count and never once felt anything. I thought sleeping with you would make them go away, give me back control...” When his eyes finally settle on to hers, they’re fierce with anguish. “But it didn’t. It only made things worse.” His breathing is heavy, tight. “It made me want you more.” Her head spins with a thousand thoughts as he continues, “You and me... it can never be. You’re intelligent enough to know that, Belle.” He licks his lips, his eyes stray low on her face and the heat on her cheeks rises. “But that doesn't mean I don't want it to."
“You don’t…?” Her head leans forward, pushes against her will.
“I don't want this to be over." His agonizing whisper mirrors the ache growing inside her. The words brush against her like hot fingertips cascading down her breasts, bending her restraint to the brink, drawing out her strength like a suction.
“What do you want?” she whispers in a tremor. And like a magnet—polar opposites attracting—she moves toward him.
“I can't promise you tomorrow, but for the time that we're here…"
A blush as red as hers, on skin as white as hers… there is no place to hide. “Yes?"
“…I can make the pain go away, Belle. For you.” His face presses closer to hers, her attention rivets by his mesmerizing eyes and plump naked mouth. “I can give you the world."
“And… then what?” she murmurs, her eyes drift shut as his nose bumps hers.
“Then we go back to our lives. You and your family will be safe and I'll—”
“You'll go back to what you do.”
“Yeah…” He breathes against her cheek, the slight brush of air makes her quiver even though he’s scarcely touching her.
Sighing hard, Belle shakes her head, pulling back from him, as if to ward away the immensity of his power. When she draws away from the security of his warm body, she is torn to shreds within.
With greater care than she has ever seen anyone move, Judas skims the side of her bruised cheek. “Now…” he murmurs, his fingers tracing the curve and dip of the shape, “…is all we have, Belle."
“What if that's not enough for me?” She feels her soul slipping between the cracks. The blue staring back at her, crystallizes, brilliant and undiluted.
“I know I can’t have what I want. Not this time.” He clears his throat, but the begrudging statement of his next words come out strangled, “All I have is right now… if you want it.... I can’t make that promise of forever."
“Tell me what you want,” she implores in a ragged breath. She wants to—needs to—know every inch of him, inside and out.
Her breathing tumbles, staggering while his grows to an audible rasp. “You."
“Me…?” Her voice fades, the residual lace of self-doubt echoing between them.
“You,” he repeats, “just you.” Somehow the distance between them evaporates, diminishing her grasp on what he’s just said, making her lose ground as he nears her, overshadowing her world.
“What could I give you?"
“I owe you… Let me take away the pain I caused… for a little while.” He scoops her face in between his hands. “Whatever you want… whatever you need… desire… Anything."
The urge to give in and crumble, to lean on him without inhibition—all of it is spinning around in her brain at warp speed. “Judas...” She licks her lips, winces a bit at the sting it causes. “All this… it’s confusing me. I don’t know if I can do this and just walk away. Pretend I never had you, like this… I just don’t know if I can."
“I'm not asking you to pretend. I'm asking you to let me wash my sins away with you.” He finds her hand that clings to her side, and pulls it toward his lips. “Here.” He kisses her palm and looks straight into her eyes. “Right now. Belle. Be my redemption."
Belle frees her hand from his and steps away. “I can't… I need… I just need some time. To think about it. Everything that’s happened… it’s too much to think properly… Is that okay?"
His tone is rich and thick in understanding as it washes over her, “Okay.”
He moves in close again, growing over her like the warm shade of a tree. She backs away a few inches, head down, eyes filmed by her pervading thoughts, then walks around him. She feels off-balanced.
“Let me help you get into your bed."
“No,” she quickly counters, shaking him off with a faint smile and turning back to watch where she’s going. “I'm okay.” She limps into the hallway, face to the side, a wall of tears in her eyes.
Silence falls.
Deeper.
Her thinking, her thoughts now, are louder than any shouting or cries she has done with him. Belle has spent most of her life hiding the way she truly feels, but Judas sees it all. It’s wreaking havoc on her, makes her feel like her skin is on a rack and being stretched without mercy.
“Wait." The one word
, hushed and growled, stops her in her tracks to escape him.
He enters the hallway, grabs for something in his back pocket, turns it over in his hand a couple of times. His hand is so large and whatever he’s holding is so small, it takes her several seconds to actually see what it is.
“Here.” He reaches for her hand and she lets him. Cupping the back, the heat of his palms scorch her knuckles under his touch. Looking up at him, Judas clears his throat. “I'm going to press send. When the man on the other end picks up, tell him who you are and he'll give the phone to your dad."
“Dad… You mean I can talk to him?"
“At least I can do this for you. But not long. This is an untraceable phone. I'm dumping it once everything’s over, but I don't wanna take any chances. Five minutes tops."
“Judas… I…” Scarce for words, her head shakes from side to side. “Thank you,” she gently lets out.
He releases her hand and backs away, but his eyes never let go of her. “Remember…” The tiny lift of the corner of his mouth tilts. “…Anything."
THE LUMP IN HER THROAT INFLATES, blocking her already tensed breaths. "Dad, I love you."
Belle can see her father in her mind, smiling on the other end of the phone. “I love you too, Pumpkin."
“Tell Mom and Toby I love them and can’t wait to see them again."
“I will. Look after yourself. See you soon, Pumpkin.”
His voice is gone, disappearing just as quick and out of nowhere as it had appeared, like an apparition of her making.
“Yes… soon...”
Clicking the flap shut, she fists the phone in her hand, the first of her tears falling against both her cheeks. Repeating her words, she whispers into the dimly lit room, “Soon...” and then her face falls forward into her cupped hands.
Her cries come unhindered and she’s a little alarmed by how much the tears rack through her body. Her shoulders bounce uncontrollably and the burning tightness in her stomach spreads, making her feel numb.
Belle tries her hardest to remain as quiet as possible, muffling the involuntary anguished moans. Being separated from the ones she loves is like having a piece of her ripped out; everything is spinning inside her. The heartache tears at her.
The heel of a palm, hard but soothing, works its way up and down her back. Not wanting to, but unable to stop herself, she goes rigid, her defenses up. She wipes her wet nose and then her cheeks, apologizing before she even turns. “I'm sorry."
“Hey,” Judas says, brushing the veil of hair so he can see her face better. “Belle."
When her head remains down, he comes closer, twisting the chair so that she’s completely in front of him.
He never lets her hide.
“I was just upset... It’s no big deal," she croaks.
“Stop."
Her eyes peer up at him. “Stop what?"
He skims his thumb down the side of her forehead to her cheek, resting comfortably on the edge of her chin. “Stop pretending you're not hurt."
She nods. “I'm fine."
“Don't believe you.” His other hand comes up, cupping her shoulder. Judas’ expression mirrors her own—lost, but peacefully hungry in that state.
“Sorry.” Her tongue sweeps across her lower lip, the flesh begging for moisture from the cold.
Judas’ gaze strays lower, shadowing in a haze of distant want. “Don't be sorry."
Belle's effort to keep her head straight from swimming is half-hearted. “It’s just hard hearing his voice… It brings back all this pent-up… stuff."
“I promise it’ll be over soon."
The promise subsides the storm of emotion inside her, pressing it down until nothing is left but a whisper, “I know."
“It’s me who should be sorry."
The magnitude of his stare brings her to the edge of her seat. She leans closer, her forehead grazing his. “Don't be. You saved our lives. You saved mine... again."
His eyes smile down, twinkling like stars over moonlight. “That's not what you said before."
She can’t smile, can’t even breathe to make herself think. All she understands is that the pain inside her is vanishing and is being replaced by something violent, overpowering, plowing everything else aside. “Things change."
The whirlwind sweeping through her reflects in his stare, overtaking him like he’s as much a victim to the magnetic pull between them as she is. “Yeah, they do."
“Judas,” she breathes in a warning, not sure who she’s speaking to.
The back of his knuckles slowly trace across the span of her skin, each knuckle, rough and weathered, ignites a flame underneath in its leave.
“Can you…?” Her full mouth opens then shuts.
“Belle.” His eyes close and his other hand tightens over her chin. “I can make you forget.”
Arching her back, and leaning up to meet him, the dark desire that’s swelling inside her, echoes in his words. Helpless against his power, she lets him kiss her, long, soft and deep. He kisses her with care, with unleashed recklessness. Discovering and frantic, their gasps mount over one another, each one more stunned and destroyed than the next.
Wrapping his arms around her whole back, Judas lifts her off the seat and her legs lock around his tight torso. Their kisses never break, never retire from their starving pace of need, as they feed off one another, get so lost and so tangled, that somewhere along the way, without their knowledge, they find themselves in one another.
SHE UNDERSTANDS NOW.
Her whole life has been a prelude to this moment.
Wrapped up so tight in the warm safety of arms and legs, breath and hands, small figments and fragments that all piece together, Belle frees herself.
It’s always in those quiet rumbling seconds where Judas first touches her that always sends her excuses away, never to be seen again. Now she revels in their departure; happy for once that her brain ceases from its rampant upheaval, easing her soul and letting her banquet in the glory of this fanciful-like dream.
It’s raining outside. But neither of them have noticed. Neither of them care to even step out of the sweet enclosed space of the living-room. Life and time have come to a stop, obliging their need to just be. Damning their futures, the inevitable breaking of their hearts, they pretend nothing else exists but this enclosed break of time. This is their life, right in this second of kissing and hot murmurs. Everything else can wait.
They’re lying on the couch. Practically naked. Belle, in only her sweatpants, and him, in just jeans. Judas is over her, into her; his body, his skin, a patchwork of his and her flesh. He kisses her, hard, deeper, ordering for further access that Belle isn’t sure is possible to give. She remains shaky under him, still in awe to his large masculine form and how his vast presence compromises all her goodness.
Judas’ hand dashes out, cups her head that’s laying on the pillow behind her and draws her to him, crushing her face to his, suspending her face and his in midair, like they’re frozen together, locked in that sensation and moment.
His enduring need for her seems never-ending. Nothing is able to satisfy or sedate it. The man is wild. A vessel of white-hot lust. Insatiable. The past twenty-four hours only being filled with kissing, intimate touches, whispers, only breaking for food and minor necessitates. Judas has become her world, filling her vision, the start and stop of every thought. It scares her, excites her.
It shakes her to the very essence of her soul.
Her moan turns urgent, “Judas...” His mouth is greedy as it delves, sinking into her with open kisses that suck the breath from her lungs, sending her back down to the couch and taking him with her.
Her whole body flowers open, inviting him in. Her legs trap around his, the heels of her feet dig into the back of his knees. His hands glide between her face and body, going back and forth as though both feel too good to choose. Her head shifts from the side, facing him, taking his mouth in hers. The tip of her tongue traces the outlining of his bottom lip, then the open sp
ace of his mouth, lapping out in a roll that calls for him but finds empty. She stretches up farther, gliding her tongue across the bottom row of teeth, then the top, waiting for him to meet her blatant proposal.
She feels his body hold off a bit, linger, as he watches the begging state of her body groaning. Being servant to his will, her fingernails bury themselves into his scalp and the back of his neck. Belle is half-crazed, her brain melting with desire.
Patiently, with intentional exaggeration, his tongue, coarse and slick, finds hers, conquers hers down from her fumbling pause into her mouth and drinks from her. First in slow, soft strokes, then in arrogant strokes that heighten the sensations in her to the point of total submission; until all she feels is the wetness between her legs, the shake of her shoulders, and the brush of fiery wings low in her belly.
His right hand slowly drifts down, melding her breast; the mass of his hand devours the round jiggling flesh. The pad of his thumb lands right on her nipple, but he doesn’t skim the aching bud, just stays planted there, waiting, burning a hole with the weight of his finger as Belle arches her back and moans into his mouth.
He squeezes, possessively. “You make me wanna do things I’ve never done before…” Judas groans throatily.
Instead of continuing in his taunting clutches, his hand skates down, the weathered tips of his fingers brushing across her naked tummy like a rocket of fire, before continuing the journey down, untying her pants in one, quick jot.
Awaiting and careful, his hand glides across her stomach, setting the touch of him on her skin in its place. His fingers slip between the crease of her pants, in and out, touch and go, breezing like electric feathers over her body. She bites her lip as Judas looks down, entranced, as though he’ll die if he doesn’t go inside her soon; embed so deep, she’ll be sweating and gasping under him.
“Judas,” she whimpers in her throat, “please." The diving exploration of his kiss freezes and shatters. Judas doesn’t move, doesn’t back away like Belle expects. He remains just as close as if he’s kissing her. But he isn’t. His breathing becomes ragged as it falls across her still open mouth. “Judas.” She licks her lips, making him groan as his forehead leans into hers. “Make love to me again.”