by August Red
His eyes close; hers stay open, watching his confliction. The battle within shades his color in an exerting red, his skin rippling against the strain of need for her.
Judas wants her.
She wants everything with him.
Her hand comes up, sheltering his cheek with it, wanting to comfort him, but not knowing what it will take to release him of his commitment to maintain a certain distance between them.
“Judas.” She kisses the corner of his mouth. “It's okay. I know now what I want."
His head waves, dismissing her sentiment and the unconscious incitement that it carries beneath it. “You don't know what you're saying," he lightly rasps into her ear.
“Yes. I do." His body seems to be stuck on her, craving the taste and feel of her.
“Belle. I won’t do this.” His swollen mouth lingers over hers. “I can't."
“Why? I want to.” Belle's graceful caress seems to burn his thinking, almost banishing his steel restraint. “I need you—”
“Shssh.”
He kisses her, the center of his mouth puckering out to press gently against hers. Then he is up and away from her. His warmth gone, vanishing, leaving only the raging ghost of his penetrating self. She breathes a few deep breaths.
“I thought you wanted this… wanted me… I thought…"
“I do,” Judas says in a ragged breath. He leans in her direction, his arm coming up to lay around the back of the couch. His voice is deep, a caving mystery, “I do, Belle."
She sits up, leaning on her elbows, peering at him through filmed eyes. Using her elbows, she voyages the rest of the way up. Her bottom slides up as her arms circle her bent legs that come to rest against her heaving chest.
“Then why are you holding back with me?" she asks, pulling her white undershirt over her head.
His eyes stab truthfully into hers. “I'm not," he mutters.
“You're afraid."
A playful, almost sinful smirk tugs at his lips. “The last thing I feel around you is fear."
“Then what is it?” His silence pushes more distance between them. “This can’t be forever, I get that. I can live with that, Judas." Her insecurity claws for release as heat stampedes her cheeks. “Unless… I know I'm not as experienced as the other women you've been with…"
He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. Suddenly she can read everything Judas is feeling. His hurt, his anger, the direct hit she’s just slapped across his face.
“You think that?” he accuses with a hooded brow, but speaks the words as a question.
“I don't know what to think,” Belle explains, weakly. “Why are you holding back?"
“I don't want to hurt you, is that so wrong?” he says, his voice gruff. “For once in my goddamn life I'm trying to do the right thing."
Belle shakes her head lightly. “Right thing…? How? I want to be with you. If this is our time, if we only have one chance then—”
“That's not a good reason!” he roars. “You don't jump into something just because you think it might be gone the next minute!"
“But it will be!” she yells back. “All this will. There is no ‘if’…” Her voice echoes hollowly in the air. “I don’t want to hide from you, Judas,” she murmurs. “Never with you.”
The silence gathers and escalates between them, parting them in two separate directions. Head hung, Judas looks away from her, but as though the rise of his emotions has a mind of its own, they finally break and bridge the small gap.
“I want you,” he confesses, under the breath of his words. She hardly hears him, but it feels like he’s screaming it to her. “I want you so bad it’s killing me inside.” She can feel his body trembling, crumpling beneath. Lustful agony scorches through her skin at his poignant want. “The things I’ve done… I fucking hate myself!” he thunders.
“Judas—”
“There. You satisfied?” He stands, but Belle for once is faster, shooting up and blockading his attempt to escape her. She ignores the dizziness it brings.
“No."
“What?” he mutters. His hands come up, agitated.
“No.” Belle swallows, laying her hand in the middle of his bare chest and pressing her fingertips where she can feel his heartbeat—erratic, like a wild drumbeat against her skin. “No, I'm not satisfied. Only you can…" Her fight is a lost one and she hesitates, tipping her head up as she moves closer. “…satisfy me.”
Drawing in a steady breath, he asks, “Why do you want me knowing this can’t last... after what I did, what I've done?”
“You’re beautiful Judas—I don’t mean physically. I mean…” She presses her hand further into his chest. Over his heart. “…here.”
His jaw tightens and stares down at her with tortured blue eyes as he murmurs, “The things I’ve done—”
“I've seen the good things you’ve done,” she says, determined.
“Doesn’t outweigh the bad I’ve inflicted,” he says in breathless anger.
“It’s enough.”
His hand clenches and his eyes narrow. “I won’t sleep with you again,” he says, tersely. “I’m rotten—”
“No, you’re not, Judas,” she shoots back. Her hand caresses upwards, along his neck, across his jaw, and cups the side of his face. “Listen to me. Would a bad person save me?” His head angles down as though her words torment him. “Tell me, if you’re so bad, why did you save me and my family from Mr. Kulich? Risk everything?” He doesn’t say or do anything. “Tell me!” she roars.
He finally raises his head, but doesn’t quite look at her. His usual icy-blue eyes look like they’re made from glass.
Tears.
Tears that haven’t fallen yet.
Judas Bane, the heartless killer of a crime lord… bleeds for her.
“I owed you my life,” he murmurs, his face tight.
“No, you think a bad person would care if I’d saved them or not? Doesn’t that tell you something about yourself? Stop fighting the truth. There’s more to it than that and you know it.”
He hardens his voice, “There is nothing more.”
“Yes there is.” She moves her free hand to cup the other side of his face, pulling his head to hers, and looks straight into his devastatingly blue eyes. “Look at me. I’ve seen you, Judas. Seen you like you saw me once. You can’t hide from me either. God knows I'm an expert at hiding from the world, so I know when someone else is doing it. You’ve sacrificed yourself for me. You just need someone to have a little faith in you. Let me be the one. Judas, you’re a good person. Deep down.”
“Don’t,” he strains out through clenched teeth.
“You are,” she says, unable to hide the trembling in her voice. “You don’t think you deserve happiness.”
“I don’t,” he whispers angrily.
“Yes, you do!”
“I’ll only drag you to Hell!” he thunders into her face, his chest heaving. She flinches back from his dark temper, severing any connection they had. She can’t win with him.
The militant hold slips a little, his voice husky as he peers down at her. “I'm trying to protect you.” The soothing quality of his voice descends on her just as his warm palms wrap around her waist and gently squeeze the tension away. “Can't you see that?" He presses his forehead against hers, his face anxious. Torn.
“No, you’re a coward.” She juts her hips back, hoping he'll receive the not-to-subtle gesture and remove his hands. “Evil is not who you are. It’s a choice. With me, you chose to be good—”
“Belle,” he warns, refusing to let her go.
She doesn’t move and neither does he. His body is still barricaded against hers. The heat of him is filtering though her, making her dizzy for sleep again. It’s weakening and dousing like he has some natural elixir seeping from him to her, making her stay in place when she wants to remove herself more than anything.
Judas closes his eyes. She doesn’t know if that’s a good sign or not, but she fights the instinct to shut d
own and hide away. Judas finally opens them with a heavy sigh, placing them fully on her with a focus that makes her squirm. “Belle,” he murmurs, with brutal softness, “I'm doing this for you. I don't want you to regret anything."
“I won't."
“Or hate me.” Her strength of desire falls empty on his ears and yanks hard at her heart. He shakes his head as though fighting himself of what he needs. “I thought I was just like them… I thought I could take what I wanted from you and throw you away after… But it’s the last thing I want now... I can’t be like them…”
“Like whom?” she asks, desperate.
“Another piece-of-shit who uses you then walks away. You’re too precious for my world, Belle. I could never live with myself if I… broke you."
“I could never—"
“Don't,” he whispers harshly. “You hated me before.”
“That’s not fair, Judas.” She whips around, turning her back to him. “God, I was too stupid to ever think—"
“Belle…” He grabs her again, forcing her to face him. “I can make it up to you.” He brushes his hand up her arm and caresses her neck. “You know I can." His tone becomes gruff, making her flesh tingle in between her legs. But she can’t allow herself to follow a dead-end path.
“Just stop,” she snaps, holding her hand up in between their bodies. “I’m not getting through to you, am I?” she chokes, the lump in her throat threatening to consume her. “I… just… I need some space.” Taking a step back, she wraps her arms around her chest, her breasts visible through the sheer fabric of the undershirt. Judas reaches out to grab her, but the effort isn’t enough to catch her as she moves away. His brow curls, his eyes darken, watching her.
“Belle." God, why does he have to sound like that—all guttural? Every word feels like a hook is reaching down his throat and ripping at his intestines. It confuses her. He confuses her.
She shuts her eyes for a second, licks her parched lips. “When am I leaving?"
Clearly unprepared for that swift turn in direction, Judas’ mouth slits open, his eyes widening, then squinting. “What does that have to do with what we're talking about?"
“I want to know. I miss my family.” Her answer is stiff, holding herself in place inside. Protecting herself. “It's soon right?"
Judas nods. “As soon as it can be arranged you'll be free of this… of me." The blue in his eyes ice over. His mouth pinches down as he looks away and stares out into the endless night. “End of the week. Tops."
"Good.” His head whips back to her. She falters a step, but finds her balance to remember her stance when she looks at the floor. She refuses to make eye contact even though his body and hard glare is demanding her attention. “You know, for everyone involved. Good. You can… and I can… It’s better this way."
Belle tries to walk around him, giving her body more distance than is necessary, so he won’t grab her, but somehow, his hand reaches out and pulls her back, his fingers enclosing around her upper arm as he jerks her to his side.
Bringing his head down within inches of hers, his stare somehow is both chagrined and hurt. “Stop it."
“Stop what?” She peers up at Judas, playing innocent. Tears fill her vision.
“Belle, don't,” he warns in a plea that washes over her, almost makes her break her resolve. “Don't do this. I don’t want it to end like this."
“I'm just doing what's right. For both of us, Judas. We were stupid to think that we could do this and be okay. So I'm following your lead and cutting this short."
“My lead?” He pulls her closer with a rough movement that almost makes her fumble over her feet. “I don't want this." His rasp is drenched in angry misery.
“But you don't want me, right? All of me, that is,” she dares, a tear pooling under her eye. “Just what you think is fitting. Well I can't do this, Judas. I can't do that. This is hard enough as it is. I can't deny you. I'm not a robot, okay? I'm not you!” Her mouth clamps shut but she’s already too late. Her words have done their damage.
Judas lets go of her, but doesn’t move away like she thinks he will. Instead, he comes closer. So close, his breathing, hot and trembling, pierce the flesh of her ear as he whispers darkly and lowly, “You think I don't want you. You think that every time I don't see, smell, or touch you…” His eyes close, his breathing grows shakier. “…that I don't want to have you right there… That you've fucked me up so bad inside I can’t do anything—anything!” he roars, “without feeling you."
They’re both shaking now, both glued in place, aroused and hungry, and neither willing to move to stop or start anything. Judas’ head draws back, his woody musk scent invading her as he breaks only far enough to really look at her.
His hand rises and she yearns for the contact, feeling gravity pull her to him—but she fights it, flinches away and manages to avoid the slow travel of his hand that aches for just a graze of skin.
“No."
“No?” He comes closer, disregarding her.
“No, Judas. I want all of you. We shared something together the other night and by saying you don’t deserve it—taints what we did! You’re making it out like it was something bad, something to be ashamed of. How do you think that makes me feel?” Her knees threaten to fold under his blazing eyes, but she draws in a fortifying breath and pushes on, “And how can you expect me to use you and be okay with that? I’m not like the other women in your life. Don’t you get that?"
“I'm trying to protect—"
“Stop saying that! You're scared, Judas. Afraid to get close to someone.” She wipes a tear from her cheek. “Maybe you’re right,” she says, her voice soft. “Maybe this isn't supposed to happen at all.” Her body feels tight; she needs space. Bracing herself, Belle finally walks past him.
This time, he lets her walk away.
“It shouldn't be this hard," she murmurs shakily.
Just before she enters the hallway, she pauses, looks back to him. With more strength than she’s ever had, she says, “Judas. All the bad you’ve done, the dangerous life you live... What you need to understand is, none of that takes away from the fact that I need you.”
Belle doesn’t wait for a response. Doesn’t want to hear his rejection. His excuses. Leaving, she slowly and carefully makes her way to her bedroom, takes off her pants, and collapses onto the bed.
Tears burn under her closed eyelids. She wants to sleep, stop thinking, cause the demons to relent a little before everything starts all over again. But her mind won’t let her. Every time she starts to slip into some sort of semi-sleep, Judas, his face, his deep blue eyes specifically, stare back at her in her mind—cold and remorseless, hurt and stung. He’s always acted like he doesn’t care about anything. But she was wrong.
So wrong.
She had been wrong about Judas from the very beginning. Especially about who he is. Judas isn’t just some twisted murderer; some cold, hard, living, breathing statue, that eats and drinks death. He has a heart. She’s seen it. Seen his warmth, the way he cares for her, risks his life for her, again and again. He’s shown her more tenderness than she ever thought was humanly possible. Judas is so much, so many things, just trying to figure out what he means to her, overwhelms her.
Because… I...
Belle's eyes open, her breath stalls as realization takes over—
A muffled noise comes from the door, making her body shudder. It finally dawns on her in that single moment. She is in love with him. Madly. Deeply. In love with Judas Bane.
Her captor.
Her hero.
Her everything.
“Belle."
Leaping up, the covers fall from her, loose strands of hair blocking her vision. She can barely make out the dark figure that steps through the doorway and closes the door behind in one agonizingly, slow move.
“I can’t stay away.”
“Judas,” she replies, out of breath.
The lock clicks.
His eyes, neon blue, lock on her as he walks
to the foot of the bed and opens his mouth to speak, but the room remains empty, except for the pulsing throb of awareness that kicks up between them.
And when Judas finally does talk, he sounds like a man who fights a great battle, who is weary with defeat, and who wants more than anything to surrender to the need that plunders him. “I can't fight this anymore,” he whispers between them, soft and deep, as though famished by the sight of her. He licks his lips. "I don't want to.” His face, along with his stare, darken, like the blackest of midnights. “Unless you turn me way. Do you want to turn me away, Belle?"
HE CAN HEAR HIS OWN HEARTBEAT THUMP as the knock on the door breaks Luis from his frame of mind. He has to be focused. Stay on track. Or he’s going to slip up.
And Vladimir Kulich never shows any mercy. Never.
“Come in,” Vladimir says. “The door's unlocked."
Roman and Luis enter, shoulder to shoulder. You can cut the tension in the air with a knife.
Something feels… odd.
“Luis, sit,” Vladimir orders. He waves a hand to the empty couch at his left before standing and fixing the unseen crinkles of his tailor-made shirt and pants. “Roman, good work.” Vladimir’s grin make the hairs on Luis’ arms stand up.
Luis sits on the edge of the seat, his stare darts between the two men at both sides. Sweat breaks out on the top of his forehead. He can feel it slide down his back and over the slope of his palms. In the past thirty seconds, he’s been pinching the inside of his knee not to crack. Something’s definitely wrong. Something bad.
“So, uh… Boss,” Roman says, shifting his weight from foot to foot, “you want me to stay or go?"
Vladimir smiles like the Devil himself has taken possession of him. Roman smiles back, a twinkle in his eyes, like he’s feeding on something good and tasty. Shaking his head, Vladimir snickers like Roman has just told a racy joke. Vladimir pulls something from the back of his pants.
Neither Luis or Roman see the gun before it’s too late.
The cold metal device aims and points at the bulky man opposite Luis.
Luis watches the look of crippling fear bunch Roman’s features together as their boss grins, “No. I want you to go. But thanks for asking,” and then he pulls the trigger.