Judas Bane

by Hera August

  Judas grins, and after a moment of silence, she grows uneasy. God, he infuriates her. He’s biding his time so he can watch her squirm. That will be just like him to draw out her misery before he reveals whatever awful plan he has in store. Squaring her shoulders, she looks up at him. She won’t give him the satisfaction; instead, she’ll smack that arrogance right off his face.

  “Aren’t you going to open it, then?”

  “Good to see you so eager,” he says, wolfishly.

  “Just get this over with,” she hisses back, shaking her head.

  Opening the door, the side of his mouth curves up. “Your room for the next hundred days.”

  Belle tries to ignore the panicked voice in her head that warns her to stay put. Endless possibilities of what he’ll demand from her, flood her mind. It takes all of her nerve to make her legs move as she shuffles inside.

  Her jaw drops. She’s standing in a room fit for a queen; not a place for one to be held against their will. The room is lit by several elegant crystal wall sconces. There’s a four-poster bed on an intricate dark wooden frame, and a large French Persian dresser. On her right, there is a small wood-burning fireplace and a dressing screen, and next to it is a small vanity.

  She treads lightly across the cream-colored marble flooring to the other side of the immense room, and peers through the wide glass doors that hold the en-suite bathroom. The white and gold ceramic bathtub, paneled in wood veneer, is already filled with steaming hot water. She opens her mouth to say something, but no words come out. The room… it steals her breath away.

  “I-I…” Her eyes wide, she turns back to look at Judas. He’s leaning against the wall on the other side. “Judas… this place… is this Mr. Kulich’s mansion or…?”

  “No. It’s all mine,” he says, in a bored manner. “I inherited it.”

  A shiver runs down her spine, and she urges her jaw to lift itself off the floor. That’s when she notices Judas isn’t leaning against a wall. It’s another door.

  And it’s out of place.

  "What's in there?" she asks, pointing, as she pads over. “Behind you.”

  He moves to the side. "Oh, that? That would be my bedroom, Belle."

  "Wh-What? Why is there a door leading from this room to your bedroom?” Unable to walk over to him, she perches on the end of the bed, feeling as though she is about to have a panic attack.

  "I need to keep a close eye on you so I know you’re not trying to escape every—"

  Belle holds up her hand. "Never mind."

  “Like it?” he asks.

  “A bit pretentious for my taste.” Belle bites her lip to cover her lie. Who is she kidding? This room is every woman’s fantasy bedroom.

  "It’s a good thing luxury isn’t your taste then,” he says, chuckling, “since I’ve decided that while you’re here you can be my personal attendant… You know—attend to my needs."

  Belle feels the blood drain from her face. What the hell did that mean? "Your... ‘needs’?"

  "Yeah.” Judas smiles coldly. “Running errands. In a nutshell—doing anything I need doing." The word ‘anything’ echoes in her mind, and it takes a great deal of effort to keep her state of alarm hidden. Judas doesn’t seem to notice that she’s barely listening as he continues, "I’ll go. Get some rest. You look like you need plenty.”

  Brushing her hand through her hair, she snaps, “How I look isn’t something I can control. Thanks to you kidnapping me.”

  “Have a bath if you want,” he says, ignoring her. “I made it while you were snoring your head off. But don’t take long. You’ll have dinner with me tonight.”

  “I’m not hungry,” she says, praying her stomach doesn’t growl then.

  “It wasn’t a request.”

  She feels like his new pet, and that irks her something awful. "And what if I don't feel like eating with you?"

  Judas seems to consider her query before replying, "Let me see... Having dinner with me or never seeing your family again? It’s a tough one, I’ll give you that."

  Belle drops her eyes. She feels his hard stare weighing on her. "Fine... I... I'll come to dinner." She chances a stolen glance at him and says, "But give me enough time to rest, at least... You’re right. I need to freshen up."

  Judas examines her up and down. "Yeah. I'm aware of that."

  Belle narrows her eyes at him. "Oh, I see. You find it funny. Well I'm not laughing. Being taken away from everyone you love isn’t something to laugh at."

  His gaze leaves hers for the main door. "I’ll leave you alone... For now."

  "Thank you so much, Judas..." She hears the door shut and flops back on the bed. "...for leading me to my doom."

  Looking around her new bedroom, she still can’t believe her eyes.

  So this is how the wealthy live... Maybe staying here won’t be so terrible...

  Then she remembers that Judas’ bedroom is connected to hers by means of a single door, which appears to have no lock on her side.

  Great, just great.

  No longer in the presence of Judas, she begins to breathe easier. Just looking at him is difficult enough; having to speak with him and answer to him is exhausting. The whole situation makes her nervous and keeps her on edge. He just exudes the sort of casual confidence that leaves her feeling weak and exposed.

  What arrogance to make her attend to his personal needs. He makes her blood boil. But then... her body seems to suffer a nervous excitement whenever he’s near, leaving her insides in knots. Every time she looks at him, a swarm of butterflies storm her tummy at how beautiful he is—which is so distracting when he makes her angry.

  God, those blue eyes...

  She shivers, wondering how the hell she’s going to survive dinner. So far, nothing horrendous has happened, aside from waking up in a locked cell. But that makes her even more wary. Judas is planning to torment her, of that, she is certain. She just doesn’t know when the nightmare will begin.

  She paces for awhile, stopping every time she thinks she hears something. Eventually she wears herself out and decides stressing won’t help any. She’ll just have take up the matter with Judas and find out exactly what he expects from a personal attendant.

  Belle eyes the tub through the glass doors. The water does look pretty tempting. Torn between her desire to feel the hot cleansing water against her skin, and her fear of Judas storming in, she hesitates. But drawn by the promise of the hot water alleviating her sore limbs, her need to feel clean and rejuvenated wins out over her fear. She drags the dressing-screen over to cover the view of the tub. Just in case.

  Undressing, she submerges herself into the water and begins washing herself with some expensive-looking soap that she found by the basin. The tub itself is quite deep and she makes sure to keep the surface of the water covered with foam. The bath is a godsend, but her gaze keeps wandering over toward the door. Both doors.

  She brushes her hair away from her face and sinks down into the water, totally submerging herself. When she resurfaces, she smoothes her drenched hair back away from her face and blinks the water out of her eyes. That's when she hears the sound of something pounding against the marble floor. Her body trembles inside. It can mean only one thing.

  Judas is back.

  She makes an attempt to sink low and cover herself. But it’s too late. He’s inside the glass doors. She gapes at him, horrified by his sudden and very unwelcome appearance. She can tell by his casual stance and his deep dimples that he chose to appear at such a perfect time.

  A whole lot of good that dressing-screen is... Why the hell did you even bother giving me one?

  His eyes rake over her form as a slow sinister smile spreads across his face. The gall to stand there while looking so smug, kindles an angry flame deep within her. "I'm taking a bath. Get out, Judas."

  "Yeah,” he replies, his dimples never fading, “so you are. Didn’t take you long to get naked."

  Overcome with debilitating nervousness, she’s hell-bent on not letting him see h
er tremble. Luckily, she’s a good actress.

  "So... what, are you above knocking before you just barge in on someone?"

  "I figured you’d want something clean to change into. I brought you up your suitcase. It’s next to the bed. You can at least pretend to be grateful."

  Her cheeks flush as her blood simmers in her veins. He’s too much. Sinking lower, she crosses her arms over her bare breasts, trying to avoid his gaze. "Fine. I'm grateful. Now leave."

  Judas tilts his head to the side as though admiring that she dares to defy him. He strides closer, his boots stomping even louder than before. Reaching the side of the tub, he bends down, resting a hand against the rim, and leans over her. Goose-bumps rise all over her body as his face hovers dangerously close to hers. She holds her breath, with no clue to his intent.

  "Get used to it, Belle,” he whispers, disquietingly. “This is my domain. And I guess that makes me some kind of—”

  “Prince of Darkness,” she mumbles.

  “I was gonna say King,” he laughs. “I go where I want and do whatever I like. I keep telling you I’m not a nice guy. So the sooner you accept that—the easier it will be for you."

  His eyes lower to her parted lips. Belle wracks her brain for some comeback, some cut-throat insult, but nothing comes, and all she can do is dumbly stare up at him, praying that he isn’t about to do what she suspects...

  Very slowly, Judas lowers his mouth, his lips only inches from hers. Her breath catches in her throat as she struggles in his dominating presence. His haunting eyes stalk hers as he murmurs, "For now, you belong to me, Belle.”

  Belle shudders at the realization that some traitorous part of her is longing for him to kiss her again. It’s a sickening feeling, her body at such odds with her head. How is he so adept at making her into such a tangled mess of emotions? Nervousness, anger, fear, and elation, seem to be twisting her guts, and the resulting effect leaves her weak and disoriented.

  Something alights in Judas’ eyes then.

  And then it happens.

  He moves his mouth ever so gently so that his lips are poised right above hers, just as his intense eyes match hers. She can’t look away. He fixes her in place, and slowly, he lowers his lips to hers, stopping, so that there is only a hairsbreadth between them. His warm breath drifts over her lips, and her mind reels in panic just as her body begs for the contact. All good sense and reason screams that she turn her head—but, unable to act, she remains rooted to the spot.

  Belle closes her eyes when the slightest stirring of air touches her, sure that his lips are about to press against hers. Just that brief moment of anticipation shakes her to her core, a jolt of something so powerful that it causes her heart to suddenly thunder in her ears. She waits for it; waits until she truly wants it.

  But the sensation of his lips against hers never comes. It’s only a hint, a whisper, a suggestion of a kiss. It leaves Belle undone. The feeling is torture, left in the limbo of disappointment, and she hates herself for having hoped for it. How can she want to kiss Judas Bane? She loathes him.

  And then as fast as it had happened, it’s over. Judas pulls back. His smugness pitches her back into hatred as he taunts in a voice full of wicked promise, "See you tonight."

  Before she can even blink, he pulls away and leaves through the glass doors, and out of her room. Only then does reality return. He came exactly when she would be the most vulnerable, just to bait her and leave her feeling unsettled and humiliated, and... longing for the kiss that was left so unfinished.

  Damn him. And damn her.

  The near kiss had been a test, Belle is almost sure of it. His way of seeing what he can get away with. And damn it, she had let him get away with it. God, if he had let his mouth linger near hers for even another second... she doesn’t even want to entertain the possibilities—but she has to. The sickening feeling of dread settles in the pit of her stomach.

  She wanted him to kiss her. And what’s worse, is that, she still wants it.

  She lacked the courage to make the move, and lacked the strength to turn her face away. Judas saw right through her. He must have. Otherwise, why else would he have drawn back with that smirk plastered on his face?

  Belle lets her head fall into her hands as she realizes the danger of the situation. Judas must know there is a part of her that still wants him. And being the egotistical, arrogant, brutal, and manipulative bastard that he is, she can only expect that he’ll find a plethora of ways to torture her.

  ‘You’ll be the one begging for me...’

  Is this what you want? You want me to beg for you?

  Uncertain, she needs to take control. It’s her only way to find out the truth. Belle may have already made a dangerous error, but she'll be damned before she makes another.

  Climbing out of the tub, she starts to dry off. Judas is cruel. He is a deceitful, conniving, heartless man. And even if all his physical charms are intensified a hundred-fold, she won’t let herself forget that he is now her nemesis.

  Now that she has an idea of what he’s up to, she plans to make the next hundred days unpleasant for him as possible. Belle smiles at the prospect of making him so miserable that he will have no choice but to end the deal early.

  She surveys her suitcase near the bed. "Okay, Judas, you want to play? I'll play your game. And I'll win."

  Chapter Twenty-One

  JUDAS IS A MANIPULATIVE BASTARD.

  He’s excellent at getting what he wants, but she’ll give new meaning to the word bitch. With her head held high, she follows him into the dining room.

  For a split second, she’s distracted by the magnificence of the room. The table is big and wide, and the elaborate candelabras by the walls cast a golden glow. Judas leans against the mantle of a large gothic fireplace that burns wildly. When the corner of his mouth tugs, Belle is reminded of her mission.

  "I knew once you saw this place you’d come around fast," he says, casually strolling over toward the table. He pulls out a chair for her. “Every woman does."

  How many women does he bring here? God, why do I even care? I don’t... I really, really, don’t.

  Sitting down, Belle bites her lower lip for a second. "I take about as much pleasure in spending any amount of time in this place... with you…" She pauses to hold up a sharp serrated knife from her place setting. "...as you would if I were to take this knife and stab it into your—”

  "Uh-ah, careful, Belle,” he grins, sitting down on the other end of the table. “You don’t wanna threaten me."

  Feeling her throat itch, she narrows her eyes at him, and mumbles, "Fine. You know how I feel about being here. While I'm stuck on this little vacation in Hell, I’ll do whatever it takes to get this over with."

  "Good. You can start tomorrow by cleaning this place up," he says, chewing a mouthful of food. “Try the lamb… You’ll love it… Cooked it myself.”

  God, he has no table-manners, whatsoever.

  Belle rolls her eyes and looks at the center of the table. It’s like sitting at a five-star restaurant. She serves herself a piece of lamb and a handful of roast potatoes. "So I’m your slave now?"

  "No. I said personal attendant, remember?”

  Belle gives him a hard look. “Am I getting paid?”

  He laughs, putting his knife and fork down. "Whatever,” he says, picking up his beer bottle. “You can start by cleaning these dishes tomorrow.”

  Belle glances down at the exquisite flatware. By the look of them, a whole years’ worth of salary from the grocery store wouldn’t have been enough to pay for it all. Her mouth watering, she takes a bite of the lamb; it tasted like ambrosia to the gods. Her taste buds on overload, Belle can’t deny he’s a pro at cooking. Still, she isn’t about to let her guard down.

  Belle raises her chin, challenging him. "Fine. But what do you expect from a ‘personal attendant’?"

  “Let's see…” he says, dragging out her misery. “…my boots need polishing."

  “You can’t be serious?�
�� Judas cocks an eyebrow, meeting her stare over the rim of his beer. He takes a swig, and her blood turns to ice.

  You probably get some sick pleasure out of ordering me around.

  Belle ingests another bite of food as she scans the dining room. She had no idea just how different their worlds are. And it made the mystery a lot more complicated. Why would a man who has every thing he wants become a killer for a crime lord?

  "What happened to you?” she asks, barely audible. “You obviously have more money than I could ever dream of,” she says, a little louder. “You must have had anything you wanted or needed... I don’t get it...” His jaw ticks and his eyes darken. She should really stop talking, but the mansion is so overwhelming, Belle forgets herself. “I’ll never forget what it was like to be poor. We had nothing. Yet, you’re the one who turned to crime.” He pins her with a hard stare. The thudding in her chest deepens. “Do you have any idea how lucky you are to have all of this?”

  The clash of metal hitting porcelain, as Judas slams his cutlery down, makes Belle’s heart leap in her throat. "Just eat your dinner," he snaps, defensively. He reaches for his beer again; this time, he knocks it back.

  Belle’s finally hit a nerve. She should keep quiet, but she isn’t about to let him off the hook. Not when she’s getting somewhere. Her eyes stray from his, and she fills her glass from a jug of water before venturing, "Where are your family, Judas?"

  When she meets his icy glare, his face becomes devoid of all emotion and he slams his beer down. “Don’t.”

  Suddenly, adrenaline courses through her veins, urging her to push. “Do they know what you do? What you’re doing to me and my family?”

  “You really wanna know?” Belle stiffens, feeling the bite of his anger. “You think money solves everything?” Judas rises from the table, his plate rattling from the tremor. “That I’ve lived a carefree life, just because I’m loaded?”

  “I didn’t—”

  “You’re right. I had every thing I ever wanted.” He moves away and claws his fingers through his hair. “Money... that’s all you people give a shit about.”