by Hera August
Judas sighs quietly. "Maybe later, okay?"
"Upstairs. Now," he orders the girls who obey immediately. Vladimir eyes the nearly dead fire, shaking his head. “You all right? I mean after everything."
“Part of the job,” Judas mumbles.
“'Part of the job’,” Vladimir mimics. “Shut the fuck up. You know that's fucking bullshit." Judas tenses. “I know you, man. I know you better than you know your fucking yourself. You don't like to feel because it fucking complicates things."
Judas shrugs. “Yeah, so?"
“But it's not that you can't feel.” Vladimir waves his hand in the air, brushing the dyed-black hair from his eyes. "You're just better at controlling your emotions than everybody else. You got heart, Judas, I’ve seen it. You get it from your mother. God bless her beautiful fucking soul."
Judas feels his muscles tighten, but continues staring into the fireplace, a spark of a flame holding his sole attention. He doesn't want to think about his mother. Not right now. Not while Vladimir is watching his every move. Judas needs to hold strong.
“Admit it. That girl got to you."
Judas eyes him. “Vladimir," he warns.
“C'mon. I mean you're a fucking heartless bastard most of the time. You treat the bitches like dog-shit. You're probably the most selfish guy in the world. Besides me, of course."
“Maybe.”
“'Maybe' he says,” Vladimir grumbles, chuckling under his breath. “You fuck her?" Vladimir smirks as Judas restrains the edges of his features from hardening. “You did, didn’t you? You dog. You fucked her! Oh, man... Gotta hand it to you, Judas, I knew you were hard-up and all but you could've at least waited till you got home. I'm sure those bitches upstairs would've drained your balls, no problem. Fuck, man, I wish I was you now. Shoulda fucked her myself in front of that asshole Spencer... Jesus fucking Christ, the ass on that girl must’ve been so tight. Probably begging for cock, the stupid bitch.”
Vladimir is testing him. When it comes to matters of the heart, Vladimir is downright psychologically crafty. Testing. Always testing. He knows the way to a man's motives is through his mind. How he thinks, speaks, approaches every subject, these subtleties are what tell a person everything they need to know about the other. The wheels inside Vladimir's head are always turning. Judas bets even in sleep.
The urge to rip Vladimir’s head off, for the things he said about Belle, makes his bones set on fire with anger. But he remains indifferent on the outside, brushing off his jeans.
“Lemme get you something to eat," Judas offers, hoping the subject of Belle is closed. He doesn’t want to do something he’ll regret.
Head falling back onto the couch, Vladimir sighs harshly. “Hey, as long as you enjoyed yourself, Judas. I know I would’ve."
Judas heads toward the kitchen. "Go take a shower."
It takes a couple of seconds but Vladimir gets up. “You're back for good, right?"
Pausing in the threshold of the two rooms, Judas turns. “No.”
Vladimir's easy manner quickly disintegrates. "The fuck you mean 'no'? I’ve fixed a fight with one of Abruzzi’s dogs for you."
“I'm taking off for a while—not too long. Get Crusher to do it."
“Judas,” he spits his name out like a curse, “need you with me, man."
Ignoring his boss's usual rise of anger, Judas returns his angry words with his own placated ones. “It's not for good. Just a month or so… Goin’ whether you like it or not, Vladimir."
“Don't like it,” Vladimir bluntly responds, walking around his leather couch. “The guys know about this?"
“They got nothing to do with this."
“Luis!” Vladimir yells.
Luis comes charging down the stairs, still buttoning up his jeans, his shirt open. “Yeah, Boss.” Luis skitters an anxious look between the two men.
“You know about this? About this fucker leaving?”
Judas comes between the two, his back to Luis. “Luis's got nothing to do with this."
“Answer the question!” Vladimir's black glare centers on Luis. “Did you know—”
“N-No, sir. Not at all.” Luis’s voice cracks. “J-Judas and me don't talk about things that're none of my business."
“Is that right?” Vladimir moves closer.
“Vladimir.” Judas places a hand on Vladimir's shoulder when he sees him step closer to Luis. “Leave him alone."
Vladimir's hands come up, his mood shifting again, his face lighting up as if he's been caught-off-guard. “You always were a sucker for bitches."
Judas doesn’t return his sentiment, turning his head halfway. “Leave, Luis." Grabbing his jacket, Luis heads out the front door without another word. Judas and Vladimir continue to stare at one another, neither of them backing down. Judas doesn’t waste time hedging around Vladimir's unpredictable mood. “What's wrong with you?"
“I could ask you the same. When did you become Luis's hero?"
Judas doesn’t like his loyalty being questioned from anyone, but he also has to consider the situation. When Vladimir acts like this, anything, including his loyalty, is up for question.
“He's done nothing wrong."
“Luis's a little bitch," Vladimir spits. "I was just playing around."
Staring the man down, Judas replies, "Just leave it be."
“Whatever." Vladimir backs away, nearing the stairs. "Think I'll take a shower with the girls." Nodding, Judas continues to watch him. “Make my steak raw, yeah? I wanna see it bleed."
“Yeah."
Judas finds his way to the kitchen, just as Vladimir pauses in the middle of the grand staircase. He eyes Judas as though the wheels in his head are turning. Finally he vanishes from view.
Yeah, Judas is walking on thin ice.
Very thin ice.
Chapter Twenty-Five
SHE IS LATE.
Oh God, Oh God, where is he?
The harsh light of the Sun stings her eyes. She notices her window has been opened, and can hear the distant chirping of birds as the crisp smell of Autumn wafts through her bedroom. Dragging herself up, she wonders why Judas hasn’t come to wake her. Her worries are abandoned as she notices the breakfast tray sitting on her vanity, meaning that he’s already come, and for whatever reason, he let her sleep in.
Since Judas’ earlier warning, over a week ago, he hasn’t been monstrous, but his demeanor is cold and business-like. The fact that they’d kissed nearly two weeks ago has apparently changed nothing between them. They haven’t even spoken of it, and there’s no sign that it will happen again. She may be spared from making a big mistake, but she can’t rid herself of the sinking disappointment that’s plagued her these last few nights.
She pads over to the tray and lifts the ornate silver cover. There’s a plate brimming with mixed fruit and some tempting sweet cakes. Beside the glass of milk, she notices a neatly folded piece of paper. Snatching it up, she reads it.
Belle,
Look behind the screen.
Tonight, my turn.
-J
Belle hurries over to the dressing-screen. A black sheet covers something on a stand. She throws it back and gasps.
Never before has she seen a more beautiful dress. It’s an exquisite embroidered backless dress, crafted from a shimmering white fabric. With shaky fingers, she examines the material of one delicate sheer strap. It’s beyond breathtaking, and no doubt, a dress worth more than anything she can afford in a lifetime.
With a deep breath, Belle removes her chemise and slips into the dress. She slides her feet into the glass heels she finds underneath the dress and stands in front of the mirror.
Judas can be a bastard sometimes, but he has taste. The fit of the dress is just as flawless as the striking design, and the hue of the white fabric brings out the warmth of her eyes and compliments her hair beautifully. Regardless of the anxiety she harbors about the upcoming evening, she can’t help but be excited at the prospect of wearing such a stunning dress. Belle arranges t
he gown back in its proper place on the stand. She dresses in her own plain clothes and returns to her vanity to eat her breakfast.
She then spends the rest of the afternoon running outside and studying in the courtyard before she begins to prepare for Judas’ night. After a long hot bath, Belle applies the finishing touches to her lipstick when the blazing orange light of the setting Sun spreads across her room.
As if on cue, a gentle draft stirs behind her. Cool air engulfs her, as the image of her captor appears in the mirror, just behind her own reflection. His gaze wanders over her. Judas has the eyes of a practiced hunter, piercing and fierce. They seemingly miss nothing.
Belle's full pink lips part as she takes in his reflection looming behind her. He’s in the most sexiest outfit she’s seen him in to date, dressed in a white-collared shirt, black suit pants and a fitted waistcoat to match. She tries not to stare at his reflection. But she can’t stop. The wheels of her mind seem to grind to a halt as she struggles to think of something intelligent to say.
Another moment passes by. At this point, she’ll settle for anything to say. Anything will be better than retaining a look of dumb astonishment. Before she can say anything though, Judas steps closer. His mouth twists into that arrogant smirk that she both loves and loathes. "For you... Take it."
There, in his hand, is a perfect red rose. Just the thought of him doing something so traditionally romantic makes her insides crumble. She begs for the ability to step outside herself so she can give herself a good hard smack for being so affected by the gesture. But—damn him—he looks as though he’s just stepped right out of her dreams. Her innermost secret dreams that verge on sensual, if not wholly naughty.
"What... what's this for?" she croaks, her throat suddenly gone dry.
"It's for you,” he says, in a voice that caresses her ears.
"Oh..."
"You look beautiful.”
Belle's head swims, her knees start to buckle, and she prays that he will stop talking to her like that. "Oh... Uh, thanks. You look... really nice too."
“Turn around.” He smiles as she turns to face him. He takes another step forward and her pulse quickens. His sensuality is suffocating and before she can even attempt to dwell in the hazy euphoria, she has to purge her mind of the question that has been eating away at her all day.
Of all the things he could have asked for, why does he want this?
It is plausible that he didn’t kill her family because she saved him, and he feels he owes her, like she had once done with him. But that still doesn’t explain why he needs to lock her up for a hundred days. Why not just let her be with her family then? No, he wants her close for a reason. She has to find out why. Before it’s too late.
Belle can’t help wishing it’s the same reason she needs to be close to him…
I should use tonight to investigate, and maybe, just maybe, tonight, Judas will no longer be a mystery to solve.
"I... was wondering... if I could ask you a question?"
His smile is of pure amusement as he answers, "Ask me tomorrow."
Belle nods, a little intimidated. He takes her hand in his own, and the heat in his gaze is unmistakable. Belle's heart stutters in her chest at the sight of him looking down at her like that.
“For now, Belle. You’re mine.”
BELLE CAN HEAR SENSUAL MUSIC as they begin to descend the staircase that winds through the center of the mansion. As they round the last corner, and enter a room she hasn’t been in before, her pupils dilate.
Great gothic style candelabras adorn the room, throwing enough light to dimly illuminate, but still retain enough darkness to allow for a certain amount of mystery. As Belle glances up at the high ceiling, it reminds her of a twisted sort of church. The whole room has a somewhat shadowy and sinister feel to it, but it’s also alluring with its rich dark beauty.
Just like Judas...
As he leads her into the center of the room, Belle’s pulse begins to pound in her ears as he catches her by the hand and roughly pulls her to him. "Will you dance with me, Belle?" he asks with his annoying trademarked ‘I-can’t-resist-you’ face.
"You ask as if I have a choice," she murmurs, stifling a shiver.
Judas settles his large hands on the sides of her tiny waist. He pulls her in tight and his voice comes as a warm rush in her ear, "I keep telling you this doesn’t have to be hard, Belle. You know how many women would kill to be you right now?”
“They can have you," she says, her voice almost breaking. His close proximity and the sexual nature of the dance makes it difficult to ease up. "You're right. This doesn't have to be hard... if you can keep from baiting me."
He laughs, his very breath teasing her skin as he silkily replies, "Don’t provoke me then and I won’t antagonize you."
Heat creeps across her skin as she ventures, "Why should I trust you?"
"Why not?"
Sensing his predacious smile, she admits, "Well... you haven't exactly been very up front with me. I've seen your devious side... and... I hardly know you... I... I don't know what your motives are."
He turns his head slightly as he speaks into her hair, "All you need to know is I’m the man who’s keeping you and your family safe. I keep my promises, Belle."
Her voice drops an octave as she answers breathlessly, "How can I be certain of anything when I barely know you?"
"Then,” he says, “get to know me."
"Okay,” she says, taking a sobering breath, “then be straight with me. What am I really doing here?"
"You know the deal. Hundred days of your life for your father’s."
"I wasn’t born yesterday, Judas. Let’s stop pretending.” She takes a deep breath for courage. “I know this isn’t Mr. Kulich’s plan. You’ve gone against him. You wanted me here with you. Why?"
His arm tightens possessively about her waist as his breath comes hot against her ear, "Isn’t it obvious by now...? You intrigue me." His breathless confession and his sudden tight hold on her is overwhelmingly exhilarating, and it leaves her disoriented. Judas relentlessly goes in for the kill, his lips brushing against the pulse of her neck before he breathes against her skin, "I can’t stop thinking about you... I’ve tried... but... I’ve never been good with self-denial."
Belle drowns in his words. The more he speaks, the more she’s inundated by the implications of what he’s saying. He’s admitting that he wants her. The revelation is staggering, and her heart lurches in her chest. It’s by a sheer miracle that she manages to continue dancing with him. Somehow, she knows that if she stops moving, she will be even more vulnerable for the kill.
But the torment doesn’t stop there. His mouth descends upon her throat, branding her neck with a single smoldering kiss before he raises his head to meet her eyes. His eyes burn into hers with a ferocity that makes her shudder. All. Over.
He lowers his mouth so that it hovers a hairsbreadth over hers. "You think I’m the enemy and you’re the victim...” The corner of his lips curl. “But your kiss the other night tells me something different." His smile vanishes in a flash as his eyes burn with tortured desire. "I know I haven’t been around much lately. I've had things to deal with... But I... I can’t stop thinking about that damn kiss.” He groans, like it hurts somewhere. “It’s driving me fucking crazy."
She returns his intense gaze, desperately wanting to kiss him again, but she manages to resist. Judas pauses then, and the inevitable kiss is left suspended—implied, but not carried out.
She licks her lips. "Why were you so cold toward me the other day, then?"
Judas merely raises an eyebrow. "I can say and do whatever I want, Belle.” His deadly smirk tugs something deep inside her, not missing the flirtatious nature of the remark.
She vowed to never forget how cold Judas can be, and she knows she needs to tread carefully, but if Belle wants answers, then she’ll have to play his game. "And do you always do whatever you want?" she coyly asks.
His eyes connect with hers as he bru
shes his hand down her arm. "Whenever it suits me. The women in my life don’t seem to care. One look at me, one look at this place, they’re putty in my hands."
She shakes her head lightly. "No wonder you’re so used to getting your own way with people like that in your life."
Judas seems to contemplate her words for a moment before he murmurs close to her ear, "Maybe... but I don't always get my own way."
"Oh?"
“Yeah...” His hot mouth tastes the side of her neck. "If things had gone my way...” His head comes up to face her, and his eyes smolder. “If I had my way now... I’d have fucked you by now."
Belle tenses as if she’s just been doused with cold water, realizing just how dangerous this game is that she’s playing. Judas wants her. She isn’t sure what frightens her more, the fact that he’s just so brazenly made it known, or the fact that she’s been secretly yearning for the same thing. But she’s not so naïve to think it will all go down like some fairytale. Judas is not Prince Charming. He’s cold, and quite often cruel. She doesn’t even want to think of how many women have fallen for the same lines.
It nearly sickens her that despite all these shortcomings, she still finds herself drawn to him. For every sinister trait, there seems a multitude of enticing qualities. Where he is heartless, he’s also capable of being generous. Where he is cold, he can also be concerned. And where he is arrogant, he can also be charming.
Judas has even stopped his demands for her to clean, ever since their picnic lunch, and since then, he’s left her alone to do as she pleases—except for having to adhere to staying indoors at night, and to still wake him in the mornings. He’s even been generous enough to prepare her breakfast, make her lunch and cook her dinner when he’s been around. Though she tries to convince herself that there is no hope, her heart clings to the idea that underneath it all, there is the possibility that he’s just misunderstood. That this cold persona is a result of some tragic childhood...
