by Hera August
Judas shrugs, and his reply is as cold as it is cruel, "What about it?" All the light seems to go out in his eyes then. Feeling as if a barrel of ice water has just been dumped over her head, Belle can do nothing but stare wide-eyed. "Just because you begged me to fuck you last night, doesn't change the deal. You’re here to do what I want. So don’t disobey me."
Blood completely drains from Belle's face as her worst fears come true.
This can’t be happening... It has to be a nightmare. It has to be. I just need to wake up...
But when Judas grips her arm and shoves her aside, it’s all too real to deny. Something has happened. The way he’s behaving is proof of it. Belle knows his cold exterior is a front for some other emotion, something much more dark and sinister. She reaches for him, but Judas catches her wrist. He warns in an icy whisper, "Don’t. Touch me."
Stunned by the graveness of his tone, she begs, "But... last night..."
He leans in, his leering face only inches from her own, the iron grip of his fingers cold on her wrist. "Last night was last night. I got what I needed. And I don’t need you anymore. You’re just like all the other girls I’ve had. I told you I was evil. I warned you. You came to me, Belle. You begged me. I didn’t promise you anything and I gave you nothing you didn’t want—didn’t beg for.”
Fear courses through her veins and her eyes dart over his face, searching for answers. "Judas, what's wrong?” she asks, yanking her hand free. “Why are you so angry?"
Her eyes search in his for hope. But… there is nothing. Nothing but an empty void in the deep blue.
"What makes you think I'm angry?" he sneers, arching his eyebrow.
"You must be. Why else would you treat me like this?"
"Like what exactly?"
"Like your... whore." She immediately regrets her words when she sees the sinister look on Judas’ face.
"Because, Belle, that’s exactly what you are."
And there it is.
Lost in his eyes, his words scar her forever, snuffing out any ember of hope that remains in her.
The pain is everywhere, constant and unyielding. Belle had begun to trust him, and just when she convinced herself that he isn’t the villain the world has made him out to be, he’s proven her wrong in one sentence. Those few monstrous words send the tower of possibility that she’s constructed in her mind, crashing to the floor. She’s let herself be deceived. Again.
Behind the shimmering image of all she hoped he truly can be, hides the true monster, and she has just gotten a glimpse. Cold, unkind, and hateful, is all he seems now.
She’d thought his harsh exterior was the result of a difficult childhood, loneliness, and the power that his money and status afford him. She’d been sure that a good man existed underneath—the same man who saved her—and that given enough time, she could find him.
She had been gravely mistaken.
Judas had been playing a game with her. The realization washes over her, bringing with it deep regret and anger. The potent mixture of such unsettling emotions overwhelm her. She closes her eyes against the wave of repulsion and nausea as she feels bile rise up and down in her throat.
Daring to open her eyes again, Belle does her best to wish away this nightmare. Judas had been her hero. And in one single moment, her savior has been ripped out of her heart. And all that remains is a monster intent on breaking her. And she doesn’t know what she did to deserve it.
After taking a deep breath, the urge to wretch subsides, but the anger swells to a rage so hot, that she’s overcome by the desire to hurt him. Her jaw clenches, driving her teeth together as her hands ball into tight fists at her side. Consumed by the urge to lash out and hit him, clenching her fists tighter, she fights to restrain herself.
He’ll expect hysterics and a dramatic reaction. No doubt he’s expecting her to hit him. But Belle is determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her lose control.
She is nothing like those other women. She is stronger. And she is going to damn-well show him.
As her blazing eyes rise to meet his cool blue ones, her suspicions are confirmed. His frame is tense as if anticipating her attack. He looks smug, waiting for her outburst, as though he’s used to this reaction from his harem. She seethes at his presumptuousness. He probably has some scathing remark ready to sling at her. She takes another deep breath, calming her rage.
No, I won’t give you what you want. I’m better than that. Better than you!
She inhales sharply, her eyes bright as she raises her head high. With all the grace she can manage, she meets his intense gaze with a fierce one of her own. "Well, I'm glad I know now where we stand. If that's truly how you feel, then we have nothing more to say to one another."
She turns on her heel and walks silently out of his room. She doesn’t even slam his door on the way out. She just... leaves.
Belle starts to run down the long dark corridor, her arms hugging her body as her vision blurs. Her hands clutch tightly at the fabric of her dress. She will not cry. She will never let him hear her cry.
She heads straight for the kitchen and takes out a bottle of vodka from the drinks cupboard. As the liquid burns the back of her throat, she realizes she can’t stay here.
I need to escape this place!
Belle bursts through the large entrance doors to the mansion, startling a flock of crows that are scavenging the nearby grounds. Darkness settles over the world, and thunder rumbles in the distance as heavy raindrops pound on the stone entrance. Belle clings to the cool feeling of the rain on her burning cheeks as it mingles with the hot tears that can’t be contained any longer.
Belle stumbles through the torrential downpour, heading in the direction of the woods ahead. She wanders aimlessly for awhile, not caring where she’ll end up. At least the rain will mask her tears.
The pain of Judas' vicious words reverberate painfully in her mind. Despair and sadness seep in and surround her like a dark fathomless ocean, with no way out. It seems like an eternity that she walks and cries.
Nothing in the world can take away the pain. But some hardcore liquor will be a start. It will at least take the edge off. Numb her aching heart for awhile. Unconsciousness will be a blessing compared to the agony she is now suffering.
A few hours later, Belle staggers down the hallway to her room. After double-checking to make sure it’s her bedroom and not Judas', she takes a long gulp from the bottle clutched in her hand and flings the door open with a loud clank. In one fluid motion, her arm sends every thing on the top of her dresser flying onto her bed, and begins packing them into her suitcase.
"What exactly do you think you’re doing?" The familiar bark in his voice pierces her center.
As if by instinct, her fingers curl tightly around the smooth glass of the bottle. She turns, raising the vodka to her lips as their eyes meet. Her intense eyes remain on his as she devours a mouthful of the burning liquid. The searing of her throat reminds her of the blazing anger she still feels. The mind-numbing drink may have dulled the breath-taking pain, but her anger remains. And if anything, it’s only been sharpened.
Belle lowers the bottle and uses her forearm to wipe her lips. "Exactly what it looks like I'm doing,” she hisses. “Packing."
Judas stalks closer, crossing his arms over his chest. "Like hell you are,” he says. “The deal, Belle. You’re going nowhere."
"Oh, I'm well aware you’re keeping my family hostage," she replies, throwing her clothes into the suitcase.
"Where’d you think you’re going?"
"I don't really care. The cell for all care. I don't give a shit where I spend the night, so long as it's far—far away from you!" she screams.
For one fleeting moment, Belle thinks she sees a flicker of regret in him. But before she can even be sure, it’s gone. "Is that so?"
"After the way you’ve treated me? Yes!"
She hesitates, desperately fighting to mask her pain. Her eyes are glassy and she is sure it’s obvious that she
’s seconds away from breaking down. Blinking back the stinging tears, there’s no way in Hell she’s going to lose it in front of him.
But suddenly there is that uncertainty again. His eyes meet hers, and for a second, they soften with something like concern, his unfeeling mask momentarily slipping. His frown deepens for an instant, before he quickly averts his eyes and lowers his head.
Belle shudders as every fiber of her being screams to give him a second chance. It will be the death of her, but she can’t stop her herself from feeling it. With every breath, that tiny flicker of hope burns brighter. Her heart begs for him to make everything right again. To make her feel… right again.
"Unless... you...” she chokes, “…unless you have something else to say to me." Her voice is so quiet, she isn’t sure if he heard her.
Without a single word, he turns his back on her, and begins to head toward the door.
He’s leaving her.
Don’t leave me, Judas… Please don’t leave me all alone!
Belle had at least expected some display of bravado to cover-up his feelings. She’s desperate to know the truth of why he’s doing this to her. Because it has to be an act. It has to be...
"I've said my piece,” he says, with his back to her, “do what you want, Belle," and then he leaves.
No ultimatum. No drama. No demands. He doesn’t want the last biting word? Maybe he’s having a change of heart... Maybe he’s already having regrets.
Belle hurries after him, the bottle of vodka still dangling from her hand as she catches up to him in his room.
"You're not even going to try and stop me?!" She sounds desperate, but she doesn’t care. She only cares about one thing.
"Why should I?" He glances back at her.
She is at a loss for words. "I-I..."
"Sleep wherever the fuck you like, Belle. As long as it’s in my mansion."
There is an element of coldness in his voice, but she’s growing weary of trying to decipher his cryptic behavior. She isn’t going to beg. Not this time. If he wants to be cold and abrupt, then so will she.
"Fine. Whatever. Goodbye, Judas."
Turning on her heel, she makes for the door with no intention of looking back. But his soulless voice stops her.
"Wait. Before you leave." It’s the touch of something almost civil in his voice that makes her turn around. But when she sees his ice-cold eyes, she second-guesses herself.
"What is it?" she sighs.
"Before you leave," he says, "you'd better do as I ordered. My boots."
She closes her eyes slowly as his words sink in, kindling an anger so hot, it nearly makes her see red.
You bastard!
What takes place next, seems to happen in slow motion. Bringing the bottle to her lips, the glass feels cool against her mouth as she quaffs it down. This gives Belle just enough time to contemplate her next move. The burning liquid sears her throat, but the sensation is no match for the fire that courses through her veins. Fury overwhelms her sensibilities, and with deadly acuity, her eyes seek what she’s looking for.
His black leather biker boots sit at the foot of his bed. And without so much as a glance in his direction, she raises the bottle in her hand, and tips it, pouring it all over and inside his boots. Judas just stares, taken aback by her bold move.
Still holding the empty bottle, she sneers, "There! Happy? No?" Before she even knows what she’s doing, she is flat-out yelling at him, "Polish your own goddamn boots, Judas! I'm through taking orders! I'm through with this damn place! And I'm through! With! You!"
She begins to storm away when he finally speaks up, "Yeah. Run away, Belle. Run away and hide. It's much easier than facing your mistakes head on, isn't it?"
Stopping short, she whips around to face him. "You're right, Judas. I’ve made mistakes. The biggest one being that I trusted you." She shakes her head. "I know I was crazy to have feelings for you. You say I’m just like all the other women you’ve had—but you know what, Judas? You’re just like Emmett Irving.” She takes a deep staggering breath and wills herself to keep strong.
Just a little more…
“You’re all monsters!” she growls. “I made a huge mistake to try and see you as something more. My actions have been loaded with mistakes since I came here... What the hell… what's one more?"
She turns her back on him, and without hesitation, she throws the bottle across the room. Her aim is perfect. The bottle strikes the enormous mirror dead center. With a sickening smash, the mirror shatters into hundreds of tiny fragments. Without another word, she tries to march out the door, but someone blocks her path.
“Um... am I interrupting something?”
Chapter Thirty-One
HE LOOKS AT THE CUTS ON HIS HANDS.
The ones inflicted on him when he picked up the pieces of broken glass. But it isn’t the damage to his mirror that concerns Judas; it’s another sort of damage that cuts him deep.
He can’t get rid of that feeling rotting inside his heart. For the first time in his life, he truly feels like a monster.
I hurt you.
The only one in the world brave enough to look for the good in me. You took a chance getting to know me and I hurt you. I betrayed that trust, I betrayed you because… I’m weak and scared. All the power I have, and I fear losing myself in you.
I’m a coward. An evil bastard. All this time I’ve been protecting my pride, and what do I have to show for it? Nothing. I have nothing. I’ve already lost myself in you. I close my eyes and all I see is you smiling… your sweet face… Now you know the monster I truly am. I don't deserve you. I never did. I’ll never forgive myself. How can you ever forgive me after what I’ve done?
It’s too late.
It’s always too late.
I can’t undo what I’ve done.
I’ve lost. I've lost everything.
There’s no playing you, Belle Dela Cruz. I’ll always lose against you. The worse part of it... I never want to win with you.
“COME ON.” HER LIPS SLIDE the side of his neck. They're smooth and cool; they'll be very workable under his mouth.
"Where's my beer?” Judas speaks into the flaming crown of her hair.
The minute he’d strutted into the back entrance, she’d taken no time in cornering him. He doesn’t need a guess to figure out why. Her breath rattles, dipping and quivering against his skin. Her zealousness with him is distracting, especially in the way she paws at him in the dark corner of the waiting room. Her body snakes up against his, stretching like a cat begging to be pet.
Any other day, he would have fucked her by now. Had his way with her, right there in the corner of a public bar… But he can’t. He doesn’t want it. Not anymore.
“Tina,” he mutters, “I don't have time for this."
“Another chick?” She kisses below his Adam’s apple. “Come on, Judas, baby. I know you want me." When all he does is sigh, her fingers tip-toe lower, cupping the front of his jeans. “You've always wanted me. I promise she never has to know…”
She kisses the tip of his chin as he wrenches her hand from its place, shooting her a warning look. He skirts his head to the side when she tries to kiss his chin again. He's losing patience, but the woman pressing up against his body, seems oblivious. Little does she know that his short temper has nothing to do with her.
Nothing to do with her at all.
“Quit it.” He pulls away, feeling the loss of her warm body. Clipping his words, he looks down at her, leaning his head forward to make sure she understands. “I'm. Not. In the mood."
“That's what your mouth says,” she purrs, leaning her stomach against his clenched one. “But that's not what your cock—”
He jerks her hand away from the place it's leading to. “Get the hint," he grunts.
Finally, Tina yanks her hand from his grasp and he lets go. “You're a fucking cock tease, Judas. You know that?"
She looks as frustrated as he feels. “Does that mean I'm not getting my beer?"
“Fuck you.” She steps back, giving him the middle finger. “You think you're some goddamn prize? Think again. You act like a fucking Prima-donna when you come around me but I can have any man I want—I swear it. And here you are thinking you're better than everyone here just ‘cos you got money, but I know the real you and you're just as fucked-up as the rest of us. Trash in a nice package. Remember that.” She grabs a cigarette from her jeans, placing it between her lips.
“Beautiful mouth you got there.” His eyebrow flexes up. “You finished?"
“Screw you.” She flips her lighter up.
"You already done that, babe,” he retorts, leaning against the wall behind him. “Beer?"
“I'm on break. Ask someone else."
“You're the only one here. Anyway, I like the way you bring me my beer," he grins.
She huffs out a stream of smoke from her nostrils, flicking the end of her cigarette. Small ashes drift to the floor and Judas watches them as she hisses, “You're one confused motherfucker, you know that? You flirt with me, you act like you want me”—she steps closer—“in fact I know you want me. But something's stopping you...” Her eyes dart in between his, scoping for his reaction, but there is none. “There is, isn't there…? Some slut's got your fucking balls in her hands."
Using the wall, he pushes his body forward. “I said I wanted a beer. You can't oblige me—find someone who can. Otherwise mind your own fucking business."
Faltering at hiding her fear, Tina places a good foot between them, eyeing the crowd as if he’ll jump her. She tosses the half-smoked cigarette on the floor, mashing it with her stiletto heel.
“Aw, what? Someone's a little too sensitive for their own good. Get in my face again and I'll have you thrown out." Judas only stares at her. “You hear me? You don't fucking talk to me that way, asshole.” Her voice wavers as he moves closer. She turns, is about to call for help, when she realizes he isn’t moving in her direction.
Judas struts on by, heading toward the entrance, not sparing her a second glance when he spots his company. Tina spits out another string of four-letter curses as she reaches for her lighter again. “Bastard!” he hears her yell, as he heads over to Luis.
