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“Everyone’s a monster, Tor.”
A big part of me wants to watch this man bleed like I did, but another part knows this is a line that once crossed, I’ll never come back from. Perhaps I’m just a coward, but I’m not willing to sacrifice my soul for a man like this. But I know Jude will. The promise of pain and retribution is painted into every line of his face
“I want him dead…” I step into Jude, gravitating toward the warmth of his presence, the security I feel when close to him. “But I can’t do it.” Guilt twists my insides when Jude takes the knife and turns away. I just inadvertently asked Jude to kill for me, and that’s unfair.
The morning sun spilling through the backdoor catches on the silver blade seconds before Jude slashes it across the man’s throat. I almost slam my hands over my ears to block out the choked gurgling sound that follows. I’ve witnessed countless people die, but they’re always silent, unconscious, slipping away while I try to save them. This man’s twisting and jerking, his movements violent and desperate as his body attempts to cling to life. I want to look away, but I won’t, because I wished him dead and Jude is delivering my revenge. When the man finally stills, there’s no peace in it, only frozen horror. Jude steps back from the pool of blood creeping across the tile, then chucks the knife into the sink, and grabs mugs from the overhead cabinet. He fills them with coffee, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead when he hands one to me. “I promise, no one will ever hurt you.”
Something flutters in my chest, and all I can think is that he said he only gets his hands dirty when it’s personal. He just killed the guy in his own kitchen, and that singular act feels like a binding vow.
I don’t see Jude for the rest of the day. I flip through terrible daytime TV, then go upstairs and lie in his bed. Alone. And I’m unable to find sleep because the image of that man’s slit throat and the sound of his dying breaths plays through my mind on repeat while the guilt gnaws away at me. I basically asked Jude to do it for me. His blood is on my hands. He deserved it, though. Round and round it goes, guilt and justification, like a snake eating its own tail.
It’s past one in the morning when the door clicks open, and a shaft of light cuts across the wall beside the window. I didn’t expect Jude to come up here tonight, but I’m glad he did. In this new world of enemies and monsters, I’m drawn to him, unable to stop myself, even when I know I should. The door closes, plunging the room back into darkness while I listen to the rustle of clothing as Jude undresses.
The mattress dips under his weight, and the woodsy, smoke-tinged scent that always clings to him settles around me. On anyone else, I would hate that smell. On anyone else, I would hate a lot of things. Jude may be the big bad wolf, but when he curls his heat around me, I can’t remember ever feeling safer, which is why I roll toward him. He shifts, moving his arm so I can lie on his chest, and what’s most terrifying is how seamless it is for both of us like this is normal.
“Thank you,” I whisper, as though giving volume to my voice might break the tentative truce that only seems to exist here, in his bed.
His arm tightens around my body, his lips whisper over my hair in a kiss, and this time, when I close my eyes, I no longer see blood, just darkness.
15
Jude
The last thing I want to do this morning is deal with bullshit for Garcia. But I have no choice, and as risky as it is, Tor has to go with me. No one’s here, and I’m sure as hell not leaving her here alone. I get dressed and grab one of Caleb’s ball caps from his room before heading into the kitchen. Tor’s at the table, eating Cheerios, staring at the tile that was covered with blood twenty-four hours ago.
“You need to get dressed. And put that on.” I toss the cap onto the table on my way into the kitchen.
“Why?”
Like this is a game of twenty questions or something. “Because I fucking said.”
“You know that’s not actually a reason, Jude.”
I fight the smile as I reach for a piece of toast. “Just get dressed, woman.”
On a huff, she pushes up from the table and dumps her bowl of cereal into the sink. “Since you asked so nicely…”
My gaze follows her ass as she heads toward the stairs. Why the fuck couldn’t I have run into that girl in a bar?
