Chapter 16 #2
After he's checked my bandages close to three times and forced me to drink something that tastes like herbs and regret, we finally prepare to leave.
And then the nerves creep back in. The door now feels like a threshold to a world I don’t want to face.
I may have begged him not to hurt me, but all he told me was that he would take care of me.
I’m not unaware of the distinction that he couldn’t give me the exact wording I wanted.
I’m not going to push it, either, because it’s just air out of his lungs. I want to see him mean it.
Which means going with him. It means observing him as if he’s someone I’m treating and trying to play a game of chess with, not checkers. I do believe he has a primal instinct to not let me die, and to even tend to me, and that’s better than what Rebecca got—
Shut it off.
I don’t want to think about any of them right now.
I scoot to the edge of the bed, feeling stronger but still shaky, when Judge stops in front of me, his expression as unreadable as always. "Before we go," he says slowly, "do you want to visit the Witch Doctor?"
Well, shit, I honestly didn’t expect that. I sit up straighter, narrowing my eyes. Those words hit right through most of my mental armor. “What?"
"To break the bond." His voice is carefully neutral. "The offer still stands."
Oh, no, he can’t do this. He can’t manipulate me like this. Oh, shit, I forgot he can feel me, too. Does he know how to use the bond better than me? Can he feel that I want to see his actions, not just hear empty promises?
"I said no," I reply, but it doesn't sound strong. It sounds uncertain, even to my own ears.
"You were in pain and tired when you said that." His gaze holds mine, steady and unflinching. "How do you feel now?"
“I’m sorry, do you want this?”
I see the first break of his stolid glare to reveal that dry, dry sarcasm underneath. “No, I’d punch her in the throat before I let her come near you if it was up to me.”
I ignore the truth in the tether, because it just reeks with care and support, and I can’t handle that right now. “You'd really just... do that? Let me walk in there and undo everything? Seriously?”
His jaw tightens as he looks away, at the wall, at nothing. "If it's what you need."
Emotion swells in my chest until it's hard to breathe.
I look at his jacket, which is not the same as the patched one he wears—worn black leather, cracked at the seams, re-worked in places where it's been torn and stitched back together. It’s long and meant to cover him up. He was even willing to ditch his gang’s insignia for me.
"I don't know what to say," I manage, my voice cracking. "You were supposed to be all hulking and mad, and then I'd just get to be more mad at you, and then we’d fight. That was the plan. You're ruining the plan."
He snorts. “Sorry to disappoint, sweetheart. We can always fake a fight if it would make you feel better.”
Damnit, now he’s making me almost laugh.
Okay… let’s try a new tactic.
That's when I do something that surprises even me.
I get onto my feet and lean hard into him, wrapping my arms around his massive frame, hugging the huge bastard like my life depends on it. Let’s see what he does with this, and what the tether shares, to see if this really means something to him or not…
He's stiff at first, almost startled. Like he's not used to being so aggressively touched in a non-threatening manner.
His hands come up slowly, carefully, touching my shoulders and the back of my head while studiously avoiding my injured back.
For a moment, we just stand there, wrapped around each other like two broken things trying to hold each other together.
His scent saturates me, and so does his warm, hard chest. I close my eyes and take from him this need for reassurance, even if it’s not safe for me.
“It's safe to give me your affection, Diana,” he says, as if—well, of course he can feel—that my heart is still hidden behind thick walls.
The tether shares what we can’t, or perhaps aren’t even fully aware of, and his side bleeds with hunger beneath his composure, the need he's trying to hide.
I pull away from the embrace, and he fully releases me. I don’t know what the hell that hug was, other than it felt very good. “My affection is earned, Judge. Not given."
He gently chuckles and moves for his jacket. “And what exactly will make you give it, little omega?”
"I want a mate who loves me. Not what I make him feel,” I assert, staring him down like I’m challenging him, trying desperately to evoke something out of him while we’re still here. While I still have the Witch Doctor nearby.
"That's the same thing." He moves closer, looming, his presence filling the space, and there’s the sassy edge in his eyes as if he knows how much he won just now. "If you make him feel love, how is it not love?"
My heart skips a wild beat. “Because it's loving the role. The omega. The scent match. The bond. You love what I am to you, not who I am. And when I go back with you, because I honestly don’t have anywhere to go right now, I’m not the same Diana. I have expectations.”
Something flickers across his face—hurt, maybe. Frustration. "I care for you. I know things about you. It’s not just the bond.”
“Like what? What do you know about me?”
He puts his arms through the sleeves, adjusting the collar and hood.
“I know you bounce your leg when you’re nervous.
I know you always eat the bread pudding first before anything else, and that you hate when people stand too close behind you.
I know you talk in your sleep, and that most of it is nonsense, but sometimes you call out for a man named Dean. ”
I have no control over my facial expression, as I know I falter.
He sits back in his chair, leaning on one elbow, motioning for me to get ready with his hand.
"I know you enough, Diana. And I also know you’re skirting around something.
So tell it to me while you dress, because we need to leave.
We’re nearing the exit point I wanted to get off at. ”
My throat tightens, and I look around at some clothes that are laid out for me at the foot of the bed.
For some reason, it doesn’t feel nearly as revealing to strip with my breasts covered, as if my ass doesn’t mean a thing.
"I feel guilty,” I reply, turning my back to him so I don’t have to watch him take me in.
I can’t deal with any horniness right now. Not from him or me, and if there’s anything I’ve learned from this, it’s that an omega doesn’t have much choice when their alpha growls.
"For what?"
"For wanting to give in to you.” I’m quick to slide on underwear that smells clean, but I have no freaking idea where they came from, and they’re just a hair too tight.
"I'm just being honest. I grew up running from people like you. Alphas. Dominion types. People who take what they want. I can't just give myself to someone like that. I guess that’s a long way to say I have trust issues.”
Treat him like I have to get on his good side. Nuggets of vulnerability always go a long way with that.
But then he’s far too quiet, long enough that I’m nearly dressed when he just says, “What does the bond do for you?”
I sit on the edge of the bed to put on socks, unlacing the boots. “It just confuses me.”
"Do you know the history of Rome?" he asks, which is not what I expected.
I throw the hulking man a small glance. “What?"
“The Roman Empire. Before the bloom, there were civilizations that spanned continents, and Rome was a fucking power house.” He adjusts slightly, looking me over like he’s taking in a trophy he worked hard to pry from someone.
“It was one of many that rose… and fell. Do you know what brought them down?"
I roll my eyes, sliding on the boots. “I’m not in the mood for a history lesson.”
“Where I’m from, we never had a choice,” he says, and I press my lips together.
It’s the way he says it that actually sounds like he’s giving me more of him than he’s used to giving to someone.
“We all had to learn these things. And every great empire that fell seemed to do so for one of two things.
" He holds up a finger. "No more food on the table.
" Another finger. "Their loved ones being stolen from them.
When people are hungry and afraid, they'll follow anyone who promises to fix it.
And when they're not—when they're fed and safe—they start to think about other things. Art. Philosophy. Love."
I glance back at him as I tie my boots, his eyes dark and serious.
"Humans are animals, Diana. We respond to basic needs.
We live in a world where food is scarce, and safety is a fantasy.
Humanity can't be tamed in one night, or one lifetime. But I can offer a path forward—if I'm strict enough to maintain order, even when they're starving. Even when it's ugly. They want that promise because they want to get back to the lofty shit that you can’t have when you’re dying or starving. And I’m only doing what I can. Which is to scare all the other fucking predators away.”
Returning to getting ready, I aggressively tie my other laces. Big, dumb alpha makes a good point. For a moment, I see what he’s laying out.
Then the doubt creeps back in because I can’t stop envisioning returning to the attic. "How do I know this isn't just manipulation?" I ask quietly. "You're good with words, Judge. You know exactly what to say to make me feel like this is all justified."
He doesn't flinch. "All I can do is show you over time that I mean what I say. I’m not that daft, sweetheart. I was already doing that before all the shit with Jack fell apart.”
I want to argue. I want to push back, to find the flaws in his logic, to protect myself from the vulnerability he's asking for.
“I’m not going to the Witch Doctor. We can just go back to the castle.”
"Fucking good," he rumbles.
He stands, his eyes tracking down my body. “You're staying very close to me. It’s already going against all my instincts not to cover you, but I don't want to risk disrupting any of your healing."
It takes me a second to process what he means. Then I throw him a look. "Oh my god, you don't have to cover me in that."
There’s that feral look back in his eyes. “Oh, but I would in an instant if it wasn’t my care for you getting in the way.”
"I already am yours, you territorial nightmare. Can we please leave before you start marking the furniture?"
He huffs—an actual laugh, or close to it. "Fine. But you get out of arm’s reach, and I’m carrying you.”
"Wouldn't dream of anything else," I mutter, but I'm smiling.
I’m actually smiling.