Chapter 23
DIANA
Well, so much for temporary.
I mean, I know he told me this was for my protection, and I know it makes sense, but I think I’m going stir crazy.
The first few days since I fell asleep in his arms—still a wild concept for me—I convinced myself I didn’t care.
There’s a bed, water, books scavenged from the old world, and food is often brought.
And yes, there is hot chocolate, which still tastes more divine than I’ve ever had.
I can hear that I’m above him, the sound of doors being shut, sometimes the scooting of a chair.
But that’s it. Come to think of it, it could totally be someone else, and I’d never know…
But heat or not, Judge’s growl truly does a lot of things to my body. I wonder if it’s related to the suppressants leaving my system, my hormones shifting, and him being my scent match.
Scent match…
Is he really mine? And I’m really his? Whenever that alpha growls, my body relaxes like his sounds are a sedative.
At this rate, though, something has to change.
I can’t keep doing this day in and day out.
It’s been sixteen days—I notch them in the wood—since he first came up here, and I can tell I’m losing myself.
I’m finding relief in Judge’s presence, because I’m starved of any human contact.
The only voice I hear is my own, and then that of his rumbles.
I’m even dreaming about him.
He claims he freed Selene, but I haven’t seen any proof.
I guess it will take a while for whatever letter she writes to reach me, but I’ve had to let that worry go for now.
All I want when he’s in here is to have him put me to sleep again.
Sleep makes time pass by, and I can tell it is helping my body.
It’s like I’m recovering years of lost rest.
And that’s a truth I can’t deny—alphas do have this effect on omegas.
It’s slowly eating at me because he’s probably one of the best things to happen to my nervous system.
I’m even slowly disliking it when he leaves.
He says all the time, in this high he puts me in, how he will take care of me.
He’s my alpha. That I’ll be begging for the bite in my neck.
That when this is all over, I will live outside these walls and want for nothing.
I still don’t trust him.
He visits me every night, growling until my body betrays me.
I’ve never felt so out of control before.
The transition from feeling imprisoned to wanting his cock and knot inside of me is enough to truly mess with my mind.
I get wet for him easily; his knot feels like fucking heaven, so it’s not like it’s a bad deal.
I moan so deeply when he fills me, cum leaking out as he either lies me on top of him or behind me so we rest on our sides.
He purrs and pets my hair, his pupils nearly always dilated.
He does take care of me, I can’t deny it.
And every night, I tell myself I don’t listen for him.
That I’m not waiting for the sound of his shower starting below me, the hiss of pipes that means he’s there—the beast beneath the floorboards.
I’ve decided to believe it’s him, because thinking it’s someone else feels more like I’m a secret stuffed away.
Up here, I feel like maybe there’s some truth to keeping me hidden for the sake of my safety.
There was one rough night in particular where Judge rubbed his leaking cum all over my ass and back, wiping his hand off between my breasts. He seemed to be in a mood since he first entered the room, and a part of me registered that even he seemed to relax after he was spent.
Is he doing this for himself, too?
I don’t know—too many questions! I grab my hair, wondering when I’ll get a sanity check? When am I getting out of here? I can’t stay in here for months like this.
I pace more than before that morning. I even talk to the glass. I press my palms against it until the cold cuts through the heat in my skin.
The logical side of my brain hasn’t left, though. I still wait for an opening. Like fucking hell am I actually staying here. I’m trying to make the best of the situation, to let my body reset. To watch the courtyard below for any help or insight into how Dominion operates.
There’s something different about this night as it encroaches, however. The air feels too small to breathe. It could also be the prolific amount of origami swans all around, which is something I learned to do as a kid and have sacrificed two books so far to make.
I think about Selene and about every wrong turn that led me here.
My breathing hitches when I spot Judge out there in the courtyard, his buzz cut hair and bomber jacket unmistakable, everyone giving him space as he moves about confidentially.
It’s so weird to think about how out there, he’s their leader, and then he’s visiting me during the nights.
Passing out just as hard as I do. That apparently his real name is twenty-seven, which means he’s never been given a proper one, has he? I didn’t even ask how Judge came to be.
Does anyone out there smell me on him? Or does he use a balm to hide me?
I need more, and I can feel it. I… I look to the door he usually leaves through. It’s different than the one he initially used to bring me inside. I’m certain it would take me to his room, as he disappears through it often. I near it, testing it like I always—
I freeze.
It opens.
I don’t move, the doorknob fully turned but the door still shut. If I pull, it’ll open. Would I get in trouble for this?
He watches everything so closely, and I’m not blind to the fact that this is the alpha’s den. With how territorial they are, it wouldn’t shock me if hardly anyone comes into his private dwelling. So is this intentional?
I swing the door open.
There’s light at the end of the stairwell, bleeding in from the bottom of another door.
I travel down, slow at first, like someone will hear me, but then I recall that I just saw he’s outside.
I hurry, opening the second door that’s also unlocked, looking out the window below to see he’s still out there, speaking with his people.
I turn around and breathe in deeply.
His scent is filled in here, completely unaltered by me. Maps are nailed to the walls, weapons hung in rows, pillows neatly arranged on the couch.
For a moment, I just stand there, caught between fear and curiosity.
The idea of being in his space feels like a kind of trespassing that I might regret, but it’s also the first time in days that I’ve felt something like freedom or true excitement.
I trail my fingers along the desk, then lift my hand. My scent.
Well, it’s in the air now. And there’s no way I can get rid of it. And I doubt he left it unlocked by accident.
Because I’m a bored woman locked in the space above him, I harbor no hesitation.
What does Judge want me in here for?