Chapter 25
DIANA
Well, isn’t Judge Mister Fancy for having matching furniture?
I’ve only ever seen it like this when furniture is freshly made, not reclaimed.
As I pass by an antique bronze-framed mirror, I stop when my wild image is reflected back, my hair in serious need of brushing. I near it, looking my body over.
“I look terrible,” I mutter, resisting the temptation to straighten out my hair. It’s one thing to want him when he’s growling, but a whole other for me to want him just for the sake of it.
This space reminds me a lot of the old medical facilities, with the tall stone ceiling and large, bright windows.
There’s a kitchen in here, something that looks installed after the fact, along with a couch, table, and, surprisingly, paintings on the wall.
I near them, unsure if they’re real or not.
A lot of artwork seems not to have been authentic from before the bloom.
It’s a lot of artistic strokes that don’t quite make sense, but it still forms a pretty picture from the pale blues, some golds and creams, to the dark grays.
Almost what I imagine looking at an ocean might be like.
Then there’s a painting of a mountain chain with a sunset.
It looks like mountains found out west, something I’ve only seen in books.
If it weren’t for books, I wouldn’t even know what half of the world looked like.
There are a few doors in this open space, and I immediately try them all. Locked, of course, except for one that leads to a bathroom, which I now realize connects back to his bedroom. Nope, I don’t need to smell what his dirty clothes and bedding are like.
That makes me think of Roxy, which oddly makes me aggressive.
The bathroom tells me enough—everything is neat and folded, and smells heavily of suppressants.
So he really is covering himself up after he’s done with me.
I know there’s logic in it, but that also makes me anxious.
He is trying to hide me, which could also mean this could turn into another situation where I’m being used and don’t know it.
Moving back to the living space, pulling down the long shirt I’m wearing of his so I can keep my ass and coochie covered—as of course, no underwear—I stare back at the kitchen, trying to stop the panic from bubbling too high.
It doesn’t matter what he’s doing with me if I’m not invested, right?
I raise a brow when I realize there’s bread and dried meat on the counter, along with some cheese.
If there’s one thing I’m a sucker for, it’s good, dried meat.
I fill my belly as it needs, focusing on the fact that if I get out of here, I can’t be half functioning.
I’m a survivor, and I will be nourished. Malnutrition is one of the largest prohibiting factors for those who visit us.
As I rip a piece of jerky off with my teeth, the salty goodness makes my mouth water.
I wander to his desk with beef jerky still in one hand, his space covered in blueprints.
There’s an old dog collar hanging on the wall next to it.
Notes. Lists written in his harsh, square handwriting.
I check the drawers, and some of them are locked.
I spot his trash and start going through some of it, unwrapping some of the notes.
My name is in this one, and the handwriting is more feminine than the rest…
The front door unlocks.
I almost hide.
Instead, crumple that note into my hand with the jerky to hide any scent of it, and move away from the desk and into the middle of the room. I can hear him speaking to someone outside—that low voice that can command or kill with the same tone.
My heart nearly explodes in anticipation.
Then, Judge enters. His bomber jacket is slightly wet from a cold drizzle outside, the tattoos of his neck visible. He looks tired and entirely dangerous, shutting the door immediately like he’s used to being swift about entering his space.
He lifts his gaze before raising his head to face me. We both stare at each other for a few moments, and I start to feel dumber by the second about holding beef jerky.
A small corner of his mouth lifts—not a smile, exactly, but something near it. “You’d rather be outside in my space, Diana? Is that what’s happening?”
So, he left it unlocked on purpose? I swallow thickly, prepared to defend myself. “In case you were wondering, I am not, in fact, a pet cat to keep holed up in one place forever. I understand what you’ve said, but I’m going crazy up there.”
He studies me for a long moment, then nods his head to the table with the food platter.
“I see you already helped yourself to the food. It was for you, anyway.” He takes off his bomber jacket like he really isn’t bothered at all that I’m here.
“You said you liked the venison jerky last time you tried it.”
I watch him as he nears the food himself.
“So this is definitely a trap.”
He pops a piece of cheese into his mouth. “You did walk right into it.”
“This isn’t a joke!” I exclaim, shaking the jerky, then remembering I have the note in my hand. “I don’t want whatever you have planned, and you better not growl because I’m not in the mood.”
To my shock, he doesn’t say anything as I walk past him, heading for the door back to my space.
Whatever he has planned here, I want no part in it.
Because it almost feels like some version of flirting, and that’s crossing a line for me.
I’ll fuck him like it’s a transaction, not actually romance the man.
There’s no way that Dominion is actually my future.
“I left it unlocked because I had a question for you down here.” He says that almost like he’s dangling it in front of me.
“Then ask me,” I say, hotly turning around at the foot of the steps.
He eats more of the cheese. “You keep mentioning that you want to know more about me—” something I only do when high on his growling because that’s what the omega in me wants “—so I figured you could ask me about one thing in here. I’m sure you already scoped the place out.”
I hesitate, frowning. I don’t to be chummy, but I can also ask about anything? I wave to the wall behind his desk. “Tell me about the dog collar, then.”
His shoulder crumples forward, shaking his head before rolling his eyes. “Anything but that.” He motions to the wall opposite him. “The art? What about the art?”
No. I’m getting overwhelmed by how casual the setting is, that it’s his space and he wants to talk to me. “I’m just going to head back upstairs. Thanks for the jerky,” I say, ripping another large bite off to make sure I stink of it before I walk back upstairs.
I shut the door at the top of the stairs, and am surprised that he doesn’t follow to lock it.
No—it doesn’t matter. I want to know about the letter with my name in it.
I hold onto the paper with the jerky in hand because I can’t look at it right away.
That would be too obvious, and he’s probably watching me on the cameras.
Think. How can I read it and then burn it without him noticing?
I spot the open book I had been ripping papers out of to form into little origami shapes.
As artfully as I can, and with the back of the book to the camera, I open it up and rip out a piece of paper and pretend like I’m reading it while I get out the crumpled one, still holding onto the beef jerky.
My hands shake in anticipation.
Diana scrubs her skin a lot. Juno makes sure she puts oil on so it doesn’t get too raw.
She seems very out of place. I think it’s the lack of suppressants.
We all go through it. She cries a lot when she thinks no one is nearby.
She avoids Roxy’s room. She asks more questions than answers them.
She also likes the oak tree and goes out there every evening, no matter the weather.
I wanted to ask if I can go out to another clearing tomorrow, please? Without Beast, preferably? As a part of the agreement.
What? Who was spying on me the entire time? I read it again, thinking it’s not Juno, unless she’s writing about herself in third person. Mira? It doesn’t matter. I grunt loudly, but don’t let it seem like I’m too bothered since someone is watching.
I can’t trust anyone in this world.
I breathe heavily, staring at the wooden wall in front of me. Doesn’t shock me at all that Judge was spying on me through someone, but I just… I don’t know, I imagined the others wouldn’t do that to me. They don’t owe me anything, but it still hurts. It’s always a betrayal.
Even back to my mom and dad…
Rolling off the bed, I go to the fire and grab more scraps of the book papers that didn’t rip perfectly and were my defect pages, placing them all in the small fire. I watch as all the paper burns, some of the letters visible as it crinkles open slightly.
I return to the nesting bed, staring at the door. I bet he’s coming up soon.
And when he does, I’m going to start asking him questions about himself.
Learn who he really is. Make him think the omega he’s taken is interested in him, which is clearly what he wants.
I’ll play that piece. The other omega in the letter asked to go outside, that he agreed she could.
And I want out of this space, so I’ll be nice.
Maybe he’ll make an arrangement with me, too.
I’m kicking myself for not going along with his little plan downstairs, but I also just couldn’t do it at the time.
I close my eyes, thinking this through as carefully as I can, and take deep breaths.
Where is the exit? How do I get out of here?
The unthinkable crosses my mind, and I don’t push it away.
What if he bites my neck? That would grant me freedom, right? The Witch Doctor can remove bites.
I’ll do it if I have to.
Okay… yes. Let’s start there.
My eyes flash open when I hear him in the stairwell.