Chapter 41 Jude
Jude
“brIELLA’S NOT THE ONLY ONE IN DENIAL,” I TELL HIM.
Citizen Soldier Playlist
“Soldier”
“If These Scars Could Speak”
“I’m Not Okay” - (For Vincent)
I’m not a deep sleeper.
When you’re a combat doctor, you learn to sleep with one eye open, alert and aware of everything. The first drop of blood. The first cracked bone. The first scream…
And something is wrong.
After pulling on a pair of cutoff black slacks, I step out of the cabin and overhear the voices coming from the barn.
Other than those low tones, it’s quiet. But the wind has kicked up, and I lift my head to the sky where thunderclouds are pouring in.
It won’t be long before the rain comes. With the wind and the low temperatures, it will be icy.
As the only healer in our little group, I’m always hyper-aware of the weather, knowing any inclement types can produce a cold, a cold which can spread into a fever. Or how more accidents happen in the rain. More slipping and sliding with possible fractured bones.
Much like Raphael, I’m hyper aware of everything. We just channel it differently. He channels it for control, dominance, and power. I see his predatory power on display when I arrive at the barn’s open doorway and find him circling Vincent.
“Why do you think she waited until now to run?”
Run? Oh, fuck.
God, I should have seen this coming. I knead my brow. Even last night, I should have seen it coming. She had the option of sharing my cabin. She chose Rory’s.
I don’t stay for Vincent’s broody silence following Raphael’s monologue. I know what happens next. So, I return to my cabin and grab my emergency go bag. Just as I sling it over my shoulder, I sense the presence behind me—but not until his breath is drifting across the back of my neck.
“You will need more.”
I still flinch at the dark voice. “Jesus fucking Christ, Raphael. You know I hate it when you do that.” You’d think a combat soldier would be more aware.
When I turn and size him up, I heave a sigh and drop my bag. I couldn’t see him in the darkness of the barn, but now? He’s ready to hunt.
“What else do I need?” My muscles tense because I can sense the blood that will come. It happened every time a battle was coming. Like the metallic, deathly scent was already drifting through my nose.
“Everything this time.”
Fuck, I hate it when he says that even more. I pinch the bridge of my nose. The storm is coming. “I won’t challenge you, Raphael, but—”
“No, you won’t,” he says, voice dark and grim.
I drop my hand. “But simply answer me, are you certain? Without any doubt in your mind?”
The silence thickens. It deepens, spreading ice into my bone marrow as I stare down my partner. He doesn’t narrow his eyes or clench his jaw. He’s stone cold. Unrelenting. An immovable object that no unstoppable force could push.
“Yes.”
I shrug. It’s all I need. “I’ll need some more supplies from the main cabin,” I point out and fetch the bigger medical bag beneath my bed.
The emergency one is small, mostly used for first aid.
Tonight, when we find Briella—always when and not if with Raphael—she will need as much treatment as she did in the dungeon where I keep as many supplies as I do in the cabin.
After getting the larger bag, I nod to Raphael, who hasn’t moved, and ask, “Need me to wake up Seth and Rory?”
He shakes his head. “I’ll handle them.”
I nod firmly. A heaviness settles over me as I head for the main cabin. On my way, I hear Vincent’s sounds of frustration as he blows off steam with the punching bag in the barn.
Sighing, I switch directions and move to the barn instead. He needs some reassurance. Raphael cannot give it, but I can. Unlike Raphael, who freezes the beast inside Vincent and sends it back into darkness, I let the creature come out…and calm the force.
“Vincent.”
He doesn’t stop swinging. What intrigues me is how he’s still wearing the hoodie. Normally, when Vincent lets loose, he strips down to his boxers and the black tank he wears under the hoodie. I understand why.
“Vincent,” I call him again, firmer this time.
He turns to me and growls, “What do you want, Jude?” He heaves maddening breath, his muscles bulging, his back ramrod straight. A beast primed for attack.
“Not what I want.” I approach slowly, cautiously, offering the nearby horse my hand when she nickers.
The goats bleat from the opposite side, a little restless on account of the storm.
The reminder of the animals in this barn and how hard he works for them, communes with them, softens the hard lines and clenched muscles in his face. “It’s about what you want, Vincent.”
“Great.” He tips his head back, then jabs one hard fist at the bag. “Creepy, cryptic bullshit from Raph. And self-righteous, shrink shit from you. He’s the mind fuck. You’re the bleeding heart hero fuck.”
I chuff a laugh, shaking my head while approaching. “Is that why you haven’t removed any of Briella’s knitting from the hoodie?” I smirk at the pink heart design with our names.
Roaring, he unleashes his rage on the bag again, but I can tell the difference in his body language.
He’s bordering on attack mode. Because he knows I can take him down.
Because he knows I will. He sees beyond the bullshit, and he’s ready to let it all go and let me get under his skin and in his bones like the good doctor I am.
He just needs a little push.
He needs to get out of his fucking head. Needs to remember he has a heart underneath all those tattoos and raw muscles and underground fighting history when he was little more than an attack dog.
I angle myself toward him, smirk growing because he’s growing. The bulge in his pants is armored and ready to battle—with mine. We both could use taking the edge off before the hunting begins, since mine is just as hard. All black steel here.
“Get the fuck out, Jude,” he grunts, swinging again, the punching bag ready to lose and bust open.
“No.”
He turns to me, and I’ve crossed my arms, leaning back against the stall, tapping my arm casually.
“The fuck do you want from me?”
I grin. Like a lion antagonizing a bear. “The fuck do you want from me?”
He fumes, gaze locked on mine, pushing a storm through his nostrils.
“Briella’s not the only one in denial,” I tell him. The second I stop tapping my arm, the second I flick my eyes down to the painfully obvious erection, he charges. Like a bull.
I’m ready for him. I dodge at the last second, grip the back of his neck, and shove his head against the stall wall. I know just the amount of force to use to bruise and bloody him, but not give him a concussion. He snarls with pain and swings his fist.
I duck and strike for the solar plexus, sinking my fist deep into his gut. His breath explodes, but before he can recover, I drop low, using his momentary weakness to my advantage. I know all his tells.
Shifting my weight, I grab his arm, twisting it behind his back in a controlled lock. I pivot, drive my shoulder into his chest to throw him off balance, and with one swift motion, I sweep his legs out from under him.
His back slams against the cement. I land on top of him, using my body weight to get him where I want and keep him pinned.
My knee digs into his spine, while I have his arm twisted in a painful lock, my forearm pressing against his neck, forcing him to stay down.
Positions reversed from last time…and my cock throbbing against his ass.
With his cheek against the dirty ground, he glares up at me, but there’s a shift in his gaze. Something less animalistic and more human.
“You done?” I mutter, locking him down even tighter with a feral smile.
He swallows hard, his fists clenched, but he doesn’t fight me anymore. “Not yet.”
I lean down, my lips close to his ear, my voice low. “You will be.”
He tenses, bucks. I slam him back down. “You’ll thank me later, Vincent. Because you’re no good to her like this, and you fucking know it. And it’s time your denial stopped.”
When I let go of his arm, I go for his pants, thankful he’s wearing sweats and no belt. It takes all of a few seconds for me to rip his pants down to the thighs, exposing the tattooed globes of his ass. Covered in the art of our fucked up history.
Vincent flexes. Hard as a goddamn mountain.
“Jude, you prick!” he growls, struggling more. “You and your god-complex get the fuck off me.”
With a dark chuckle, I unzip my slacks and unleash my cock. Longer than his but not quite as thick. I grind against him, lean in, and croon, “You should really listen to your doctor, Vincent.”
Fuck, it feels so goddamn good to get my length between those steel-like cheeks of his. Feel them fucking clenching all around me. I’d never penetrate him. Not a chance in fucking hell. But I’m cutting through all the bullshit tonight. He’s going to feel what we both want, what we both need.
“I don’t want—”
“Like hell you don’t,” I growl, get my hand under his pelvis, and grip the undeniable evidence.
His cock jerks in my hand. “Are you ready to stop with these fucking games, Vincent?” I stroke him and rock slowly.
“She wove our names onto your back, your most prized possession. She’d known us for one day, Vincent. One goddamn day. And she knew.”
I stroke him more, fisting long and deep and feeling his body language loosen up, his breath growing heavier. Almost to surrender. “And you haven’t removed it. Because you know in that big, thick skull of yours, the only other prized possession you could possibly have.”
“You?” he spits out.
I shrug, smiling down at him and aiming my dick at his anus. “I was going to say my cock, but…”
“Fuck your cock,” he hurls, thrashing again.
I loosen up my grip on the back of his neck so I can dig my fingers into his hair, get a clump, and yank his head back.
“Are you ready to drop the act, Vincent? Let go of the fighter. I let go of the soldier. We’re two men, two brothers who share a bond deeper than blood.
Two chains in an unbreakable circle of five. ”
“Fine, Jude.”
I tilt my head. “What was that?”
He drops his head onto the floor, his voice deep and low. “You’re right, Doctor Dick. You happy now?”
“You want this dick?” I touch my crown to his anus. “Want me?”
“Hands, Jude. Later?” He turns his cheek, his brown eyes warmer than I’ve ever seen them. “We’ll figure it out.”
I can live with that.
I get off him, only for him to sucker punch me right in the jaw. My head snaps back, but I laugh, rubbing my chin. Good thing we’re both steel. I’m still laughing when he grips my collar, hauls me forward, and our mouths crash, devouring.
It’s about goddamn time.