Chapter 23 #2
"We missed Yule," he says, his voice low. "And you said more than once you wanted to attend. So I made a small one for you." He lazily gestures around. “This is the best oak tree we have on the grounds, so we're here for tonight."
I’m honestly shocked right now, my body completely uncertain what to do with all the good feelings.
I take a sip of the warm, chocolate goodness. It’s a little darker in flavor than before, less sweet, missing an undertone I can't quite identify. "It's good," I say, surprised. “Tastes different from whatever was used in the attic.”
Maybe it's the bond smoothing over the rough edges. Maybe it's exhaustion, or relief, or just the simple fact that I'm too tired to fight anymore. Or maybe—and this is the part I don't want to examine too closely—maybe some part of me understands why he did what he did.
Fear makes people do terrible things. I know that better than most.
"I'm going to the long hall tomorrow,” Judge says eventually, breaking the heavy silence. “I’ll be there most of the day.”
"Can I... walk around?" The words come out hesitantly. "Look around the castle, I mean. On my own."
He considers this, and I see the conflict in his expression—the protective instinct warring with something softer.
"I can take you with me,” he says finally.
It's not a no. It's not a cage. It's just... caution.
I can live with that.
"Okay."
He picks up his own mug, something darker, probably coffee or whiskey or both, and watches me over the rim. "What's the story behind the mug?"
I wrap my fingers around the ceramic, feeling the familiar shape of it. The sea turtles swim in their endless loop, faded but still visible, still mine. Still Dean’s.
"There was a store near our bunker," I start, sitting in a chair myself, shrouded in his bomber jacket.
"It had been picked over for anything useful, but they'd left the decorative stuff. Coffee mugs, plates, things like that. I saw this one on a shelf, and I loved it. I wanted it so badly. But we weren't supposed to go in there as kids, which we obviously didn’t listen to, so I just looked at it every time Dean and I passed it.”
I take a breath, steadying myself.
"So Dean took it. One day, without telling anyone, he snuck in and grabbed it and gave it to me." The memory rises up, bittersweet and aching. "He said it was stupid for me to keep staring at something I wanted without reaching for it."
Judge purrs, low and encouraging, and the sound wraps around me like a blanket.
"I like the sea turtles because they have a shell," I continue. "They can protect themselves without needing fangs or claws. They just carry their armor with them wherever they go." I trace the faded image with my thumb. "It would be nice if omegas had shells, too.”
The purring deepens. “We could reach out to your old home, see if there’s anything left that would be nostalgic.”
I shake my head, the sentiment making me blink rapidly to keep the tears at bay.
"At this point, I haven't heard from them in so long.
I… I don't want them to find me." I feel vulnerable saying it, exposed in a way I hate.
"I mean, I guess they could still reach out.
But I don't want to risk it." My voice drops, just staring at the mug and the way my finger tips are turning a little pink. "I'm so tired of running from people."
Judge is quiet for a long moment, then he says, “I don't think you understand. You’re not going to run from anyone again.”
I look up at him. “What?”
"They'd have to negotiate with me to even try and approach you.”
That sure has a way of hitting me square in the chest and lower in my stomach, the concept settling over me like armor.
Anyone who tries to come near me has to face Dominion.
I feel gross for enjoying the safety when I know, just a few months ago, that version of Diana would be dying on the inside with how easily I accept this life.
"What's your idea of romance?" I ask, changing the tone of this conversation, reaching over for some cheese that’s spread around among fruit and meat. “Real romance.”
He considers the question seriously, his gaze distant. "Having you care for me, and I for you,” he says finally. "Not because the bond makes you. Just because you want to."
"You're not bothered that we didn't meet normally? Get to know each other, choose each other freely?" I ask, although there’s no anger or frustration behind the question. It’s just a genuine wonder as I eat something so perfectly salty and creamy.
"Your scent is all I needed.” He meets my eyes, slowly scratching his chin that has the faintest hint of stubble.
"And despite your persistence in trying to kill me, you’re interesting, nurse.
You're brave. Loyal. A survivor. You're good at your work when you're allowed to do it.
" A ghost of a smile before he takes a drink of whatever he has, not breaking eye contact with me.
My laugh comes freely, and the question leaves me before I can consider what the answer might do to me. "Did you love before me?”
My body stiffens when I realize I don’t want to fucking know that answer, because having any feeling toward it might suggest, out loud, that I seek love with this man. And while that gets the butterflies flapping in my stomach, I don’t know what to do about the totality of it yet.
And then the asshole proceeds to hesitate, and something about that hesitation sends a spike of irrational rage through me, and I regret it even more badly now. He grins, catching it through the bond. "I've experienced fondness, yes."
"I don't want to know anything about it." My words nearly mesh together.
I can see the victory in his eyes—he likes my jealousy, the possessive asshole.
But then I start thinking about Judge as a lover.
As someone who cares, really cares. How deep can his love go?
Or is it limited, like a damaged version of love?
Functional but stunted, like a plant desperately trying to grow in the dark?
Would it even matter?
He purrs more, sensing my shift in mood. "Don't be sad. It's natural to be jealous of anything related to your mate."
“You’re enjoying it.”
He smiles, the action so carefree and handsome. “You can put your hackles down. Nothing has ever felt even close to what I feel for you.”
My body nearly shivers with electric feelings, my eyes moving so aggressively inside their sockets as I can’t focus on anything. “What is the end goal with Dominion?” I get out, trying to move on from emotions I’m not prepared to handle at this moment.
He sips on his drink more, never breaking eye contact. “I’ll pretend like that wasn’t a terrible transition in conversation… But I’ll indulge. There will be a better world one day, Diana. Like we talked about. I don’t even know what that looks like, but it’s my goal.”
“And,” I begin, feeling like I might as well rip out all the uncomfortable things while they’re so close to the surface. “What about, you know, Titan?”
Oh, shit. I messed everything up. The way his side of the tether darkens and fills with anger is almost instantaneous, his body stiffening.
I can see his chest rising and falling quicker than before, but then he takes a slow breath in, and an even slower exhale.
“I’m tending to it. You don’t have to worry about it.
Once it’s done, the entirety of Dominion will open to you.
You can do what you please. Visit whatever sister city we have. Start a damn book club if you want.”
I can tell he tried to make it sound light, but his tone is different. “Maybe a cooking club,” I say, trying to lighten it more.
"One thing that’s non-negotiable is that you'll always have people with you. Guards and protection. But you won’t be stuck in an attic anymore. Not again.”
I want to ask more questions about omegas, how Dominion runs, all of it. But, well, fuck, I guess I really care for him now, don’t I? I hate the way his good mood seems dampened. “Thank you, Judge, for making this for me,” I say, motioning around.
“I hope one day it doesn’t bring you guilt to be here.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can feel it. You’re always weighed down by it.”
I glance down at the food again, thinking of how, sometimes, we went quite hungry at the Enclave, especially during winter.
I think of the story of his mother being bred and, no doubt, starved, too.
“I get so excited, I admit. I feel—” say good things for your mate…
he needs it “—I feel really warm things for you. As if my whole preconception of you never existed,” I say, catching the way his eyes widen, just slightly, like he’s hungry for that.
“And then I see all this food. And I feel guilty. We went hungry most winters at the Enclave, desperate for spring and to hunt. I don’t know how to balance it. ”
“Whatever food we don’t eat goes right to everyone else, especially the young and pregnant.
You don’t need to worry anymore, Diana. Or fine, if you want, you and Kitty can get together, and you can suggest changes.
You’ll really get to learn how we take care of each other here, and we don’t let things go to waste.
And for the rest of the time, you enjoy your scent match, because no day is promised.
That's all any of us can do.” He lets some silence hang between us, especially since he can probably feel that his words mean something to me.
"I understand you didn't choose this, Diana. I did the only thing my body and mind knew how to do to help you. It wasn't perfect. But I’m trying.”
Big, hulking… ugh. I place the mug down and actually go to Judge to lean all my weight onto him, wrapping my arms around his neck and leaning on his shoulder.