18. Ladies, You Can’t Fix Him #3
I told myself that this time, I would learn from this.
There were, in fact, limits to the ways I could debase myself.
I’d made myself cold on purpose—I played my little games for a reason, so that I couldn’t be made to suffer if I never did anything for any outcome but personal gain.
But even as I thought it, I knew it was a lie.
Footsteps were fading behind me when I felt a hand curl tightly around my upper arm. “Come on.”
Jude was almost dragging me by the time I realized he was even there. “What?”
I caught a glimpse of his face, that hard flash of certainty. There were moments, now and then, when I understood he was capable of things I couldn’t imagine.
This was one of them. “Jude—”
He left me standing in the doorframe, having released me without warning. He didn’t say a word before striding over to Teddy’s car, catching the driver door before it fell shut and yanking Teddy out by his collar.
“Hey, man, what the—”
I gasped when Jude landed the first blow, a hard punch that whipped Teddy’s head nearly all the way around.
There was a spray of blood that filled my vision like a crashing tide, a heady wave of déjà vu.
It ricocheted across the white exterior of Teddy’s car, some of it flecking my cheek as I forced myself closer, through the dissonance of the voices in my head saying let him while the rest of me rolled its eyes.
“Jude. Jude.” I felt the weariness of someone whose guard dog was barking at the mailman. “Jude—”
But he wasn’t stopping. He landed hit after hit, even after Teddy had already fallen to the ground, even after he’d already stopped moving.
Teddy had never been equipped for a fight to begin with—Teddy was an artist, a cinematographer who probably did little more than jog on a treadmill from time to time.
He was rag-dolling at Jude’s feet within seconds.
“Jude. Stop. Stop.” I could hear anger in my voice, a beat of delayed rage that materialized when I looked down at Teddy’s battered face. Jude had dropped to one knee, his fist angled straight downward. “Jude!”
I reached out and grabbed him by the back of his collar, something that should have been objectively dangerous, like trying to take hold of a bull. He staggered backward, his spine colliding with my chest. I could feel him breathing hard, convulsing, like he’d collapse at any moment into sobs.
“You don’t know what he’s just done.” Jude’s voice was raw, unopened. He started to fall, his legs buckling under him as the rage unlocked. “You don’t understand—”
I caught Jude and slid with him to the ground. The sun setting on the hills was a carnal red, a splatter of psychedelic pink.
“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.” I was angry at him, furious about the unnecessary violence, sick with the way I wanted him still. “This isn’t sexy, Jude, it’s disgusting. You’re supposed to have—” What, impulse control? I was asking a demon to behave.
“You don’t understand.” He sagged against me. I could smell the skin of his neck, the salt of his sweat. The grime of him, of everything he’d forever get away with.
I slid out from under him to find Teddy’s outstretched wrist. I shifted my thumb until I felt a pulse, shallow but definite. “I have to take him to the hospital,” I said, numbly. There was still a voice in my chest that looked at Teddy’s prone body saying: good.
I pushed it aside in favor of another. There’s a devil on your back.
I felt numb, oblivious to anything. I don’t know when or how I rose to standing, only that Jude’s palm had cupped around my cheek, tentative, ridiculous.
Wordless apology. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I closed my eyes and leaned into his touch, shaking my head before I kissed his palm, then the raw skin of his knuckles.
“This isn’t okay,” I said. “It’s fucked, actually. Something’s wrong with you.”
His eyes were clear when they met mine. “I could say the same.”
His thumb shifted to part my lips and the feeling in my chest nearly split me open. I know he caught my gaze straying to his mouth. He’d cut his lip, either because Teddy had managed to get a shot in or because he’d bitten it.
“Put him in the car,” I said after a moment. “I’ll take him to Hodel.”
Jude’s brow arched. “Hospital would be better. They’ll file a police report.” He was daring me, I thought at first. But then no, I realized he still wanted to be punished. By someone, anyone. Maybe me.
“Come on, Jude.” I exhaled tiredly. “Would that even matter?” I thought again of Emmanuelle’s voice: I could kill a man in this room—
A heavy laugh bubbled from Jude’s lips. “No.”
His hand found my waist, an avaricious splay of hunger.
It occurred to me that I’d never thought to read his palm, to check it for disaster.
All my impulses had left me, even the good ones, even the old ones.
His grime stuck to me, like a permanent glaze of sweat.
I remembered my grandmother’s teachings, the tongues of fire that were God Himself. It hit my mouth like wildfire ash.
Then I let the devil kiss me until Teddy stirred, semiconscious, at our feet.