I woke up to soft murmuring of the birds.
Didn’t know when I fell asleep in arms of a devil. All I remember was his hands on me. And that freaking… thing… inside me. The moment I thought of it, I became hyper aware.
I lay still for several minutes, blinking and processing, my senses sensitive by the warmth of his body against mine. His broad chest pressed against my back, his arm draped possessively over my waist and fingers curled lightly. His breath kissed my neck, and shivers trailed won my spine.
I kept staring at the wall as my thoughts ran wild, desperate to escape the suffocating reality. The dull ache of his… gift… was still there. It was absurd, humiliating, and yet… my body betrayed me. My cheeks flushed as I shifted slightly, the movement dragging his arm tighter around me.
He stirred, murmuring low in his sleep. The sound rumbled against my back, deep and resonant, like a predator even in rest. My heart quickened.
Why couldn’t I move?
I should hate him. I did hate him. Every fibre of my being wanted to shove him off me, to claw my way out of this bed and leave the cruel heaviness of his existence behind. And yet… I couldn’t.
His arm pinned me down and it made my stomach churned with differing emotions. Fear. Resentment. And something darker, something forbidden that I didn’t want to name.
His hand flexed slightly against my stomach, and I sucked in a sharp breath, slowly, his thumb traced an absentminded circle on my skin, and my breath hitched.
“Awake?” His voice was groggy, thick with sleep but still commanding.
I didn’t answer, my throat too dry, my mind too loud.
He shifted, pulling me closer, his chest now flush against my back. The heat of his skin seeped into me, branding me in ways I couldn’t shake off. His lips brushed my shoulder, lazy, unhurried. “You’re tense,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower, like he found my discomfort amusing.
I wanted to retort but remembered something.
He chuckled darkly. “You’ll get used to it.”
My fists clenched at his nonchalance. The audacity, the arrogance-it was infuriating. But the way his breath feathered against my skin, the way his body fit against mine so effortlessly, was distracting.
“I won’t,” I whispered shifting in his arms.
But before I could move, his hand slid higher, splaying over my ribs, dangerously close to my chest and my whole body stiffened. “You will.”
I closed my eyes, biting down the retort on my tongue, forcing myself to stay still, to not react. He was testing me, toying with me. But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me undo again.
The thing-God, that thing-shifted uncomfortably with every tiny movement I made. It was humiliating and frustrating.
I squirmed against him as he shifted his leg and trapped me under all the muscles. “It’s uncomfortable,” I muttered through clenched teeth, hating how small my voice sounded.
His hand tightened slightly, pulling me even closer until I could feel his lips near my ear. “Sweetheart, you don’t know the meaning of uncomfortable.”
I stiffened. His fingers slid lower, grazing over my stomach, lazy and teasing, before stopping just shy of where I dared not want him to touch.
“You’ll wear it like a good girl. Take it off, and you’ll regret it,” he growled lowly.
I glared at him. Wanting to smack him hard and knock some senses into him. But knowing him, he’d probably do something perverted again. To be honest, I had braced myself for his wrath, for the cold punishment I was certain would come. Instead, he surprised me.
His anger was diabolic but restrained; his touch was commanding but not cruel. It was unnerving how easily he shattered the image I had of him, leaving me unsure of what to feel-or how to fight back.
Instead, I turned my face, focusing on the sky outside. It was rather clear, unlike last night when the storm came. Like the man behind me.
When I felt a light smack on my arse, I jumped startled. “What-”
“Your eyes.” I turned to glare at him as he grinned like the devil he was. His eyes burned into me-sharp, amused, and pale. “should be on me when I’m around, got it?”
I swallowed hard and nodded unconsciously as he leaned and pecked my lips leaving me startled.
Before I could mutter a word, a sharp knock on the door rattled through. My eyes were still on him. I didn’t know what it was, but something had changed. Something I couldn’t tell. Or was it the first time I was looking at him, rather than cowering in fear.
Judas’s grin faltered and the curve of his lips twisted into something cold and unwelcoming as his gaze shot toward the door. I remained frozen, clutching the sheets to my chin. My pulse was wild, erratic, and not entirely due to fear.
I watched him rise. His bare skin caught the faint light and the sharp planes of his body accentuated by the dark contrast of his black boxers. My throat dried as my eyes involuntarily drifted lower, and heat crawled up my neck when I noticed the obvious bulge. Judas didn’t bother to hide it-he never did.
Without sparing me a glance, he strode toward the door and swung it open. A guard was standing there. Tall, broad but still looking harmless in comparison to the monster of the man he worked for.
The guard was stiff as his head slightly bowed.
“What is it?” Judas snapped and leaned against the doorframe crossing his bulky arms and the snakes on his back flexed.
The guard hesitated, shifting on his feet before answering, “There’s an issue, sir.”
He said something in Russian I couldn’t understand.
Judas’s jaw tightened, and a flicker of something dark crossed his face. For a moment, I thought he might lash out, but he didn’t. Instead, he tilted his head that made the guard flinch. “And?”
The guard shifted again, this time he stammered “It’s… your father. He’s here.”