Page 91 of Judas

There’s a shift in the room when he guides her closer to me, depositing her on my lap just like Sadie was before sending me off to mental torture. Nadia tenses, trying to push up from me but Kace coos her.

“Be my good girl and stay there.”

“W… why?”

“Cause I’m going to show him why you will never run to him.”

Chapter thirty-two

Havok

Nadia is hesitant and rigid, understandably. Sitting on the lap of your could-have-been killer would likely make a whole lot of people nervous. This is where I like her though—apprehensive. Alert to the point her eyes are zeroed in on me but she’s so aware of her surroundings that any time Lucien shifts or makes a sound, she nearly leaps off of him. Like a good girl, she stays put—ready to vacate his lap at a moment's notice and follow my command. God, I love her.

Reaching a hand out, I cup the right side of her face, running my thumb over her lips. Giving the bottom one a bit more attention while holding her stare until she’s calmed long enough to breathe evenly. In my perusal, I notice a few random streaks of silver in her dark hair. Hiding amongst the clumps of black, teasing the eye with a random shine.

Why haven’t I noticed those before?

Nadia could bring the world to its knees, have the rich beg the poor for safety, or shoot me straight through the chest with agoddamn harpoon and I’d still put her on a pedestal and worship the ground she walks on. She’s stunning in her own right, which I am undeserving of. She’s someone who is fighting so hard to find her place in the world yet still gives me pieces of her when it’s all she has left. I’m greedy as fuck when she’s in question, I’ll take every bit of her and demand the rest for later.

I slide my fingers through her hair, pinching some of the silver strands between my digits, feeling them as if they have their very own texture, but they don’t. They’re velvety and will look just as alluring curled around my hand as the full pigmented ones. Which I do just that: curl her dark and chrome colored strands through my grip firmly, and clinch. Tugging her head back until the length of her neck is exposed, I find exactly what I am looking for—her throbbing pulse.

Still, Nadia doesn’t move. Other than the way her hands droop down and search for anything she can hold on to. Including the top of Lucien’s left arm—too good for the dried blood and gripe that will surely transfer over to her soft skin. I have her full attention, the gleam in her silver pools solely on me as she sits on him like a tool—an inanimate object. He’s pointless outside of serving as the flat surface I need to support Nadia when I ruin her. Fucker likes to pretend he has one purpose, to maim, but I’ll gladly show him what forniphilia is and the humiliation that comes with being used as a thoughtless fixture. Add a few new experiences to his murder resume.

“See this?” Roughly, I angle Nadia’s face where Lucien could see her. “You could never.”

Guiding her back to me, my eyes eat up the sight of her. Seeing how her throat works through a swallow but she says nothing. Her steely-colored eyes flicking from left to right, seeing pieces of me I can’t view without her keen eye or a mirror. Even then, I wouldn’t be able to understand what she sees in me. Her eyessettle to the left, Lucien in her peripherals. Wrenching her head to the side, I make her look her brother in the eye.

Admonishing her, I growl, “Is this what you wanted to see, baby girl? Your eyes were wandering his direction; one can only assume you want to look at him and not me.”

“N…no.” Her reply is soft. Embarrassed, even. A flush crawls up her neck from the collarbones.

“Oh? That’s funny. You’re telling me that you didn’t look at him from the corner of your eye?”

“No.”

“No?”

Squatting down some, still holding her in place, I bring the both of us eye to eye where she couldn’t lie to me even if her life depended on it. Her cheeks heat now, the flush from seconds ago staining the apples of her face in a beautiful shade of pink. Eyes wide, drenched with concern, she fixates on Lucien. If she looks harder she may burst into flames. Dragging up my free hand, I slap her just enough for it to sting but not enough to cause her true pain—a shock to her system. Nadia winces, inhales sharply and squirms. Lucien, though? He turns his head at near neck-breaking speeds as an air of rage settles over him—tensing under Nadia’s wiggling frame.

A little slap pisses him off? That’s ironic, since he nearly choked her to death.

”Something wrong, Lucien?”

“Touch her that way again…” he warns me.

“Or what?”

I repeat the motion on the opposite side, but a bit harder. Warranting me a hopeless whimper. The smacked skin turns brighter in color and I love it, love her. Love how responsive she is and the way in which she leans in closer when I cause the masochist a bit of pain. Amusement hits me deep down whenLucien begins chastising me, but I’m too caught up looking at his sister. So goddamn perfect.

“… son of a bitch.” Lucien shuns me, but the only thing in this situation I give a damn about is Nadia and the way her eyes are starting to gloss over.

Smarting off to him, I hiss, “I’ll send my mom your grievances.”

Lifting to a stand, I press up behind her. Right outside of her line of sight, forcing her to watch Lucien. Drawing her back into me, her torso elongates with the lean, feeding Lucien’s curious glances. Grabbing the underside of her chin, my fingers reach up to the soft tissues of her cheeks and squeeze until the hardness of her teeth pinches the flesh and she tries to tug away from me. Her slight thrash is cute—she isn’t going any-fucking-where.

“Open your mouth, show Lucien how good you are for me.”

Nadia groans but opens anyway. Obedient—another thing that fuels my deviance. Two of my fingers instantly sink into her mouth and slide over her slick tongue. A part of her I remember very intimately. So much that my dick stiffens when I thrust them between her pouts, right before she starts to suck. All fervent and eager, hungry, exactly how I remember her feeling. It’s too damn easy to lose myself in the way she feels, in how good she is at accepting the things I’m aching to give her.

---