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hesva148 · 2 years ago

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Peach you’ve done it again*

.・。.・゜Dark AU ゜・。.

V E R S I O N 2

“It’s you that I’ve been thinking about and I shouldn’t be. You’re cattle waiting for slaughter, baby.”

TFOTA // All Human // AU : Cardan tries not to lust after the girl he's supposed to kill.

Trigger Warnings: Crude language, Drugs, Sex, Murder/Talks of murder, Sexual/Physical Assault.

Jude's POV

“You think I'm weak.”

“You are weak,” I tell her. “You're weak and pathetic and I-”

“I'm a mirror,” she shouts. “I'm the mirror you don't want to look at.”

I wince, her voice sounds like its directly in my eardrums. Angry at me, always so fucking angry. I only tell her the truth, tell her what Dad tells me when we’re alone. It didn’t make sense then, but now I get it. So docile and pitiful, crawling after Locke even after what I tell her he’s done – with me, let alone someone else.

“You’re so far up Dad’s ass, you’re worse than me. At least I’m trying to leave. So, what if Locke’s my ticket? At least I’m not that fucker’s lapdog.” Then she grins suddenly, looking more like me than she’s ever had before. It’s a slimy smile, that trembles if I look close enough. She’s upset with me, more than she is with Locke. “I wonder if he’s put you up to this. If he’s playing another game. If you’ll even remember this after you see him tonight.” She laughs but it sounds choked. “God, Jude. I almost feel sorry for you.” It feels like a dream for a moment, until the ache in my chest convinces me this is a memory. I guess she had been right, I did forget this altercation.

It took a knife to her throat to remind me what a despicable bitch I’ve been trained to be. Something rough wipes at the corner of my eye. I must be crying. I try to move my hands but they feel stiff. I think I’ve passed the state of panic in my stasis. I wonder how long I’d last like this. It’s stifling, like there’s a weight compressing my ribs. My fingers twitch until I can finally lift my wrists. It takes me a moment to realize that they’re moving in tandem because of the Zip tie. I’m a little offended that he hadn’t taken it off of me, probably opening wounds that were on their way to healing.

Something tickles my cheek, and a slow rumbling sound not only fills my ears, but trembles against my skin. My nose wrinkles and I open my eyes, unsurprised to still be in Cardan’s bed. The heaviness in my chest does not subside and for some reason it makes me panic. I try to lift up, a strangled noise leaving my throat. I feel groggy.

“Hey,” hands come to my shoulder, helping me up and propping pillows behind me. The weight on my chest lifts, only to press four paws deep into my skin. A fat black cat meows as it arches it’s back in a stretch before jumping off. I watch, almost in a daze, as it saunters over to a familiar pair of legs, rubbing itself between Cardan’s feet before exiting the room.

I look up to Cardan, who looks incredibly distant for some reason, then I look to Ghost who had been the one to help me up. “Was… that a… cat?” It’s hard to form sentences, my mouth feels like it doesn’t want to work. “Did you… drug me?” My eyes search for Cardan again, brows furrowing in confusion “You… have… a cat?” for some reason, this tidbit of information is hard for me to grasp.

Cardan shrugs, not moving from his spot, “I like pussy.”

I blink, taking him in. He’s wearing a different shirt from what I recall. It’s short-sleeved and black and says something in the center that makes me think about PSA i had to sit through as a kid. How much time had passed, I wonder, for him to change clothes? A few hours? A few days?

“Huh?” I manage when I realize what he’s just said. Ghost’s snort is the only indication I hadn’t made that up.

“I’m no Valerian, but I would guess you had a seizure,” Ghost tells me, “but like the NEAD kind. I would know if you have epilepsy,” he says, but when he talks it feels like my head is under water. I guess I’m no Valerian either, but I don’t think loss of consciousness due to NEAD lasts as long as it feels it did. I rub the sides of my thumbs to my forehead.

“What… did you… give me?” I'm very conscious of my own heartbeat and it suddenly starts to overwhelm me.

“Something I found in Valerian’s shit. He said it was fine. Might have been a high dose of some acetaminophen.” He looks away when he mumbles, "I could have also been Fentanyl."

I drag my hands to my chest, the intense thumping makes the whole room shake, and my vision get blurrier at each punch. I close my eyes but that seems to make it worse. “Won’t stop…beating…”

“I mean, I would hope so,” Ghost sounds confused but when I look up, it’s Cardan who’s face shows concern. I think the look on his face makes my heart beat ten times faster. I almost don’t see him move to place his hand on the back of my neck. If I had just came back from some dissociative seizure, Cardan might just give me cardiac arrest next. Maybe because his proximity, maybe because I think he can genuinely snap my neck in one go. His long fingers work quickly, finding pressure points and pressing them down before I can even protest.

No forgotten memories resurface this time, or if they do, they’ve retreated into the void that is my mind. I stare up at the ceiling when I come to. They’re very high, I note uselessly. Lazily I turn my head to the side, finding Cardan slowly stroking at a ball of black fur in his lap, resembling an old Hollywood villain. “This is Elvira.”

Its only when I prop myself onto my elbow that I realize it’s the wrong hand to put any weight on – Valerian’s medication must have worn off – and that I’m no longer bound at the wrist. “You have a cat,” I croak out, trying to mask the pain in my arm.

Cardan’s lips quirk but his eyes look incredibly distant. “We’ve been through this, baby.”

“Right,” I whisper, shutting my eyes to backtrack to events prior to this moment. “…Pussy,” I recall, but unable to get all the right words out.

“You are what you eat,” He mumbles, letting out a short huff of a laugh. He’s expressionless, and I think it’s a bit more endearing than when he looks at me like he’s trying to figure me out. It feels like I can breathe a little easier around him. He makes me nervous – since that night at the party when he looked like an angel in the shadows. Dad always said the prettiest angels were the ones to fall first.

I drop back against the sheets, groaning on impact but not equipped to do much more. I try to take in the room but I cant seem to grasp what I'm seeing. There's a crystal chandelier hanging at the center of the ceiling, I guess I never really looked up to notice it. It casts opalescent rainbows across the wall, convincing me I'm seeing the thin veil obscuring heaven. Upwards of 8k, I guess. I close my eyes, feeling like I’m floating. I touch at the sheets beneath me, gripping the material between my fingers. It's something so soft and silky and unexpected for Cardan. New Money, right. I guess he hadn’t lied that night.

“She’s not dead,” I whisper, finally, finding a thread to pick at. “Taryn – my sister.” It’s a presumption, but I would have known if something had happened to her, wouldn’t I? “Extrasensory perception.” It’s too quiet for a long while, so I turn my head and peer at Cardan. I’m surprised to find him staring back at me, with a look I hadn’t seen before. Something dark and bottomless. Like he's looking at me but he's so far in his own head. “I should contact her.”

Cardan’s lips are thin and he tilts his head to take me in. “No…” he drawls it out, and maybe he isn’t really responding to me at all. The cat – Elvira – jumps off his lap, mewling and stretching before strolling to the slightly ajar door, exiting the room. Cardan hardly acknowledges this, only reaches over to the nightstand and picks up a small glass of water. It must have been sitting out for some time because fat drops of condensation beads over his fingers.

“No?” I repeat, using my unhurt arm to help me lift from the bed. I frown, thinking he couldn’t be this cruel to me after the video we had just seen. Just a short call to hear her voice, maybe. “Car -”

“Drink this first,” he cuts me off. “Your voice is dry. Its…grating.” He leans closer to me, resting his elbows at his knees and I take the cup from him, startled by how badly my hand shakes trying to get the rim to my mouth. Cool water drips down to my thighs, and I'm reminded of the lack of clothing I’m actually wearing.

When half the contents are gone, I try again. “Taryn…” I flinch when the image of a knife to her throat comes to mind. In my imagination, her eyes open and she stares directly at me. I feel uneasy as I place a hand to my own neck, tracing phantom marks the knife would have made if it had been pressed deeper. “She’s in trouble – I can’t just – she…” my nails dig into my skin, as I begin to feel dry heaves start to tickle the back of my throat.

“Ghost is on her. She’s fine. She doesn’t seem to know what’s happening, or she shouldn’t know that you know, at least, that it was a set up.” My brows furrow, wondering why he’s insinuating that she may have something to do with this. "And Jude? it really was a setup." He says it so matter-of-factly, his nonchalance making my skin start to heat with frustration. “Anyways, it’s not like you actually care. Did you even know she’s back from her little trip abroad? In fact, she’s been back for some days now. You haven’t made an international call in five weeks – I’m willing to bet the last one wasn’t even to Taryn.” My eyes cut to him when he says her name. My grip on the glass tightens. I feel something awful take precedence in my emotions. I don’t like him saying her name, I realize. I’m too focused on that to really grasp that my sister might have set me up. That she’s weaseled her way into Dad’s little game – if Dad even has anything to do with this.

No - it can’t be. Taryn would never stoop lower than me, and I’ll admit I’ve stooped low enough to lick the dirt. She’s the good one. “She – Cardan, she had a knife to her throat and you’re telling me I can’t contact her?” My voice runs off in the end, pitching higher before disappearing before the end of the sentence and I try not to let that stun me. I clear my throat and try to center myself, look at the water in my hands, try to count except I can’t remember the order of numbers for some reason. It makes my breaths come faster because I’m so utterly aware how not right this is. I try to fixate on his words recall what he’s said. My brows furrow when I pick at something I shouldn’t even be surprised about, “You… you went through my phone records?” The skin around my knuckles feel tight in the hand that holds the glass. I feel like one wrong move and it would shatter in my hands. I’m just so…angry, and I can’t even really pin point why. It feels like I’m grasping at anything to justify my mood, my turmoil.

Cardan eyes my cup, just as unmoved as before and that makes me even more agitated. “Of course, I did.” There’s a ringing in my ears, and the flush in my face feels akin to a fever. My eyes feel so heavy but nothing stops the array of emotions catching up to me. “I don’t think you know how far I’d go…” he trails off like there’s more to be said, and maybe there is. “Just needed to call a bluff,” he settles on, shrugging and it makes me furious.

“A bluff?” I blink, my eyes going wide and when I make eyes contact, he looks away first, leaning back on that stupid chair like he hasn’t got a care in the fucking world. “Men came into my house and tried to kill me,” I seethe, close to yelling now, “I was held at gun point!” It’s the cocktail of drugs I’ve been given, I try to rationalize, “That wasn’t a bluff and you knew! You knew, Cardan! You came in to save me, because you knew they’d kill me,” I'm breathing more shallow, trying to convince him, it seems, that my life is in danger and there’s a girl out there who looks exactly like me.

“Jude,” he says my name in a tone so commanding, it makes me pause. “They wouldn’t have killed you. I guess your pretty ass clouded my judgment because I shouldn’t have ran into save you. You’re probably more of a danger to them than the other way around.” This time, when he smiles, it hurts, because it’s so mocking…knowing, almost. “Is that how Daddy likes to play? Does our holy Father like to throw darts at you to watch you duck them? Or does he expect you to stand and take it, to pay for your sins?”

Without realizing it, I’m standing upright, feeling like there’s a hell in my veins waiting to be unleashed. Later, I’ll wonder how it was ever possible for me to suppress these intense reactions almost all my life. Cardan tilts his head back, staring at me warily, but not worried and I think to myself that maybe he should have kept my hands bound. Cardan raises a brow, “Did I trigger something, Jude?” My fingers flex, the tip of my middle finger finding where Cardan’s metaphor strikes too close to home.

“Fuck you,” I grit. And to my annoyance he laughs.

“Tell me,” he says, “What’s your form of torture, baby? I guarantee whatever you think will hurt me is nothing compared to what I’ve already been through.” I don’t mean to, but my eyes skim his bare arms, finding those small little round scars. I count them, partially pleased I know how to count again, partially disgusted by how many I’ve counted. He motions me over with a flick of his wrist, “Come here, princess. Go ahead and break the glass. Take a shard and write your name in my skin.” I don’t even mean to move forward but its already too late to backtrack when Cardan grabs my wrist and pulls me on to him. Water splashes over us and he takes the near empty cup from my hand. His free hand finds the palm of mine, thumb going for a round wound at the center, silently telling me whatever I’ve noticed about him, he’s ten steps ahead in regards to me.

He tilts the cup then taps it against the corner of the night table, once, twice – it splinters, then cracks. He holds the fractured glass between us, offering it to me. “You’re real sick, you know that?” I grit, instead of playing his game.

He pulls my hand, I topple closer to him. We’re a breath apart and it's more intimate than I'd like to acknowledge. His eyes blaze like there’s a fire within. It’s going to consume him, I realize. Consume us. His demeanor no longer caries a façade of nicety or indifference. He’s angry, and it’s directed at me. His grip on my hand hurts, “How do you know Sophie?” He asks me slowly. My heart feels heavy. I furrow my brows, getting so exhausted of that name being mentioned.

“I don’t fucking know her,” I whisper. He doesn't believe me and it angers me. It angers me even more that in the back of my mind, I know he shouldn't believe me at all; I dont even believe myself most of the time anyways. He asks me again, hand on mine squeezing the red marks on my wrist. I react. I reach between us and break off piece of the glass. He looks pleased.

"Do it," he dares me. "Do you want me to hold your hand? I like it when you're all batshit like this. Lets me know you got some type of self preservation." He holds my hand to the side of his cheek. "How'd you meet? Camp?" It tickles something in my memory but I dont let him know. "What was she like back then?"

“Why would I know anything about your dead. Ex. Girlfriend?” I press the jagged end of the shard against his skin, but he doesn’t budge. He holds me in place though and I'm very much warned that I'm only doing as much as he's letting me.

“Careful,” he tells me, and I don’t know if he means with what I’m saying or what I’m doing.

I dig the tip deeper, a bloom of ruby leaks onto the glass. My palm gets clammy at the sight. I’m so out of bounds. His feelings for his ex are valid, of course, but when it comes to my feelings about my sister - that shit is just collateral? “Where’s my fucking sister, you entitled piece of shit?”

He lets loose my hand, watching me with, letting me drag the edge down his jaw. “Dead," he whispers, "for all I fucking care,” he says, like he knows I can’t go further than this small scrape, that I can’t stab his jugular like I'm given ample opportunity to. I drop the glass in the cup before grabbing the whole thing from his hand and flinging it to the side. There’s so much force in the throw that it shatters against the far wall.

“Did that make you feel better?” He’s placating me. He pulls me on top of him, my knees bracketing either side of him. He takes hold of my wrists, guiding them behind my back. He restrains them with one hand, the other warms on the side of my leg, slowly moving up until his fingers disappear beneath the hem of the shirt he had lent me. “Now that we’re done with the foreplay,” his finger digs into the back of my thigh, and my back arches as if pushing myself closer against him. “Settle,” he tells me.

I’m taken aback, but I do, I settle, resting my stance, letting him guide me to fully sit on his lap. “Fuck you,” I bite out.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, lifting his hand then slapping it against my inner thigh. I let out a startled yelp, but he lets go of my wrists to hold my cheeks, squeezing them uncomfortably tight, halting any noise I want to make. “And don’t fucking talk to me about entitlement, Jude Duarte.” It’s the first time he’s said my full name and for some reason that unnerves me more than what I saw in that video. He rubs at the sting in my thigh, and gently releases my mouth, sliding his hand down to my neck. I realize how easily he could encase my throat and squeeze it until I take my last breath. I realize just how much of my life Cardan has in the palm of his hands.

“Sorry,” I whisper, feeling like I’ve been here before, apologizing like this when I really didn’t want to. It reminds me of how even though I thought I’ve been in control of my life these past months, it’s only a fraction of what I’ll never have visceral autonomy over.

My hands move on their own accord, settling on his shoulder and at the side of his cheek. My thumb swipes at the blood there. “Sorry,” I whisper again, more sincere, now, transfixed on the blooming red on my finger. Have I ever even swatted a fly, I wonder to myself. Yet I feel the heavy metal of gun in my hand and I wonder how I know where the safety even is, how it feels to squeeze a trigger and why I could have pointed the barrel to Cardan and be absolutely sure I could take him. I feel what’s it’s like to lift a cross bow and aim it where I want it to go. And maybe I never swatted a fly, but I can’t tell myself I’ve never hurt someone.

He tilts his head into my palm, just slightly, but it makes the air in the room still. “I get it,” he admits, “You’re scared.” I'm petrified. I don’t like being so aware. I'm shaking, I'm nauseous, I want to be swallowed into a black hole.

“Of course I am,” I manage, trying to focus on his hands, the heat searing into my skin, dipping from my neck to trace at my collarbone, absently, almost. It’s like he’s replaced his pretty cat with me. “ – we don’t talk… you know that… but that doesn’t mean it didn’t freak me out, seeing a knife to her throat.�� I sound rehearsed even to my ears. I want so badly to be worried about my sister.

“Not her throat,” he tells me. “You were scared of seeing a knife to your throat. It’s like looking in a mirror, isn’t it?” when he glances up at me, he’s daring me to refute it. He leans closer to me, roaming that hand at my thigh to the small of my back, holding me securely as his breath hits my ear, “You saw yourself in her.”

His nose tickles at my earlobe. “What about you?” I counter, “You were just as stunned. Do you see yourself in her, too?”

His lips press into my neck. I can feel the stretch of a smile imprint into my skin. “No,” his words vibrate against my flesh, mending with my already strumming pulse. “But I do see myself in you.” He bites down and my fingers squeeze his skin.

“Ah!” I gasp out, ashamed that I can’t help but pull him closer to me. There’s a prickling sensation when he releases me, pulling at my flesh as he goes. It’s like heat and cold fighting to be more dominant than the other. Cardan leans back, taking my hand that had been on his cheek. He smiles charmingly. I say, “you’re a dick.”

He takes my thumb, guiding it to his lips, “Yeah,” he replies. “That part, specifically.” He sucks on my finger, ridding the blood from my prints. “Are you good now? Tantrum over?” My eyes narrow, but I nod my head just slightly. “Good. I’m going to tell you a secret, okay?” he waits for me to nod again. I place my hand on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart, steady, compared to mine, but soothing nonetheless. “Your sister is fine. Taryn is more than likely aware of everything. That video was for me, not you. Following?” His finger rubs at the mark he gave me, then follows a stray tendril of hair, trailing the curl before wrapping it around his finger.

My brows furrow, “How – why?” Taryn hates me, but not enough to want me dead, right? At least, I don’t think she has a lot of pull to get me on a hitlist. “You?”

He nods his head, “This is the secret part. When Sophie died, someone sent me a photo of a knife to her throat while she was asleep. The knife is the same, the angle of the photo matches the angle of the video, hell, I bet even the REM cycle is in parallel. I was late. When I got in, she wasn’t just dead, Jude. Her body wasn’t even recognizable." He stares off, holding back a lot more of what he saw. It takes him a minute to talk again. "I haven’t slept properly since I’ve met you, you know.” It seems like he’s going on a tangent. “I started seeing Sophie in my dreams again.” He smiles absently, twisting my hair between his finger. “She’s my favorite haunting, you know,” he says. “Don’t tell, Ghost.” Cardan tugs at the lock slightly, coiling it tightly around his finger. “Those pretty green eyes slowly started turning this unnerving golden color, and when I took a step back, her hair seemed darker, skin got darker, freckles disappeared...”

My mouth feels dry, recalling the image I had imagined earlier. When Taryn opened her eyes in my day dream, they were mine looking back at me. I suppose I’m fairly easy to read if Cardan had clocked that before me. I glance down at his shirt, feeling uneasy about his confession. I don’t want to hear it, don’t want to hear how the love of his life was brutally murdered. Don't want to hear him re-imagine her as me. I take in the letters at the center of his shirt. D. A. R. E. I grimace from the irony. Drug Abuse Resistance Education, or D.A.R.E, is an education program that seeks to prevent use of controlled drugs, membership in gangs, and violent behavior.

“I shouldn’t have rescued you,” he tells me.

“I would have been their hostage, anyways” I let him know.

His grin is wry, “You’re still hostage.” He shrugs, “Maybe I’m the lesser evil – but don’t forget that, Jude. I'm not the good guy here. Im still one of your villains.” Fuck butterflies, when Cardan speaks to me, there’s moths infested in my stomach, eating away at my insides.

“What have you gotten yourself into,” I murmur, tapping at a spot on his chest I know a quote should be. “Wouldn’t it be easier to kill me now?”

“Maybe.” He sighs, “But I want to see this through. Somehow, you’ve gotten into my head and under my skin. I’m more worried about someone else killing you now. Is that selfish? That I keep thinking, if anything, it should be me, right? I should be the one to kill you, just so no one else can." He grins crookedly, it does something to the moths. "And I’m telling you these crazy fucked up things, but I bet if I slipped my hand further up your thigh, get them between your legs, you’d be soaking wet, wouldn’t you?” My eyes widen. “You’re more fucked than me,” he tells me. “And it’s kind of intriguing.”

“Cardan…”

“Go put some pants on, I want to take you somewhere.”

“No handcuffs?” I say, dubiously.

Offhandedly, he replies, “I’m thinking about a leash.”

I blink, “That’s kind of fucked up.”

He raises his brow, “Everything that I’ve ever said to you and that’s what you pick at?”

“Seems like cruel and unusual punishment,” I try. Tied to the bed, drugged, held at gun point. What’s a choker around my neck? proclamation or

“Maybe a collar. You’d like that, I promise.” I frown, shakily getting off of him. What he's really saying without actually saying is that whoever is after me, has been after him for far longer. Maybe he wants to know more than I do, how exactly we’re connected.

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Masterlist

#*made me want 2 severely fucked up people to fuck each other senseless #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jude x cardan #jurdan #jurdan fanfic #the folk of the air

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hesva148 · 2 years ago

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This isn't real...

#this is so fucking pretty #soc #leigh bargudo #kanej #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #shadow and bone

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hesva148 · 2 years ago

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.・。.・゜Dark AU ゜・。.

V E R S I O N 2

“It’s you that I’ve been thinking about and I shouldn’t be. You’re cattle waiting for slaughter, baby.”

TFOTA // All Human // AU : Cardan tries not to lust after the girl he's supposed to kill.

Trigger Warnings: Crude language, Drugs, Sex, Murder/Talks of murder, Sexual/Physical Assault.

Cardan's POV

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I lean back to check it, only to see Madoc's text of the day. He's starting early, I note idly, glancing at the time. It’s near four in the morning. I clear the notification and slide the phone back into my pocket. I’m sure if I ignore him long enough, he’ll show his ugly mug soon, so that I can gladly stick a fork in his hand.

“Lollipop?” I glance up to Jude, her head is lolled against the chair, asking about the notification. When she yawns, she doesn’t try to hide it like she’d done before in the past few hours. She even lets out a groan and sigh, twitching her nose from side to side, like a witch from a 60’s sitcom I’ve seen before. The nostalgia makes my chest hurt. I lean my head against the wall, watching her watch me, both of us a sad mirror of each other; droopy eyes, hair askew, scratches and marks and someone else’ blood dried on us. Probably still high from whatever Ghost laced in his weed. She smiles weakly and I wonder what she’s thinking. I wonder if she knows what I'm thinking. Despite her not only recalling Lolli’s name, but mentioning my ex sometime before, I still find myself thinking about my head between her thighs.

“Yeah,” I lie. “Want to see? She’s got bright blue hair and these pretty piercings I think you’d do well to reference on your next trip here,” if I’m sardonic, I’m too tired to care as I gesture lazily to the parlor. “I’m an exceptional piercer,” I grin. Jude keeps her eye contact with me, but flexes her jaw and shivers all the same.

“Liar,” she whispers, “you’re a very bad liar.” I think it’s rich coming from her, but she’s right. I don’t usually lie, I’m just usually good at skirting around the truth. Still, I find myself at a loss of words to come up with when she’s around. “It wasn’t her.”

I shrug, “they all blur together sometimes,” and that is quite the truth, but I can only give Jude half of it. “And yet…” I glance upward, behind her, where the wall splinters around the bullet embedded there. I rub at my thumb, partially inked and wounded, liking the ache that keeps me aware that I’m still alive. “There’s just something about Lolli,” my smile feels as sleazy as I sound. “She’s most definitely earned her name.” When I look back to Jude, I try to ignore the wounded look she gives me. Tied to a chair with a bullet wound in her arm, but it’s what I say about an earlier hookup that reminds her she should be very wary of me. “Tasted just as sweet.”

“Fuck you,” she tells me, straightening her head against the chair. She looks up at the light. “You’re so full of shit,” she mumbles boldly. “Wrong shade of brown,” she recalls, tone mocking brave for the position she’s in. “Why do you tell me these things?”

Instead of reminding her that she’s the one who’s brought it up, I tell her, “I should have taken you to Dain yesterday. I think that would have been the best choice to have you around people. I don’t think I’m supposed to torture you, if I’m honest. But I’ve been kind of itching to.”

She might have caught the grin I’m sporting, the most genuine one of the night, because she says, “You’re fucking crazy.”

“You’re the crazy one,” I remind her as I walk past the chair, so annoyed at the bullet hole, that I take a framed painting and switch it over to cover up the impurity.

“And trust me,” I turn to the chair, lean on it while my hand finds the lever underneath. She looks up at me startled, and lets out a yelp when the chair goes back. She’s laying down beneath me, not unsimilar to the night we met. “You’d know when I’m fucking you.” Her cheeks get warm, but her mind is elsewhere. I wonder if she’s thinking she should have kept her distance the night of the party. She should be aware by now, though, being tied up beneath me is just where she’d end up anyways. There are no stars in here to steal her attention this time, just me. She’s still pretty to me, but has her perception of me changed yet? “You should probably go to sleep,” I whisper. “You have an Econ test, don’t you?”

She blinks and I lift up, heading for the lights. “You… you messed up the aesthetic,” she points out, twisting her head slightly, noting the lack of symmetry in the array of photos on the wall now. “You’re letting me go to classes tomorrow?” she questions as an afterthought. “By myself?”

“Do you want to join a cult instead?” I’m mostly serious. She blinks, confused, right before I flick the lights off. Her Bambi eyes are starting to unnerve me again. Still, I feel her gaze in the darkness and it unnerves me just how fast her eyes not only have adjusted, but how intensely she’s staring at me. It’s all these subtle things that grow into something bigger. Her instincts are trained to adapt and maybe even kill if she can really help it.

“I thought I jumped through conversations half in my head,” she mumbles, quietly. Its like the darkness has blanketed us in secrecy. “Are you in a cult? Is this why you’re called King? What are you? The Priest?”

“Father this, Father that? I think I much prefer ‘Daddy’ then, no?” she lets out a noise, something like a gasp and a squeak. “Maybe that would make you my virgin sacrifice, right?” I’m teasing because I don’t really want to get into why Mayor Eldred was actually funding Church of Mav, a front for a cult pushing heroin, nor do I want to then explain why I have any rights to that signet on any document. In truth, Ghost could type some shit up that would exempt her from classes, and would cover some bases in regards to her suddenly not showing up. Its far more common, especially in Elfhame’s College Town, than anyone really suspects, but professors and school boards keep tight lips over it. Mayor Eldred also funds the university – or his estate does, at least. The elite, tenured professors are more than aware, possibly even part of the cult in question. No one would bat an eye at a young college student suddenly dropping out to find God and start an MLM scheme on heroin disguised as the body and blood of The Great Mav herself.

“How would that work,” Jude pulls me from thoughts, “If I’m not a virgin?”

I grin, despite myself, and we go back to square one, staring at each other.

Neither of us get sleep, and maybe that’s a good thing, seeing as not an hour later, Valerian is coming through the door, turning on the lights. We blink to adjust to the brightness, but Valerian’s ensemble of white on white on white doesn’t help. He looks like the Cult Leader’s Doctor. Even Jude winces when he sets a bag on the counter and pulls out medical tools. He’s quiet, as per usual, reeking of coffee so strong it makes my stomach churn. I’m absolutely starving and all I have is diet coke in the minifridge and melted ice cream that’s been out since yesterday, marinating in Ghost and Jude’s hotboxing.

He cuts Jude from her restraints then cleans and wraps the fresh wounds on her wrists before checking the stitches he’d given her yesterday. I check my messages, finding one from Dain that lets me know Jude’s mansion is all pristine.

Yesterday, when I had left, I ended up in Dain’s bar. Not something he’s built from the ground up, but something he just happens to own 51% of, much to the actual owner’s chagrin. He brings in customers, shady as they are, but she gets revenue and Dain has yet another place to hide from his wife. He’s not too happy with my using his tattoo shop as a pseudo torture dungeon again, but he’s a little amused at the run down I’d given him – in which my boss has me babysitting someone on the top of a hitlist he failed to mention. Not just babysitting, but befriending as well. aving Jude actually

“This kind of sounds like Gen’s play at matchmaking. I mean, it’s a bit poetic if I think about it hard enough.” Dain pointed this out when I explained the bit about getting to know her as organically as possible. “That being said, I’m against Stockholm Syndrome.” His words either coincide or completely deviates from the text I had gotten from Madoc then. “please make sure she trusts you.” I had left him on read but duly noted Madoc’s use of the word ‘please.’ “Anyways,” Dain said just as Lollipop came to introduce herself. “It sounds like a bodyguard job, not a dungeon master one.” Looking at Madoc’s text now, I’m starting to wonder what game he's playing at.

“What’s in that,” Jude asks and when I look up from my phone, Valerian is gently rubbing a cream on to her skin.

“Bunch of good stuff, mixed with more good stuff,” he answers her, voice sounding hoarser than usual. I’m guessing it’s a low dosage of fentanyl and some powdered ibuprofen he stole from his night job as the resident mortician or something at that hospital.

“Right,” Jude tells him. “Of course. How could I have not known?” her wit is dry this morning. He ignores her and helps her up.

Valerian then reaches into his big bag of everything and pulls out another bag, clothes and a pair of sneakers that I hope to Mav he didn’t steal from one of his bodies being refrigerated. “It’s clean,” he tells her and I grimace, wondering why the hell I’m thinking about Mav so much today.

Jude looks to me and I shrug, telling her, “He is the cleanest person I know.”

“Ghost got it from your house,” he further explains and lets go of her hands. She sways a little, most definitely resembling Bambi now. When she loses her center of balance, trying to test out the kinks in her arms, my hands are on her waists instinctively. I like that her breath catches and she doesn’t scramble away from me like I’m betting her instincts are telling her to.

“5 seconds,” she whispers as I set her straight. I give her a questioning look and she explains, dazed, “I was somewhere else.” I start to wonder if Valerian actually had more then fentanyl in his concoction and if its already made its way through her blood stream.

“Where were you, then?”

I don’t expect her to answer, “On the bed in my room.” Her skin ignites; I'm guessing she hadn’t really expected to respond.

“Is that where you want me, princess?” She purses her lips and turns brusquely, following Valerian who had been waiting by the door that leads into the house.

He opens the door for us and if she’s asking why there’s a giant portrait of the late mayor on the wall, I gently guide her to the half bathroom and disregard the question.

I turn to find Valerian a few feet behind me, sanitizing his hand and spraying some disinfectant on his bag. “How’s Balekin doing?”

“Better,” he says solemnly. “I will pray for his speedy demise.” He’s absolutely serious about that too. “Do you want me to switch his IV bag?” I shake my head, but he knows the thought has crossed my mind. We’re just in sync like that. He hands me a small bag of travel sized toiletries and a small phone I'm guessing Ghost had fixed up for her. Valerian leaves through the back door and I pass the bag over to Jude when the bathroom door opens. She looks at me panicked, glances at the bag confused, grabs it and shuts the door before opening it again five minutes later.

“What?” I ask her.

“I can’t remember anything,” her furrowed brows and trembling lips make me uncomfortable. “I don’t remember what the midterm is going to be about!”

I don’t know why I did it – why I decided it would be a good idea to not only escort her to class, but sit right beside her in the crowded lecture hall. I must be a glutton for punishment. I angrily fill out the sheet that had been handed to me, cosplaying as someone who knows Econ so well, I didn’t even have to study. When I glance over to her, she winces as she moves her arm. Go figure, it’s her dominant hand that was wounded. I make a note to tell Valerian to mix some stronger concoction, maybe with morphine instead. When she rubs at her wrist, I gather it’s a habit she’s just initialized, an anxiety induced action when she doesn’t know the answer to her exam questions.

I look over at the students around me and I want to bang my head against the fucking wall. There’s a reason I dropped out of school. Asha couldn’t be bothered to care if I even had a pencil to my name, and then I couldn’t be bothered to worry about school work and trying to survive that drug den at the same time. Asha was good for keeping up a façade, because it made no sense that she’d ever have credentials for fostering if she wasn’t smart enough to play the system. From shitty foster home to shitty foster home, Asha’s was by far the worst of it. I hadn’t been the only kid in the house, but I never saw anyone more than a few months. For some reason, Asha kept me much longer than the rest. I didn’t know who’s punishment was worse, at the time.

When Asha was cracked out, she was often kind to me, in a desperate sort of way. It was when she was sober that I’d suffer the brunt of her emotions, whether it was a slap to the face, a cigarette to my skin or a minute alone in the room with her husband, I thought, it would get better if I held out, if she had her needle filled with special liquid, she’d love me and save me. I used to pray every night she’d get another delivery of heroine until the cost of it started to become…me. One day, when I realized nothing in the weathered bible I kept under my bed would ever save me, I left all the gas burners running and got the fuck out. To my dismay, only my foster dad and his fuck buddy of the day had died. Asha managed to get away from the fire, and it turned out that foster Daddy had one hell of a life insurance plan.

Before Asha could even be investigated properly about the suspicious death, she fucked her lawyer right past a get out of jail free card and straight into unholy matrimony. Maybe a blessing, had they found something that she could have spun to blame on me and get me sent to Juvie. Still, that left me homeless at 14 and with a complex so severe, it was no wonder when Madoc showed up in my life, I clung to him.

I hadn’t spent half my life learning Geometry and Hamlet, but I picked up a few tips on chemical compounds and set Asha’s fancy new house on fire years later when I’d reunite with Mommy dearest. I made sure she knew who was slitting her throat that night. I wanted her looking into my eyes, begging me for mercy. “I am the monster you created.” I couldn’t find God, so I became one, and I took her life like it was my right.

My jaw clenches so tight that my teeth ache. The pencil in my hand snaps and Jude looks over at me like I'm being a nuisance. and I stare back, daring her to say something in the way too quiet room filled with seventy more students cheating on this stupid test. She breaks first and go over the sheet I was handed. I let out a sigh when I realize I now all the answers to these bullshit theoreticals. I fill out the Scantron with a heavy hand, annoyed that I retained information from the few times Eldred actually spoke to me. Or, spoke near me.

When her professor calls time, I switch our papers, dropping Jude’s exam into her open bag and passing mine forward instead. Her eyes are wide but before she can comment, I grab her bag and her hand, pulling her to the exit, shoving past people already complaining about questions.

“What the fuck?” She asks and I tug her closer to my side, bringing my arm around her shoulder. To keep her from running off. “You can’t just do that, Cardan!”

I look down at her, “Why not?”

“It’s cheating!” I almost laugh at her. It’s cheating. She’s got a hit out on her and her babysitter is the fucking Grim Reaper on a good day. But, yeah, she’s worried about cheating.

“You were the only one pulling answers out of your ass, baby girl.” She blinks up at me and I roll my eyes, “Everyone had their phones out.”

Her cheeks tint and her nose scrunches like the little witch she is, and like the unbelievably weak person that I am, I’m entranced. She wants to argue but finally she settles on, “How do you even know about economic growth and the business cycle?”

I find that I don’t want to tell her, don’t want her to know how wacked my entire history is, but I want to give her something she can ponder on, something she’d no doubt use to figure out me out soon enough. “Do you know why they call me King?”

“Not at all – it’s not like I’ve been asking since you kidnapped me yesterday and held me hostage until the ass crack of dawn,” she mutters. I squeeze her shoulder in warning. She’s mouthy, but too ballsy for her own good.

“It’s because of who my dad is.”

“If that’s how it works,” she snorts, “I’d be a queen with who my dad is.”

“Or a saint,” I throw out, guessing at missing puzzles pieces. She won’t say it, maybe she thinks I already know, but it’s all I’ve been thinking about since yesterday. I’m nearly certain I know who her dad is now. A cross references with only a handful of people with the last name Duarte, and the only two people funding a certain summer camp, I’m starting to realize just how much shit Madoc has gotten me into. If my dad had been funding The Church, her dad was the head of it.

She changes the subject, doesn’t want to acknowledge the jab, and says, “Wouldn’t that make you a prince then?”

I grin, grimly, leading her just off campus to the coffee shop her friends had texted her about earlier. Through the immense amounts of notification in their group chat, I gathered they’re excited her phone’s back on and were super worried about her health but apparently had no idea where she even lived. “Dad’s dead. Or at least on paper he is.”

“What does that even mean?” I shrug and let her marinate in that for herself. She yawns deeply for the umpteenth time, and I probably should have spent more time persuading her to sleep instead of having a staring contest with her all night. If I wasn’t thinking about ways I could possibly kill her when Madoc tells me to, I was definitely starting to think about her with less and less clothes on. Thoughts of my tryst with Tootsie Roll started to resemble Jude taking up her space.

“You ever think about dying your hair blue?”

“No. Too discernible, King.” She says this like it’s obvious, and no shit it is. Under the surface at least, but her comment lets me know she’s aware of a lot more going on than I do. But, I figure, she’s already under a lot of people’s radars anyways, what’s stopping her now? “You picturing me as Candy, again?” I can’t help the grin that escapes me as I hold the door open for her.

“That depends. Are you offering a taste?”

She elbows me as I walk behind her, then winces at the sudden shift in her arm and I smirk, placing my palm against the wound. She sucks in a breath but doesn’t shove me off. I know the pressure is helping some and she doesn’t want to accept that, so she ignores me, spotting her friends. As Jude had said, they’ve got their own issues stemming from absentee dads or whatever so they haven’t really noticed the strangeness of Jude’s sudden no-contact.

They wave her over and their smiles turn Cheshire when they spot me behind her, not at all releasing my hold. “Jude!” Liliver exclaims, “Why didn’t you tell us you were bringing a friend?”

“He just followed me here,” Jude deadpans, earning a soft giggle from her. Nicasia, on the other hand, eyes me up and down, eyebrows furrowing as she tries to place me. Recognition slowly dawns on her, but she’s still confused. I smile at Nicasia, daring her to say something, to tell Jude what I already told her anyway. How could she possibly know who I am without explaining herself?

“I’m Cardan,” I tell them, wondering too late, if I should have lied about that.

Liliver gasps, eyes going wide, “You were at the frat party! I didn’t know you two hit it off like that,” she looks at Jude, accusingly.

“He took me home. He’s been lurking ever since.” She reaches and gently pats my chest, looking up at me like she’s infatuated.

“Finally kidnapped her yesterday and kept her up the whole night,” I add in, playing along. Liliver looks scandalized but Nicasia raises a brow and lets out a whistle.

“That’s why you haven’t been answering my calls,” Liliver gives Jude a knowing look and Jude’s jaw ticks just the slightest that they haven’t caught on to her lie. Sorry baby, they cant save you.

She goes to say something, but the barista calls out Nicasia’s name and three cups are slid her way. She hands them each off and looks at me apologetically, having none for me. But Jude waves her off and hands me her cup while taking her bag from my hand. I definitely don’t need more stimulants in my blood, but I grab it and sip from it anyways.

“So what Frat are you in?” Liliver leans against a pillar, eyes narrowed as if trying to visualize where I fit in.

Jude leans against me and tilts her head back to look up at me, “Go on babe, tell them.”

I roll my eyes and tap her nose with the tip of the coffee cup. “Theta Delta Signa,” I rattle off a bunch of Greek letters and they either don’t care enough to call me out on my bullshit or they have no idea that I’m lying.

“How long have you been in?” Liliver taps a finger on her lips, still trying to place me.

I shrug, “A few years.”

“Ooh,” Nicasia’s eyes sparkle, “What was your initiation like?”

Jude frowns, shifting against me. “I don’t think he can talk about that.”

Her friend rolls her eyes, “What am I gonna do? Tell the campus police? Should I also tell them about the bag of weed I’m carrying or the fake ID you have?” I should throw in the guns in the car and the coke in my pocket, just for kicks.

Jude sighs and rests her head back against me, eyes closing, as if looking for patience. I look down at her, gauging her reaction, but her breathing shallows out far quicker than I’d like. “I had to tie someone up and get them to confess something heinous they did on camera.” This happened of course, but when I was seventeen and Madoc had just about enough of me trailing him. He had sighed and told me, “prove it, then. Show me you want this hell.” He gave me a lowdown and I did as he asked, put the fear of God in the creepy youth pastor who liked to groom little girls and boys. I didn’t want Madoc’s hell. I wanted my own power. There is footage out there of said tortured pedophile, but it won’t ever be released. Because his body won’t ever be found.

“Whoa,” Liliver breathes, “That’s hard core.”

Nicasia’s eyes are wide too but if she does go back on her word and snitches on me to campus patrol, who can’t actually do shit on a crime that doesn’t technically exist towards a made up fraternity, I have the knowledge of her fake ID and bag of weed she’s carrying. I’m not above ratting her out in pure spite. “What did he do?”

“I’d rather not let you lose sleep on that.” I smile and gesture with my chin to Jude who still has yet to open her eyes. Her breathing is far too even for her to be cognate, but she can’t be well into a REM cycle just yet. “Speaking of sleep, I should probably get her home.”

Liliver giggles, “You kept her busy last night, poor Jude.” I hadn’t kept her busy at all. Just paranoid. I shrug bashfully and jostle Jude slightly.

Her eyes flutter open and she glances around with a frown on her face. “Did I just fall asleep?”

“No, you just blinked for a very long time,” Nicasia mutters. She waves her hand in dismissal, “Go cuddle with your little vigilante, I’ll see you later.”

“Vigilante?”

“Say bye to your girls, babe.” I turn and lead her out, she frowns but still twists her body to wave back at her friends.

“You’re not taking me home, are you?”

“Of course not.”

She pouts, “Well, can I least get a sofa this time, I still have kinks in weird places from that chair I spent the day in. Also, can I have alcohol? I think I really need a drink, because I’ve been trying to block everything out, and it was working well because of that test, but things are slowing down and I just keep thinking about that guy with an arrow in his throat. And to think I just grabbed that crossbow from its mount on the wall. I didn’t even think it’d actually shoot.”

Ignoring her mostly, I say, “I’ll do you one better. An actual bed.” She sighs almost contently, continuing her rambles.

“You know if I didn’t have this bullet wound, which – I'm coming to terms with by the way that Ghost shot me –

“He didn’t shoot you,” I tell her and she rolls her eyes like she thinks I’m lying.

“ – I would have escaped my confines,” she continues and I open the door to my truck for her then help her up.

“Oh yeah?” I ask and she nods, leaning down close to my face.

Her blood shot eyes are wide with mirth as she whispers like she’s telling me a secret. “Daddy taught me. In a game,” she lets me know and I don’t like the feeling I get when she confides in me. “I got candy when I won. Red Jolly Ranchers are my favorite.” She grins at me sleepily.

I glance down at her lips then back to her eyes, quite lively today, stunning when the sun hits it right. “You’ll have to show me then.” I pull the seatbelt strap around her, clicking it into place.

She grins, “Anything just to tie me up again, huh?” she snorts and leans back against the seat and I shut the door, heading to the driver side. Her head lolls to look at me, the humored smile tapering slightly. “You don’t have to,” she sighs, “Tie me up, I mean. Daddy’s not coming for me. I learned long ago he doesn’t care about us. He’d let you kill me. Hell, he’ll take the gun from you and shoot me himself just to get it over with.” Despite going into this blind, and still unsure if Ren and Stimpy are related to what Madoc is doing, I’m beginning to grasp most of Jude’s short comings have been catered to her dad’s liking. So, the truth is, I believe her. And with the look of guilt on her face, it’s not hard to guess how torn she is about this tidbit of information.

I think she realizes she’s said too much because she frowns, and when she reaches forward to touch the dials on the radio, her fingers tremble. She fiddles with the stations until she finally settles on something pop.

She falls asleep before the first song even finishes, yet I don’t turn off the blaring music. When I finally park the truck, I turn to face her, taking in the twitch of her fingers and the irises fluttering beneath her lids. Her lips are parted, and I can’t help the smirk at the trail of drool down the side of her mouth. When I reach out to wipe her chin I know I’m fucked. I think I’ve known since the party.

I shake my head and exit the car, jogging to her side to shuffle her into my arms. I sigh and ring the doorbell when I reach the entrance, unable to get my keys at the proper angle, unusually flustered by Jude’s hot breath against my neck. Dain pulls the door open, eyes going wide at the girl in my arms. “This her?”

“No, it’s the fucking pizza you ordered. Move, so I can get in.”

He grins, “I wouldn’t mind eating her.” He’s looking for a reaction and I almost give it to him. My grip on Jude tightens and she stirs, murmuring something before nuzzling deeper into my neck. Dain looks very much amused. He takes a step and I’m disconcerted. I’ve hardly ever used this entrance, but for the past few weeks alone, I’ve seen it more than I’d like. Yeah, I gave myself a complex about this house and being the estranged son of the mayor. When I begged my social worker to find me anyone who would pity me enough to let me couch surf until I hit 18, I never expected her to find Eldred of all people. He had been unconcerned with the new baggage he’d acquired, but Dain, who had only been 17 then, made sure I had a room to sleep in at least. He took care of me, but it wasn’t enough most of the time. Off to repent for his own sins, no time for mine as well. And so when Madoc came along, I stuck by him. Probably having Dain and Madoc as pseudo parents was as dysfunctional as all my foster homes, but id take them tag teaming on a half assed parental guidance than reliving any part of my first 14 years of life.

“East,” Dain tells me, when I guess I’ve been standing a minute longer than necessary. I glance and he gives me a knowing look before glancing up the main staircases. Its much easier finding an exit in the place than it is fining the room I spent the last 8 years of my life in.

“Elvira,” I say her name like a question as I make my way up the stairs.

“That primadonna bitch,” Dain mutters, “is napping in the sun room. Your precious princess is fine.” He whines, but Elvira is practically family.

I find my room and set Jude on the bed before I ruffle through my drawers. I hear her yawn just a moment later and when I turn, I see that she’s sat up halfway, resting on her elbows, blinking herself awake. I toss a shirt at her and it lands square in her face. She looks down when it falls into her lap then looks up at me. “Who’s Elvira?” little sneak had been eaves dropping.

I raise a brow and tug my shirt off. She looks at me with wide eyes, trailing over my skin. I reach for the buttons on my jeans, curiously looking over her observation of me. Her skin is flushed, breathing going just a bit shallow, focused on my fingers as I slide down my zipper. She lets out a soft squeak that almost makes me laugh. When my hands no longer obscure my pelvis, Jude places a hand to her cheek, almost resembling the likes of pearl-clutching old ladies.

Scandalized but still watching. “Is that… ?”

“Is that what?”

She holds the shirt I’d given her close to her chest like a lifeline. “Nothing,” she stutters, getting up abruptly.

I glance down wondering if Dain tattooed some gang signs on me without my consent, but I’m sure I’d have already recognized something like that. Then I understand and I smirk. “Oh,” and I’m absolutely charmed by her being so flustered over a piercing.

"Turn around so I can change."

“I’ve seen it all, Jude.” Her teeth grits at the reminder that I’ve been watching her, even when she had been at her most comfortable. I settle on an accent chair I position close to the door, leaning my head back and parting my legs. “I’ve even seen better,” I muse just to piss her off. I hear her mutter something, and I laugh closing my eyes anyway. After a moment, she huffs and shuffles about. She tells me she done only a minute or two later. I see her jeans and shirt folded neatly at the foot of the bed and further up, I see that the covers are drawn all the way to her chest. She turns to her side, watching me.

“No handcuffs?”

I lean over and dig into the bedside table drawer and pull out a wad of neon zip ties. “Pick a color.”

“Pink,” she holds her hands out, palms down. I twist her hands until her palms face each other and loop the plastic around her wrist. “What about my arm?”

It’s bleeding when I glance at it, but it doesn’t seem dire. “You’ll be fine.” She scowls at me but shifts until she feels comfortable. I get up to draw the curtains close, then return to the chair.

“Did it hurt?”

I look at the way the glow from the lamp reflects in her irises. Her tawny eyes look golden. “When I fell from heaven?”

She glares at me, “I know you crawled out of hell. I meant, you know, your piercing.”

I chuckle and lean back, “Yeah, when I got it, sure.”

“Why would you get something like that?”

“Nobody’s really complaining, Jude.” I grin, “Want a feel?” she rolls her eyes but there’s a part of me that knows I could never let that shit happen if she were to even spite me and say yes. The thought of her grinding her hips against mine just to find that perfect angle, to get my piercing to rub her swollen clit, has my hands clenching. Jude might actually kill me before I can even point a bullet in her direction. “Fuck,” I groan out, slumping back. If she notices my sudden turmoil, then she doesn’t comment on it.

“So, is Elvira part of your roster of girls?” I give her a look, trying to assess if she’s going for small talk or if Lolli had really bothered her. Indignant, and maybe even vindictive, she tilts her chin almost proudly and adds, “Just want to know where I fall on the list. Is it Elvira, Sophie, Lolli then me? Sophie, Lolli, me then Elvira?” The mention of Sophie’s name has me tensed and sobered. What bothers me the most is that, somehow Jude had made it to the top of the list, albeit, different from what she’s getting at, but still, I couldn’t let her know that.

Before I can say something to piss her off, the door slams open, and we both turn to see a very erratic looking Ghost enter. He glances at me, eyeing my lack of attire, then Jude, who’s arm had started bleeding through my shirt. “Shit,” Ghost mutters, handing me the laptop he had been carrying and the coffee he probably should lay off of. “I’ll let Valerian know,” he tells us, shrugging off his sweater and bunching it up to place on Jude’s arm. She winces and lets out a curse, but Ghost only turns to me to explain, “No malware… but. Shit man, what the hell is Gen getting you into?”

I open the laptop, walking it over to Jude. There’s a video already on screen, paused. Its dim and grainy and despite half the screen being partially obscured, I make out the features of the sleeping girl on screen. It’s Jude, I realize. Except it’s not. Identical until the mirror image starts to look off. I cant explain it, but I know that’s not Jude in the video. Jude reaches and hits the play button, but she’s so stiff that it seems like every move hurts her to make. Ghost watches me as I alternate between watching Jude and the video. I don’t understand until Jude gasps. Her eyes widen in horror and I think it’s saying something that she’s this petrified given the past few weeks that she’s had. Her eye’s well up and when I turn to the screen, it’s like a buzzing noise starts in my ears. I can’t hear anything but static when I recognize the knife being held to the jugular of the sleeping girl.

I feel a bit sick, recalling images that had been sent to me, nearly identical, but instead of Jude’s look-alike, it had been my fiancée, and back then, I had been far too late. I look to Ghost, wondering how this had escalated from ransom for Jude to emotional torture for me. It’s like my presence had escalated the danger. “They know,” I say. But its more than that, something clicks in my mind but I don’t want to think about it at all, I don’t want it to be real.

Suddenly, Jude lets out a gasp, and jolts against Ghost. Her arm jerks a little then the rest of her body starts to shake uncontrollably. I grab on to her, but her eyes roll back and her body slumps. Ghost pries my hands from Jude – I hadn’t realized I had been squeezing so hard – and he grabs the laptop after guiding her down. Then he tells me what I’ve already figured, “That’s her sister. That’s Taryn.”

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hesva148 · 2 years ago

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.・。.・゜Dark AU ゜・。.

V E R S I O N 2

“It’s you that I’ve been thinking about and I shouldn’t be. You’re cattle waiting for slaughter, baby.”

TFOTA // All Human // AU : Cardan tries not to lust after the girl he's supposed to kill.

Trigger Warnings: Crude language, Drugs, Sex, Murder/Talks of murder, Sexual/Physical Assault.

Cardan's POV

It’s cold outside, but that doesn’t bother me as much as it probably should. I’m more annoyed about the fact that Madoc stuck me on babysitting duty. I’m standing in the shadows like some pervert stalker, and I can’t help but feel like this is some sort of punishment for setting off a bomb or two at my maybe-brother’s estate. With all the dick-wetting our town’s late Mayor Eldred has done since before condoms were invented, I wouldn’t be too surprised if there’s a whole country of half-siblings I’m unaware of. The only reason I’ve even guessed at Balekin being my brother is because of something Asha had said in passing – and even now, I still wonder if he’s related to me or it had been her delusion.

“You remind me of him,” I heard her say when I shouldn’t have been anywhere near her. “My sweet boy, my sweet Cardan,” and God, that shit made my blood boil. She didn’t care for me, she just cared that I got her the next fix way back when the crack she smoked could be obtained by letting her gross dealers touch her foster kid.

Maybe I kept tabs on her; maybe I wanted to make sure her life was going as shitty as it possibly could since the last time I saw her. Of course, since I’ve left, her life had changed from trailer park trash to being able to afford high-end designer drugs. The substances were not working fast enough for my liking, so I did what I wanted to do nearly ten years ago when I left all the gas valves in her stove running.

Yeah, her new husband, Balekin, had not been the target of the explosion, although, I hadn’t minded he was there. He managed to escape, and I roll my eyes at the thought of the spineless piece of shit still being treated in the hospital to this day. He suffered a few burns and a broken bone or two. Asha had been dead before the fire. The detonation was only to ensure her body was unnoticeable and evidence was null. Plus, I thought I was poetic justice, given her favorite method of torment had to do with using me as an ashtray.

I admit, I hadn’t run any of this by Madoc, who, for all intents and purposes, is my partner in all things that get me paid. Maybe ‘partner’ is putting it too mildly since he’s more of a boss to me than anything. He’s never said it was punishment for breaking our silent rule of not doing shit behind each other’s back –and especially if there’s no monetary payout – but I know, this whole babysitting gig, is in fact, a punishment.

“Just keep an eye on the girl,” he told me. “Anyone who looks like he could be her father, call me. You think she knows where he is, call me. She even uses ‘Daddy’ in a sentence, call me.”

“And you don’t want me to take her out?” I reiterated dubiously. I’m not one for this drawn-out torture and kill thing, that’s usually Madoc with all the elaborate persecutions. I like my game fast and my money even faster.

“No,” he said too quickly, and I file that to mull about later, “it’s simple, King,” and I grimaced at the name he’s given me. He coined it when he realized whose son I was.

“General,” I bit back, but unlike me, he’s quite fond of the name.

He had ignored the tone in my voice, continuing to say, “Watch everything and report back to me. Get as close as you can. Don’t do anything until I tell you to,” he had emphasized this last bit, and I shrugged, because I refuse to feel sorry for what I did the week or two prior.

Now, my hood is up and I’m trying to be one with the surrounding trees and shrubbery that marks the perimeter of this house’s backyard and the lake that separates these little rich kids and the less fortunate a boat ride away. It’s all very West Egg/East Egg of Elfhame.

Most of the party is being held outside, and as much as I clown on the only brother I claim for having stupidly themed parties, I’d rather be in Dain’s extravagant coke den than this half-assed frat party. Those who do end up going inside are most likely trying to fuck or shoot up their Mav’s Specialty without prying eyes. The music is decent, the alcohol looks cheap, the scent of weed masks whatever gross shit someone took off the grill, and when the feeling of boredom must permeate the air rather than just myself, because someone jumps into the pool and starts a wave of noise. Some people follow after her, but the Project X they’re trying to recreate is looking like Project C or D.

I’m about to call Madoc, maybe try to barter a switch, but even I know I blend in with the crowd far more than he ever could. Maybe he could pass as a professor at the college, but no way would he be able to attend shit like this. I’ve also managed to convince myself that anything Madoc is doing is probably ten times more useless than this.

The gate to the backyard opens, and this time, the three that walk in holds my attention. There’s a tall, curvy girl, blue-green hair and a sparkly silver mini dress, legs for days and when she sways her hips, it’s obvious she knows she’s got everyone’s attention. There’s a smaller girl, with silvery curls and some sort of lilac corset thing going on with business casual pants. She’s not quite as sultry as the first, but she holds her own.

Maybe this is some sort of delayed gratification, but my eyes fall on Jude Duarte last. I may not like this job, but the anticipation still fueled part of me. I tell myself that taking her in, noting down every last detail about her, is all part of my report for Madoc later. Her leggings are firm-fitting, leatherlike from what I can see. A white shirt she’s knotted in the front shows off her midriff. Three golden necklaces dangle off her neck, the longest one touching just above her bellybutton and the shortest one fitting like a collar. Her dark hair is swept up atop her head with tendrils framing around her face, golden hoops dangle from her ears. Her eye makeup is dark, sultry even, but it’s the deep red of her lips that has my dick twitching. Of course, I’d be the one to imagine her lips wrapped around my cock, knowing full well that Madoc doesn’t want her dead tonight, but he doesn’t not want her dead in general.

The picture in my pocket had done her no justice. Taken maybe five years ago, it’s not hard to compare the features – heart shaped face, light walnut colored eyes, full lips – pretty then, gorgeous now. To my surprise, the group she’d arrived with, immediately disperses. Even I know about the buddy system, and a party like this, weak as it may be, it’s definitely not one to walk alone. Who knows who’s lurking in the shadows. Or besides the trees.

Jude walks towards me, or rather, towards the table of drinks a few feet in front of me. The burly guy manning the table immediately offers her an unopened bottle of beer. She takes it with a pretty smile, holds it close to her chest and says “Thanks, Roach.”

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he tells her. He sounds familiar, and I don’t know many people with a name like Roach. Maybe I killed someone for him, or maybe Madoc’s sent me into a Lion’s Den and I killed someone close to him.

Jude shrugs in response and turns to lift herself onto the table. Her back is to me now, and she sets her beer to the side of her as she leans back on her palms to better scan the party. “Lil came with me,” she tells him. “You can go if you want, I’ll watch over the drinks for you.” he chuckles and reaches to ruffle the top of her head.

“Thanks, I’ll be right back,” he promises. “I owe you,” he calls out as he walks over to where her silver-haired friend is passing a joint.

It’s quiet, and then I see Jude stiffen. She whips her head from left to right, then says, “Hello?” I quirk an eyebrow, but I’m just about ready to leave the camouflage of the plants, so I use it to my advantage. “Is someone here?” she turns her head and lets out a small shriek when she sees me.

I hold my hand up placatingly, holding a lighter between my fingers. “Sorry,” I tell her, “didn’t mean to startle you.” I smile at her, “lost the Bic,” I wiggle the lighter for reference. She holds a hand to her chest and watches warily as I make my way over to her, pocketing the item. She looks dubious, but far more relaxed than she had been. Than she should be.

She scrunches her nose and offers me her unopened beer, “Don’t do that again,” she chastises, “What if I threw a bottle at you?” I can’t help the chuckle as I take the beer from her. She tilts her head, eyes trying to catch what the hood doesn’t cover. “You don’t seem like you belong here.” Her eyes widen, “not like, you’re a loner – I mean, well yeah, kind of – sorry, it’s the get up.” she shuts her mouth abruptly and purses her lips. When I crack a smile, she smiles back, “Sorry. Hi. Are you one of the frat pledges?”

“Not at all.” I lean forward on the edge of the table, pressing a palm down for support and she turns her body, hiking a leg up to properly face me.

“Oh,” she says, her tongue darts out and taps the upper left corner of her lip before she asks, “Do you go to Hollow Hall?”

“Nope,” I admit, but if she finds it weird that someone who’s not affiliated with college is hanging about a frat party, she doesn’t mention. “I’m more West Egg,” I tease, giving her an in.

She startles herself with a laugh. “Insmoor?” she guesses, “New money, huh?” She’s about to say more, but someone calls out a greeting. We both turn to see him as he approaches. I don’t miss the grimace as Jude turns to face him, grabbing a beer and holding it at arm’s length. His russet colored hair looks wet and I guess he had been one to jump into the pool with the others. His eyes look blown out, but I can’t tell if it’s the lighting or the drugs.

“Thought I saw you here,” he takes the bottle from her and moves in closer, tapping the head to the corner of the table, popping the cap off. Jude’s body tenses, and she shrinks back the closer he gets in her space. When he backs up to take a swig of the beer, she sits up straighter and begins to swing her legs back and forth. It seems like a subtle warning that she will kick his balls in if she has to. He manages a smirk in her direction, “You look good tonight,” he flirts.

She scowls, “Wrong twin,” she mutters but he shakes his head. I'm taken aback at how much of the dark I’m in because Madoc absolutely never mentioned a twin.

“I think we both know I can tell the difference between the two of you.” He’s grimy when he winks at her. He backs off and gives her a two fingered salute, goofy looking grin still on his face. Someone calls out his name. Locke. “Catch you later, sunshine. Save me a dance and all that.”

When his back is to us, she sticks her middle finger to the air and lets out a huff. “Sorry,” she mutters, leaning back on her elbows. “Sister’s ex, or something.” I hum noncommittally, not quite caring about him, but storing this information for later, just because I don’t quite like him on sight. Jude leans all the way back, resting her head on the table now. Her shirt rises higher, showing me smooth skin I’d like to mark. “Anyways, it’s pretty, isn’t it?” She looks up at me, not concerned with our proximity. She squints, trying to see more of me. The pulse in her neck beats just a bit unsteady.

“What is?” I do her a favor and push the hoodie back, amused at the part in her lips when she takes me in. Dark eyes and even darker hair, sharp cheeks and pale skin. I’m no angel, but I can sure as hell pass for an avenging one. No one ever really suspects the pretty boy for murder. I lean down, closer. Her cheeks warm with pink, and I ask, “Jude?”

“Huh?”

“Pretty,” I murmur. “You said it’s pretty.”

“Y-yeah,” she croaks out. She clears her throat and daintily points upward, “the stars… you don’t really get to see them so clearly often…” she trails off, focused on my lips when I lick at them. Something primal in me imagines what it would be like to hold her by the throat just at this angle, watching her pretty red lips take me until I’m touching her sternum from the inside. She swallows thickly, her breaths coming short and sporadic. “Did I – did I tell you my name?”

I don’t get to answer, someone clears their throat before us. Jude shoots up looking embarrassed as she meets the gaze of Roach and her friend. “Sorry to interrupt -”

Jude cuts her off, “no, not at all!” she rubs a hand over her cheeks, “Hi, Liliver.”

“Hi,” Liliver laughs. She peeks behind Jude and gives me a once over before smiling, “Sorry to steal her away for a moment.” she takes hold of Jude’s hand and Jude holds no protest as she follows her friend off the table and towards the crowd. “We should say hi to everyone.”

Jude mumbles something like “Should we really?” she turns back one more time and gives me a coy smile before she disappears into the sea of people.

Roach comes behind the table to stand beside me, “Where do I know you from?”

“Party at Eldred’s kid’s place?” I throw out and when he grimaces, I know he’s bought it.

“You know Jude?”

“Not really,” I admit.

“I don’t know if it’s my place. But take it easy on her, okay? She’s got some stuff going on with that Locke guy and it just seems exhausting to even look at,” he grumbles. This is news to me, massive thanks to General for being completely useless. Looks like that one off just now goes deeper than I anticipated. I don’t really answer him, because I think, maybe, I might be the one to slit her throat in the end, and in the grand scheme, is that really taking it easy?

Too long later, after testing my social skills and trying to keep up with Jude from a distance, I find myself exasperatedly leaning against a pillar at the side of the house, phone to my ear. “You didn’t even tell me she has a twin sister,” I seethe.

Madoc sounds partially tired and partially amused, despite having gone back and forth with me for the past five minutes. “Don’t worry, that one’s out of town. I take it you saw her?”

“Yeah,” I sigh, “just like the photo. Older I guess, more filled out.”

“Pretty?” Madoc teases like I'm calling my older brother about a crush and not the girl my boss wants me to kill. “What’d you find out?”

“Nothing useful,” I admit, almost about to tell him about Locke when I hear scuffling around the corner. “Call you back,” I say and hang up the call. I peer around the corner, surprised at how irrationally annoyed I feel at the sight of said ginger and Jude fumbling in the dark.

“No,” I hear her murmur, and my brows furrow when the shuffling sounds more forceful. “Stop,” she whispers, “Locke, stop!” she’s pushing him away but her movements seem lagged, weak.

He has her facing the wall, an arm around her neck, “Come on, sunshine,” he murmurs, “don’t you remember doing this shit in high school, baby? Just like this, while Taryn was in the other room? God, you used to be such a little slut,” he tells her roughly. His hand splays against her stomach, forcing it down into her pants. She’s crying, I realize. I don’t see reason when I make myself known, in time to hear him say, “We should have fucked that night. Should have been your tight little pussy I was sliding in to. Thought about you every single night since, wondering if you’d taste just – fuck!” he yelps when Jude turns her face and clamps her teeth down on his arm. “Stupid bitch,” he growls, pushing her, causing her head to bang against the wall. She hiccups, hand flying to her bruise and Locke grunts, grabbing at his arm.

“What the fuck is going on?”

Locke doesn’t even turn to look at me. “Nothing, just a little lover’s spat.”

Jude opens her mouth in shock, ready to say something, but before Locke can grab at her, I’ve got a fistful of his hair, dragging him back. Jude slumps against the wall, letting it support her as she slides down, pressing a hand against her chest. My jaw ticks when I spot the tear in her shirt, starting from her collar down to where the knot is tied. Her fingers clutch the material, holding it together. I notice a chain is missing and her hair is undone, askew around her shoulders. Even her lipstick looks smeared.

Before Locke can utter more bullshit, my other hand is at his throat, causing him to wheeze. “Didn’t look like nothing,” I say, too calmly for the red that I see. I’m moderately aware how visceral my reaction is. I'm the lion, she’s the mouse and this stupid little rabbit is touching my prey. Right?

I squeeze his throat harder, annoyed at myself, and my weird inner turmoil, but mostly annoyed because this stupid motherfucker tries to claw at my hand. I slam him forward against the wall and Jude gasps, scrambling to the side and away from us. “I think she said no, didn’t she?” I let go of his hair and reach a hand to the waistband of my jeans. Jude lets out a squeak and Locke looks worse for wear when I turn him to press the barrel of my gun to his temple.

His eyes grow wide and he gasps out, trying to shake his head, “N-no, do-”

“Shh,” I tell him, dragging the gun down his cheek. “Are you telling me ‘no’ means ‘yes’ and ‘stop’ means ‘go’?” I run the gun across his lips, “I can work with that,” I tell him. My hand slides up his neck, grabbing his jaw and forcefully working it open. “No teeth,” I tease, sliding the barrel between his lips. He splutters, nose leaking, eyes streaming and the scent of piss makes me wriggle my nose. “That’s a good boy,” I tell him, pushing the gun deeper. I turn to Jude, whose staring up at me with eyes so wide, they rival Bambi’s. “Should I?” I ask her, “Should I pull the trigger, Jude?”

It takes her a moment, so I know she’s actually considering me and it takes her quite the courage to shake her head no. She finds a pillar behind her and slowly makes her way up, legs quivering.

I slide the gun out of Locke’s mouth and wipe it across his chest. I shrug, knowing I’ll probably be back for the shithead, anyways. “See, I know when she says no, she means no.” He falls to the ground immediately after I release my hold on him. “I think we both know what’ll happen if you talk about tonight to anyone, right?” I kick his ankle, booting the bone so it not only hurts but it shakes his entire fucking soul too.

I pocket my gun, and turn to face Jude. She’s shaking, almost violently. I yank off my hoodie, walking up to her, and pulling it over her head. It takes just a few seconds for her to pull her hands through the armholes, and use the sleeve to wipe around her nose. “Can you walk?” I ask her, softening my voice. She nods her head, but moves closer to my side, pressing herself into me. “Should I find one of your friends?”

“Gone,” she manages.

“Uber?” I barter, though I know her answer. I try to lead her away, but she stumbles after a few steps. “Hold tight,” I murmur, not risking a moment to think when I lift her up, holding by her back and under her knees. She lets out a startled noise, but grapples on to my neck, holding me tight. “Should I take you home,” I ask her, already walking to my truck.

“were…” she sniffles then clears her throat. “were you watching me?”

“I was taking a call.” Then after a moment, I say, “Yeah. I was.”

“It… it wasn’t like that,” she whispers, “What you heard him say – I … we…” I understand she’s focused more on what I might have overheard and not me being a creep.

“It’s fine, I don’t really care. I just know you told him to stop and he didn’t.” When we make it to my truck, I settle her in the passenger side and reach over her for a bottle of water. She takes it and examines the seal. After deciding it’s probably safe, she uncaps it and takes a sip. By the time I make it to the driver’s side, the bottle is half empty. “Where’s home,” I ask her.

“Can we grab some food,” she asks instead. “I’ll pay.”

I drive to the closest McDonalds, not at all letting her pay for my McFlurry or her Happy Meal. “I don’t know why I did that,” she mumbles, taking a fry one at a time. “I never take open bottles.” She glances at me and in the cab lights, she looks worse for wear, but I don’t mention it. She then glances to my hip. “So, uh, should I be worried? You know, out of the fire and into the frying pan, or something.”

“Or something,” I chuckle. “I’m not going to kill you,” I lie.

“Right,” she nods, fidgeting in her seat, nibbling on a single fry. “Is the,” when she realizes her voice comes out in a whisper, she clears her throat and tries again, “Is the gun loaded?” I grin at her, more endeared than I should be.

“Why would I carry an unloaded gun?”

Her face pales, but she defends, “I don’t know, scare tactic? If I had said yes…would you have, you know…?”

“Shot him?” I raise a brow, “Yeah.” I take a lick the spoon from the McFlurry, conscious of her eyes on my tongue as I do. Her face runs red with heat. “Why didn’t you tell me to? I would have made him disappear for you if you wanted.”

It’s to spook her, I think, but to my shock, she scrunches her nose and digs into the red box I handed her. “I don’t know,” she confesses. She sighs and pulls out a toy. It’s a keychain with a small yellow Care-Bear. She makes a face, running her thumb over the sun patch on its belly. “Funshine,” she mutters. I nearly snort out my ice cream.

“Bless you,” I joke.

She lets out a laugh and tosses it to me. I catch it and place it on the dashboard. “So,” she says, eyeing my McFlurry. “I’ll be keeping this sweater.”

“Oh yeah?”

She nods, “I’ll also help you finish that off if you tell me your name.”

I hand her the cup. “Cardan.”

She pauses, hand meeting mine halfway. “Cardan,” she repeats.

“Most know me as King.”

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