Judas (18 page)

              His eyes fluttered open, revealing a foggy black landscape. He felt the rain beating against his face as he laid there against the soggy ground. He felt like he had been beaten. His mind was blank. Where the fuck was he? He peered around, turning his head and then he saw it. The tiny little house he had purchased for her. His mind instantly returned to the scene. She was bleeding badly and unconscious. Shit! He had to get to her. His adrenaline began pumping in torrents as he leapt to his feet, and sprinted across the yard. He hoped it wasn't too late.

             
“Jaime!.... Jai....” he shouted, bounding through the door. He shot around the corner and down the hall and as soon as he entered the bedroom, he saw her there. Right where he left her. “Oh god, baby,” he moaned as he went to her. “Jai, please. Baby, please wake up. I need you,” he begged as he checked her pulse. It was there, thank god. But she had lost a lot of blood.

The wound had clotted and the blood had already begun to dry. How long had she been here? He wracked his brain to remember the events and he came up with nothing. It had obviously been hours by now.

              He leaned in and kissed her sleeping mouth, like something from a fairytale. Did he actually think that would work? He felt like a fool. Think, Judas, think. She needs juice. Water. Sugar. He went to the kitchen and scrambled to find something that would work. Gatorade. She had Gatorade and cake but he knew there was no way she would be able to eat it. Instead, he poured sugar directly into the Gatorade and shook it vigorously as he raced back to her. She hadn't moved. He sat on the edge of the bed and held her nose as he dripped the liquid into her open mouth. Within seconds she began to cough, rousing her.

             
“Jai, can you hear me? You have to drink this,” he instructed her. “It will help you.”

Her eyelids fluttered but her vision hadn't focused. “Jaime!” he pleaded, “Don't go back to sleep. Listen, baby, please drink this!” He was starting to panic. If she refused to drink, he had no choice but to call an ambulance. It wasn't the best plan, and certainly not a wise one but if it saved her life, he didn't give a shit whether he went to jail or not. His reputation be damned, he wouldn't let her die. Then, the miracle came. She opened her eyes wide, looking around the dim lit room.

“Judas,” came out in a coarse whisper.

             
“Shhh, just lay still. Drink,” he soothed and she obeyed. She didn't have the strength to argue anyway. He knew the cocktail was what she needed. It would replenish the blood she lost and the only other thing she could do was to rest. That was top priority.

Once he knew she was stable, he would look at the wounds that ran diagonally along her inner thigh. She needed stitched up but he knew she would refuse. She was stubborn and they both knew there would be questions. They had this argument several times over the years and there was never a time that he won. This time would be no different.

              She surprised him by drinking the entire bottle of his mixture and she had stayed awake the entire time he tended to her wound. It took almost another hour for him to clean the bedroom and change the sheets, leaving no evidence of whatever had taken place. He just wished he could remember it all.

There were fragments in his mind, but his last coherent memories were of him on his patio. He knew there had been a fight and he knew that he had hurt Adessa and that she had left him but even the drive to Jaime's and whatever he had done were gone from his memory. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the metal container. Gone. All of it. Holy hell.

              “You're still here,” she said softly. Her breaths were shallow.

He nodded, reaching out to stroke her cheek. “You need to rest.”

She shook her head, “Tell me what happened.”

“Not now,” he said, sliding into bed beside her.

She was struggling to keep her eyes open now but she was watching his every move. “Thank you,” she breathed.

He wrapped his arms around her, taking care to not bump into her injury. “For?”

“Staying with me,” replied, settling in against him.

             
He kissed her forehead and pressed his cheek to hers as the thought occurred to him. He had never spent an entire night with her. He had never slept in her bed. He had never held her. He had never felt more whole and complete. She was the only one who ever truly accepted him and had never turned him away. His thoughts turned to Adessa and how angry she had made him. He had no reason to think she would ever forgive him and he knew he didn't deserve it.

All was lost, and yet he had all he needed beside him. He was prepared to accept the consequences of his actions. He wouldn't fight her over the divorce, but he wouldn't allow her to take his son from him. However this all played out, he knew he would never give him up.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The days went by slow. She slept the better part of the first few days but as her leg began to heal, she was awake more and feeling good, despite the pain and the fact she could barely walk. The process had been like every time before, except this time, he was with her nearly every minute. He only left her side to go to work and to pick up groceries as they were needed. The incision wasn't as painful now, but it did itch like mad, which was a sign that she was healing. He tended the wound twice daily to prevent infection and insisted that she remain in bed.

              She had grown used to feeling his warmth beside her and every night, he would hold her as they slept. Somewhere in the last few weeks, her dark, mysterious stranger had become a loving, nurturing man. So many things were becoming clear to her now, as she recalled the events and his words over the  course of their time together. He always told her that he would be wounded worse than she, but she never knew what that meant. Now, she knew. Physical wounds were temporary. Mental wounds were enduring.

             
“You ever going to talk to her?” she asked, as he quietly held her against him.

He shook his head, “There's nothing to say.”

“She's your wife. Vows, remember?” she said, wrinkling her nose. She knew the conversation wasn't going to be easy, but she needed to know where they stood.

He sighed heavily, answering in the same flat voice, “I am vowing to stay the hell away.”

She tilted her head up to look at him, tossing blonde tendrils over one shoulder. “J, what about your baby? He doesn't deserve this.”

             
“He doesn't deserve to be raised in a broken home of bitterness and hate. I'll see my son, but I can't be with his mother.”

“She doesn't hate you. She was hurt, and angry,” Jaime persisted, trying to soften him.

He shrugged, “It doesn't matter. I won't put her back in that situation. The husband she knew was a fraud.” His tone was bitter but it was obviously self- directed and she wasn't about to keep going.

“I suppose,” she answered, before changing the subject. “Why did you stay with me?”

“Because, it felt good. Do you want me to leave?”

             
His words shocked her, sending her heart to flutter in response to the raw honesty, but the question caught against the air. “No! I don't! I like you being here. Cause you're right. It does feel good.”

“I only planned to stay until you were getting around better. It won't be forever,” he clarified.

She nodded, wondering what that would mean for them when he left. “I'm getting around fine. And, well, you never cared before.”

             
“You're right. But I do now, and I will be here until you tell me you don't want me.” He clutched her tighter in his arms, kissing her forehead as he had a dozen times now.

“That won't happen,
”she smiled, settling in against him. He could stay with her forever, because she would always want him. He was the only man she'd ever given herself to and without reserve. He came to her broken, and each time, she did her part in healing him. Even, if it was only temporary. She wanted to heal him and she knew that only she could.

             
She wasn't finished with the conversation. There were a thousand questions blaring through her mind. “What about our arrangement?”

“What about it? It's over,” he asked, confirming her fear.

The words were like a blow to her soul. She was ready to beg if she had to. She didn't want it to be over. “Does it have to be?”

He immediately responded,“Yes, Jai. It has to be.” His voice was certain and
she was suddenly terrified that she had lost him.

             
She sucked in a slow breath, determined to remain calm. “I don't understand. Your problem was with your wife. Not us.”

He nodded in agreement, but then settled his soft gaze against hers as he spoke in a quiet, somber tone. “The problem is that I let you become a person. We got too close, Jaime.”

How could getting close to someone be a bad thing? “You could only come to me when I was a stranger?” she asked, hurt. He nodded as he looked away.

             
She chewed her lip as she thought about the admission. “It was the coke that caused you to see me differently.”

“Yes.”

Her heart was in her stomach and she felt like she had been punched. “What happens when you go? Will I ever see you again?”

He smiled warmly at her now, “Every chance I get.”

Those words had calmed her, somewhere deep inside. She finally returned the gentle smile, “I'll take that.”

             
He hadn't touched her since that night, save for gentle caresses as he held her and feather light brushes against her hip as they slept. She wanted desperately to feel him. She had thrived on the power and the control he had over her for so long.

His sensual masculinity had become like a toxic poison that he administered through his loins as he poured his entire soul into her, emotion after emotion, draining himself of the hurt and the pain he could no longer contain when he came to her. Tonight was different. She wanted to feel the man she knew he was, the man who stood after world had fallen. The one she could sense was there, and waiting for her to command his presence.

              She began to lightly trace over his chest with her fingertips, circling the scars that ran through his nipples. She heard his breath catch in response and continued the fluid motion until his hand caught hers, stopping the gentle seduction. “Don't,” he said in a voice that was soft, yet firm.

She looked up at him, questioning, “What is it?”

“It's hard enough for me to keep from making love to you without the temptation,” he told her, bringing her hand to his lips, to kiss her palm.

She didn't understand. “I want you to, J. I want to feel you inside of me and all the things you do.”

His smoldering eyes searched her face “You're ready?”

“I've been ready. I would never deny you, Judas. I need you just as much as you need me.”

              The words were lost in time. His mouth covered hers before she could end the sentence, kissing her hungrily and with more passion than she had ever felt. He drank her in, sharing emotions with her that she never knew he had. It was how they worked. Sex was more than a physical release for either of them.

When he touched her, she could feel his soul and even through her inexperience, she had found a way to communicate it all back to him. She didn't know exactly how it all worked, but she knew that she could feel and sense him, through his actions, just as he could feel and sense her. He made love to her that night for the very first time.

              He had taken his time, slowly bringing pleasure to every inch of her being. It wasn't heated, nor urgent and it was like nothing she had ever known. Their bodies had moved in perfect sync, giving and taking and sharing and knowing. She couldn't count the times she had released, and she was in awe of the love that had caused it. She had no idea that sex could be like this, and especially not with him. Now she knew the difference. She also knew he was without a doubt, in love with her.

              She was six months pregnant today. Adessa splashed some water from the sink onto her face, breathing deeply to calm her nerves. She hadn't eaten more than a handful of meals since this all began and she was beginning to wonder if she had given herself an ulcer. She thought of him nearly constant and it had been hard to even remember what the good times were. All she could feel was pain and disgust when she thought of him. The things he did, the things he was capable of. She mourned for the man she loved, but she knew that man didn't exist. It was all part of a sick, twisted game he was playing.