“Maybe she’d have the money if you didn’t steal from her,” Adair said with a lifted brow.
Taylor glared. “I don’t pay you to preach at me. I tell you shit in confidence.”
“You bring to you what you put out,” Adair said for the millionth time to this girl. She just didn’t get it. Karma had to be the simplest law of nature—self-centered bitches like Taylor never go that.
“Yeah, yeah. Deal the fucking cards, tell me if you see evil, then sell me some candles and shit to break the hex and let’s move on to our own separate hells we call life. Shall we?”
At first Adair didn’t bother to tell Mystic to stop her bark. She was always like that when someone was too aggressive with Adair, and Taylor was a bitch. She was a paying bitch so Adair put up with her for an hour each week.
“Will you shut the fuck up, you stupid mutt!” Taylor yelled right as the door slammed open.
Mystic put herself between the door and Adair. Taylor rolled her eyes. “Wait your fucking turn, asshole. I paid for this hour—you want to hit that, fine, but you’re not doing it on my dime.”
Adair’s eyes were wide. She felt her heart thundering and her breath halting. She kept thinking, couldn’t be, over and over.
It was Talley, a man that had been dead for five years. His jeans were caked in mud, so was his kut. He wasn’t wearing a shirt beneath it. His hair was dark blond but looked nearly black with mud. A murderous snarl was strapped across his face.
“I said back off, you fuck!” Taylor yelled as she stood when Talley started to charge Adair. Mystic latched on to his ankle—one swift kick slung Mystic across the room. She yelped and made her way back to him, but before she got there Taylor had shoved Talley. He lifted a gun and fired dead center in Taylor’s chest, shutting her ranting up all at once. Mystic was trapped under her collapsing body.
One stride later, Talley was at Adair. She already had her hand on her piece but in a beat of her heart he’d gripped her by the neck and had her against the wall, choking the life out of her. “Where the fuck is she!”
Adair didn’t answer—she fired, which didn’t kill him like a point blank shot to the chest surely should. Instead, she clawed at his chest and he slammed her against the wall, knocking her out cold.
***
In most cases, others saw Judge as a calm soul, at least on a day-to-day basis. But when he was in combat, he was emotionless, sometimes eerily cold. In those moments he let his demons out of their cage. His frustrations for all this dark, punishing world had taken from him came out.
Most could pretend the world was not as bad as it seemed, turn a blind eye, lie to themselves—see the rainbow. Judge couldn’t. He saw the darkness lurking in every soul. Being a seer gave him such a curse.
To be fair, he knew many souls could balance their light and dark sides well. He just didn’t happen to spend time with those souls. No, he was either with his Club, who, for the most part, saw and interacted with this world the same way he did, or he was fighting sick, dark greed that he found in both the mortal and immortal worlds.
Beyond being able to see into the minds of others, understand what made them tick, he could taste it. He was a first generation vampire who could, if he had a mind to, devour the energy of the mortal souls around him. Feed on their very souls.
But not long after his transition, when he struggled with the dominance of both gifts, Talon helped him more or less suppress his vampire side. He told him it was all about mind control, and Judge’s mind was one of the strongest he’d ever crossed. It took some time, but it happened. Now, Judge all but ignored the taste, and barely craved energy outside of what all immortals needed, pulled from—but then again, he had a strong mind, rock solid memories, and even more vivid Zen dreams. All the energy he could ever need, he could produce from his thoughts alone.
But then again…he always dreamed of her, a life that could be nothing more than a fallacy.
It had been nearly five years and to him, it felt like five seconds. The pain was still raw in his soul. No matter what he did, how close he loomed in the shadows, breathed in her entrancing scent, he could not fill his craving, this pull he had.
Up until a few weeks ago he was sure he was destined to walk in misery for the rest of Adair Vallet’s life. The span of her life, of course, because the moment she left this earth, he’d follow. But then, without warning, the Sons came to life again, Reveca did. The war that had stalled with Zale years back bloomed once more.
When it was made known that Cash had killed Zale, Judge had to stop himself from running to Adair’s side. He had to remind himself he was nothing to her now. He had to force patience on himself and wait for valid proof of death. He had to make sure there would be no backlash from his death.
So far, proof of death hadn’t come. Reveca had no idea where Zale’s soul was. Meaning Adair was going to stay as she was, safe and oblivious.
The tension had barely settled at the Boneyard since the Sons’ showdown with Blackwater and Zale’s Rouges. In some ways it was worse, even though everyone was trying to go on with business as usual.
Tonight Judge and Thames had been patrolling one of the lower wards they were paid to protect. For no reason, out of the fucking blue, Judge had a vision that made zero sense.
Most of the times when he saw things he was an outside source, never intertwined, but tonight he had seen Talley, a Son that had been dead for years, choking him. It was a fast and instant vision and it left him with an emotion of terror, an emotion that he had only owned twice in his long life: when he lost his mortal family, and when he lost his Adair.
Almost immediately he singled for Thames to follow him and led him to the Quarter far from where they should be just then. Judge had recognized the room in the vision, which was more than likely why he could not just let this prescient vision go.
In all truth, he would have been at Adair’s place as soon as his patrols were done anyway. But if this vision meant there was backlash from this Zale shit, and she was in some kind of trouble, or would be—having Thames there wouldn’t hurt.
Each night, Judge came to Adair, watched over her as she slept. He told himself he was keeping her safe, but in all truth he knew she was healing him. She was allowing him to forget how evil the world was for a few hours. She fed his dreams, the ones he lived off of.
His Dove…
Judge’s insights never worked right around Adair. More often than not, even as she slept, he saw himself instead of her mindset, making her an enigma, giving him another reason to love her. He had to work to understand her, watch and question her every move—and after all this time he was no closer to understanding her today than he was nearly six years ago when she walked into his life.
Adair was by far the most beautiful woman Judge had ever laid eyes on, and she didn’t even try to be, it was all-natural. She kept her long, midnight black hair in a messy bun at all times. Her luminescent green eyes and thick lashes would haunt any man that passed her. Her dark skin was smooth as silk and she was built like a goddess, all woman. Even the scars on her, the ones Judge blamed himself for, could not hide her allure.
Beyond secretly watching her sleep, Judge also passed by her place in the daylight hours, at least once a week, sometimes daily. Making the presence of protection known to any dark enemies who may be lurking—or so he told himself. In truth, he just wanted to hear her laugh, see her smile at a distance, watch the sun bathe over her.
Her protection under the Sons went further than him alone.
Knight had hacked into cameras around her boutique to keep a watchful eye on her at all times, and Rush actually spoke to her. He always kept a pulse on her life. When she needed something, the Sons made it happen. The thing was Adair was just like Finley, she would never take a handout, so the Sons were clever about their approach, and moved the pieces so she found what she needed on her own.
Judge and Thames parked on a side street, one where they could see the beginning of the alley that led t
o the back of the Cauldron.
“You need to get fucking laid, man,” Thames said as he turned his bike off then ran his gloved hand over his buzz cut. Then he lit up a blunt. “Reveca will be rolling out to get ol’ Cash soon, your Tempest usually shows up ‘bout then.”
Judge passed him a cold glare, telling him to kill the topic. He knew Thames was only taunting him so Judge would come out and say he wanted Adair back now that Zale was gone. Judge hadn’t dared say so aloud. He didn’t want to curse the chance. But he knew more than most of the Sons were all thinking the same thing—it was time to bring his Dove home.
The very idea terrified and electrified Judge. Zale was only one threat, a big one, but still, there were others—ones Judge was sure King had brought with him.
And secondly, Adair was going to kill Judge when she figured out what he did—stripping her memory. For all he knew he’d lose her anyway. For him, it was better for it to be a possibility instead of a no chance in hell.
And then of course, there was the issue of her memory—no matter what, he had vowed to never let her remember the hell she’d lived through. He knew what it felt like to watch your family slaughtered, how it never left you. She was never going to know of that night—he’d make damn sure of it. Which would make explaining why he sent her away for five years all the harder.
This “tempest” was the name Thames had managed to give a score of women. Every time Reveca sailed out to get Cash and Judge wasn’t with her, one of these “tempest” would emerge. A girl who looked nothing like his Dove and had a mind that was all but blank—never a good sign, it meant someone was purposely hiding something, at least in Judge’s experience it did.
The first ten times it happened, Judge was sure she was a threat sent by Zale and made quick work of humiliating whatever girl had approached him like a Siren. He even let Steele have a go at his dominatrix games with them.
Maybe three years ago, after watching Adair take a man to her room and close the door, after way too many shots, Judge gave in to one of the tempest, marginally. Hoping it would block out Adair, the sick idea of her with another—it didn’t. And there wasn’t enough hot water in the world to wash away the feeling of the tempest’s whore lips on his cock.
He only gave in twice more, in the same fashion—abusing the tempest’s mouth, and each time was right after he saw Adair pull some ordinary fuck into her arms.
It infuriated him she’d touched another.
He didn’t care he had taken her memory away. To him, what they felt for each other should have been strong enough to at least give her pause, make her sad even if she didn’t know why she was.
Reveca had told Judge, point blank, Adair didn’t perceive time the way he did. She said she knew to Judge with his immortal life well exercised, this all seemed fresh, minutes old. But to Adair, the days were long, and the nights had to be cold. She told him for women it’s not about finding a sexual release, not always, sometimes they just need to be held.
He strained to understand what Reveca was saying, and in some way he did. Enough so to remain abstinent.
The last woman he kissed, the last woman he was inside of, was Adair—and as far as he was concerned it would be that way until the day he died.
He talked a good game in front of the guys, maybe rubbed up on a girl or two in front of them, but that was it. He’d pass off whatever girl that had come on to him to one of his boys and then either go Zen, dream the life he should have, hold the woman he wanted to be inside—or he’d go watch Adair, protect her from a distance.
“Wanna hit it?” Thames asked as he ashed his blunt and reached it toward Judge.
Judge glanced from Thames to the mounted lawmen up the street, not wanting their attention. He was sure the lawmen couldn’t smell the blunt, and even if they did the drunks at the other end of the street were causing more hell.
Thames smoked constantly; Judge and Echo were much the same. Echo and Thames did so because among other things they were shifters. The calm state made the random trembles of their flesh vanish, made them more aware of themselves in general, let them know if they were about to shift accidentally. It had been centuries since either one of them had done so but you never forget the dark roads you traverse.
Judge liked to be mellow to calm his mind, which was never silent. Instead of the fast moving glimpses into others minds he was able to slow them down, enough so that he could see more, understand more. It also gave him some sense of stillness when the demons of his past jerked his chain.
Judge reached for the blunt and took in a deep inhale as he stared down the dark alley.
“We gotta make this right,” Thames said, looking over his boy. “We can deal with it. Bring her back, boss.”
Judge didn’t respond at first. “We don’t know where the fuck Zale is, or who he had in his pocket.”
“Sounds like an argument to bring her back in, not keep her out.”
“Why?” Judge asked as his cold glare landed on him. “So I can lie to her when she asks me why I have blood on me when I come home? So she can live in fear constantly because any one of our enemies can start shit?”
“You need to bring that girl back, tell her you’re fucking immortal, we all are, and be done with it.”
Judge gazed down the alley. “You don’t know her like I do.”
Adair was not a ‘sit at home and wait to see’ kind of girl. She’d be right there in the thick of it with him. He couldn’t deal with that.
“You know she’s going to be pissed about this, that’s your hold up.” Thames laughed. “Never figured you for a coward.”
Judge flipped him off. “You know we got other shit to worry about at home, too.”
Thames nodded sagely. They did. There was some twisted shit going on with Talon and Reveca, which meant tomorrow was unpredictable.
Still, Thames never agreed with Judge’s decision, and he wasn’t the only one. The Sons had tried every method there was to get Judge to see that the war was cold, it was safe.
Thames had settled on this kind of taunting a good two years back. He stuck with it because it always pissed Judge off. Thames was sure if he got him mad enough at some point, he’d react—at the very least admit out loud he wanted Adair still, because honestly, from the outside looking in, it was hard to tell. Judge never spoke her name. No one else did either, unless a rare moment like this came about.
“You know, you’re right. This ship has sailed. You two are done. Scorpio is off running his own Chapter, so he’s not in my way either—I’m gonna roll up in there and ask Miss Thang out for drink,” he said, jutting his brows up a few times.
Judge reached for his gun and lifted his brow. He’d shoot Thames for the fuck of it—he had before.
Doing so only made Thames laugh all the more. He shook his head. “You don’t trust me?”
When Judge unclipped his gun, Thames laughed all the more. “I mean with her memory, you fuck. I could’ve taken the bad shit out and left you in, then she would be where Reveca has always wanted her, at the fucking Boneyard—kicking your tempest ass like a good Ol’ Lady should. ”
“She had no business being around us then, war was hot.”
It didn’t matter what Reveca wanted, Judge’s claim still bore more weight. As long as Adair was content and safe, nobody had the grounds to argue with him.
“The fucking war went cold the second we laid Talley down. There one day gone the next.”
Judge didn’t dispute, it did seem like it happened that way. Reveca and Talon had unstoppable battle plans laid down to obliterate Zale then all at once Reveca fell into herself, stayed in her room. At first they thought it was because she had to lay down Talley, but she never got over it, not till’ recently when the war picked up again, right about the time King emerged.
“She was fucking twenty years old,” Judge said.
“Is there a point you have there, boss?” Thames said as he exhaled and handed Judge the blunt once more. He had a knowing smirk stra
pped across his face. When he started to push those new memories in Adair’s mind he saw that she was not an ordinary girl, and he knew how she felt about Judge. The shit between them was real, unnervingly so.
Thames strained to talk Judge out of the total memory block, all of them. In the heat of the moment he lost his battle. That night was the closest any of them had come to turning on each other.
Judge thought of those dark images daily, they were his curse. He could still remember shaking with rage. In his mind he was too late, every scar on Adair was his fault. One of the strongest women he had ever met asked for his help and he was too fucking late.
The thought of what she would have endured further if he was even a few seconds later made him sick, made him want to dig up Talley and kill him again.
Judge did stay at Reveca’s side as she fell into her dark place over the last few years, spent hours each day in her room with her. He was there for more than a few reasons, out of loyalty and friendship most assuredly, but he was also there waiting on the command to kill Zale. To make that fucked witch pay for what he had done to Talley which had a domino effect and hurt Adair.
Judge pulled his gun from his holster in one swift movement.
“Chill the fuck out, boss. You know I’m right, though. I can fix it, I can go in there right now say a few words, make her think you were on some vacation all this time or some shit. I can get creative.”
“You hear that?” Judge asked as he got off his bike.
“What?”
“That bark.”
“You need help man. I heard a dog. I heard a cat, the fucking horse. I hear the drag queens. I hear the old man three stories up jacking off, the newlyweds getting it on, the momma rocking her baby, do you want me to go on?”
Right then a shot was heard, then another, the boom of thunder only barely masked the sound.
“Mother fucker,” Thames said as he threw down his blunt, pulled his gun and was at Judge’s side within one breath.