Page 63 of Sweet Nightmare

“You can put me down now,” I tell him as soon as Mozart slams the door closed behind us and closes the padlock.

Jude doesn’t answer, just glares at me as he strides down the hall.

“Where are we going?” I demand, starting to struggle against him. “We still need to take care of the other monsters.”

He still doesn’t answer me. And he doesn’t stop walking.

I start to yell at him to put me down, to demand an answer for what just happened in that pen. That monster that was out for our blood took one look at Jude and ran from him. It literally shrank into a corner, doing its best to become all but invisible. And I need to know why.

Again, I start to order him to put me down right this instant. But I stop myself, because the truth is I’m trembling so badly that I’m afraid my knees won’t support me. So, instead of making him put me down, I press myself against him and hold on for just a little while.

I hold on to the powerful rise and fall of his chest.

I hold on to the strength flowing through his big, muscly body.

And, even though I tell myself not to, I hold on to the warm leather-and-honey scent of him. I even go so far as to turn my head and bury my face, ever so slightly, against his chest.

Later, I’m sure I’ll be mortified by my behavior. But for right now, I’ll take the comfort.

The thought has me burrowing deeper against him, and that’s when it hits me. The shaking I’m feeling isn’t coming from me at all. It’s coming from Jude.

I pull back so I can look at him, really look at him. And it hits me. Jude isn’t angry. He’s terrified. Because of me. For me.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, the words coming out before I have a clue I’m going to say them.

“We had a deal,” he snaps out, and his voice is so low and rumbly that I barely understand it.

“We had a bet,” I correct. “It’s not the same thing. But I know Izzy and I made a huge mistake.”

Jude starts to snap again—I can see it in the way his jaw works. Feel it in the way his chest tenses against me.

But in the end, he just shakes his head as he bursts out the double doors of the administration building and takes the steps down three at a time.

He doesn’t stop until we’re on ground level, several yards away from the building. Then, and only then, does he slide me slowly, carefully, to my feet. He holds on to me for a minute to make sure my legs—and everything else—can support me.

Turns out, they can. Barely. I lock my knees, just in case.

Jude watches the whole thing, gorgeous eyes swirling with a million words and even more emotions as he stares down at me.

“You need to trust me, Kumquat,” he finally says, and his voice is still all growly. “I won’t do anything that deliberately puts you in danger.”

“What about yourself?” I shoot back, because nothing Jude does is without risk.

“I was never in any danger. That’s what I was trying to tell you.”

“This time, maybe.” I narrow my eyes at him as the squid monster’s reaction to him plays over and over again in my head. “And why is that, exactly? What is it about you that turned that creature from homicidal to terrified in the blink of an eye?”

Again, he starts to say something. And again, he settles for snapping his mouth shut and shaking his head.

“You want me to trust you,” I whisper. “But you won’t trust me. About anything. How exactly do you think that’s supposed to work?”

He just stares at me, stonily, and suddenly it’s all too much.

Jude’s secrets.

The storm.

The fact that I still have the monster’s blood in my mouth.

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