Page 96 of Unhinged
Brydgett doesn’t loosen right away. Her scent’s everywhere—pouring off her like a wave crashing into mine. I can’t even smell myself under it. She’s drowning me in it—jasmine and blood-metal copper, sharp and wild and protective in a way that makes my alpha instincts bristle and submit at the same time.
“Brydgett,” I rasp. “It was a drill. He wanted to learn.”
She holds another heartbeat.
“You stay the fuck away from my son,” she rasps like she’s not sure of anything right now.
“Mom!” Judge yells. “He was showing me how to defend myself!”
Everything stops.
Just like that, her arm falls away from my throat.
I step forward, hands still up, dragging in a shaky breath as I cough once to clear my airway. My scent starts crawling back up, mango curling sweet and sharp, uncertain but steady.
She doesn’t move.
Doesn’t look at me.
Just stares at her kid.
And gods—there it is. The shame. It creeps across her face like she’s trying to fight it off and failing. She blinks fast, like she’s shaking off fog. Her jaw flexes. Shoulders square up like she’s bracing to get hit.
I don’t say anything. Neither does Judge.
She finally looks at me—really looks. And it’s not fire anymore.
It’s sorry.
“You didn’t think to tell me?” she asks, but the bite’s gone.
“Didn’t think I needed to. We weren’t doing anything wrong,” I say, still rubbing my throat, the skin hot where her arm had pressed tight.
Her eyes flick to Judge again. She swallows hard.
“You alright?” I ask him, shifting my stance like I’m not still a little rattled.
He nods, chest rising and falling fast. “I think I got you.”
“You did,” I say, and try to smile a little. “And your mom nearly took me out, so… you both win.”
I glance at Brydgett again. Her eyes meet mine. No threat. No heat. Just tension, like she doesn’t know where to aim it now. Like maybe she wants to aim it at herself.
Her scent’s still all over the room—jasmine and orange, vibrant and hot, with that sharp edge of copper cutting through it. But there’s something else now too.
And for a second, we’re just standing there.
“I should have been told,” she mutters, looking away.
I tilt my head. “Told what? What exactly did you think I was doing to your son? My Kismet’s son—may I remind you—even if you haven’t accepted that part yet.”
She flinches.
“I—I thought…” Her voice breaks up and she waves it off like it doesn’t matter. “It doesn’t matter. He’s my kid. My whole heart. And it’s my bad, alright?”
“No,” I growl. “Not alright. I want to know what the hell you think I was doing to him.”
“I thought you were hurting him!” she explodes. “Trying to hurt him—fuck, I don’t know! I saw you from behind and I saw red. I panicked. I reacted. I fucked up.”
