Page 22 of The Clash of the Damned
“Jude, I–”
“No! I need to get this out before I lose my nerve.” Swallowing my pain and shoving it down like I’ve learned to do when it comes to him, I push forward. “Love is not enough. Trust and respect have to be there too. I may not love Jayden, but he’s emotionally mature enough to tell me what he needs from our partnership.”
Sebastian’s jaw clenches in frustration as he offers, “Oh yes, wonderful Jayden, perfect Jayden, can’t do a thing wrong Jayden. Let me try to live up to his perfection.”
“No, you don’t get to do that Sebastian. If you’re emotionally mature enough to run an empire and plot a take down, you’re able to communicate what you need in a relationship. Jayden respects me. You’ve never once given me the courtesy. Learning to love him is a small price to pay for those things in return.” I can see Sebastian visibly working to reign his temper in as he cracks his knuckles, and the veins in his forearms flex, the only signs of his tension. It seems like my words have gone over his head, and I’m talking to myself, typical. “Just take me home. Or, I’ll shift and run home if you can point me in the right direction.”
“Can you just give me a moment? I don’t process things as fast as you.” I’m stunned speechless by his admission.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. Please don’t shut me out, Jude,” he begs. I look away, but he grabs my jaw, forcing me to look at him. “Sometimes, I hate that we were born into this life, forced to make choices that a normal human would never have to make. Saige, Kyla, Amelia, you. I don’t regret what I had to do, I just hate that I hurt you along the way. I keep trying to be the man you deserve, yet I keep fucking up along the way, and those mistakes have cost me you.” We both breathe heavily, the force of our emotions threatening to break through this dam holding it back. I don’t want him to see me fall apart. I refuse to let him have that power over me ever again.
“We underestimate our ability to make a choice. It’s more powerful than you realize. I never asked you to be perfect. I only asked you to respect me as your equal. Yet somehow, along the way, you thought you knew what I wanted more than I did,” I tell him. It’s the first honest conversation we’ve had in I don’t know how long, possibly since we’ve known each other. It’s like a glimpse of a future I always wanted with him, but it can never happen.
“I didn’t want to be like my father,” Sebastian admits. “He was always so fucking selfish, and I wanted to be a better man for you.” He leans his forehead against mine as he adds, “I get it now. In trying to get away from his legacy, it’s exactly what I became. While I don’t regret getting rid of my parents, I regret that I had to lose you along the way. I’m so sorry, Jude. I keep fucking up with you when all I wanted was to love you and create a life with you. A better one that we both deserve.”
He’s never apologized to me, and it makes me hesitate. We’ve always ignored the issues because we never had time to do anything else. His words ignite something inside of me, or maybe it’s desperation that I may neverget to kiss him again after I got so close to losing him that does it. My mouth crashes into his, and I climb onto his lap. I need to be close to him. He threads his hands through my hair as I pepper his neck, scratchy cheek, any inch of skin I can find with kisses. Like I’m trying to memorize his body through the act, which will replace the memory of my claws trying to rip his heart out.
My tears begin to fall, something he doesn’t miss as he grabs my head. “Are you okay?”
“I thought I lost you, and that’s only hitting me now.”
Wiping my tears, he looks sad as he says, “There will never be an instance where I won’t love you, Jude. I will love you forever, even after we die and Supernaturals go wherever they end up.” His admission spurns a fire in me as we pick up our kissing. I can’t get close enough to him. He understands and holds me tighter, to the point of pain, but I don’t complain. Pain means we’re alive, and we can still feel. While I should be cold in the early morning chill, it doesn’t matter against the heat of Sebastian’s body. Suddenly, the grass becomes the softest bed for us. It doesn’t matter where we are, as long as I’m with him. Opening what remains of his shirt, I run my hands over his tattoo’s, the heat of his breath misting across my skin. I fumble with his belt, and he pauses. “Are you sure?”
Kissing him deeply, I respond against his lips, “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. We may have our empires to go back to, but we can claim this moment as ours.”
“The next time we do this, I want to have time with you, where no one can disturb us and be able to devour you the way you deserve.” My muscles tense at his admission, and I can’t wait anymore.
“Let me help you with that.” Sebastian rips my pesky jumpsuit open as I try to figure out how to get it off quickly. Grinning, I’m relieved to find him hard and ready for me as I bring him out from his pants. I lift my hips to line myself up with him. Slowly, I lower myself onto him as he enters me deliciously slow, and I close my eyes in ecstasy. It feels like I’m coming home.
“Don’t close your eyes. I want to see you come undone,” he instructs.
Abandoning all thoughts outside of him, I move my hips slowly, wanting to draw out this moment. Pressing my chest to his, my nails find his back, and I run my hands down him, leaving my mark as he moans. He hisses as he grabs my butt. Picking up the pace, I bounce on him as our breaths become heavier. “Slow down,” he manages to get out. “I want this to last.” Following his instructions, I lean my arms back, resting against his thighs as I ride him, the sight of him chasing his orgasm, enough to make me find mine.
Chapter 17 | They Walk Among Us
Sebastian
Desperate to find someone new to put on our payroll, I’ve taken a page out of Dom’s book and have taken to hanging around the University. While I know I would fit in with the students, instead of going to the Frat houses like Dom, I zero in on the financial aid office. Everyone has a price, and this part of the school reeks of desperation. I really don’t want to go home and deal with Alyssa Vance and her take on what a disappointment I’m turning out to be.
After hours of waiting, I’m almost ready to go home and call it a failure, when a middle aged man catches my eye. His disheveled appearance is out of place, but he walks with the confidence of someone that belongs. Intrigued, I inch closer to him, nothing but time on my hands. I listen to his conversation with the financial assistant while trying not to appear as a creep.
“Sir, we’re about to close. Please come back tomorrow.” The elderly woman behind the cubicle couldn’t make her distaste more clear. This is a place usually reserved for students, not parents, and she carries herself as someonewho wants rules and processes upheld. Her and Alyssa would be great friends, if Alyssa degraded herself to hang out with humans.
“I’m sorry! I was stuck at a crime scene and couldn’t get away until now. My daughter goes to school here, and I don’t want to embarrass her with late payments. Please, will you help me?”
For the briefest of moments, the clerk’s eyes soften as she sympathizes for the man in front of her. She can see what I see, a father trying to do right for his child in a world that’s made it almost impossible. I’ve seen the student debt in our country–we live in a world that rarely rewards goodness or honesty.
“Can you give me your daughter’s student number again?”
She taps away at her keyboard for a short period before turning back to the man. “I’m sorry, sir, we have offered you every payment plan available, and while your daughter is a good enough athlete to justify her partial scholarship, she’s not good enough for a full one. May I suggest you get a part time job like so many of the other parents do?” She puts her closed sign out front and walks away, leaving the man standing there, dejected.
He turns to leave, and I decide to conveniently bump into him. At that moment, I spot the gun in the shoulder holster under his jacket, confirming my suspicion that he could be someone important. Probably the police department. I can use someone like that.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation. I have a lot of money, and I need help. And you need money. Would you be open to an arrangement of sorts? I’m sure we can help each other.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Can someone remind me why we’re meeting Gabe again? Don’t we have people that can do this for us?” Amelia’s breath creates a puff of steam in the cold air, and I bite back my retort. While I’m annoyed by theirpresence in this twisted version of a family outing, between the warehouse, Thanksgiving, and all the other deaths, paranoia is my constant companion as I wait for the next move from Sloane and her cult. Gabe’s call doesn’t help.
