The Ruthless Heir

Erica’s [POV]

Judge stares down at me, eyes alight with torment. There’s a war inside his head, and right now, I don’t know which side is winning.

“Why would you come back here?” he demands.

I study the lines on his face, and I realize there’s always been something tormented in him. He hides it well, but it’s there, beneath the surface. Beneath the tension that creeps in around his eyes whenever someone tries to get too close, just as I’m doing now.

“I learned a long time ago not to let the places where bad things happen have power over me.” I reach out to smooth the shirt collar around his neck. “If I did, I’d never be able to go anywhere, and that includes half of your property since I’ve been in your care.”

He flinches at the observation, but there’s no point in sugar-coating it. We both know the truth.Exclusive content © by Nô(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.

“It’s the world we live in.” I lean into him, feeling the warmth of his chest as it presses against my body. “There’s no point denying it. This is our normal.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” He shakes his head, a dark expression taking over him. “Not for you, Mercedes.”

“Why?” I trail my fingers up the length of his neck, stroking his jaw. “Because you’re going to give me away? You think I’ll be better off with someone else?”

His jaw clenches, and he tries to brush my hand away, but I resist and then he captures it between us.

“Yes,” he grits out. “It’s something you will come to understand in time.”

His determination stings, but that’s nothing new.

“And what happens when my husband turns out to be a monster too?” I trap him with my eyes. “When he decides I need to be beaten and whipped for my good, will you still think I’m better off then?”

“I would never let that happen,” he snarls.

“But you’d have no choice.” I give him a pained smile. “It’s a man’s business what he does at home with his wife. At least in our world. You wouldn’t be able to rescue me, Judge. Not anymore. I’ve always known it would be up to me to rescue myself.”

“Mercedes.” His words are thick with restraint. “I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?” I ask innocently as I yank my hand from his and resume my exploration of his skin.

“You’re goading me.”

“Am I?” I cock my head to the side. “I don’t see it that way. I’m telling you the truth. You want to give me away, and-”

“I can’t fucking marry you!” he roars.

The ferocity in his tone makes me freeze, and when I recover from the flinch and dare a glance up at him, I know this is the beast inside him coming out to play.

“I know you won’t.” I force the words up my raw throat. “You said you’d never marry at all. Tell me why, and then we’ll never discuss it again.”

He drags himself away from me, taking another long pull from his scotch. I haven’t ever seen Judge drink this much, and admittedly, it’s a little disturbing. But I know this might be the only time I get my answers from him.

“Because Theron was right.” His eyes are inky pools of black when he turns his gaze back on me. “You don’t understand the things I’m capable of. The darkness that lived in my grandfather lives in me too. I can only keep it caged for so long before it’s inevitable I end up hurting someone.”

“That’s not who you are,” I argue.

“It is.” He hurls the bottle of scotch at the wall, and it shatters, making me wince.

“We all have a monster inside us.” I rush to get the words out as the vein in his neck pulses, his anger rising. “But we have free will too. It’s up to you to decide-”

“You don’t know what he did.” His words echo off the walls, ricocheting around us like shrapnel. “To my mother. To my grandmother. They were subservient to his monster, and any wife of mine would be too. It’s the path I’m destined for.”

“Bullshit!” I hurl the words back at him, my voice choking desperately as he stalks toward me in a fury. “That’s not who you are. It’s just the lie you tell yourself.”

“Shall we test that theory?” He cages me against the stone wall with his arms, his breathing ragged, his voice unrecognizable.

“Threaten me all you want.” I bring a trembling hand to his chest, settling it over his beating heart. “I know what’s in here. I’ve seen it.”

“God, you are delusional.” He laughs mockingly.

“Fuck you.” I shove him hard to provoke him. “You want to be an asshole, then do it. Hurt me. Give it your best shot. But I should warn you, you better come prepared to top the great Lorenzo De La Rosa. Unless you carve scars as deep as his in my flesh, then I’ll see you as nothing more than weak.”

Judge’s nostrils flare, and he seizes my wrist, yanking me so close his breath feels like fire against my lips. “Do. Not. Fucking. Test. Me.”

“Oh, but I want to.” I lean up on my toes, snaring his lip between my teeth before I bite and taste the copper of his blood. “Come out and play, beast. Show me your worst.”

He drops my hand, his palm whipping toward me to wrap around my throat, collaring me. “Is this what you want?” He rumbles in my ear, his voice a mixture of sensual and sinister.

“Yes,” I wheeze. “Fuck me like you fuck your courtesans. Show me what you like.”

A low growl reverberates from his throat as his eyes flash. “That’s what you want?”

“Yes,” I say, less certain this time.

“Careful what you wish for.” He drags a thumb over my lips in what feels like a possessive way, but then all too soon, his demons summon him back to them. “Take off your clothes and get on your fucking knees.”

There’s a moment of hesitation on my part, and he sees it. He relishes it. Because he wants to win. He wants to scare me and prove his point. I want to challenge him and prove mine. But only one of us is drunk right now, and there’s an uncertainty in me about how far each of us will go to win the war.

Still, I started this battle, and I refuse to back down. So with trembling fingers, I pull off my clothes and toss them onto the overturned table. Judge stares at me, cold and appraising before he steps forward. Without warning, he slaps my breast hard, and I hold back a yelp.

“I told you to get on your fucking knees.”

Biting back the retort on my tongue, I force myself to remember this is a game. And I’m determined it’s a game he’s going to lose.

I lower myself to my knees, the cold stone rough against my flesh. Judge circles around me, stroking my hair and then my face. Against my will, my eyes seem to flutter shut, soaking up that moment of affection that’s so rare from him. But all too soon, he snatches it away with a harsh command.

“Is this how you greet a Sovereign Son?”

His unspoken request rattles me. I know what he wants. What he expects. This is our world, and even if I am a Society’s daughter, he will always rank higher. Always be more. It takes everything inside me to bow forward in the way I was taught. I’ve never done this for anyone, but I’ve seen it done at weddings. I’ve seen the way wives kneel at their husband’s feet, showing their respect to the gods who walk among us.

“Dominus et Deus,” I whisper.

Judge’s gaze burns into the top of my head, and I know by the long silence, he’s not going to let me half-ass this.

“Is that all the respect you have to give me?”

“No.” I lower my head further, doing the one thing I swore I never would. I kiss his shoe and then the other, silently at war with myself.

When his fingers caress the nape of my neck, it soothes some of the stings, and I realize something I could never confess out loud. He’s the only man I would ever do this for. He’s the only man I’d even consider worthy of my submission. And I wonder if he’s thinking about it too. I wonder if he’s imagining me doing the same before someone else and if it bothers him.

“Does it please you?” I ask him softly.

Silence is my response.

“Do you think it will please my husband too?”

“I think you have a long way to go in learning how to please a man,” he answers coldly. “But you can start by sucking my cock.”

The ice in his words wounds me as I’m sure he intended, but I don’t let him see it as I raise my head and reach for his zipper.

“I must not be too displeasing,” I murmur haughtily as I unwrap his throbbing erection like a Christmas gift. “Or are your standards just that low?”

“I’m a man,” he utters in a strained voice. “Any hole will do.”