The Ruthless Heir

Judge’s [POV]

What have I done?

I take one last look at her half twisted on the bed, hair in tangles, face flushed, forehead beaded with sweat. On her back, the evidence of the beast within tearing its way to the surface. Staining her thighs and the once-white sheets is the undeniable truth of what I took. The one thing that is forbidden to me. The one woman.

“Jesus Christ.”

“Judge?” she starts when I can finally drag my gaze from the mess I’ve made to look at her. To see her confusion.

Without a word, I walk out of her room, still fully naked, and into mine. I go into the bathroom and switch on the shower. While water steams from the shower stall, I look at my reflection in the mirror. Rake my hands through my hair.

What the fuck have I done?

I glance down at myself. See the smear of red on my dick, my thighs, my stomach. Her virgin blood. I took it. It wasn’t mine to take, but I took it all the same.

And I don’t know what I’m thinking as I step into the shower. It’s not as though washing it off will erase it from having happened. It doesn’t matter how hot the water is. How it scalds.

The beast rattles inside me as my mind replays what just happened. As I remember how wet she was when I dipped my cock inside her. How tight when I took her, breaking her seal with a single punishing thrust. She deserved to be punished. That I won’t deny. But fuck, I lost control tonight. Coming home to see them like that. See my brother in my house and them sitting so fucking close together on the loveseat. Flirting. Fucking flirting right under my nose. When he casually twirled her hair at dinner, it took all I had not to leap across the table, tackle him to the ground, and beat the shit out of him.

I have to give it to my mother. She’s clever. Inviting Hildebrand. Knowing I wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing with him present.

Distaste curls my lip. My mother is a manipulative bitch. The way she talked to Mercedes with that fake sweetness. She hates her-hates the entire family but her specifically, if only because she was born into her status. Born a De La Rosa. She hated Mercedes’s mother too before she passed. Did Mercedes see that, or is she fooled? She’s clever, too, Mercedes. She’ll see through her. For her sake, I hope she does.

Margot Montgomery is a conniving, greedy, jealous woman. She’s a puppet master in her own right. Now that Grandfather is dead and Theron is back, she’s gained some backbone. She wants back into the house. She wants to rule.

Those things, however, will not be allowed.

I know her game. She has been patient. They both have. They knew the old man wouldn’t live forever. And my fist is not so much made of iron as he was. At least it hasn’t been. But that changes now. This instant.

She wants me to reinstate Theron in his rightful place within the family. Within The Society. Except that he has no rightful place. There is not a drop of Montgomery’s blood in him. But a marriage with a De La Rosa would take care of that. It would put him so fucking high on the ladder it would be impossible to topple him. I wonder if she realizes once he gets what he wants, he’ll drop her. Because like his mother, my brother is just as vicious, and conniving as she is.

Rage burns inside me. I switch off the shower and step out to dry off. I pull on a pair of jeans, a sweater, and my riding boots. I comb my hair back with my fingers as I stalk out of my bedroom, but I’m unable to simply pass hers without a pause. Without listening for any sound. What I hear is the shower. She’s washing me off her. As if that will do anything. Prove anything. Change anything.

I have taken her virginity. A part of her will always belongs to me. Always.

I swallow hard and force myself to walk on.

In taking her, I betrayed my best friend. The man who trusted me with his sister. Will he demand I marry her? I’ve ruined her for any other man of rank. She will fail any virginity test. I have ruined her marriage within Society. Period.

My steps pound as I hurry down the stairs, only glimpsing Miriam picking up our discarded glasses in the living room as I pass through the kitchen and out the back door. The full moon’s light is ghostly but bright, a spotlight on my guilt.

I don’t bother saddling Kentucky Lightning. I’ve told Paolo Theron not to ride him. I’ve ordered another horse for my brother. The thought should give me pleasure. A mare half the size of my beast. It’s his welcome home present. Because one thing I do know is that adage to keep your friends close but your enemies closer. And Theron is my enemy.

After bridling Kentucky Lightning, I mount and ride to the small cottage. The punishment room is a black hole in my periphery when I pass it. Always there. Always holding on to memories I wish had never been made.

The ripped skin of my mother’s back comes to mind. Grandfather was brutal in his punishment. If she’d been hit by blood, would he have done it? I don’t want to consider the answer to that. Is that why she hates me? Because I sided with him? I was a child. Or is it that she only can love one of us, and Theron wins? Because he, like she, was hated by that man. And I was loved.

I wonder if either of them realizes what that love cost me. What it made me. A man with a temper to match his. But perhaps that is simply my nature. Like it was his.

Cigarette smoke wafts through the air as I dismount while Kentucky Lightning slows his pace. My beast and I know one another well. When I ride, we move as one.

“I don’t allow smoking on the property,” I tell Theron as he sucks on the last of his cigarette and drops it to the patio floor.

He looks casually at me, then stubs it out with the toe of his boot.

“Is that because of the old man? He smoked his cigars like a fucking chimney if I recall.”

“Don’t give me another reason to kick your ass out.”

“Well, I’ll try to keep your rule in mind, your honor.” He nudges the cigarette butt off the patio and onto the forest floor. He grins at me, then hops down the steps to meet me. “Twice in one night. To what do I owe the pleasure? Don’t tell me. Do you carry the news that the lady will have me?”

I step toward him. “You stay away from her.”

He smiles. I’m a fucking fool. He read me like a book the instant he saw me with Mercedes. And he’ll use this weakness against me.

“Why don’t you claim her then? You can. She’s your match. A De La Rosa. Imagine our houses united. The power.” I don’t respond, and he studies me. “Or is it that you think you might do to her what grandfather did to our grandmother?”

“She wasn’t your grandmother.”

“Low fucking blow, brother.”

It was.

“What he did do to our mother, then?”

“My reasons not to marry don’t concern you. What does concern you is my warning. Keep away from her. She’s young.”

“Twenty-five is not a child.”

“Inexperienced.”

“Is she?” Arrogance turns the corners of his mouth upward. My brother is handsome. Disarmingly so. He can feign innocence so easily. “Still? Are you sure?”

Heat burns inside me, and I fist my hands and force them down. He doesn’t know what I did. He can’t.

“I mean, just the way she is so at ease with men. The way she looks. I’m sure she’s had her fair share of willing partners. I just assumed she’d, you know, have tasted.”

I shove him against one of the porch columns and hold him there with the flat of one hand against his chest.

“Watch yourself. You won’t ruin her reputation.”

“It’s just you and me, brother. We’re just talking. No one is ruining anyone. Seriously though. Why not marry her? You like her.”

“What are we, children? I don’t like her. She is mine within the context of the Rite. She is my responsibility. And as such, I will not have you spoil her.” God, I’m a fucking hypocrite.

When I release him, he adjusts his shirt sleeves. “No worries, brother. As long as she doesn’t allow it, I won’t lay a finger on her.”

“I mean it, Theron. You find yourself another Society girl if that’s what you want. Stay away from Mercedes De La Rosa.”

“They are so fucking boring, though.” He sighs deeply as if truly bothered by this. “I suppose I’ll have to manage. Don’t want to anger big brother. Is my room ready yet?”

“Your room?” I raise an eyebrow.

“At the house. Mom’s great and all, but it’s cramped.” He gestures to the cottage behind him.

I study him. He won’t be staying at the house. No fucking way. But I will keep him within my sight. “I’ll have Paolo get you a key to the South Cottage.”

“South Cottage? In case you haven’t noticed, Judge, I’m not a cottage kind of man.”

I shrug a shoulder and turn to walk away. “You can always get your place off my land. Of course, you may need to get a job first.” I mount the horse and look down at him. “You’ll stay in the South Cottage. You will swear to keep away from Mercedes. You’ll do as I say, and I’ll reinstate your allowance.”

“You’ll reinstate my allowance. We’re not children, remember. And fuck you.”

“If it’s beneath you to accept it, of course-”NôvelDrama.Org holds text © rights.

“It’s my due.”

“I decide what is your due.”

“For now.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

He stares up at me, and it looks like he has something to say. But he bites it back, which is worrying in and of itself. Instead, he offers me his most charming smile. “South Cottage then. I’ll send you an invite for my housewarming once it’s inhabitable.”

“I can’t wait.”

I click my tongue and turn to ride away, then pause and glance back at him. “Oh, and you won’t ride Kentucky Lightning again. I’ve ordered you your horse. My welcome home present. She’ll be here bright and early tomorrow.”

I don’t bother waiting for his reply before I ride back to the stable, where I take time tending to the horses. I’m hoping Mercedes will be asleep by the time I’m back, but as I near the house I see her light is on, and she’s standing at the window. She can’t see me, though. So I study her as she looks off into the distance while brushing out her long hair. And I swear I see a tear roll down her cheek.

But no, she wouldn’t be crying. She got what she wanted tonight. She wouldn’t be crying. She’d be celebrating.