“And the opposite?” she verifies, and Jude nods.
“The Dare must be something within conceivable limitations,” Jude continues. “For example, no one may dare you to do something that would endanger yourself. Dares are mostly the opportunity to do something playful and bond through humor.”
She gets that cute little smirk, her eyes gleaming since she’s already done that. Even Jude was on her receiving end earlier today. Apparently, when she, Vincent, and Rory went shopping, she grabbed a bunch of Goodwill-store dolls. It was hilarious when she drew creepy clown faces on them and put them all over Jude’s bed.
A little birdie, who likes to swing an axe, may have told her about Jude’s clown phobia.
Now, he’ll always remember them when he calls her “Babydoll”.
“Jude,” Briella breaks the silence, addressing him.
“Truth.”
His attention goes to her dress, but Briella merely removes the holly crown on the hat. Proud heat fills my chest.
Clever girl.
“How did all of you meet and manage to form such a bond?” She circles her finger to all of us.
“We all went through the same hell,” Rory pipes up, leaning closer to her.
“By the way,” Jude adds, summoning her attention, “any of us may speak out…to answer in their own way.”
I stab a finger at my partner. “You should expect him to be the most chatty.”
“Aye, Lad. And I can still make ye sing in tongues. Don’t forget it.” He narrows his eyes, but he still gets that playful side. Something he only lets out with me…and now, Briella.
“We all came from complicated and problematic backgrounds,” Jude goes on.
“Just say ‘fucked up’, Doc,” I blow out laughter.
Poor Briella keeps having to swing her head to each side, trying to follow our words. We’ll wear her out before I get to fuck her, and my wood is raging.
“Fair enough,” Jude goes on, adjusting his collar. “We all ended up in the same horror house of a foster group home. There are layers to our history of forming a bond, but you did not ask for them,” he points out with that silky, warm smile of his. The kind she swoons for.
“Fair enough,” she echoes him, but her attention drifts to Raphael, who remains still as a well-dressed statue as usual. But Jude goes next.
“Truth or dare, Briella.”
“Truth,” she responds without another heartbeat, but given the way she’s huddling tighter into herself, rocking her pretty self, this is taking a lot for her.
Each of us removes our shirts. Well, Vincent still wears the hoodie, but over his bare tatted chest now. And Raphael simply removes his vest, unbuttons his collar to his upper chest, and rolls up his sleeves to show his forearms, veins throbbing.
“Where did you come from, sweet girl?” Jude flexes his hand, and I get the sense he suspects, but this is just to confirm. And to ease her into our fun games.
She lifts her head. Glances at each of us. Then uncurls herself ever so little before scooting closer to Raphael. He doesn’t hesitate to pull her into his lap, their bodies and souls speaking the same language. Like he knows just what she needs in this moment. And that’s pain.
His fingers are purposeful and steady when they press down upon the limp. Not damaging. Just enough for her to feel it. She gasps, and he sinks his teeth into the base of her neck. Jude narrows his eyes, but he doesn’t interfere.
“Mmm, I told you all already.” A moan leaves her throat when Raphael licks the mark left by his teeth. Her voice cracks. “I escaped an insane asylum.”
Rory’s jaw hits the floor.
My chest grows tight, and he and I share a shocked stare.
Vincent’s muscles bulge, his shoulders growing tense with that innate protectiveness.
Jude looks at her with that heartbreaking gaze before he turns to Raphael. “You knew?”
