Serpentine Desires

The prey

That night, Judas didn't come to the room—not that I was expecting him to. But what I wasn't expecting was the absence of punishment. No harsh words, no wrathful orders, no cruel consequences. Again, he surprised me.

I didn't know when the burnt clothes were replaced with new ones. Honestly, I had no idea. The only thing I knew was that when I woke up the next morning, the wardrobe wasn't empty anymore. It overflowed with options—warm, soft, and luxurious like they were handpicked just to spite me.

And right now, I stood by the window, wrapped in a beige sweater that clung to my frame like a warm hug, black fleece leggings that hugged my legs snugly, and a cashmere scarf draped loosely around my neck. The view outside was pristine—snow stretching out endlessly, the world blanketed in white. Just two days ago, I was out there, probably dying.

He could've left me. Should've, maybe. But he didn't. He brought me inside instead. I faintly remembered that night—a blur of nightmares, flashes of warmth against my frozen skin, the steady thrum of a heartbeat. My heart fluttered at the memory, and I swallowed hard. It had to be a dream. There was no way Judas could be so gentle. Not Judas.

Another thing I noticed was, the house was surrounded by guards now. None inside, but the shadows pacing the grounds were unmistakable. I wondered if they felt the cold the way I had, or if their loyalty insulated them better than layers ever could.

The thought brought heat to my cheeks for an entirely different reason. Yesterday, I'd almost flashed them, traipsing around in that damn lingerie like a fool. I sighed, my breath fogging up the cold glass of the window. Childish. That's what I was—naive and reckless. A dangerous combination in a house like this.

And the fact that I hadn't seen Judas all morning was nerve-wrecking. Not that I went looking for him, but his absence filled the space as much as his presence did. I stayed in the room, reluctant to test boundaries, unsure of what awaited me outside.

My hand brushed the edge of the scarf as I traced invisible patterns on the glass. Two days ago, this house was a death sentence. Today, it was a cage lined with silk. I didn't know which was worse.

The sound of footsteps outside the door broke my thoughts. My stomach flipped, and I froze, waiting. The knob turned slowly, and for a split second, I thought it might be him. But when the door creaked open, it wasn't Judas.

It was one of the guards—a towering figure with a face set in stone. He didn't step inside, just hovered in the doorway like he wasn't sure whether to speak or stand guard.

"Miss Rosewood," he said finally, his tone clipped but not unkind. "Boss wants to see you. Now."

My stomach dropped. So much for the absence of punishment.

I nodded before following the guard down the hall, my pulse thudded in my ears as we descended the staircase. The house was quiet, the kind of silence that made every breath louder than it should. The guard didn't say a word, didn't glance back to see if I was following, and clung to the edges of my scarf as if it could shield me from whatever awaited.

When we reached the study, he opened the door without knocking, stepping aside for me to enter. The moment I crossed the threshold, the tension hit me like a wall. Before the guard shut the door after him.

Judas was behind his desk, his focus entirely on the laptop in front of him. He didn't look up, but his presence filled the room, like an unspoken authority that made the air feel heavier. The soft glow of the screen highlighted the sharp lines of his face, his dishevelled hair making him look almost boyish. Almost.

The illusion didn't last. The polar neck sweater he wore clung to his broad shoulders, the dark fabric emphasizing his powerful frame. Matching slacks sat comfortably on his muscular legs, and he wore no shoes, just socks, a detail that somehow didn't lessen his presence. If anything, it made him more intimidating—like he didn't need to try, like he ruled this space effortlessly. And he did.