Page 58 of The Ripper

Dark shadows crept up my legs, seemingly swallowing me, and I blinked frantically, then aggressively smacked the wall, making the shampoo bottle fall to the floor with a loud thud. The pain seemed to temporarily calm the nefarious shadow that always waited for a moment of weakness to swallow me up.

I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.

After scrubbing every inch of my body and shaving my legs even though I probably didn’t need to, I got out of the shower with dry eyes and wrapped myself in a towel, then left the bathroom without looking in the mirror again. I hated the mirror. The mirror spat nasty things at me. The mirror hated me. I didn’t hate myself.

I didn’t hate myself.

I didn’t…

Did I?

“Took you long enough,” he sounded positively cheerful, and I felt his arms wrap around me before I could turn around to see him. “Fuck, you smell so good.”

“Sorry for the delay,” I pulled out of his hold and walked into my bedroom, hearing his steps behind me as I struggled not to cry in front of him.

“Why are you apologizing so much?” he asked casually, closing the door after entering.

I avoided looking at him as I opened my dresser, fishing for a set of lingerie. I didn’t have many, since I usually went for cotton panties and comfortable bras, but he didn’t need to know that, and frankly, after the deplorable situation in the bathroom, I needed the boost of confidence.

I threw them on the bed, then took out a pair of jeans and a silk peach-colored blouse.

“I don’t know.” It was the truth. “I guess I’ve apologized to so many families that it’s become second nature to me.” I looked at him and tried to smile, but I bet it looked crooked.

Grimm noticed, because he seemed to think about something but didn’t voice what exactly as I turned my back to him and allowed the towel to fall to the floor.

It’s not that I didn’t want to talk to him about my problems. That wasn’t what I wanted to distract him from. I just didn’t want him to notice that I had been crying. I didn’t want him to notice the little abrasions on my knuckles that I got from punching the shower wall. The insecure part of me was back in its cage, locked, and I didn’t want him to ever see it.

Grimm was already grim enough; he didn’t need to take on my monsters as well, since I was sure he had his own share of them lurking beneath that seemingly hard surface.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” I felt his presence behind me before I heard him, since I only managed to pull my panties up to my knees when his hands stopped me.

“I thought we were going for breakfast,” I reminded him when he spun me around to face him.

His eyebrows drew together, casting menacing shadows over his eyes as his pupils swallowed the blue, and he leisurely picked me up and threw me on the bed. A short scream escaped me as he kicked off his boots and sat on his knees at the edge of the bed, then grabbed my ankles and pulled me closer to him, spreading my legs like it was his right to do so.

The grin that carved his lips made my skin burn, while it simultaneously sent shivers down my spine.

“We are, but I’m having dessert first.”

CHAPTER 11

DESSERT AND DISASTER

GRIMM

To say that her apartment was in poor condition would have been an understatement. I could have sworn it had never been this bad. Sure, she had lost patients over the years, and while she mourned each loss, it had never caused her to care so little about her surroundings.

It had never made her stop eating.

I thought of all the men I’d driven away, every cheater who treated her like a side piece, not that my angel could be a side anything. Arella was the appetizer, the main course, and the fucking dessert to any meal. I could have had her for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and every snack in between and still never be completely satiated.

I wondered how she felt when those I killed stopped answering her texts, and if my actions somehow played a part in how she felt about herself. I wondered if I was to blame for her falling into depression, if I was the one who filled her with insecurities because none of them called her again.

~ Of course you’re to blame, you idiot.

~ I thought I was rid of you.

~ You wish.

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