Page 70 of The Ripper

Why did it make me feel guilty, though?

I gave him a quick glance and my eyes fell on a tattoo that stood out in the sea of black on his skin, because it was made in red ink, and I wondered how I didn’t notice it before. I frowned, wondering what could be so special as to disturb his monochromatic self, and because I couldn’t make it out from a distance, my legs carried me towards him without my permission, as if I was in a trance.

When I raised his arm and noticed the name engraved on his skin, I froze. My name, written in clear, beautiful calligraphy, tangled in detailed snowflakes, cut by some red jagged lines that looked like actual scratches.

They were the marks my nails left on his forearm three years ago, when I was so scared by the turbulence that I’d clutched his arm as if that would have saved me from a possible crash.

“This is…” I began,

“Scary?”

I shook my head.

“Terrifying?” He raised an eyebrow.

I shook my head faster.

“Disgus…”

“Overwhelmingly beautiful,” I whispered as I brushed my fingers over the tattoo.

I aggressively bit my lip, caught in the clutches of the art, and I mimicked the movement I made all those years ago, without any pressure. Tears blurred my vision as I looked back up at him, and he seemed mesmerized by my reaction, almost as if he thought I would be horrified by it instead.

Maybe I should have been, but I wasn’t. I was frozen in veneration, overwhelmed by him and the feelings running through my body, captive in the memory of that action, one of the many that sealed our fate.

“Why did you stay away so long?” I whispered through my tears, wrapping my arms around his neck, and he immediately encircled my waist and pulled me close.

“I didn’t want you involved in all of this,” he sighed, pressing his forehead against mine.

“What is all this?” I asked again, hoping that this time he would answer.

He sucked in a breath and shook his head, seemingly unsure about what he was about to admit, almost as if he was thinking about lying to me.

But he wouldn’t lie, because he promised the truth, and while Grimm was many things, a man who broke his promises wasn’t one of them.

As his breath fanned across my face, a cold shiver ran down my spine.

“Bratva.”

CHAPTER 13

PREDESTINED TO FALL

GRIMM

“Bratva,” I let the word spill out of my mouth and felt as though it stabbed me for the first time in my life.

I held a certain pride as the future Pakhan, but all that pride crumbled as I waited for her reaction, which was… no reaction.

She remained frozen in my arms, like a beautiful statue that I dared not move for fear it would shatter. Her green eyes widened as she stared up at me, seemingly searching for something in my eyes.

What? What are you looking for, baby?

She seemed to be thinking deeply about something, because she opened and closed her mouth several times, and I was already searing with impatience. I broke away from her and I could have sworn something split inside me when I took my hands off her body.

After taking a bottle of vodka out of Klaus’ drinks cabinet, I poured myself a shot, which I downed in a second, then gritted my teeth as I clung to the counter with white knuckle force.

~ She’s going to leave us.

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