Page 75 of The Ripper

“Who did this to you?”

Her tongue darted out to lick her lips as I stared at her, thousands of needles seemingly piercing my stomach, as if a swarm of bees were trying to sting their way out.

“The things I do sometimes put me face to face with people who are as bad, or sometimes even worse than me. I’m human. I get hurt, and all it takes is a second of hesitation,” I said as I tucked a few strands of hair behind her ears.

“Is he dead?” she asked, leaning forwards until her lips almost touched mine, the hint of a smirk curling her mouth.

“Who?” I narrowed my eyes until I could barely see her anymore, pushing my nose against hers.

“The man who did this to you,” she explained. “Is he dead?”

I grinned. “He’s ashes,Snezhinka.”

“Good,” she spoke categorically, and I moved my hand up her spine to cup the back of her head.

The fact that she was worried about me sent a shiver through my body, and I pulled her down until her lips pressed against mine, pouring every ounce of gratitude I had for her into that kiss.

CHAPTER 14

AN UNINVITED GUEST

ARELLA

The next two weeks passed by in a blur.

I spent my days at work, and my nights at the warehouse, where Fleur was slowly becoming her old self again. She was smiling, ever so faintly, and her bruises were fading. As it turned out, Klaus actually helped her gain some of her dried-up confidence back.

Grimm was… I had no idea how to describe it.

The fact that he was part of the mafia, right at the top, made my skin itch and burn at the same time, because while his “profession” unsettled me, his gentleness and attentiveness outside of it made me weak in the knees. Sure, it reminded me of ghosts of the past, but somehow, when I looked at him, I seemed to forget all about the very people I ran away from, and only cared about how good he was to me.

Like last night, after Fleur and Klaus went to sleep, he drew me a bath and sat on the floor next to the tub as I soaked in the water. He didn’t make any attempt to take things further as he listened to me talk about the teenagers I worked with at the shelter.

Actually, he never attempted to take things further. He touched me, saw me fully naked many times, kissed every inch of me, but never even took off his pants. I was starting to think there was something to be afraid of beneath his clothes, because how many men would have a willing, naked woman under them and stop? How many would offer pleasure without receiving it?

Today was different, though.

Today something shifted inside him, because after he drove me home from the warehouse to change, and then to the hospital for my shift, he took the liberty of walking me in and kissing me in the middle of the hospital, offering a show to all of my colleagues.

It was the first time he kissed me in public, because he knew I didn’t like to display my personal life, and I accepted it because I knew why he did it.

He staked his claim. That hungry, possessive kiss was supposed to warn everyone — especially the male species — to stay away from me, and although the feminist in me wanted to punch him in the face and yell at him that she was not an object he could possess, part of me was overwhelmed by his attention. That part wanted him to claim me in front of the entire world, not just my colleagues.

He told me he had something to take care of, so he couldn’t watch me all day, but he said he would try to be there to pick me up when my shift ended. He also made me promise that I would call him if anything happened.

When I walked into the locker room, all eyes turned to me. Some were nice looks, some were scared, and some were straight up envy.

It felt kind of good.

“Weren’t you with Justin just a few weeks ago? What happened?” Olivia asked as she put on her pink scrubs.

She was one of my interns, and although I had no problem answering her questions regarding medicine, she kept trying to take our relationship towards the friendship stage, and she did that by asking about my personal life, which I tried to avoid talking about at all costs.

“Um, we broke up,” I said with a shrug, and turned to change my clothes.

“Damn, Santino, you change men like you change socks,” Lana interjected.

I did my best to mostly ignore her on a daily basis. She was also a resident, the same year as me, and we had been competitive with each other since day one, but while I did my best to keep it professional, she actively tried to take it to a personal level as well. She commented on everything. My clothes, my posture, my weight and especially my alleged body count. It felt like I was facing a high school mean girl, which I never experienced before since most of my classmates didn’t even dare to speak to me, let alone bully me.

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