Page 81 of The Ripper

I blew out the smoke and turned my body towards him, pressing my lips together for a moment before speaking.

“What do you think happened if not an attempt of breaking and entering?”

“I think someone’s watching us,” he said, then took a long drag out of his cigarette as he drove with one hand, his eyes darting from one mirror to the other, as if making sure we weren’t being followed. “So I’m sorry if I seem irrational to you, but if something happens to you, I don’t know what I’ll do with myself, Arella. If you die, I die, and I fucking refuse to have your blood on my hands.” His tone was harsh, cold, and so fucking worried it brought goosebumps on my skin. “Anyone else’s blood? I don’t give a shit. Yours? I’m fucking dead. You’ll move in with me, either by choice or by force,” he punched the steering wheel, honking at the slow-moving car in front of us.

His words shook me, and I pressed my lips into a tight line and moved my eyes to the road ahead, refusing to answer him for the time being.

I realized the danger I was putting myself in by being with him. I wasn’t stupid enough to believe our story would be devoid of obstacles, but I hadn’t thought they would come so soon, when we were this fresh.

So I let him drive and finished my cigarette, a heavy silence settling between us.

CHAPTER 15

WRAPPED AROUND HER FINGER

GRIMM

I was a ticking time bomb, but not because I was almost a hundred percent sure that someone was watching our every move closely.

I was ticking for an entirely different reason, namely that of the sight of Arella pointing a gun at me. Her calm and almost bored expression, cold even, her perfect posture, ready to shoot while her innocence struggled to push through but wasn’t strong enough to defeat the wave of adrenaline coursing through her veins, then her indignation as she told me I was exaggerating.

I was hard the second my eyes fell over her, and I didn’t know how much longer I could suppress the urge to strip her naked and sink my claws, teeth, and cock into her skin.

Questions like “Why did she have a gun?” and “Why did she know how to use it?” were put on the back burner. I would ask them, but not right away, because I knew that she needed to completely trust me before she could answer them.

Those questions returned to my head during our little argument in the car, where I could see that there were still so many things I didn’t know about her. Fuck, why did she have to be so calm in situations that made my brain hurt and turned me into a feral beast who wanted to maim and kill?

I was also sure that if she moved in with me, she would have been safe, and it would have been easier for me to look for the fucker who was watching us. I wanted to find him and skin him alive. I seriously thought about making a show of it, putting his body on display in Millennium Park in front of the Cloud Gate so the whole world could see the consequences, to witness what happened when they went after what belonged to me.

I could already picture a faceless man howling in pain as I peeled his skin off, how he would beg and shit his pants in fear.

Her sudden whimper pulled me out of my murderous thoughts, and I almost slapped myself when I saw the needle in the dashboard passing two hundred miles, but that was the only sound she made.

She was silent during the entire drive to the warehouse, and when we got there, she immediately jumped out of the car and ran inside to see her friend.

I tried not to be offended by the fact that she hadn’t kissed me, but after the conversation about her moving in with me, I assumed she was still angry with me.

~ You don’t know shit about women.

~ And you do?

~ I know not to order them around.

~ No shit.

~ They tend to get angry when you tell them what to do instead of asking nicely.

I hit the side of my head with my palm, hoping to make the fucker shut up, and stayed behind to light a cigarette and call my father.

“Hello, son,” he answered smugly.

“I heard you had an awkward run-in with a knife,” I said as I leaned against my car and stared ahead.

I rubbed my eyes when all I could see was that blue dress, how it clung perfectly to her body, how it highlighted every jaw-dropping curve.

“I’m flattered that you worry about me, but I’ve been taken care of by some very capable hands.”

I heard the familiar sound of alcohol pouring, then my father’s sharp intake of breath after he probably downed the glass.

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