Page 11 of The Ripper

~ Stop electrocuting me, fucker.

Right there. Frustration identified.

~ So smart. A PhD should be sent your way.

I pinched the bridge of my nose shortly before I turned to look at her face and found her reddened by embarrassment, eyes wide as she tried to smooth out some non-existent wrinkles on her dress.

See? Another one. Embarrassment was an easily identifiable feeling, but the fucking sweaty palms I had and the wave of heat that flooded my insides were hard to pin down to a specific emotion.

~ Maybe you’re just constipated.

~ Shut it.

She looked at me as if she couldn’t believe her eyes, but there was no hint of fear in those greens as her lips parted as though she wanted to say something, but she didn’t. Arella swallowed and clutched the cross pendant around her neck, her gaze fixed on my face.

I took her moment of silence as an invitation to analyze, and I did.

I let my gaze wander over her round face, enchanted by her beautiful big eyes and tantalizingly full lips. Her blonde hair fell in messy waves over her shoulders, and she now had some freshly cut curtain bangs that added a certain sharpness to her otherwise gentle features.

Further down, I noticed the elegant curve of her hips, slightly fuller than the last time I saw her, but fuck if the extra pounds didn’t look great on her, and I knew she had some deliciously thick thighs under the thin fabric of her dress. It was hard not to imagine my hands gripping those hips, and for a moment I considered working my slightly superficial charm and convincing her that going to the bathroom together would make the flight more bearable for both of us, but I killed the thought as soon as it crossed my mind.

Arella wasn’t the “one and done” type, and her shy demeanor proved it as she fidgeted with her fingers. Her dateless college life proved it too, and I could have sworn on my dick that she was still a virgin. Not that I cared about it, as I was confident I could wipe any remnant of another man from her mind and body, but there was a hint of pleasure at the thought that I would get to be her first.

Do I intimidate you, little angel?

“Thank you,” she barely whispered as I struggled to stop admiring her and make eye contact.

I gave her a short nod in response and gestured for her to sit down, partly because I wanted to see if she would take the seat assigned to her or the one next to it, partly because I couldn’t wait for her knees to brush against mine.

“You first,” she said in that voice I missed so much, as soft as fucking rose petals, “I can’t sit by the window, I’m afraid of flying.”

My eyebrows shot up, and I did as she asked, even more confused than before, as she sat down next to me.

She was close. Too close. So close that I could feel her scent in the air, seeping through my pores and getting under my skin. So close that I was going to smell her for days to come.

So close that I wanted her even closer.

Fuck.

But maybe she didn’t see it.

For the first time since I had that ugly scar on my face, someone didn’t look at me as though I was a monster dressed as a man. She seemed more afraid of our transportation than the obvious danger next to her.

Arella’s reaction to me was so different from that of the woman who’d passed earlier. Maybe she wasn’t judging me based on my appearance.

Maybe I misjudged her, too.

Maybe because of her innocence, she wasn’t able to recognize the darkness emanating from me, because the beautiful blonde didn’t seem scared of me, and most women — those who weren’t turned on by danger — were usually terrified.

There’d been other women who caught my eye over the years, and I put every single one of them under the microscope, trying to figure out what made them so special that they caught my attention, but when I discovered their interests, profession, and personality — or lack thereof — I got bored and lost interest completely.

Not her.

Three years of analyzing every little detail about her life and I still hadn’t had my fill.

She wasn’t just another figment of perfection that would eventually bore me, but perfection incarnate.

Would she be the one to show me the way out of the darkness? Would she willingly choose to drown in black with me?

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