Page 7 of The Ripper

I suppressed the urge to hit myself in the head again, thinking I blew it with that cheesy line, but a subtle blush crept up her cheeks and she smiled. It was a shy one, like she didn’t expect that, then we fell into silence, because she didn’t answer anymore, and I had no idea how to continue.

The song changed to a slower one, and an idea reared its ugly head, pushing me to do the one thing I probably sucked at more than talking.

“May I have this dance?” I asked, offering her my hand.

~ Ok, now you’re just trying to make a fool of yourself. You know what? I’m down, go for it.

Fuck, I didn’t dance. As in, never.

I was pretty sure dancing was used as a torture method for men like me in the old ages, so why was I willingly subjecting myself to such atrocity?

~ Because you want to have an excuse to put your filthy hands on her.

She looked at me with wide eyes, her cheeks a deeper shade of pink, her pupils dilating for the shortest second before going back to normal.

“You know what? Why not? I was dragged out here against my will, but I can at least make the most of it,” she giggled, and I could have sworn my heart skipped a beat.

What is this sorcery?

The moment her slim fingers threaded through mine, every hair on my body stood at attention, and when she deliberately pulled me to the middle of the improvised dance floor, making me almost stumble on the long black thin robe that served as my costume, my heart skipped another beat.

Did I need to see a doctor?

~ Wait another year and you’ll see her, but we both know there’s no cure for infatuation.

~ Shut up.

Ever so slowly, she put her arms around my neck, clasping them together as her fingers brushed the back of my head, and I wrapped mine around her waist.

We swayed to the music, completely off rhythm. Well, she swayed, I just moved robotically, kind of like a penguin trying to run, and I reveled in the feel of her soft body so close to mine.

She smelled so good, none of that sweet perfume women usually bathed themselves in. No, Arella smelled like lemons, fresh and clean, and so fucking delicious.

~ Good enough to eat.

~ Devour.

My obsession reached the moon as I held her in my arms, because she felt like freedom, and I wanted to be free.

“You need to relax, Reaper,” she spoke softly, looking up at me with a genuine smile, one that extended from her mouth and reached the corners of her eyes, light creases wrinkling her soft skin.

“What did you call me?” I asked, half-shocked, half… scared?

Maybe.

She laughed, and my heart exploded.

~ You truly need to see a cardiologist.

“Your costume,” she tapped her finger against the plastic skeleton mask. “The Grim Reaper.”

“Oh,” was all I could say.

~ I knew you were whipped, but I didn’t think you were also stupid.

~ Could you just shut up for a minute?

~ I could, but you would miss me.

---