Page 25 of Grim

“Like this one?” I pointed at the red wolf that called to me.

It was a photograph of the final draft on someone’s chest. Bright red from the continuous needle picking, the colors stood out starkly against the pale skin. The client’s body was riddled with scars, and the wolf took the entirety of this man’s chest. The fur looked like Grim’s hair, and dare I say the shape of the eyes, even looked similar.

“My design,” he muttered. “Sizzle tatted me.”

My eyes widened, realizing the muscular back I was ogling was Grim’s. My face flushed, and I let go of the photograph.

How could I have missed such a beautiful piece of art on his body?

Oh, maybe because you were scared out of your mind yesterday to really look at his ink?

“H-he did an excellent job,” I muttered, still looking at the wolf staring back at me.

He pulled me in closer to his chest. My tense body relaxed again when I heard a rumbling in his chest. It wasn’t an anger driven growl of frustration from my constant questions; it was a constant purring noise that relaxed me further.

My face heated, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks at how much I enjoyed his touch. It was crazy, right? To feel this strange feeling of wanting to be touched after so many years of the idea of anyone touching me? But I wanted it. I wanted a tender touch—not a forceful unwanted one.

It was different with him, and I wasn’t sure how.

It was an invisible force, a pull, that I couldn’t deny. The question was, did Grim feel it, too? Or was it the pure obligation to take care of me because he was the one who found me?

I pursed my lips, not liking that idea, but what was I to say?

I’d never had a proper relationship. I wouldn’t know how to act in one. I was taken from my home at fifteen years old to go work on some crusty old man’s farm until the day I turned eighteen. That old farmer must have felt guilty about sending me away at fifteen because he wasn’t supposed to keep me.

It was just a stop where they abandoned all the lone girls that had no homes. But when my birthday came around, he loaded me up like cattle for slaughter, and I was sent to be a sex worker.

As much as I hated the old man and his wife, I enjoyed working with my hands. To work the land and tend to the animals. I had a warm place to sleep and enough food to keep my belly satisfied after a long day in the sun. Those were the happiest days of my childhood, despite it being such hard manual labor.

I moved my head so I could stare up at Grim’s bearded face, his eyes were already set on me. Like memorizing every line of my face, the curve of my cheek, and the flush of my skin. The trance was set, and I wasn’t about to break it. His eyes had a hold on me, those eyes that also grabbed at the deepest part of me, the vulnerable parts, the parts that were never meant to be seen. I blinked, slowly turning my face only for his rough, calloused fingers to bring my chin back into view.

If only he could really see the problems that lay beneath.

“Um,” I whispered, feeling the sensual hold around my waist. The vibrations of his chest grew deeper, and I felt them between my legs. My eyes closed, feeling the deep vibrations of his body. Could men really make such a noise? Or was it just Grim?

It was a euphoric feeling I had never encountered in all my years. I welcomed it as I felt his vibration rush through me. My body surged, my arousal heightening like it never had before. I’d seen many asshole men in my life, some supposedly handsome, but none of them made my body buzz with need like Grim did.

My face reddened further. His stare searched my eyes in the deepest parts of my soul.

Grim’s vibrations ceased, his eyes flashing from his navy blue to black. I blinked several times, making sure I saw nothing amiss, only to see him shutting off the lights to his right.

The wolf in the photo, I swear, was howling at me at the ridiculousness that I was creating in my mind. I shook my head, trying to realize that I had finally gone crazy.

He picked me up like I was a newborn baby and carried me back up the stairs. As he held me close to him and opened the door, he didn’t even wince when his elbow abruptly hit the corner of the bed.

He laid me on the bed and stepped away. I missed his touch; I wasn’t ready for him to let go, but my mind reeled with other thoughts.

I didn’t know him, didn’t really know his intentions. I had to remind myself of that.

My body wanted him, but my mind was a jumbled mess. I had to stay away. He could be another predator, even though he had treated me better than everyone else had.

“Rest,” he commanded. “Stay.”

He stepped back to the door, my eyes watching his every move until his hand reached the handle. Looking back, he nodded again, then opened the door just enough and slid through.

Chapter Nine

Grim

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