Page 46 of Taken By the Ripper
Clara thought back on what she’d only recently discovered about the Ripper. The story matched. Perhaps he was not lying after all.
But instead of giving him the benefit of her testimony, she waited.
With a sigh, he ran a hand over his face and managed to push himself into a straighter sitting position. “Since then, I cannot remember anything past sundown. I am only lucid at sunrise. This explains why I can’t remember how I got here. I assume the vampires must have caught me in my unconscious state. Like Isaid, my line of work is dangerous, and it makes me plenty of enemies.”
Oh.
Everything made sense now. Claude. Jack. Why she’d never seen the Ripper at any time other than nighttime. He’d once said that he succumbed to a deep sleep during the day. Perhaps it was because he was no longer himself. Or rather, he was in another form entirely. One unaware of his existence.
Her gaze roamed over Claude to try to find any similarities between the two, and she found them in the shape of his eyes, in the sweep of his hair, in the long stretch of his hands. Did Jack have ademon’s kissjust like Claude? She couldn’t recall when she’d mainly seen him in the darkness or with shadows flickering across his dark form.
“The Ripper—Jack—asked me to steal the files and destroy them,” she admitted. “He told me you would understand later after your initial anger.” She released a shaky breath. “Now I understand. He was protectingyou.”
Claude’s eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t understand. The only explanation is that he was trying to cover up his trail, to make it harder for me to find him.”
She released a humorless laugh as she placed her hand on his chest and shook her head. “No, no, no, no, no. Claude, listen to me.Youwere protectingyourself. Jack was protecting Claude.” Another shaky breath. “During those times when you blackout, you transition into the very thing you hunt. You become a ghoul.”
For a long few moments, he stared at her with disbelief, and then the corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement. “Plenty of insane things have happened in my line of work, but I think I’d remember if I transitioned into a ghoul every night. Even werewolves retain the ability to remember their shifts, even if they don’t always remember what happened after the fact.”
“Isawyou, Claude,” she murmured. “You did not enter this cell as a human.”
Now he stared at her, the amusement completely erased from his expression. “I would have remembered.”
This time, it sounded as if he were trying to convince himself.
Softly, she traced the outline of his ragged shirt where it lay open to reveal half his chest. The world caved in on them. All sounds seemed to disappear. It was only the two of them. “Don’t you remember us?” she asked in hardly a whisper, tracing the skin peeking out beneath his collarbones. “How you visited me time and again at night? How you kissed me?” She swallowed and dared to lift her gaze. “How you made love to me?”
“I…” He cradled her hand in both of his and spoke in a raspy voice. “I don’t remember.”
“Perhaps not, but…” Taking a deep breath, she soldiered on. “But I think you know. You told me that the moment you saw me, the moment you caught my scent in that alleyway when you saved me from those vampires, you knew I was your mate. And in your human form, you told me you felt a strong urge to protect me, but you weren’t entirely sure why.”
Again, he squeezed his eyes shut as if the confusion and disorientation was too much to handle. “I just don’t remember, Clara. It can’t possibly be true.” He shook his head in disbelief before he opened his eyes and stared at their hands. “All the people I might have hurt. The people I might have killed… I can’t believe it. I don’t want to believe it.”
She pulled her hand out of his grip, her shoulders slumping with heartache. Sure, she knew Jack loved her. But did it count if only half of him cared?
“You killed those women to prevent the ghoul infection from spreading,” she murmured. “Jackkilled them. He—you—had no choice.”
“Infection? What infection?” When she traced the scar over his mouth, his eyes widened with realization. “I was infected all those years ago.Created.By that ghoul. That’s how… That’s why…”
Quirking her mouth to the side, she replied, “I don’t know how it works. I only know what you’ve told me.”
He stood suddenly, enough for the blood to likely rush from his head and make him dizzy. He reached out to catch himself on the bars, but she quickly snatched his hand away from the metal and used her own weight to support him.
“Don’t touch them,” she warned. “A vampire said it would poison a ghoul.”
She stood on her tiptoes to survey the damage done to his head, but to her shock, the wound was smaller than it had been only minutes ago. Whatever ghoul tendencies raced through his blood, he healed quickly.
Just to be sure, she took her discarded cloth that lay on the floor and dabbed at his wound. He winced but remained silent through her administration. She should have done this the moment he’d stepped foot in the cell, but she’d been too shocked. Curses! She was a nurse for Pete’s sake.
However, very little blood came back on the cloth, especially compared to how much red coated one side of his hair, dried as a drip down his skin, and soaked into the collar of his shirt. Despite being covered in blood and a few bruises, she’d never been more attracted to him. Because now she knew he was her ghoul. Her dear, beloved ghoul.
They would get through this. Theyhadto.
“What do we do Claude?” she asked, her shoulders slumping with despairing defeat. “What are we supposed to do?”
He reached for her, and her heart warmed with sudden relief as he threaded his fingers through hers. “This is not my first shot of whiskey,” he replied, the intense blue of his eyes boring intoher in the most pleasant manner. Yes, his eyes were the same as Jack’s, only a different color. How had she not noticed before? “I have an idea.”
A
