Page 12 of Taken by the Ripper (Time for Monsters #9)

A

fter the whirlwind of a day she’d had, Clara was surprised to find the night quiet and still.

She sat in a rocking chair on the back porch and stared blearily into the darkness, fighting the exhaustion raging within her burning eyes.

Over the last several hours, police had been in and out of the house, questioning her and her sisters, her patients, searching for evidence, carting the body away and cleaning the bloody mess.

And only now that everyone had left and the few patients who had chosen to stay lay asleep, the shock dissolved into long-awaited fear.

Someone or something had been in her house. Torn up a body. Killed someone. That someone could have been her or Mazie or Norma. But rather… It felt like some sort of message. A threat.

But a threat to stop the investigation? A warning that she was being watched? Or perhaps it was a promise. If she stepped out of line, she would meet the same fate.

Knowing full well that she might fall asleep if she remained sitting and place herself in danger, she pushed herself to her feet and leaned against the scratchy wooden railing circling the porch.

At one point, it had been smooth and flawless.

But now? It was a shoddy display of the lack of upkeep on the property, a reminder that this house wasn’t what it once was and would never return to its original splendor.

Crickets chirped in a unified song in the darkness. Moonlight danced across the overgrown lawn. The scent of midnight blooms opening their petals to the darkness filled their air. Quiet. Peaceful.

At least until the crickets ceased chirping all too suddenly, and the temperature seemed to drop ten degrees.

She spun around and backed up but failed to spot the stairs in the darkness.

Her foot slipped on the edge of the top stair, and she couldn’t help but shriek as she fell backward.

In a single moment, she felt the wind in her hair as her stomach dropped, and she braced herself for the impact against the ground.

But it never came.

Instead, a pair of strong hands caught her from behind, the long, black claws gentle against her elbows and a gust of breath parting the strands of hair that lay haphazardly against her chin.

A thrill shot through her just like it had in her bedroom, something between terror, intrigue, and excitement. It was addicting, this feeling. Being in immense danger but feeling safe and protected all at the same time.

“You must stop sneaking up on me!” she breathed, watching as the monster’s hands flexed and relaxed against her arms. But then he spun her around quickly, barely giving her enough time to gasp in a breath of exhilaration before she found herself face to face with dark gray skin, wicked sharp teeth, and a yellow gaze so lethal that it could cut glass.

Those yellow eyes roamed over her face, her shoulders, her hair as if searching for something. She wasn’t sure if he found it, either, when he took a step back while keeping his hands gripped around her forearms.

“You were in danger today,” he murmured in a husky tone. “And I wasn’t here to protect you.”

The tightness in her chest eased when she realized it hadn’t been him. He wasn’t to blame for the bloody mess in her infirmary.

“Who did it?”

“If not for me?”

She bit her lip, all but confirming his question even with her silence. If he ripped open prostitutes to keep the contagion from spreading, surely, he wasn’t above accomplishing the task on her property, either.

“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Well, I suspect… But it’s not easy to prove. They mutilated the body. Made it look like my work. But I didn’t do it. You must believe me.”

“You have never lied to me thus far.” At least, not that she knew of.

Foolish girl! she internally berated herself.

This was a terrible idea. She should back away.

Run to the house and lock herself inside.

And then for good measure, she should lock all the windows to bar entrance from outsiders.

Who knew just how many inhuman creatures had crossed the threshold of her home?

Two, at the very least. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the exact amount, either.

“I have something for you,” he murmured, almost shyly.

His eyebrows drew together. One of his sharp teeth peeked through his mouth and rested against his dark gray lip.

The pointed curves on his back flattened against his spine.

Whereas someone might have found him intimidating, she thought him subdued and sweet like a puppy wanting attention.

What is the matter with me? she silently berated herself. These…these… feelings… should not be making a nest within her chest and settling down in the warm heat. Any sane person would have run.

But she didn’t want to run. She wanted to learn more about him.

“What is it?” she whispered, only realizing he still held onto her the moment he released one of his hands and reached behind his back. Instinct caused her to shift away. But rather than producing a weapon or something equally dangerous, he pulled out a single flower.

A beautiful, symmetrical red camellia. It said far more than words could, as it represented longing and affection. And he presented it to her with gentle fingers and an uncertain curve to his mouth.

When fluster burned her body even hotter than before, she took the flower from him and breathed a chuckled sigh. “Where on earth were you hiding this? In your trousers?”

And then her face flamed when she realized what, exactly, had escaped her mouth in her fluster.

His mouth lifted in a sharp, toothy grin. “My back pocket. I saw what became of your other flowers, and, well…”

She planted a hand on her hip. “Have you been watching me?”

“You looked so sad.”

Another pang beat against her chest, and she frowned as she glanced back toward the house. From here, she could peer into her drawing room if she wanted to. It would have been easy for the ghoul to do the same even without her knowing. “Why are you watching me?”

She glanced down at the flower, unable to help herself as she cradled it protectively in her hands. Mazie couldn’t destroy this one. She wouldn’t let her.

His gravelly voice sounded only a step behind her. “I worried the vampires would target you after what happened. I don’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to keep you safe.”

“Why?” But as she gazed down at the flower, she realized his romantic intentions. However, she didn’t truly understand his reasons. “I’m just a nurse.”

“A nurse who took on two vampires and bravely landed a couple hits. I know none other with your mettle.”

A pause settled between them, and she took that moment to brush her thumb over one of the soft, velvety petals of the camellia.

He coughed. “That, and you’re my fated mate.”

“Pardon?” she shrieked, spinning around to face him once more.

He rubbed the back of his neck and stared up at the sky rather than at her, and for a moment, she wondered if she’d misheard.

It couldn’t be true. She hardly knew the ghoul. Besides, she’d only recently learned monsters were real. This made little sense.

A long breath escaped him before his yellow gaze honed in on her. He stalked forward slowly, and she stepped backward. At least until her shoulders bumped against the porch railing behind her, and he trapped her against the wooden slats.

“Your scent drives me wild,” he murmured. From any other person, the tone could have been sultry, but his ghoul voice leaked gravel and husk in a way that sent shivers up her spine. Pleasant shivers.

“I-I-I’m not—” she stammered, unable to look away from the intensity of his gaze.

His tail looped around and caressed her face from her temple to her cheek to her chin. Leathery and soft and gentle. Enough for gooseflesh to crawl across her skin and meet the burn raging hotter in her soul.

“I knew it the moment I saw you in that alleyway.” He leaned closer and skimmed the tip of his nose along her throat, inhaling her scent. She gasped. “You are mine . And I refuse to allow a vampire to lay their hands on you ever again.”

“We only just met,” she jested, surprisingly without a stammer. It was difficult to think, let alone form words, when he touched her so tenderly and spoke so softly. “You cannot say such things.”

Besides, he wasn’t the only one vying for her attention. Shockingly.

As if attuned to the direction of her thoughts, he leaned back, his tail swishing back and forth in agitation.

“You are not going to court him, are you?” His upper lip lifted in a snarl. “The detective.”

“It’s not a good idea.”

“Why?”

“It’s causing contention in my home.” She glanced down at the flower in her hand, realizing another reason she hesitated.

Detective La Cour was every woman’s fancy.

Handsome. Sophisticated. Successful. And she suspected to some degree that he might be wealthy or at least come from a well-off background.

Why would someone like him set his sights on someone like her?

“Is there any other reason?” The corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk. “Perhaps that you might actually like ghouls more than you thought.”

She laughed but then quickly clamped a hand over her mouth, glancing up at the windows high above her. The window belonging to her sister remained lit by the lanterns within, but no shadows or silhouettes passed across the light, and no windows opened, either.

“Fine,” she relented, surprising even herself when she gently pushed his shoulder. But the toned physique beneath her hand gave her pause. The ghoul was solid muscle, all hardness and shape. Almost like stone. But not a gargoyle.

A blush stole across her cheeks as she dropped her hand and stammered, “P-p-perhaps they’re not as terrifying as I previously imagined when standing on this side of the line.”

“And what side is that?” he asked softly.

Until now, she hadn’t realized how close he was. Towering over her. Shielding her with his body. A safe presence rather than something to shy away from.