Page 40 of Traces of Her
Twenty-Six
ROWENA
“YOUR BOY’S A TROOPER,” Jared says, spinning around in the computer chair. “He’s gotten rid of his fair share of bodies and he’s done some shady ass shit for me, but he’s going above and beyond for this shit.”
Crossing my arms, I glare at him from the doorway but remain silent.
“I’ve never kidnapped someone and actually kept them alive this long, so maybe he’s doing it as a favor for me, ya know?” he asks.
“How would this be a favor for you?” I ask him indifferently. Emotions have to be locked away in a box when Jared’s around.
He looks at me like I’m an idiot. “The longer she’s alive, the longer this shit goes on and I can get what I want.” He rolls his eyes. “The shit he’s doing is keeping her alive. Duh.”
“Yep,” I say nodding. “I’m sure that all of this is just a favor for you. You know, that way you can just keep fucking this girl up.”
“See,” he smiles. “You get it.” He lightly chuckles, spinning the chair once more. “I knew I was wrong about you, thinking you were a dumb cunt and shit, but you’re not. You might be a fuckin’ freak show, but I’m sure you got some blood on your hands.”
I stare at him with vacant eyes and no expression.
“I might hate you, but I like you, Ghost,” he declares, sitting upright and spinning to face the desk. “You don’t even bat an eye at any of this shit.”
Walking over to him, I put my hands on the chair, standing behind him staring at the screen at Griffin tending to the poor girl’s open cuts. “The only one here with blood on their hands is you,” I say quietly.
“Bullshit,” he retorts. “You’re a goddamn liar. You think you’re sweet little Griffy-poo hasn’t looked someone in the eye as they took their last breath?”
“I know he has,” I say, still watching the screen. “You shed blood for sport, we’ve taken lives out of necessity. There’s a difference.”
He sighs deeply and shrugs. “Call it what you want, Ghost, but blood is blood no matter how you paint it.” He rises to his feet, pushing the chair in and walks to the door. “The Golden Boy should be up soon. Just remember, his hands might look clean, but there’s innocent blood stained deep beneath his skin.”
I don’t correct him on his contradiction as the door closes behind him and his words hang heavily in the stale air of the room as I wait alone in the silence. Griffin saunters into the room with a grim look on his face until he sees me. His eyes soften and he holds his hand out for me. It’s free and clear of any dirt or blood. Placing my hand in his, I let him lead me to the car and take me home, with Jared’s voice ringing in my ears.
Blood is blood, no matter how you paint it.
Innocent or not, all of our hands are covered with invisible stains you can’t wipe off. His hands are stained and tainted, but his touch is warm enough to thaw my soul.
He’s a deadly toxin, a poison, a threat to mankind that creeps silently in the shadows.
The shadows are his home and his darkness has become mine.
Griffin helps me out of the car, like the gentleman he is and leads me into the house. Walking into the kitchen, he walks around the island, grabbing two glasses from the cabinet and grabs a bottle of bourbon. I take a seat on one of the stools as he pours the amber liquid into each glass and slides one across the countertop to me.
He takes a slow sip of his, turning to the window and stares out into the night as I spin mine around.
“I don’t know how bad this is going to get,” he admits quietly.
Taking a large gulp of my drink, I get up and walk up behind him, wrapping my arms tightly around his waist. “No matter how bad it gets, everything will be okay,” I tell him as he grabs my arms, loosening them and spins around to face me. He pulls me close against him but doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t believe me and it’s okay, because neither do I.
We stand together for a little while, but it’s like he isn’t there. When I finally break away, he glances at me with his eyebrows pinched together. “I’m going to go get a quick shower,” I tell him, quickly rushing out of the kitchen and away from his gaze.
Turning on the water, I slip out of my clothes and step into the shower into the hot stream of water. Pulling my hair behind my back, I tip my head back, letting the water run down the thick strands. A rush of cold air hits me as the shower door opens and closes. I go to spin around when he pins me against the wall, pressing his lips to my ear.
“Shhh, it’s just me,” he says quietly, brushing my hair away from my neck. “You think you can run and hide, just vanish like a ghost. But you can’t, love. Wherever you go, I’ll always find you.”
“Don’t let me go and you’ll never have to worry about finding me,” I retort, feeling his hard cock press against my backside. And then his hands are in my hair, slowly massaging my scalp with skilled fingers, rubbing in the shampoo. Guiding me backward, he pulls me back into the water, grabbing my hair and pulling it back. The pain lights a new flame inside and I let out a low moan. He rinses the shampoo out of my hair and quickly spins me around, pushing me up against the tiled wall.
“I fucking need you,” he growls, kissing me roughly on the lips. The kiss doesn’t last long, as his hands grab at every inch of my skin and his mouth searches my body, his teeth nipping any flesh they touch. Wrapping his hand in my hair, he wretches his hand, ripping my head back, exposing my neck. He attacks, licking, sucking, biting, working his way across my collarbone.
When he reaches my scars, he peppers gentle kisses over them, pulling my hair harder. I moan into the steam filling the room as he groans against my skin. He reaches my breasts, toying with each one with the tip of his tongue, slowly growing rougher, sucking and biting them.