The Ripper

William Jack Holloway

The Hunter was well aware of the way that the woman continued to fuss at him, insisting that he couldn't possibly understand. And of course she would think that. She knew nothing about him or about the life that he'd had since becoming a Hunter. She knew of his pedigree, of the life he'd had before that fateful night that had ruined his life. William Cavendish, Duke of Devonshire would have never understood murder. He lived in a world of beauty and elegance and rules. The horrors of the world had never been presented to the man until that night that he had died. It had been a night of frivolous partying alongside his friends and it had ended in them laying in that alley. He knew now that only John had truly perished at the hands of the vampire - John who was on the eve of his wedding and deserved so, so much more. Sebastian had became a vampire, while Will had been rescued by the Hunter that had created him.

They all deserved better.

There were no words to describe how much he understood, and it was that that had him stepping away from her. "Just wait..." He said softly as he continued to undo the buttons on his shirt, turning around to drop the fabric down his back to reveal those scars on his own back. He knew that they were not nearly as rigid as the woman's own, and yet he hoped that they would help her understand that he did to an extent. What he didn't expect was the girl stepping forward to trace her fingertips along those ridges on his back. The man tensed instantly at the unexpected touch, though that it was her touch made his shoulders relax and the Hunter to let out a breath. It was only as she tugged her fingers back did he pull the shirt back up to cover himself once again. He couldn't deny the way that he craved those fingers along his skin. Her touch was ice cold, and yet he was sure there was nothing more pleasant than that.

He didn't look at her until he'd buttoned that top button and pulled that jacket back up on his shoulders. It was harder to look at her in his state of undress - some habits from the era he'd grown up in too hard to break. His words were entirely gentle when he finally spoke, and even that was enough to make her flinch. He hated that he'd ruined this moment by touching those wounds. He hated that he was hurting her or that he had sparked these memories in her with his words. But still, despite that, he found himself holding his hand out to the girl, his eyes pleading to please, please let him hold her.

William was not oblivious to the look of fear that crossed her features, though he was insanely relieved when she finally took his hand and allowed herself to be pulled into his chest. His arms wrapped around her so readily, enveloping her within his grasp. At her shuddering breath, he leaned down to kiss the top of her head as his hands rubbed circles on her arms in an attempt to both warm her and comfort the girl. At her words, he gave her a small smile. He reached up with one hand, hooking his finger under her chin to bring those blue eyes up to his. "I would never ask you to apologize, darling. Vhalla, I am interested in you for exactly who you are."

He leaned down then, his lips brushing so gingerly against hers. "I like you, Vhalla, and I'd like to eat this dinner with you and continue to woo you into liking me," There was that cocky grin on his features and without a second thought, he stepped back. His hand in hers, he led her back over to that table, helping her sit back down before he slid across from her. He reached out, his right hand reaching out to take her left hand. His thumb trailed across his knuckles as he lifted his gaze up to the woman. "Now, since you know the cook so intimately, can you explain what it is we are eating here?"

But darling -- it's only human nature.