The Ripper

William Jack Holloway

As William reached out to entwine his hand with hers, he fully anticipated that she might jerk her hand away and scold him once more for touching her. Instead, he was entirely relieved to feel her allowing this touch. The man offered her a tiny smile as he made his way with her inside the bathroom, moving to stand her in front of the sink. "You're safe," William offered her gently as he began to towel dry her hair. He couldn't help the small smile that played on his lips as she leaned into him. It was only once he was satisfied that she wouldn't catch a cold from her wet hair did he pull back, promising that he just wanted her to be normal tonight. The smile that flashed across her features almost made him feel better. "I don't think I'd love you if you were normal," He said, a ghost of a simper on his own lips. He stepped back, pulling her into the den once more and onto his lap.

At her shivering, the man couldn't help but run his hands over her arms in an attempt to keep her warm. His words were meant to calm her, and yet it seemed that they had done anything but. He wanted so desperately to keep his arms around her and keep her within his arms. And yet when she pulled away he made no effort to stop her. No, stopping her would be a thing that Ivan would do. And William was not Ivan. No, he was better than that. Instead, his eyes followed her as she traveled the room. He leaned forward, running his palms on his jeans as he listened to her speak. The man suspected as much - he'd listened to her once describe how she couldn't control her power - and yet he couldn't hide the dismay he felt for all the terrible things that she had seen. And he didn't know the half of the.

When she finished speaking, William's hands were white from gripping the arms of his chair. The very idea that this man had a hold on her - one that extended past years of trauma - made him tense. It was only when she spoke her last sentence that he reacted at all. The man pushed himself to his feet, going over to stand in front of her. Any hesitation he had before about touching her was gone as he put a hand on her hip, guiding her into his arms. "Vhalla," He said gently, his British lyrics soft and working to make her name sound almost musical. His free hand moved to cup her cheek as he brought her gaze up to his. "Vhalla, I couldn't stop loving you if I tried. I am hopelessly... pitifully... in love with you." He said with a smile that - this time - reached his eyes. "Your messes are my messes."

He moved easily then, his arm snaking around her waist to draw her in. He continued to tilt her head up to look at him. "I love you," He repeated before he leaned down, planting a gentle kiss against her lips before he stepped back, though he didn't release her just yet. Instead he guided her towards the bed, gently lifting her to place her within the four poster bed. He sat down beside her, moving to pile the blankets on top of her. Her shivering hadn't stopped, and he so desperately wanted to keep her warm. "We'll find a way to get you out of this. We'll find a way to free you from him. Until then, I will do anything that I can to spend time with you..." He peeked up at her almost shyly through his long lashes. "That is, if you'll have me."

But darling -- it's only human nature.