The Irish Tattooist

Chapter 30

I'm a crier. I cry in most books, most movies and even songs. 

But I finally read the Empire of Storms book (Throne of Glass series) and fucking nearly killed myself with the amount I was crying. And I'm a pretty crier- I have a lot of confidence- but that was definitely not pretty crying. It was gross, snot filled, Quasimodo crying. (BTW, I love the hunchback of notre dame, so chill) 

Sarah J Maas, Killer of Hearts, tearer of souls, Sarah- Tearbringer. 

Anyway, ya'll excited? I am. 

Guess why (or who)

NEW POVVVVVVV

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RIPPER

He couldn't stop remembering.

It came in flashes, or as long, drawn out moments that he was powerless to look away from. Those images- that God-forsaken scene- of his Corin lying on the cold floor, battered, bruised and broken in more ways than one, his rage had been hot, calm and ready.

It still was.

He stayed awake, leaning on his bike as he watched her fury and pain beat down on Lacey, a feral woman who had so much pent up inside. So much he couldn't take away from her. Corin beat the woman, beat her until even Beast winced, beat her until her rage was sated.

That wasn't until the early rays of morning, when her body was fatigued beyond her mind could handle and exhaustion drooped her beautiful features- that was when he stepped forward, pulling her to him before she kissed the ground.

His love gentled his touch, knowing she was still struggling with the mere concept of touch. Ripper cradled her close, grabbing the spare car left at the site, and driving home with his woman.

Ripper watched her sleep, cleaned the blood off of her face, and sat up. Only when her breathing evened out, when she fell deep into a sleep, was when he let his anger stir.

His fury didn't need any encouragement and it was easily fueled. It tightened his muscles, strained his knuckles and grit his teeth. His fury was a fire, and he breathed in hatred.

Men had touched his woman. Dirty, filthy, disgusting men had forced her to do something she wasn't even conscious for half the time. Ripper stood, grabbing his phone and stepping quietly out of the room, dialling Deadeye.

He picked up on the third ring. "What"

"Are they conscious yet?"

He heard a shuffling, the opening of an aluminium door. "Yeah. Some of 'em. Not the one that counts"

Ripper felt a growl edging his voice. "Get them ready. Corin and I will be coming back tonight."

He hung up, glancing back to his sleeping soulmate. There was a slight furrow between her brow, a sound of discomfort emitting from her mouth. Ripper walked back in, sidling in next to her and pulling her gently against him.

She fit perfectly.

"You're okay. You're safe" He murmured, heart hurting as her face crumpled into his chest, subconscious tears lining his shirt. He wrapped his arms around her, wishing more than anything to take that burden, fear and horror away from her eyes.

He calmed his anger, tucking it away to be used for later, and instead focusing on his soulmate lying in his arms. She was so beautiful, inside and out.

Everyone in the club loved her- especially the people that Ripper hadn't even considered liking her. Dead eye. Seamus. Beast- in his own begrudging way.