Claimed by the Hitman

“Here, let me.” I put my hand on his arms and caressed him. Golden and smooth. Something stirred deep inside me. I felt my nipples harden. My shirt was wet and I wasn’t in a bra, but he looked at my hand as I traced my freshly manicured nails in circles around his arm. Branch, it’s a fitting name for him. His arms are sturdy, and strong. Certainly not twigs like the maniac with the butcher’s knife. Suddenly aware of him watching, I turned to the sink.

I dabbed another cotton ball. “Sit,” I instructed him. He sat on the edge of the tub. “This is going to sting a little, but don’t jerk your head.”

I stood over him now. I resisted the urge to look at his bulge as I crouched to meet his level. My breasts accidentally swept his face, sending a chill deep through me. I blushed. My face was on fire. At his level, I gently took his jaw into my left hand.

“Are you ready?” I asked. He nodded, looking straight through me. I dabbed the cotton ball lightly against his cut. He winced, and I moved my hand from his face to his inner thigh. I grasped something thick. I throbbed between my thighs…

“Is that it?” His voice brought me back.

“Yeah, wasn’t so bad was it? I can do stitches. Granny didn’t just teach me how to kill.” He smiled at that. Once I was done stitching him up we went back into the studio. It wasn’t cramped, and it helped that it was minimally furnished. A spacious attic with big windows and hardwood floors. A small kitchen, a small table with two folding chairs, but only one bed.

“It’s a bit more sparse than my place in L.A. You can have the bed. Just give me a pillow and a blanket and I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Isn’t that painful?” I asked.

He laughed. “Not the worst place I ever slept. Not by a longshot. Look, you have a lot of questions, and I promise to tell you what I can, at least enough to make you understand. Here.” He walked to the dresser pushed against the wall opposite the bed. He ruffled through a drawer and tossed a white tee shirt at her.

“I can have your clothes cleaned. You’re going to be staying here with me. You can wear this to bed. At least it’s dry. I won’t look.” He turned his back to me so I could change. But part of me didn’t want him to. My wet shirt clung to my breasts, he had pretty much seen it all already. I took my time undressing, I felt the throbbing between my legs come back. I wanted to tempt him. I wanted him to get inpatient and take a look. But he showed no interest, so I threw my wet clothes on the floor and slipped into the white shirt. It was soft and smelled of his cologne.

“You done yet?”

“Yeah, I’m decent.”

He turned back around and faced me. I was more laid out on the bed, letting my long legs stretch before him. But closed, and crossed at the feet. I am still a princess, for now at least.

“How was the party?”

“What do you mean?” I responded.

“It was three in the morning, and you were dancing drunk along the street as you got back to the palace. Clearly there had been some alcohol, and I’m guessing a party from the way you were smiling.”

I laughed and rolled my eyes. “No,” I corrected him. “It was a photoshoot.”

“A photoshoot?” He was quizzical.

“Yes. Agnes and I were at Tivoli Gardens. We met for a late dinner and cocktails naturally followed. After close, they turn all the lights off, but the old carousel lit by the stars is much more magical. Agnes brought her polaroid camera, so we took turns photographing each other. It started on a whim, and we became quite focused. Then the clouds rolled in and the rain started so we called it a night.”

It was magical. And here I thought I would sneak back into the palace before anyone even noticed I was gone. Instead here I was. In a strange apartment, with a strange man who set my whole body on fire. And he didn’t even realize it.

“Well, get under the covers. It’s been a long night. I can tell you more tomorrow, but I think you need to rest.” He came over to the edge of the bed. I slid under the covers and laid my head on the pillow. When I heard him lay on the floor I stuck my head under the covers, inhaled the cologne that lingered on his shirt, and felt the warm wetness between my thighs.

I drifted off to sleep with a smile.

Chapter Two

Branch

Nyhavn was the perfect place to hide. The most popular tourist destination in Denmark, there were always crowds of people shifting around, making it easy to get lost. Making it easy to lose someone if you weren’t careful. Americans on vacations being led through the historic district by exasperated tour guides, young couples walking dogs, street performers juggling or strumming a guitar. There was always something to watch. And the smell of street food was a welcome bonus.