Page 101 of Her Creation

Another tear slipped from his warm, golden eyes as he studied her face, memorizing it.

“I would hurt anyone if I cannot have your love,” he said softly. “Anyone but you. I could never harm you.”

Thunder split the sky, a violent crack that rattled the ruins. He stepped back beneath the shallow stone awning of the church, and Victoria followed, the blade still raised, her strength waning.

“I have to,” she sobbed as she pressed the edge to the thick vein in his neck, her hand shaking violently.

He nodded, his brows drawing together in quiet agony. His arms remained at his sides. “I will not fight you,” he whispered, steadying her. “I will not harm you. Know that I love you. From the moment your blood entered my veins, I have loved you. Before my eyes ever saw you, I admired you. Before my skin ever felt yours, I longed for it. Before I understood what love really was, I knew it was only meant for you.”

Victoria’s eyes fluttered shut and she pressed the blade to his neck. The steel met skin, but the sobs convulsing her chest shattered her strength. A sound tore from her that did not feel human. Ugly, wrenching sobs ripped through her as she dragged the blade away from him and turned it toward herself. “I cannot,” she wailed. “Despite the need, my hands cannot take your life. I cannot press this blade into someone I love so forcibly.”

Tears streamed down her face. “So I will take the life of one more worthy of death, someone I do not love…myself,” she cried, her voice breaking apart. “So that I can defend my love for you to them when I see them again. I cannot fight this any longer. Monster or man, my love does not see what you are. Death is my only resolve.”

She lifted the blade to her throat as she stumbled to the edge of the freshly dug grave, the one meant for her father. Her knees buckled, and she slid down into the open earth, collapsing into the mud at its bottom.

Cold soil pressed into her back. Roots tangled around her shoulders like grasping fingers. She looked up from the grave, small beneath the weight of the world, and brought the blade to her neck once again. She knew precisely where to cut. There would be no hesitation.

“Victoria,” Innominatus cried, his voice breaking as he slid down into the pit with her.

She turned away from him, curling toward the far end of the narrow grave. “It’s over. If I remain on this earth with you, I will betray and dishonor my family. I would rather die than kill you,” she sobbed, her breaths ragged and torn. “I cannot fight it anymore. Let me rot with the rest of the creatures who have defied God!”

She pressed the blade in. A sharp sting flared as blood welled and traced a thin line down her throat. Just before the cut deepened, her arm was wrenched away.

“Is it so terrible to love me?” Innominatus cried as he pressed himself against her, pinning her gently but desperately against the slick earth and tangled roots. “If our love is damned, then I will enjoy the flames before they take us to hell where I will get to love you fully. Love is not reserved for the good or holy, the dishonest and corrupt are given love. Do monsters not deserve it too?”

His hand trembled as it brushed her face, cupping her cheek while his other arm blocked the blade from her neck. “Please,” he whispered, his mouth only a breath from hers, both of them weeping. “Let me love you. Let me worship you as no disciple has ever worshipped their god.”

His words grazed her lips. Rain and tears mingled between them. “Please,” he whispered again. “Let me love you.”

Delirium overtook her. The hunger she had fought so fiercely to keep at bay slipped its restraints.

Her lips found his in a broken, desperate motion. The blade slipped from her hand, vanishing into the mud with a dull sound. Her fingers clawed at him, searching, pleading for warmth, for proof. When her hands found his face, her fingers tangled in his hair and she pulled him closer, sobbing into his mouth.

He answered her slowly, reverently, savoring her urgency. As she pressed into him, he closed the distance, anchoring her there. The rain intensified, hammering down, but she could not pull away. She would die before surrendering this touch.

His arms wrapped around her waist, holding her as their bodies molded together against the compacted soil of the grave.

Damned or not, she could not exist without him. She did not forgive him. But love clung to her all the same, unrelenting and cruel, and if he was her punishment, she would be punished for the rest of time.

Above them, the storm roared. In the open grave, silence swallowed them whole, as their love echoed the violence of the sky and the storm in their hearts.

Innominatus gently caressed Victoria’s chin as she pulled him back, unable to sever their kiss. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. She was lost in it. She fought for more when he tried to pull his lips away. He pressed forward, giving her what she wanted, pressing his lips to hers roughly.

Her tongue slipped into his mouth as she pulled him tighter against her, pulling away for a split second to look her in the eyes with a serious, searching expression, before his everything pressed tightly against hers. His lips took hers, consuming her as if it were the last time he would ever touch her.

Finally giving herself permission, her greedy hands pulled him close as their lips finally danced together in the way they’d longed to.

As close as they were, it still wasn’t enough and Victoria whimpered with need. Innominatus bit and nibbled at her neck as he kissed away the shallow wound of her knife. Needing still to be closer, Victoria dug her nails into his shoulders until his lips found hers again in a feral kiss.

Heat flooded her as she pulled at the wet fabric of his shirt. The outline of his hardened cock pressed against her. She was mad with desire as her body pulsed and throbbed with animalistic cravings. Innominatus’s hands moved under her heavy, wet skirt and his eyes flickered closed with a sigh as he felt the softness of her ankle, then her knee, and then the silkiness of her soft inner thighs as his hands roamed over her.

“Inno.” Victoria’s head fell back against the mud wall of the grave as one hand steadied her and the other tangled in Inno’s long, black hair, savoring every touch.

His head dipped under her sopping wet skirt, and for a moment Victoria’s stomach clenched with anticipation before she felt the warmth of his tongue over her wet, sensitive center. Her knees buckled and she began to fall forward, but Inno’s hand spread over her stomach, pressing her gently against the wall as his tongue slowly glided over her, tasting and savoring the most intimate part of her.

Her fingers tightened as she gripped his long, wavy hair. He moaned and his tongue pressed into her in retaliation, and she ground herself against his face, a heathen seeking pleasure.

Victoria gasped as she pulled his hair again and he pressed his tongue deeper inside of her. She cried out, never having felt such pleasure as her body moved against his mouth.