Hungering Teeth.

VII.

APRIL 4th, 1791.

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The barn doors swung open, a haggard creak calling out to the quietude that lingered within like a plaintive moan. Hay bales piled in disorder and tools carelessly left to rot in the corners.

There sat Maurice, my horse, nudged at the door, a plea.

But, I couldn't give him the attention he deserved. Oh, Maurice, another day, I promised silently a prayer to the universe that seemed to swallow my pleas whole.

With a heart burdened and feet quickened by anticipation, I hastened down the familiar cobblestones, their irregular rhythm an echo of my anxious thoughts, until Nori's home loomed before me. Before I could lift my hand to knock, the door swung wide, as if the very air had foretold my arrival.

"Ah, just in time, my love," Nori greeted me, his lips curling into that knowing smile—so beautiful, so dangerous.

I could feel it then, an unspoken tension. He was a man always in possession of secrets, and today, I knew, he had something wicked tucked beneath his smile, waiting for me.

In Nori's embrace, I let go—of my duty, of the unknown that threatened from the shadows, of the voice that whispered against the wind. Here, in the welcoming darkness of his sanctuary, all thoughts but present faded away.

The room was sultry—low light flickered on candles, casting curious patterns on the walls. In the dim light, I saw a woman, waiting, an offering—a forbidden fruit, ripe for plucking.

"Clementine. Is her name," Nori says.

My pulse quickened, the air in the room suddenly thinner. "Who?" I queried, my tone a mix of disbelief and curiosity. My eyes traced the shapely figure before me. The room swayed around us, as if it too had taken notice. Who was this stranger? How had she entwined herself so seamlessly into Nori's bed of secrets?

Clementine stepped forward, her eyes like wells of still darkness. A vibrant contrast to her warm, sun-kissed skin. Soft lips parted, revealing white teeth. "Agnus, dear," she said, with a honey-sweet lilt to her voice. A hand extended, beckoning me forward.

Nori, smirked, his eyes, black pools of hunger, fixed on his playthings—twirling his pawns on the vast, dark chessboard of our fate. "She's one of mine, Agnus. And she'll be joining us tonight."

A shiver skittered down my spine, both in fear and in unspeakable desire. The room pressed in, the air thick with the scent of forbidden fruit, tempting me to transgress, to cross the line.

With a breathless exhale, I conceded to this tempest of lust, pursuing the edges of this sinful invitation.

The quiet of the night was a cocoon, the morality I once so dutifully held, now a tattered moth within, ready to be stripped free.

Clementine's hand, warm and insistent, guided mine to her body. Leaning into her, my lips met hers.

Soft, pliant, like a rose petal against the touch of the wind. A soft moan escaped her lips, a subtle invitation to explore the unknown terrain that was her body.

Hunger pulsed through me. Not just for her, but for more—a need so base and ancient that it compelled me to be a willing vessel, to be shaped by these hands that now gripped me, as if they wielded the power to reshape the world itself.

I was lost, voraciously consumed. My hands flailed, seeking their own salvation, and stumbled upon the tender flesh of her thighs. My fingertips traced the curve of her skin, the heat emanating from her body.