Hungering Teeth.

XVI.

AN: I am having a bit of fun with adding more characters, lmao.  I did some research about 'Molly Houses' and decided to include it in this chapter.

Also, slight blood play and smut will be here too, so, just a warning.

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April 1st, 1791

The heat of the day presses through the wooden beams, mingling with the sour tang of sweat and the faint musk of decay that clung to old wood.

Agnus sat stiffly upon the creaking pew, his back ramrod straight, as though the very sanctity of the place pressed down upon his shoulders, squeezing the breath from his lungs. He clenched his hands tightly in his lap, feeling the smoothness of his gloves against his clammy palms.

Enid, sweet Enid, rested her hand upon his forearm— a touch meant to sooth, but it only served to deepen the knot of unease coiling within him. Her face, turned toward Luther. The sight of her like this, so pure, so full of life, stabbed him with an ache.

Beside him, Mabel and Larry, bowed their silvered heads in pious reverence, whispering their prayers beneath breath that rattled with age. Agnus wished he could follow their lead, to find some solace in those sacred words.

And there, at the pulpit, stood Luther— his former lover, now adorned in the mantle of divine authority, his voice resounding through the Church.

Agnus's gaze snagged on him, the broad shoulders, the deep timbre of his voice that once whispered confession in the dark. Catherine, Luther's wife, stood beside him, her face as cold and pale as alabaster, her hands folded neatly over the curve of her belly.

His breath hitched. He tried to focus on the sermon, to lose himself in the rhythm of Luther's voice. But beneath the cadence of prayers and the steady hums of hymns, there was another sound, another scent— one that snaked his senses. A coppery tang.

It took him a moment to place it, but when he did, the realization came: someone nearby, a woman, on her period. The scent turned sharp and heady. His throat tightened.

The thought of just opening her legs, gliding his tongue and tasting the dark blood, the heat of it filling his mouth.

Enid glanced at him curiously.

He forced a smile.

He can hear her heartbeat, steady and strong, the blood flowing through her veins. He is disgusted with himself for even thinking it.

His eyes darted back to the pulpit. Luther's eyes swept over the congregation, and for a second, they meet his.

He glances back at the pulpit, where Luther's eyes sweep over the congregation, and for a second, they meet his. There is no recognition in the gaze, only the cool, distant regard that Luther has for all of them now. As if Agnus were no more than another sinner among the throng.
Agnus could not bear it. The heat, the scent, the smothering weight of it all.

He stumbled to his feet, the pew creaking beneath his sudden movement, drawing the curious glances of the congregation.

"Agnus, where are you going?" She whispered.

"I'll return shortly. Just need a breath of air."

As he turned and made his way down the aisle, past the rows of bowed heads, he knew he would not return. He felt Mabel's disapproval searing the back of his neck, and yet he walked on, out through the great oaken doors and into the warm morning air that slapped his face like a rebuke.

The reprieve was fleeting. He drew in deep breaths, trying to steady the tremor in his limbs, but the scent of blood still lingered.

Before can catch his breath, he hears a voice behind him. He sighed heavily.