Seven Sins Committed

1. Lust

Twice in my past life I wedded two women, stunning in their own shapes and mannerisms. Centuries have passed, and I haven't married again. Violetta brought strands of light, stringing them along, granting tranquility in my life. She wore peaceful smiles, brought joy and cheery warmth; I remembered that best. The other woman, Adrienne, blessed me everything a soulless man strongly desired. Adrienne named them the three: prosperity, power and potential. If death told me to select one sweet darling to return to my hands, I would not be able to choose. Instead, a knife would be upon my throat. Perhaps, if Adrienne hadn't entered my history, Violetta would tenderly kiss me, and we'd rejoice her return from darkness.

I diligently worked for months, scrawling with an inked quill and paper, creating records. As a doctor, I sketched anatomies of human beings, jotted how fast hearts worked and formations of organs. Not only did I write as a doctor, I consumed knowledge far from normal. Supernatural creatures slashed townsmen wandering the haunted woods, dated legends of famous terrorizing monsters. Consuming all knowledge, I learned of many species of faeries and elven people, or furry, shape-changing beasts.

Seated beside flickering candlelight, wax dripped onto the brass candelabra. Dark strands of black hair fell over my eyes, loosened from the neatly wrapped ponytail. Blue eyes raked hungrily over the old English books, a language my tongue practiced. My wife whispered in my ear that the color reminded her of chips of lapis lazuli.

Violetta would lean against the doorframe, silky light brown hair flowing down her shoulders. Her pale, unblemished skin glowed despite the shadows encroaching closer to my writing desk. "Won't you come sleep, Renwick?" she murmured, quiet.

I blinked, paused, and a black glob spotted the corner of my paper. I cursed. "Minutes, love, minutes."

Silence stretched, the only noise was my quill scratching research onto my paper. "Did you accept her letter? Please, tell me I speak false accusations." Violetta gingerly touched my shoulders, her transparent gown floating from the stray breeze, wafting from the open window.

"Dear, this is an invitation I cannot reject." I sigh, leaning back in my chair, hand clasping over her chilled fingers. Seduced, she wanted me, tempting me with her lush smell of permeated roses, the swell of her breasts against my back. "Violetta," self-containment became harder.

"I am yours, and you are mine." She whispered, shell of my ear bitten by her teeth.

I stood, chair squeaking roughly, pushed along the polished oak floor. Violetta drew a weak gasp, my hands tangled in her hair. "Do not tempt me woman," I warned, staring into her eyes,"life shall not treat you kindly."

Violetta's lip wobbled, enticing crystal blue gaze shining with tears. "Do not take another," she seized my coat, her hands shaking as she wept bitterly.

Hardened, I normally stood firm when faced with situations. I pitied her weakened state; she reminded me of a glass bird baked too long. She appeared pretty, until webbed hairline cracks fractured her illusion. My kind wife, dainty and troubled, stole my heart again.

"Violetta," I helped her to her feet. "I am yours, and you are mine."

She brushed her hair aside, fingers quaking violently. "Renwick," she inhaled a haggard breath,"come to bed."

I complied with her demands, work abandoned.

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Adrienne, grand duchess, managed to gather what she wanted, when she desired. She lived a reclusive lifestyle, far from town reaches, her abode built along the borders of civilization. Her classic home helped pave room for the Victorian era. Duchess held no formal family title, and her previous husbands perished. She was a widow, and collected great amounts of wealth due to the unfortunate accidents. She lived comfortably-- I doubt she concerned how much her pockets weighed of gold coins. Nobody knew much about Adrienne, making her an unsolved mystery. People visited her estate during the autumn months, presently Hallow's Eve, the devil's hour. She sent invitations, picking her guests at random; this year,  she selected my household, requesting only my presence.