“If you’re going to act like you don’t know anything, you should leave. I told you already I don’t have time for this shit.” He was frustrated and exhausted, she could hear it lining his voice. There were dark circles under his hazel eyes and his features were drawn with blood loss. She knew he was to be fine, it was destined that he would survive the knife-wound – all of the prophecies foretold it – but his appearance was a sore on her heart. How she wished she could bring more life to his face. A blink and her hand was reaching out to him, another and her fingers were pushing him down, keeping him in the bed where he was less likely to damage the wound further. The prospect of another blink terrified her, as if she was worried she would find herself on top of him.
She needed to get Graeme asleep. Deeply asleep, where he would have his prophecy and her purpose would be one step closer to being fulfilled. The distilled fact was that she wanted to go home, and yet…
Naomi didn’t know what was wrong with her. She couldn’t place the source of the absurd feelings that were springing to life left and right inside of her ribs, growing wild like weeds in the Garden of Eden after Eve and Adam had been banished. What was becoming of her? Was her human vessel trying to push her out? Was that even possible?
Positively she’d never heard of an instance, she thought, but there were a lot of things that seemed unlikely to her that seemed to be happening anyway. It was not her place to question the way the world unfolded around her, only to move along with it – to protect those that were hers to protect, to serve her Father in all ways, as he needed and without question or thought of herself. It was the way she was made, it was everything that made her what and who she was. There was nothing else.
Only her destiny, only her calling, only her purpose.
And just then, her purpose was staring at her with eyes like wildfire trapped within the smoldering volcanos of his irises. The weight of his gaze made her feel weak, it brought tears to her eyes and she couldn’t dismiss them no matter how hard she tried.
He was a magnet. He was a killing light and she was a lovestruck moth hunting for the way in, hunting for the trap door that would allow herself access to her demise. She knew it, she welcomed it, on a subconscious level. With every other part of her, she fought it.
It was forbidden, she told herself, hoping that the reminder of her purpose would re-inforce her determination. She sought nothing except the steel that usually occupied her spinal column but it was gone. She was putty, she was ice melting in the sun.
She was lost in a sea of things she couldn’t understand. Everything came down to faith, in the end. She had been designed for faith, designed for the life of a servant to the Creator, to her Father. It was not within her to doubt her purpose, only to doubt the means with which she was to achieve it. There were ways to get Graeme to sleep; she would simply have to make a few compromises.
What really mattered was that she serve her purpose, she reminded herself, but giving in was easy. Giving in was like sinking. The press of his mouth on hers was a new complication, one she had only half-expected. He washed over her like the ocean, rushing her with the fullness of him. Breathing him was easier than breathing oxygen; a distant part of her said she needed to get herself under control but it was so far away. There was an ocean of him between her and everything she’d ever known. She let him sweep over her, grateful for the depth of him to drown in.
Neither of them paid attention to the bandages until the tide of crimson spread to the sheets.