Theo
I wasn’t sure Vivian would ever fully recover from her survival ordeal, but pieces of her were returning.
Progress wasn’t linear; some days she was laughing and playful, others she refused to leave the cabin.
It wasn’t easy. My heart broke during the bad times, though it must have been only a fraction of the inner turmoil she was experiencing.
Still, she was undeniably healing. And that was all I could ever ask for.
I stood barefoot in the clover and watched her paint our cabin.
The warm adoration building in my chest made me want to rip her off that ladder and crush her against me.
Her feet clung to the rung she was standing on, tiny toes working hard to steady her as she leaned.
Both arms were caked up to their elbows in the red-purple stain of mashed blackberries.
The front of her dress was ruined. Those stains would never wash out.
Shaggy hair fell in layers around her head when she reached to slap her makeshift paintbrush of wheat and branches on the last untouched corner.
It was difficult to know how to help at times, but that didn’t stop me from trying. I removed the “have to”s from her agenda. She didn’t have reliable energy right now; I’d rather she use what she did have to do things that made her happy.
So, I maintained the gardens religiously.
I cooked. I washed our clothing. I fed Nurghle—maybe a little too much.
I was starting to suspect he was full grown after all.
He had developed a large squishy pouch that swung from side to side when he trotted through her field.
My original plan to prepare him as a protection beast was foiled, but he was a good, soft, cuddly companion for Viv.
If I wasn’t spending time with her or managing to-do’s, I was making her cabin feel more like home.
First, I’d crafted a large chair to nestle between her bed and the partition.
It still needed a cushion, but the fur draped over dried grasses was working for now.
A new place to sit that wasn’t her bed. Then, I’d built a simple table with four log stools.
I put the set directly over the rug-covered hatch so she’d stop staring at it.
Vivian immediately placed a houseplant at the table’s center to make it “home-y”.
Once she realized the plant would need light, we removed the heavy window “curtains” so it could thrive.
I was thrilled. Now my flower was getting her light when she needed time inside.
The wooden boards remained, still a wise precaution for now.
Had I known my mate had an affinity for growing things indoors, I would’ve encouraged it sooner.
It got her outside and gave her something small to tend to on her bad days.
She pointed out new blooms to me at least once daily, and her face lit up every time I confirmed that growth definitely hadn’t been there the day before.
The plants had been a gateway to the more motivated version of her I now watched paint the cabin.
An amused smile tugged at my mouth observing her frustration with that last corner.
Her cheeks puffed out and she made labored grunting noises as she stretched to reach the last patch of bare wood.
She was adamant about finishing the job on her own.
The ladder was twisting precariously. Threatening to topple underneath her.
I sighed affectionately and walked over. No acknowledgement. She either didn’t hear me approaching or was ignoring me. I grasped her waist and lifted her, sitting her rump on my shoulder. She squealed and started to sway. Three of my arms quickly stabilized her as I stepped us up the ladder rungs.
“You’ve accomplished a lot today,” I praised.
Mashed blackberries stained the gray wood a muted purple—it complimented the blues of Cyciciah.
The color came to life when the lilac-green sky was clear like it was now.
Her homeland was a vision of deep-blue trees, jade clover, freckles of small white flowers, accents of cool-gray rock, and now a rustic mauve cabin as the perfect centerpiece.
“One side down!” she declared triumphantly as the last of the gray patches was coated in the berry mixture. Three more sides to go. “And I am fucking exhausted.”
That wasn’t a surprise, even on her good days she slept more than before.
A lot of energy went into healing her bruised heart.
Some nights she just couldn’t sleep, and when she did, she was restless.
I was hit and kicked a fair bit while she tossed and turned.
More than she’d ever know. Hell, I wasn’t about to mention it.
I set her down and brushed a strand of berry-clumped hair from her face. She looked happy covered in purple and red splatters. Her crystal-blue eyes were tired, but sparkling.
“Do you like how things are coming together?” I asked.
She put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips as she evaluated her progress. “I think so! You can’t see the stains anymore.” There was a hint of pain within the statement. It was acknowledging that under that fresh natural paint, there was blood. But mostly her voice was thick with pride.
I nodded. “It looks great.”
There was a rattle and shrill “hhhaaahhhhrrrr” to our right. I usually ignored the sounds of the forest beasts, but Vivian turned to face the small skeletal creature peering over the wheat, cloaked in mist and standing on its hind legs.
“I feel bad that it’s hungry. I almost wish we had more to feed it,” she chuckled darkly with a cringe. “Is that fucked? That’s probably pretty fucked, huh?”
Vivian had taken the news that I was disposing of her assailants via the local wildlife surprisingly well.
We agreed it was better she wasn’t present for “cleanup” right now, but the concept didn’t really bother her.
The exact words were that they “shouldn’t go to waste” when I’d delicately explained my solution.
Not only was she fine with it, but she’d started referencing the beasts like they were pets.
She was playing around with naming each species.
The creature that was poking its head over the wheat currently was of a species called “Marvin”.
He was part of the group referred to as the “little fuckers”, not to be confused with the “big fuckers”.
My goddess had a dirty mouth and a twisted sense of humor.
And she was weaponizing both to get through all this shit.
I didn’t think “I’m sure we'll have more to feed them soon” was the correct response—in fact I couldn’t think of a good response—so I changed the topic. “You should rinse off if you don’t want to stain the bedding,” I suggested gently.
“Oh, right.” She blinked away her sad expression, thankfully not too torn up about not having more people coming to kidnap her. “Good thinking!” She started unlacing her bodice, handing it to me to hold, then confidently peeled the ruined dress from her body.
My eyes appreciatively roamed every curve and dip of my mate, my cocks stirring against my thigh. Her recent sexual appetites were unhinged and voracious.
Seeing her undressed, it was hard not to remember every vulgar thing I’d done to her divine body since returning.
That said, I wouldn’t initiate when she had just stated she was tired.
Besides, Vivian had been doing a wonderful job telling me exactly when she wanted intimacy and how she wanted it.
The confidence she had in her body was thriving.
If she was interested in sex right now, I would know.
I forced myself to walk away and got to work.
While Viv bathed, I cleaned up her painting workspace, stealing the occasional glance at my pretty female.
Exposed and in her natural habitat. Running her hands over her curves.
Glistening with water. These moments were prayer to me.
Reverence and gratitude might have me on my knees if I weren’t busy trying to be helpful.
Her softly singing voice floated in my ears like the most beautiful wind chime.
I was a male created for destruction and death, and I didn’t know why I’d been gifted this female created for healing and life.
I silently thanked my goddess for blessing me with her companionship.
The natural light of the cabin was dim and cool, filtering through the nearby trees before reaching her bedroom window. Vivian sat on our bed, cat in her lap, glugging down a jar of water.
“Wake me up before starset for our walk?” she asked, handing me the empty jar and sliding under the covers. Nurghle looked offended by the movement but quickly settled on her chest.
“Absolutely,” I smiled. She wanted to go of her own volition. Even after a long day of physical labor, she wanted to explore. Progress.
I brought the empty glass to the kitchen, and her eyes were closed by the time I returned.
I sat carefully on the edge of the mattress, running my fingers through her wet hair.
The corners of her full lips curled into a smile, confirming that the touch was appreciated.
After not much time at all, Vivian began to softly snore. My wild little thing was so tuckered.
I’ve never been the contemplative type. I prefer to make decisions and act quickly. It served me well in my careers. But Vivian stirred my mind like nothing ever had. I was spending large chunks of my day fixated on what I’d done to make it here: mated to such a perfect female.
It was starting to feel safe to be introspective again. These days, the guilt that’d always been pounding on the locked door in the back of my mind grew quieter. If every murder I committed brought me to her, made the world a safer place for her, I couldn’t regret it anymore.
My reflections came to a screeching halt when a noise caught my attention. I silenced my thoughts and focused my senses.
Voices. Many voices.