Because she thought she was going to save him. Or probably she was trying to save herself. The Swedish princess to fall and offer the lost saint a taste of the sweetest fruit, so generously, really. She would love to know how she tasted to him. So prohibited and far away she was. He tasted like life to her. Like his smell under his shirt. Like his lips that could crush her. But she was stronger than him, really.
She loved how he could decapitate her with a look. Slit her throat and still not be satisfied. He would never be satisfied. It's in his blood, and in her genes. They never would satisfy each other. They would fight until the end, then they would be free. In heaven or hell it didn't matter. This was hell already. And heaven. This was it now. They were here. Maybe she tasted like death to him. A slow determined spider. Weaving to stop his movement. To one day reign supreme, alone.
She loved how he could decapitate her with a look. Slit her throat and still not be satisfied. He would never be satisfied. It's in his blood, and in her genes. They never would satisfy each other. They would fight until the end, then they would be free. In heaven or hell it didn't matter. This was hell already. And heaven. This was it now. They were here. Maybe she tasted like death to him. A slow determined spider. Weaving to stop his movement. To one day reign supreme, alone.
