Bel covered her lips with his own urgently, tugging at Emma's shirt. She moaned, half out of desire, half out of pain as the shirt pulled at her damaged flesh. Bel paused when the shirt came free of her head and squished in his hand. With a small cry, he turned Emma so he could see her back. His hands fluttered around her exposed muscle and bone and he grabbed her, pulling her to him, her back to his chest.
“Why did you not tell me, beloved?” He moaned.
“It doesn't hurt too much anymore unless you press on it.” Emma gasped. “Besides, what can you do? I just wanted to make sure my soul belonged to you, that I could stay with you, before I died... and after... that you'd own me, not...” Emma's soft sob was drowned out by Bel's choked cry.
“Emma, beloved. Emma! I'm a Fertility
