Berserker Boyfriend: Jacobus (complete)

A long time ago there used to be a large house at the top of the hill. I remember it vaguely in the back of my mind. Sometimes, when I’m walking through town and catch a glimpse of the hill from the corner of my eye, I can still see that imposing old house. Yet when I turn to stare directly, it’s not there. It was torn down long ago, back when I was small.

My father told me bad things happened there, and that if someone was found to be descended from the Headless, they would be sent into the basement of that house. I shiver to think about it - the screams that must have come from those walls, the blood still soaked into the earth. It’s enough to make me want to weep. I fear that I have been lingering on thoughts about this house recently, and I’m unsure why. 

I’ve had dreams about it. I’m standing at the foot of the hill, looking up at the lights coming from the windows like flames. They blur and shift, gleaming hellishly from some ghoulish source. It almost feels like the house is looking at me, breathing on me. I can feel fire, and I breathe in smoke. The doors open wide, and a torrent of blood comes pouring down the hill towards me. I am unable to move away fast enough, but I always wake up before it hits me. I am bothered by these dreams, and I simply want them to end. 

I haven’t been sleeping lately. I thought, perhaps if I didn’t sleep and ignored it, the dream would eventually leave. I am exhausted and weak, and while I’m in town shopping, my vision begins to blur. I’m cross-eyed and woozy. I stumble forward, trying to find something to brace myself against. My hands fumble through the air, and I topple.

“I’ve got you!” Out of the crowd, a hero comes. He scoops me up, rescuing me from a nasty plummet. I try to see his face through the fog, but what I see is something ghastly. His face is covered in blood, his eyes are wide and unblinking, and his mouth is full of sharp teeth. I faint in his embrace, falling into unconsciousness like a bag of bricks into a well.

I dream I’m standing in the doorway of the house, and all I see is red from floor to ceiling. It pulses, and the walls have black veins. Someone is breathing on the back of my neck and wrapping their hands around my waist.

I wake in a fright, sitting up in bed and clutching my waist. It felt like something had been digging into my sides.

“Calm down, it’s alright,” A gentle voice coaxes me as I try to catch my breath. “You’re safe at home.” My mother eases me back into that familiar feeling of comfort and safety. Her cool hands mop away the sweat from my brow.

“Mama, what happened?” I lie back down in bed, feeling protected that now she is by my side. “I remember being in town, and then...” Teeth and blood flash before my eyes. “I was falling.”

“You fainted, and it was lucky the pastor Rothschild was nearby. He’s the one who saved you.” She dabs the cloth under my chin and down my neck.

“The pastor?” I murmur. There isn’t a girl in the entire town that doesn’t have her eye on the handsome new pastor. Jacobus came recently to train under the old one, and took over once he retired. He’s tall with long dark hair, vibrant blue eyes, and the most adorable dimples when he smiles. There’s a beauty mark under his left eye that almost looks like a heart, so the girls have taken to calling him Pastor Lovely. 

Mama fluffs the pillows behind me and helps me to sit up. “He’s been here all day to make sure you’re alright.” 

I still feel exhausted and weak. “You can tell him I’m fine. He doesn’t need to wait here any longer.”

“He said he wishes to see you when you wake.” There’s a strange look in my mother’s eye as she says this. “He wants to pray with you.”

“I’m in no state to be seen by anybody,” I try to argue. “Especially not by the good pastor. Tell him he can come by tomorrow to pray with me.” I lay my hand over the tightness in my chest.

My mother eyes me again, standing at the bedside. “He’s been worried sick.”

“I am sick,” I huff. “Look at me.”

“At least thank him,” she says quietly. “He doesn’t have to stay for long. Just say thank you, let him pray, and that will be all.”

I frown at her, then give in. “Fine. But that is all.”

She grins and rushes out. I lie there and take a few deep breaths. I touch my face, wondering how sunken and sallow my skin must look. Even on my best days, I cannot compare with the beauty that Jacobus had. I’m quite plain, skinny, and tall. All my life, people said I had sticks for limbs. As I got older, they said I looked more like a man than a girl. They called me scarecrow, stick bug, man chest, and I learned to ignore them. But I can’t help but be reminded of my looks when I am near someone so lovely. 

I quickly move my hands away from my face as the door opens. My mother steps in, and so does Pastor Lovely. It’s as though Spring has stepped in the room, making everything brighter and lighter. “Lady Salome,” he says softly. He takes the seat by the bed. “Glad to see you back with us. I was terribly worried about you.”

Now I am knocked breathless, he’s truly so handsome. “Thank you for seeing to me when I fainted.”

“It is funny,” he chuckles. Those dimples appear, and I am even weaker than before. “I wasn’t supposed to be in town today, but I found the Communion bread was missing. So I came in to buy a new loaf, and as I was coming out of the bakery there you were, like an angel falling from heaven.”

I smile softly. “You were the angel today, not I.”

His smile doesn’t falter, but it shifts into something sweet and adorable. “Not from where I was standing.”

My mother grins and steps back to the door. “Let me go get you both something to drink.”

I want to argue with her, but I’m not yet ready to be done with Jacobus' company. When will I be in his presence like this again?

Jacobus watches as the door closes and he sighs heavily, letting his shoulders droop. “I did not want to bother you, Lady Salome. But your mother has been holding me hostage.” He gives me a sympathetic look. “I was going to come by tomorrow when you would be in better spirits, hopefully.”

“I didn’t want to bother you either, but she insisted.” I smile and laugh. “I am so sorry, Pastor Jacobus.”

His smile brightens. “Please, call me Jack.”

My heart skips a beat. I wonder how many people have gotten to see this smile up close. I have the nagging urge to poke my fingers into his dimples to see if I find treasure within, and then I notice scars on his full lips. They appear just below the corners, thin white lines going from his lip to his chin. 

“Jack,” I whisper. “It sounds so informal.”

“I feel silly when I’m being referred to so staunchly.” He shakes his head. “You and I are of similar age, we should be friendly with one another.” He leans in and winks at me. “I would also hate for you to slip up and call me Pastor Lovely.”

His jibe makes me smile and titter softly. “You know about that?”

“Some people speak very loudly when they think they are whispering.” He taps his ear. “I have very good hearing.”

“It isn’t said to tease you, Jack.” I feel lighter than a feather when I say his name. “People here find you extremely beautiful.”

“You included?” he asks.

I am thankful I do not have to answer that question, because my mother comes in with tea for us. Immediately she invites Jack over for dinner the following evening, insisting that she properly thank him for helping me. He readily agrees, but asks if it could be lunch instead. “I have so much to do in the evenings,” he explains. “I like to have a very large lunch, because sometimes, all I can muster to eat for supper is whatever I can find.”

“Of course! I would be happy to,” my mother excitedly replies. I know what my mother is planning, and I’m sure Jack has the same inkling that I do. She’s trying to marry me off, but not just to anyone - someone she believes will be the best option for me.

It isn’t just one lunch, as it turns into a question of Bible study. My mother offers to host one in our house, which Jack says  he would be amiable to do. The Bible class turns into more lunches so they can plan, the planning often ends up in my hands rather than her own.

“You have such beautiful handwriting, Salome,” Jack says one day. He takes my hand and studies it. “Such long, elegant fingers. I was told by my old teachers that you can tell a born scholar by their hands.”

“I highly doubt that,” I chuckle. “I have spider’s legs for hands.”

“What an ugly thing to think about yourself,” Jack scolds. “Look how long and lithe they are. Dainty, yet strong.”

No one has ever called me dainty before. My face is red-hot. “Thank you.” I pull my hand away. “I prefer to wear gloves.”

“Such a shame.” Jack returns to the lesson plan the two of us are working on. “My handwriting is garbage. See?” He shows off one of his papers. “Years of study and hurried note-taking have ruined it. I fear sending off letters.”

“It isn’t so awful.”

He shrugs as he stacks the papers again. “But it’s still some form of awful.” He laughs as he tosses his head. “You know, Salome, I am supposed to have an assistant at the church, but I’ve been trying to get by without one. How would you like to come and work with me?”

I am flattered, but also shocked. “You should have someone by your side more godly than I, Jack!”

“I am not asking for someone godly, Salome. I am asking for help.” He reaches out and takes my hand. “It would honor me to have you by my side.”

His words fill me with false hope, which I have to dash. My face is even redder than before, and the flush is overflowing onto my neck and splotching my chest. “Be careful what you say, Jack. Someone could misconstrue your words as some sort of proposal. Besides, that position should be held by an elder, or even your wife. Not some random girl.”

“You are not some random girl, Salome.” He comes closer to me. His hand cups around my cheek, and I fear that blood will begin to pour out my nose. 

“Jack, stop.” I grab hold of his wrist, but I do not fight it away. I am breathless as those blue eyes gaze deeply into mine. “What if someone sees this! They could misunderstand!”

“Let them.” I close my eyes as he comes closer, accepting his kiss more gracefully than I accepted breath. His lips are so soft, his hands strong. I cling to his chest, never wanting this blessed moment to end.

“Jack,” I whisper as our lips part. “What was that for?”

“Did you not like it?” he asks.

“No.” I flinch. “I mean! Yes, I did! I really did!” I take hold of his hands. “But that’s not what I meant. I was asking because-”

Jack’s dimples appear as he squeezes my hand. “I want to marry you, Salome.” His voice echoes loudly in my head. “I have prayed long and hard for God to bring me a bride I could love and stand equally beside. You are my exact height,” he smiles teasingly. “But not only that, I find that my heart yearns for you.”

“Yearns?” The word sticks to the roof of my mouth. 

Jack takes my hand and places a kiss on my knuckles. “You do not have to answer me now. You should pray on it as well, Salome.”

Jacobus and I wed on an early Fall morning. The ceremony is simple, but I feel that asking for anything more would be jinxing an already miracle event. We leave the church, returning to his home - our home now. I fear our wedding bed. I fear being seen naked and exposed to Jacobus will make him regret our union. I know I am not lovely, and I do not have much softness to my body. I do not have the ample endowments of womanhood. But he is a pastor, and maybe he does not want those things, to keep his mind pure. 

“You’re shaking.” He comes up behind me, placing his hands around my waist. “Are you alright?”

I place my hands over his. “I’m nervous, that’s all.” My throat tightens with nerves. “I just want to please you.”

His lips fall on the nape of my neck. “You do not need to worry. As your husband, it is my job to make sure you are pleased.” He undoes the laces at the back of my dress, kissing my shoulders as he does. I shiver as my dress drops around my ankles. His strong, warm hands work away my bodice, and he cups his hands around what might as well be nothing. I wait for the rejection, the disappointment, but instead his grasp grows tighter, and a low moan escapes his throat.

“I’m sorry,” I whimper.

“Sorry?” He turns me to face him. “Sorry for what?”

Small tears gather at my lashes. “I have a man’s chest.”

Jack smirks and removes his coat, his shirt. He exposes his chest to me. It’s covered in dark curls and is surprisingly broad. “This is a man’s chest.” He takes my hand and places it over his heart. “Are you a woman?”

I nod.

“Then you have a woman’s chest.” He kisses my neck and shoulder. His lips trail down, kissing my chest, my nipples. His teeth pinch the flesh, and I let out a sound of alarm. He lowers himself to his knees, kissing as he goes. He removes any underclothing remaining until I am fully naked before him. He kisses my thighs, my hips, and then his tongue finds its way between my legs.

“Jack,” I cry out. “What are you doing?”

He moans against me, and vibrations ripple through my body and turn into deep pulses. My knees wobble, and Jack stands again. He picks me up, carrying me to bed, where he continues swirling his tongue around the rosebud above my lips. I shiver all over, thrusting my hips to meet his face. He growls against me, lapping away until it feels as though he is sucking the life from me. My legs tighten, clasping him in place as my body succumbs and bursts forth like lightning. 

Jack lifts his head once he’s able to free himself. He wipes his chin and moves his hair away from his face. He gazes down, watching my mound as it pulses. He rubs his fingers against the lips, the swollen bud, making me spasm again. He smiles from ear to ear, and those dimples become deep enough to hide gold coins. “Did that make you happy, Salome?” he asks softly.

I nod weakly. “But I feel ashamed of such pleasure.”

“Don’t.” He comes closer to me. “Accept it, because I gave it to you.” He kisses me, and I can taste myself upon his tongue.

I place my palm on his cheek, gazing lovingly into his eyes. “What about you?” 

“I am happy that you are happy,” he whispers to me. 

I furrow my brow. “But what about your desire? This is our wedding night.”

“My desire is to satisfy your desire.” His hand strokes down my chest. “I will slake it whenever you ask.”

I sit up and place my hand upon his thigh. “I want to do that for you as well.”

He takes a breath and grabs my hand, placing it back upon his chest. “Salome, I don’t want to hurt you.”

I am stunned by his words. “You won’t.”

He kisses me. “Please, Salome, just trust me.” He brushes my hair from my face and presses his forehead to mine. 

“You won’t hurt me.” I comb my fingers through his thick hair. “I want to please you too. I want to be a proper wife. I want you inside me.”

“No.” He pushes my back and stands up off the bed. “I can’t. It would...” He hesitates, and I can see tears dribble down his cheeks. 

I reach out to him, and he returns to my arms. I hold him tightly as he does to me. He strokes my hair and lovingly kisses my cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you, Salome. Please. Please do not question this. Ask for anything and everything, but not for this.” 

“This will make you happy?” I whisper.

“It will.”

I kiss him as his hands wrap around my waist. “Then I will only ask for your kiss.”

He looks so relieved, almost weightless. “Thank you, Salome.” He kisses me again, easing me back down onto the bed, where he makes me come yet again with such a kiss.

I wake in the middle of the night and find that Jack is not there. It doesn’t look like he came to bed at all. He does say he often works late into the evenings, so perhaps even on his wedding he still has things to do. 

When I fall back asleep, the house is looming over me. I’m back at the front door, gazing inside. The door is like an open mouth, filled with flesh and small jagged teeth. The throat is bleeding, and inside I see something crawling towards me. I want to move backwards, but something captures me around the waist. 

“Salome, wake up.”

I wake in a cold sweat to see my husband sitting beside me. “Jack?”

“Yes, it’s me.” He wipes away the sweat on my brow. “You looked like you were having a nightmare!”

“I was.” I rise, seeing that he has brought breakfast and flowers. “I’ve been having it for some time now.”

“What is it?” He appears genuinely concerned. 

I rub my hands down my face. “It’s about this house that used to be here,” I murmur. “It doesn’t exist anymore and yet… It’s silly.” I shake my head and look up as he brings me tea. “Where were you last night?”

“You noticed,” he huffs. “I had some work I needed to tend to. I’m used to working in the evenings and leaving my daylight hours free should I be needed.”

“So this will happen every night?” I ask sadly.

He kisses me tenderly. “Do not worry. I will tend to you as much as you need me. I will never let you feel alone.”

“You can always work here,” I suggest. “You wouldn’t bother me at all while I slept.”

He shakes his head. “I have to work in my quarters,” he says. “I often speak out loud and recite things. I am not completely quiet,” he chuckles.

“But when do you sleep?” I ask.

“I take small naps during the day.” He leads me over to the table for breakfast. “You may join me for them, if you like.”

I accept another sweet kiss, and decide I will not let this bother me. This is how things will be, and I am eager to make it all work. “Perhaps.”

I help Jack during the day. I transcribe his letters and sermons for him, as he much prefers my penmanship than his own. We have breakfast and lunch together each day, but just before sundown he vanishes to do his late night work. For a while, I am happy with things. I do not mind my nights alone, as they give me time to be by myself. I also know that when I wake, Jack will be there with kisses and romance for me. It’s a miracle after all.

One evening, I wake from another dream, and I decide to get up and walk to shake off the nightmare. As I go towards the kitchen to find something to nibble on, I hear a scream. I gasp, dropping and breaking the plate I was holding.

The scream comes from the floorboards, and it sounds more like an animal being tortured than a human noise. I know there is a basement below the kitchen for cold storage and meat curing. The scream comes again, shaking me to my core and causing me to run. I step on the shattered plate, but that doesn’t stop me. 

I run back to the bedroom and hide myself under the blankets. I lie there and pray for Jack to come to me and hold me. I hide there for hours, shivering. My foot hurts, and I have probably left a trail of blood from the kitchen to the bed. 

The door creaks open and I sit up, hoping to see Jack. I see nothing but the door slowly opening. My heart sputters, threatening to stop. I hold my breath, wanting to close the door, but afraid to go near it. 

I hear a moan, then a sigh. My skin prickles and I break into a cold sweat. Something moves across the floor. I look down, seeing a monstrous shape bent over, its blood-red tongue licking my blood off the floor. There are torn chains attached to cuffs on its wrists.

The creature looks up, and glowing blue eyes piercing through me. Long dark hair covers its pale face, its hulking, hairy body. It has monstrous hands with black nails, thick arms covered in dark veins. Whatever it is, there’s a bearlike quality to the strange face. But then I notice something that makes my blood run cold. Just under the left eye, there is a heart-shaped beauty mark.

The creature lurches towards me, jowls wide open, sharp long teeth exposed. The blood-red tongue dangles from its lips, and puffs of steam exit its throat. It raises its massive hands as it comes towards me.

“Jack! Please!” I scream in fear.

The creature lurches to a stop. Those blue eyes stare down at me, and it pants heavily. It comes close, sniffing my hair and neck, burying its monstrous face against my skin. Its hands wrap around my waist and I scream again.

“Jack! Help me!”

The creature stills, and its hot breath pelts against my ear. “I won’t hurt you.”

I shove it away, scurrying across the bed to escape it. The creature kneels again, licking my fresh blood from the bedsheets. It groans, sounding almost desperate to taste it. I hide myself in the wardrobe. 

At the first shred of the light, there is a knock at the door. “Salome, I’m here.” 

I peer through the crack and see Jack standing there, naked. 

“Please, come out.”

I open the door a crack and he steps back from me. I see the sheets on the bed have been ripped and shredded, and there is a stain of red upon his lips.

“Where do you go at night?” I whisper.

“I remain,” he says breathlessly. “But I hunger.”