Elohims wrath

Anna's presence was a revelation, a symphony of contrasts that left him both awestruck and vulnerable. He had seen her bravery, witnessed her risking everything for their people, for him.

But now, as he looked at her, he realized that her courage was only one facet of the gem that Anna was. Anna's hair cascaded around her shoulders, a deep, rich brown that shimmered like polished mahogany. Each strand caught the sparse light, creating an otherworldly halo. Bjorn imagined running his fingers through those waves, losing himself in their softness.

Her eyes, those enigmatic orbs, held secrets. They were hazel, but not the ordinary kind. No, they were a blend of forest green and warm amber, like the depths of an ancient woodland at twilight.

Anna's nose curved with grace, a delicate bridge that bore a hint of rose. It was as if the blush of dawn had kissed her there, leaving behind a subtle warmth.

Her lips were a soft dusty rose, like faded petals preserved in time. They invited conversation and secrets alike. Bjorn imagined the taste of those lips—the sweetness of summer berries, the warmth of shared laughter.

Bjorn inhales deeply, his nostrils flaring as he takes in Anna's essence the raw, primal scent of desire. It's the tension between them, coiled like a spring waiting to snap. 

Anna's porcelain skin held the flush of dawn's first light. Her high cheekbones were a testament to her lineage, a subtle peachy glow that spoke of both vulnerability and strength. 

In this fractured world, where survival hangs by a thread, they dance on the precipice of longing.

The air thickens as Bjorn steps closer to Anna, his breath mingling with hers. The flickering candlelight casts elongated shadows on the walls, and he wonders if the darkness within him mirrors the one that envelops their fractured world.

Bjorn's fingers trace the curve of Anna's jaw, mapping the contours of her vulnerability. Her skin is a canvas, a testament to resilience and defiance. He imagines tasting her, the salt of sweat, the hint of desperation. It's a flavor that lingers, intoxicating and forbidden.

Anna's lips part, and Bjorn leans in. His mouth hovers above hers, and he can almost hear the unspoken words. She's a survivor, a fighter, but beneath it all lies a yearning. When their lips finally meet again, it's a collision of salt and metal. Bjorn's hunger flares, he wants to devour her, to claim this moment as theirs. But he holds back, savoring the ache.

His hands slide down her back, he feels the rough fabric of her scavenged jacket. It's a reminder of their reality, the scarcity, the danger. But it's also a barrier, one he wants to breach.

Anna's warmth seeps through the worn material, and he wonders what lies beneath—the curve of her spine, the arch of desire.

Her heartbeat is a rhythm he craves. It's the primal drumbeat that draws him closer. When he presses his chest against hers, he feels the flutter, the fragile hope that refuses to die. Their bodies align, and he wonders if she dreams of safety, of a haven where they can be more than survivors.

The dim light of the storage room clung to Bjorn's face, casting shadows across his furrowed brow. His lips, moments ago entwined with.

Anna's eyes widened, her lips still swollen from their kiss. She reached out, fingers grazing Bjorn's cheek, but he stepped back, putting distance between them. The air in the cramped room seemed to thicken, charged with unspoken desire and the weight of their shared secret. The taste of her lingered a bittersweet memory that threatened to distract him from the urgency of their situation. "Anna," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the distant howl of the wind. "Not here. Not now."

Anna's eyes widened, disappointment etching lines on her face. She understood—their forbidden desire could not be indulged in this precarious sanctuary. The world beyond these walls was unforgiving, and their love was a fragile ember in the tempest.

She nodded, her fingers brushing against his. She was no stranger to sacrifice. Together, they lifted the lifeless creature—an otherworldly beast Bjorn had hunted—and carried it toward the shelf inside the storage room.

The shelves, once filled with forgotten relics of the spaceship's past, now cradled the remains of their prey.

"Why don't we show this creature to the others?" Anna asked, her eyes searching his.

"Arne," he said. "He'll come for it. Olander family needs its flesh for sustenance, and Arne will ensure its safe passage." 

Bjorn and Anna turned back and exited the storage room. As they walked through the dimly lit hallway, Bjorn's hand found Anna's as she glanced at Bjorn, "Do you think we'll ever be safe from cold and hunger?"

"Perhaps," he murmured.