The lust of the goat is
the bounty of God.
The wrath of the lion is the wisdom of God.
The
nakedness of woman is the work of God.
Ridley opens his eyes and looks above him. She is there. On the ledge above him at his door, she is there. She has come for him, come for him in his most holy of sanctuaries, and her presence is a sacrilege to it. He must expel her uncleanliness, or she must destroy his sanctity. There is no other option. They will do what they must.
She jumps down next to him, but does not see him. Not at first. He takes the opportunity to grab her round the waist and bring her up to his face.
'Alas,' he whispers, forked tongue almost caressing her, 'Must one of our lives be cut so short?'
She does not answer, probably has not heard him. Instead her arm opens up and at last Ridley sees the source of her light. A ray hits him in his forehead, the headache is back again, but he keeps her in his grip and squeezes. More beams of light, now thunder as well. He sticks her in his mouth up to her shoulders and bites down hard. The beams are going into the back of his throat now and he vomits, but continues to bite. He feels her armor of sun crack, now crunch. The beams stop. He feels the armor crunch more and the Woman goes limp. He tastes blood, turns her upside down so that it can run down his throat. He is mad with hunger.
Ridley wakes and rolls back on his belly, smothering his desire. To dream such thoughts is bad enough, to think them with a clear mind? No. No thoughts but sleep. He closes his eyes.
He loves her.
His eyes snap open. He tries to shut them and the thought with them, but cannot. He loves her, as deeply and as truly as he has ever loved anything. As he could love anything. It is repulsive to even think of such things, but he cannot help himself and knows if he falls to sleep now, that Ledaean form will drift in front of him and haunt his dreams and he cannot have that. Must not have that. Perhaps if things were different, if they were different. Perhaps, but no. No, things are as they are and to imagine them any different is foolishness.
He closes his eyes, relaxes, sleeps