Tuck in your rosary

Say I'm your saint (saint)

Darling you torture me

Give me a taste

You left your bite marks on my ribs

No bruises feel as good as this

God loves to watch her angels sin

I'm finding heaven in your skin

You left your bite marks on my ribs

Just let it out, what crawls within

You dig your fangs into my lips

I like the pain, the devil's kiss

"Bite Marks" - Ari Abdul

Chapter 25: Les péchés du désir

The faint hum of voices filled the apartment as Daryl leaned back in the worn armchair, his eyes flicking to the supplies spread across the floor. Fallou's generosity was unmistakable—packets of dried food, jugs of water, blankets, and a few other essentials neatly stacked in the corner of the room. The firelight danced across the walls, its warmth taking the edge off the cold seeping in from the outside.

Carol sat cross-legged on the couch, a map spread out on the coffee table in front of her. She traced a route with her finger, her brow furrowed in concentration. Codron leaned against the armrest at the other end of the couch, his arms crossed and his gaze fixed on the map.

"Fallou came through," Codron said, his tone steady as he gestured toward the supplies. "Enough to hold us over for the trip to the Abbey and a bit beyond if we're careful."

Carol nodded, her gaze lifting to meet his. "We'll need to restock at the Abbey. There's no telling what we'll face on the way to Spain, and we can't afford to run out of food or fuel."

Codron leaned forward slightly, his fingers tapping against the armrest. "Fallou mentioned the roads south might be worse off than we expected. We'll be going through the Pyrénées. That's going to slow us down a bit."

Daryl's jaw tightened as he rubbed a hand across the stubble on his chin. "We'll handle it. Got no choice. The Abbey's the best shot we've got for supplies and a safe stop."

"Two days, then?" Carol said, her brows raising in question glancing between the two men. "We can leave at first light. It'll give us time to make sure the truck's ready and double-check everything else." Daryl and Codron nodded in agreement and the room fell quiet for a moment, the faint crackle of the fire filling the space. His gaze drifted to the closed bedroom door, his mind flickering to Isabelle. He could still see the strain on her face, the shadows under her eyes.

"How's she doing?" Carol asked, feeling his attention shift.

"She's ok. He got her good across the face. Could'a been a lot worse though." He said, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward and rubbed a hand over his face, his fingers rough against the stubble on his jaw. "I shoulda known better," he muttered, his voice tight with frustration. "Saw the prints when we left out that day… just wrote it off as a walker. Shoulda put it together sooner."

Carol shook her head, her tone firm but reassuring. "You couldn't have known, Daryl. He was smart, careful. He waited until we were all distracted. You can't blame yourself for that."

His eyes stayed fixed on the floor, the tension in his frame palpable. "Yeah, well, maybe if I'd been payin' more attention, she wouldn't've had to face him alone."

Carol leaned forward, her eyes locking onto his. "She handled herself, Daryl. It's not on you."

Daryl huffed softly, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he wanted to argue but couldn't bring himself to. After a moment, he straightened in his chair and glanced toward the kitchen. "I'm gonna bring her some stew. Check on her."

Carol gave a small nod, rising to her feet. "I'll get it for you." She moved to the pot that was sat beside the fire, grabbing a ladle and a clean bowl. Steam wafted up as she scooped a generous portion into the bowl, the smell of the rich broth filling the room.

She set it on the coffee table and turned back to Daryl, her voice softening. "Here. She needs the rest, and some food will do her good."

Daryl stood, grabbing the bowl and giving her a small, grateful nod. "Thanks."

Carol watched as he made his way toward the bedroom, the door creaking softly as he pushed it open and disappeared inside.

Daryl stepped into the dimly lit bedroom, the door creaking softly as it closed behind him. The faint crackle of the fire from the living room filtered through the walls, a quiet backdrop to the stillness inside. Isabelle lay curled on her side under the heavy quilt, her face half-buried in the pillow. Even in the low light, the swelling on her cheek was visible, the bruising dark against her pale skin.

He moved quietly, his boots barely making a sound on the worn wooden floor. Setting the bowl of stew down on the small bedside table, he crouched beside her. His hand hesitated for a moment before he reached out, his rough fingers brushing gently against the underside of her chin. The touch was featherlight, careful not to startle her.

"Hey," he murmured softly, his voice low and steady.

Her eyes fluttered open at the touch, her lashes lifting slowly as she focused on him. For a moment, she seemed disoriented, her gaze searching his face before recognition softened her expression.

"Hey, you," she whispered, her voice raspy from sleep, the faintest trace of relief lacing the words.

One side of his mouth quirked up in a half-hearted smile, though it didn't reach his eyes, his gaze scanning her face. "Brought you some stew. Figured you could use somethin' warm."

Her lips twitched into the faintest of smiles, "Thanks," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Daryl leaned back slightly, watching her carefully. "How're you feelin'?"

She hesitated, her gaze dropping to the blanket. "Like I got hit by a truck," she admitted, her tone wry but tinged with fatigue. "But I'm okay. Just... trying to get rid of this headache."

Isabelle propped herself up on one elbow, wincing as she applied a little too much weight onto her wrist.

Daryl's eyes flicked to the way she winced, his brow furrowing deeply. "Let me see," he murmured, his voice low, almost tender. He reached out, his rough fingers gently tipping her chin, turning her face to the side to look at the now purple bruising beneath her eye. The motion was soft, delicate, his thumb brushing lightly along her jaw just shy of the dark shadow marring her cheek. His eyes scanned her face, a storm of guilt and anger flickering in his gaze.

"I shoulda been here," he muttered finally, his voice rough with frustration. "I shouldn't have left you."

Isabelle's hand came up, resting lightly over his. The warmth of her touch stilled him, grounding the guilt churning inside. "I'm okay," she said softly. Her fingers curled slightly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "Really, Daryl."

He didn't let go immediately, his eyes locking onto hers as if searching for some deeper reassurance.

Daryl's jaw clenched, his fingers twitching under hers. "Still," he said, shaking his head. "You shouldn't've had to face him alone."

Her expression softened, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite the ache in her face. "You couldn't have known," she said gently, her thumb brushing against his knuckles.

For a moment, he didn't respond, the weight of his unspoken guilt hanging heavy in the air. Then, with a slow exhale, he gave a faint nod.

"Come here," she said softly, her hand tugging lightly at his hand.

Daryl hesitated, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at her. "You need rest," he muttered, his voice gruff.

"I'll rest better with you here," she countered, her tone warm but firm, her gaze steady as her fingers gave his hand another gentle tug. There was no demand in her touch, only quiet reassurance, an unspoken understanding that his presence would do more good than any words.

He sighed, the corners of his mouth twitching in reluctant defeat. "Alright," he muttered, kicking off his boots and setting them aside. The bed creaked softly as he shifted his weight, climbing onto the mattress beside her.

Isabelle shifted slightly to make room, pulling the quilt up as Daryl settled onto his back. Her head found its place on his shoulder, her body leaning into the solid warmth of his frame. Her hand found his once more, their fingers curling together in a silent exchange of comfort.

His free arm came up to rest around her, holding her close as the quiet of the room enveloped them both.

Isabelle closed her eyes, letting the warmth of Daryl's presence wash over her. The steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek was soothing, grounding her in a way that nothing else could. She felt the light pressure of his fingertips moving in slow, lazy circles against her back, the motion rhythmic and calming.

For a while, they stayed like that, the silence between them comforting. Then, Daryl broke the quiet, his voice low and rough. "We're leavin' in two days," he said, his tone gentle, as if trying not to disturb the fragile peace of the moment.

Isabelle tilted her head slightly, her cheek brushing against his chest as her voice broke the quiet. "Two days," she murmured, the words thoughtful. She sat silent for a few minutes, then, after a pause, she added softly, "What's it like… at the Commonwealth?"

Daryl's hand stilled briefly against her back before resuming its slow, soothing circles. "It's… different," he said after a moment, his voice low and thoughtful. "They got walls—big ones. Keep the dead out. Inside, it's like a whole city. People got their own homes, apartments, jobs… hell, they even got ice cream."

Her brows lifted slightly, a flicker of disbelief crossing her face. "Ice cream?" she echoed, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

"Yeah," he said, his tone carrying the faintest trace of amusement. "Got a bakery and a hospital too… Folks tryin' to bring back what they can from before."

She shifted slightly, propping her chin lightly against his chest so she could look at him. "And you? What did you do there?"

"Was in their army. Helped keep the peace, deal with threats outside the walls. Wasn't much for takin' orders, though."

Isabelle's lips curved into a faint smirk. "I can't imagine why," she teased softly.

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, well… didn't last too long. Commonwealth's got its problems, same as anywhere else. But Judith and RJ needed it. It was good for them, so it was good enough for me."

Her gaze softened, the playful edge to her smile fading as she studied his face. "You miss them," she said, her voice quiet, the words more of a statement than a question.

Daryl's jaw tightened slightly, and he nodded after a beat, his hand pausing briefly against her back. "Yeah," he admitted, his voice low.

She reached up, her fingers brushing lightly against his collar, a silent gesture of comfort. "They're lucky to have you," she said softly. "And I bet they know it."

Daryl's gaze flicked to hers, something unspoken lingering in his eyes before he gave a faint nod.

After a moment of quiet, he shifted slightly, the weight of the memories pressing against him as he spoke. "Been with 'em a long time. Judith… I was there when she was born. RJ, too. Before Rick had even picked out a name, I called her 'Little Asskicker'."

Isabelle's brows lifted slightly, her lips curving into a faint, tender smile. "Little Asskicker," she repeated softly, the nickname carrying a warmth she could only imagine he'd felt for the tiny child.

Daryl huffed a quiet laugh, the sound tinged with nostalgia. "Yeah. She was tough. Still is." His voice softened as he continued, his gaze drifting slightly as if he were looking back through time. "She didn't want me to leave," he admitted after a moment. "Told me I didn't have to go. But… she knew why I had to."

Isabelle tilted her head slightly, her expression gentle as she watched him. She didn't say anything, letting him work through the words at his own pace.

"I promised her I'd come back," Daryl said, his voice rough but steady. "Told her if I found Rick or Michonne, I'd bring 'em home. She's smart. Strong. But she's still just a kid, y'know? Deserved to have 'em around, not just… stories or memories of 'em."

His hand resumed its slow circles on her back, the motion more for his own comfort than anything else. "She's lookin' out for Dog while I'm gone," he added, his lips quirking into a faint smile. "Told her to keep him safe for me. And I know she will."

"She sounds incredible," Isabelle said softly. "And it sounds like she has a lot of you in her."

Daryl's gaze flicked back to hers, something unspoken lingering in the depths of his eyes. "Nah," he said gruffly, though there was a hint of warmth in his tone. "She's better."

Isabelle's lips curved into a soft smile, but then her brow lifted slightly, a flicker of curiosity crossing her face. "Wait… you have a dog?"

Daryl glanced at her, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah," he said, his tone lighter now. "He's probably not even going to remember me by the time I get back there. Jude is going to have him spoiled."

Isabelle let out a soft laugh, the sound warm and genuine. For a moment, she didn't respond, her gaze lingering on Daryl as he spoke. Her eyes softened, studying the way his face subtly changed—how his expression eased, the way his mouth twitched faintly with a smile.

Daryl's voice trailed off as he caught her looking at him, his brow furrowing slightly. "What?" he asked, low and curious.

She hesitated for a beat, then smiled softly, her voice gentle. "I like when you tell me about your life back home. It helps me… know you better. Understand you better."

Daryl held her gaze for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. It wasn't much, but it was genuine, quiet in the way he often was.

Daryl tilted his head slightly, his gaze steady as he studied her. "Ain't much to tell," he muttered, his voice carrying a mix of self-consciousness and quiet humor. "Pretty sure you got me figured out by now."

Isabelle shook her head, her smile growing. "Not everything," she replied, her voice light. "But I'm working on it."

A faint rare chuckle escaped him. "Guess you're stuck with me till you do then." he muttered, his tone so matter-of-fact it caught her off guard.

Isabelle blinked, her lips parting slightly as the weight of his words sank in. She wasn't used to hearing him say things like that—especially so plainly. Her gaze lingered on him, the easy smile on her face faltering slightly. Not out of hesitation, but because something about the way he was watching her now felt different.

The warmth of his hand on her back, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her chin, and the intensity in his eyes—it all made the space between them seem suddenly smaller. Her breath brushed against his skin as her gaze flicked to his lips, her heartbeat quickening in her chest.

Daryl's fingers stilled against her back, his gaze dropping briefly to her mouth before flicking back up to her eyes. The quiet in the room deepened, carrying a weight that neither of them dared to break.

Isabelle's breath caught in her throat as the tension in the air seemed to draw her closer to him, a pull she couldn't resist. Slowly, she rose up, her face mere inches from his. Her gaze lingered on his lips for a heartbeat before she closed the gap, pressing her lips to his.

Daryl responded without hesitation, his arm tightening around her back as he leaned into her kiss. It wasn't rushed or uncertain, but steady and grounding, a connection that spoke louder than words ever could. Isabelle's hand came up to cup his cheek, her thumb brushing lightly against his skin as the warmth of the moment settled between them.

Daryl's hand slid higher on her back, his fingers splaying against the fabric of her shirt as he pulled her just a little closer. The kiss, though unhurried, carried the weight of everything they didn't say aloud—the quiet understanding, the unspoken fears, and the tenuous hope they clung to in a world that had taken so much from them.

When they finally parted, their breaths mingled in the quiet space between them, neither moving far. Isabelle rested her forehead against his, her fingers still gently tracing his cheek. Her eyes opened slowly, meeting his gaze, and for a moment the world outside the walls seemed to fade into nothing.

Daryl's gaze held hers, his hand still warm against her back. He tipped his chin slightly, his rough fingers brushing against her side as he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. The touch was brief, a quiet reassurance that spoke volumes in its simplicity.

Isabelle's lips curved into a faint smile, as she lingered in the moment. Then, with a quiet confidence, she shifted, her hands bracing lightly against his chest as she carefully moved to straddle his lap. The quilt slipped down around her shoulders, and her knees settled on either side of his hips.

Daryl's hands instinctively found her waist, steadying her as his brow furrowed slightly in surprise. His eyes flicked up to hers, searching her face before his grip softened, his thumbs brushing against her sides. She leaned in closer, her hands sliding to rest lightly on his shoulders. For a moment, their eyes locked, and the quiet vulnerability in his expression made something inside her chest flutter.

Daryl's throat bobbed as he swallowed, his grip on her waist steady as he leaned forward, sitting upright beneath her. Isabelle's gaze searched his face, her hands sliding up to the back of his neck as she kissed him again – soft and slow. It wasn't rushed or tentative but steady and deliberate, bearing a weight neither of them dared put into words. She pressed against him, her body fitting against his as if it had always belonged there. Her weight against him felt natural, like a puzzle piece clicking into place.

Isabelle let her hands slide down, her fingers tracing the strong lines of his jaw, the curve of his neck, and then settling on his chest. She felt the tension there, the strength he carried even in his moments of stillness, and it only made her want to pull him closer.

Her breath was warm against his skin as her lips traveled down his neck, leaving a trail of soft, lingering kisses. A quiet sound escaped from low in his throat, his hands gripping her hips as though anchoring himself in the moment.

Daryl's hands slid to her thighs, his breathing deepening as her lips found a sensitive spot just below his jaw. Another low sound escaped him that made Isabelle pause and smile against his skin.

The intensity between them swelled, raw and unguarded. Isabelle's lips curved into a soft smile, her fingers brushing through his hair, her voice barely a whisper against his ear. "You okay?" she asked, the question rhetorical at best— she knew what she was doing to him, and the thought of that alone sparked a fire within her that burned from somewhere deep.

Daryl nodded, his hands tightening slightly against her thighs, but his brain failed to formulate any further cohesive thoughts.

She smiled as she pressed a lingering kiss to his lips, savoring the taste of him. She leaned back slightly, her fingers finding the hem of her shirt as she pulled it over her head, the fabric falling away and leaving her exposed to the moonlight that streamed through the windows

Daryl's eyes roamed over her, the faint light casting her in a soft glow that made his chest tighten. His hands moved to her sides, his touch reverent as he let his fingers trace the curve of her waist.

Isabelle leaned in, silencing his thoughts with a kiss that was tender and slow as her hands found the edges of his shirt. Daryl lifted his arms slightly, allowing her to pull it off, the fabric landing in a heap beside them. Her eyes drank him in, taking in the scars and the strength etched into his skin. She traced one faint scar along his shoulder with her fingertips, her gaze meeting his with a mixture of tenderness and desire.

"You're beautiful," she whispered, her voice soft but certain.

Isabelle's whispered words seemed to light a fire deep within Daryl, one that burned brighter and hotter than he thought possible. He stared at her, momentarily at a loss for words, her soft declaration unraveling every wall he'd ever built around himself. Her fingers continued to trail over his skin, leaving a path of goosebumps in their wake.

The way she looked at him, with such certainty and care, sent a surge of emotion through him that he couldn't contain and he pulled her mouth back to his with a newfound intensity.

The air in the room felt charged, their breaths mingling as Isabelle let her hands explore the expanse of Daryl's chest and shoulders as though committing every inch of him to memory. She shifted slightly in his lap, her thighs bracketing his hips as she leaned in closer. The warmth of his skin against hers sent a shiver through her, the quiet intimacy of their connection making her crave more of him. His lips found her neck again, lingering there as his hands roamed her back, pulling her closer. Each kiss he placed was soft, measured, and filled with a tenderness that made Isabelle's chest ache.

Her fingers tangled in his hair as she tilted her head back slightly, giving him more access to the sensitive skin of her collarbone. She felt the steady strength of his arms around her, holding her as though afraid to let her go.

The connection between them grew electric, charged with unspoken emotion and unrelenting desire. Isabelle's soft breaths against his ear, the feel of her body pressing against his, and the trust she placed in him ignited something in Daryl that he'd kept locked away for so long.

Daryl moved with a quiet intensity, each kiss deliberate, unhurried. His breath was warm against her skin, his hands steady as they explored the shape of her hips, the softness of her thighs. Isabelle arched against him, her body instinctively molding to his.

Isabelle's fingers trembled slightly as they trailed down his chest, feeling the unsteady rise and fall of his breaths beneath her touch. Her lips brushed against his neck, her kisses featherlight as she felt the tension coiled within him. The quiet intensity in Daryl's gaze as he looked at her only deepened her resolve to draw him closer, to break down whatever barriers remained between them.

She felt the heat of his body, the way his hands roamed her back, and the subtle way he shifted beneath her. It wasn't just the physical connection—it was the unspoken trust, the vulnerability they both carried in that moment.

Her hand slid lower, finding the waistband of his jeans. Her fingers deftly undid his belt, the metal buckle clinking softly in the quiet room. Daryl's breath caught, his hands momentarily stilling on her hips as he watched her. His gaze was intense, searching her face for any hesitation, but all he found was certainty.

Her fingers moved again, undoing the button and sliding down the zipper. The sound seemed louder in the stillness, but neither of them paid it any mind. Isabelle leaned in, her lips brushing his as her hands moved to help him free himself from the confines of his jeans. She pushed the fabric of his jeans further down until they rested at his hips. She leaned into him, her lips never leaving his as her body pressed against his in a way that left no space between them. The warmth of his skin, the solid strength of him beneath her—it was grounding and electrifying all at once.

Daryl let out a low, guttural sound, as Isabelle shifted again, his head tipping back slightly as his hands steadied her, his grip firm yet careful.

Isabelle pressed her lips to his neck, savoring the way he responded to her touch. Her fingers slid along his waist, pushing his jeans further until they slipped off completely. She could feel the way his body reacted to hers, the heat between them building with every passing second.

Daryl shifted beneath her, his hands moving to her thighs as he pulled her closer. There was no hesitation now, no lingering doubt—just the two of them, caught in a moment that felt both fragile and infinite.

Isabelle captured his lips with hers once more, her movements slow and purposeful. Daryl's hands slid up her thighs, his touch igniting a fire that spread through her as he grasped the waistband of her pajama pants and worked them down her pants slipped lower, the soft material pooling at her knees before she kicked them off.

Isabelle leaned forward, her hands finding their place on his shoulders as her lips captured his once more. The kiss was deep and hungry, a reflection of the trust and desire building between them. Daryl's hands pulled her closer as she shifted slightly in his lap, her body pressing firmly against his as a teasing smile played on her lips. The undeniable evidence of his desire beneath her sent a rush of heat through her, her confidence growing with every quiver of his arms, every sigh that escaped his lips. Her fingers danced lightly along his shoulders, her nails grazing his skin as she leaned in, her breath warm against his neck. She teased the sensitive skin there with her lips and teeth, her movements intentional and calculated.

Daryl sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, his hands gripping her hips harder, the battle between his restraint and his need hanging by a thread. The strength in his grip wasn't harsh but it carried a warning she couldn't ignore.

Isabelle's breath hitched as the thought struck her—how much strength Daryl possessed, how easily he could have shifted the balance of power between them if he wanted to. She knew he was capable, knew the depth of his strength and resilience. But instead of asserting control, he let her take the lead, surrendering to her touch, to her pace. That choice, that quiet trust he gave her, made her stomach flip with an intensity that left her breathless.

The realization sent a surge of confidence through her, her hands sliding lower, her fingertips tracing the lines of muscle beneath his skin.

When Isabelle's lips and teeth grazed his neck again, a low, guttural sound rumbled from Daryl's chest, his control slipping further. His hands moved instinctively, sliding down her sides as he tried to still her.

"Isabelle," he rasped, his voice rough with a mix of warning and need. The way her body moved against his was driving him to the edge, her playful confidence igniting something deep within him.

She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, her eyes bright with mischief and something deeper. "What?" she asked, her voice soft but filled with teasing innocence. Her smile only deepened as she shifted again, her movements intentional, sending a jolt of electricity between them.

Daryl's hands gripped her hips firmly, his jaw tightening as he let out a low growl. "You're gonna be the death of me," he muttered, though the faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips betrayed the intensity of his desire. The way he touched her was like worship, as if each brush of his fingers was meant to honor her. But her touch—it was fire, a slow, knowing torment that unraveled him with every calculated caress. Where he sought to hold her together, she sought to tear him apart.

Isabelle leaned in, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered, "I think you'll survive." Her voice was light, teasing, but the way her hands slid over his shoulders and down his chest spoke volumes about the depth of her own need.

Daryl's eyes darkened, his response immediate and wordless. His fingers dug into the backs of her thighs, pulling her flush against him with a strength that sent a shiver through her. The teasing distance between them evaporated, his hips rolling up to meet hers in a motion that ignited every nerve in her body.

His lips crashed against hers, the kiss deeper this time, charged with an intensity that erased the playful restraint of before, replaced by something far more urgent. His tongue slipped past her lips with a hunger that made her head spin, the raw, unleashed energy of him finally breaking free in a way that left her breathless.

Isabelle responded in kind, her hands tangling in his hair as her body molded against his. His lips moved against hers with a fervor that spoke of his need, his restraint slipping further with every soft sound she made.

Daryl's grip tightened as she leaned into him, her forehead briefly resting against his. Her hands slid up to frame his face, her fingers threading into his hair as she locked eyes with him. There was no mistaking what he felt—his desire, his trust, and something deeper, unspoken but palpable.

The intensity in his gaze, the storm of emotions passing between them made her body tremble with anticipation and certainty. Her movements were slow and sure as she lowered herself onto him, her eyes never leaving his. The air around them seemed to still, the world narrowing down to just the two of them.

Daryl let out a low, guttural, "Fuck," the word rasping from his lips as he gripped her hips with a strength that she knew could crush her if it ever came down to it. The thought sent a thrill through her—not fear, but a deep, visceral awareness of his power, and the deliberate care with which he wielded it.

The rawness in his voice sent a shiver down her spine, her hands grasping at his back as a soft, shaky breath escaped her lips. There was nothing polished or controlled about it—just pure, unfiltered emotion spilling out in that single word.

Her lips met his, their breaths mingling as she adjusted to the sensation, her body molding against his. Daryl's hands slid up her back, his eyes burning into hers as a storm raged within them.

Their movements became a rhythm, unspoken and raw, a language only they understood. The world beyond the walls faded into nothing, its dangers and chaos held at bay by the heat between them. Tonight, there was no world beyond them, no chaos—only this.