Immanuel's Veins by Ted Dekker

head that created any kind of longing? Why did a scent evoke desire and the taste of lips demand obsession? What was in the spoken word that sparked a fire? It was all only flesh that would soon bleed out and rot in the ground.
    My uncommon attraction to her couldn’t have anything to do with the sum of her parts, I reasoned as I tossed and turned on that obscenely fluffy bedding. Or with her at all. She wasn’t falling all over me, offering herself up to me. She wasn’t kissing my ears or nibbling my neck. Her hands weren’t running up my thighs; her lips weren’t whispering undying love; her tongue wasn’t . . .
    I sat up in bed, terrified at my own weakness. The pain had begun then, when I concluded that the emotions I felt were simply mine, in my heart, my mind. A new weakness had presented itself to me, like a new kind of plague.
    But the plague could be controlled. The sick could be isolated and bodies burned until the disease was stamped out.
    Still, my own astonishment at the ache in my heart kept my eyes peeled open, gazing at the angels that were intricately carved on the ceiling above me.
    I slept little that night and awoke early to drag Alek out of bed. We had to immediately set about the task of securing the estate at every corner, I announced, refusing to hear his protests.
    Over the next two days I had done my best to stay clear of Lucine. I stuffed my mind with the challenges at hand, despite the fact that they were the simplest of issues, for there was no real enemy to see and to kill. I ordered Alek to help me extend a rampart at the main entrance.
    â€œWhatever for?”
    â€œBecause it needs it.”
    â€œI don’t see the need. But if you insist, I’ll order the servants—”
    â€œYou and I should do it.”
    â€œWhat? You’ve got to be jesting.”
    â€œYou know me better.”
    â€œWe already have this barricade. We don’t need an extension and certainly not one built by us.”
    â€œLook there!” I jabbed my finger in the direction of the forest to our right. “What kind of protection would we have if they came out of the trees with muskets blazing?”
    â€œThey? Our enemy is not an army, Toma! If we were in the middle of a war, maybe. Even then, a rock or two would do fine for protection, not all this.”
    â€œYou’re questioning my authority?” I snapped.
    â€œToma, it’s me,” Alek cried. “We should be up with our guests, sipping tea and flirting, not muddying our hands to build a rampart we don’t need.”
    â€œIdleness will not serve us!” I thundered.
    I think Alek knew something was going on then, because after a long hard study, he softened and gave me an inquisitive, somewhat knowing look. But it could have been my imagination, because half my mind had taken leave and was hovering around the castle, hoping for a glance, just one peek, at Lucine.
    It was horrible, I tell you. With each passing hour, my condition seemed to grow worse. Dinners were the worst, naturally. I kept them short and I managed to be absolutely normal in all regards. I looked into her eyes when I spoke to her and I was nothing but a perfectly courteous guest.
    But secretly every word and glance stirred me. I clung to her every laugh and movement of her chin, every bite and drink, all the while wondering how it could be possible.
    Slowly the notion of confessing my love became a mandate I could not refuse. Duty was thinner than love, surely.
    Now in the garden I felt like that bowl of jelly. I had to tell her. I had to confess my love before it drove me mad, unable to perform any duty whatsoever!
    â€œYes, we can walk,” I said. But I forgot what to do next.
    She finally reached out her hand and I quickly crooked my elbow for her to take. I led her down the path toward . . . Honestly, I had no idea where we were going. I was only the puppy on her leash at this point, though I would have rather