I wish to say thank you to Yuni30 for helping me with this chapter. Thank you for taking your time to look through it even you are very busy with your studies and private life.

Yuni30 have been very helpful with this chapter but beacuse her/his studies needs to come first I`m looking for a new Beta Reader for my future chapters. Just read the former ch "Looking for a Beta Reader" on what kind of Beta I`m looking for and what kind of help I need. If you wish to help me please send me a private message here on fanfiction.

Enjoy ch 34 and dont forget to review!

Creature and the maiden chapter 34.

The noises were the first thing Victor noticed as he woke up from his dreamless sleep. The thin woods didn't cover much of the sounds from their neighbours and he could hear a small but regular cracking from a frail bed- suffering great abuse according to him. There was laughter and soft, low whispering. An entire night! It had been going on an entire night, except for some pauses until starting again.

He was almost ready to knock on the wall as loud as he possibly could. Anything to make their so-called "lovemaking" less profound. This was the third time this night! His current moody mind couldn't stand the sound or sight of other's happiness or tranquillity. With a lack of long needed rest, it became considerably worse when he considered that he and Mr. Dubois were far away from their loved ones.

"Such a brothel," Victor groaned. He hated this dirty, awful place. It was beyond what he was used to. This whole atmosphere, not to mention this dirty bed, reminded him of a certain dark, rainy November night ages ago.

But this was the right thing to do, even though there was an uncertainty this "John" could be his... creation.

He lay there for a long time, listening to the howling of the wind outside and trying to block the shameful sound of moaning, unknown muttering, and the bed's noises from his mind.

Mr. Dubois, fortunately, didn't hear- his sleep was heavy, and, from Victors earlier experiences, he snored loudly.

Tomorrow, they were to move on to the village where Laura had found John kept in his prison. Victor needed to be prepared for whatever surprise he would discover. Either it was his creation itself… or John was just a plain, stranger. While he suspected him as his half-brother, he doubted it. His father wasn't the sort of man who would betray his family nor his beloved mother Caroline like that.

He would never do that… would he? Had he kept a mistress behind their backs? Impossible!

Clutching his blanket tightly with his fingers, he wished that he could stop this anxious loop inside his mind!

Annoyed, Victor rose from the bed and, one minute later, found himself wrapped in a blanket and wandering up to the attic that was laying at the end of their corridor. No one saw him, not even the innkeeper and that was good. He needed fresh air. He needed to get away from the happy couple who cared nothing but themselves and their splendid affairs. Victor almost wished the lightning could strike them, ending their so-called lovemaking.

The attic was small. The walls were covered in dust, as was an old chest and some of the furniture laying around. Despite this, Victor loved it.

There was something special with attics. It gave him some peace and tranquillity. Back home, the large attic in their huge mansion was his castle, his sanctuary, when he didn't want to be interrupted with his studies. He kept all his books and papers there. Together, with some candles, warm blankets and some nice cookies from the kitchen, they would absorb him.

It was his whole world.

So innocent, so peaceful. But then this vision got shattered when he replaced this nativity and silly dreams with science and machines. The attic in Ingolstadt was a smaller version of his sanctuary but much more cynical and maddening. He turned himself mad- obsessed with the science reached towards true immortality and saving the world.

And look how it ended.

Suddenly, there was a small crack from one of the dark corners that gave Victor a start. Trying not to be frightened, he looked around to see if someone was there. To his surprise and relief, it was just a small mouse- an innocent, small, grey mouse who didn't wish any harm, neither of it or him. Victor sighed, moved his body down to the floor, and stared back at the small little creature. He could barely see it but it relieved him to know that there were creatures much smaller and inferior to him in this world- ready to be easily despised and crushed.

Was he really like that mouse? Just a tiny, unwanted, insignificant creature to the whole world?

Why did this anxiety, no matter how he tried to move on and forget kept returning in the guise of a dark loop? Was it his destiny to always suffer like this? Except for his family, his best friend, and fiancée and this... John. Who else cared for him? Did he really deserve any pity or compassion for what he had done?

All of these thoughts kept on repeating in his mind, again and again, until he exhausted himself. He bundled himself in his blanket on the hard floor and fell asleep.

A sweet, dreamless sleep.

Unfamiliarity was what first struck John when he awoke from what appeared to be a rather a very peaceful sleep. His first in days or weeks.

John's sight was quite blurry first, but after blinking several times, he was able to make out his surroundings. The room was tiny, dirty and the walls seemed unpainted for a very long time. There was a single window next to the bed. Sunlight was coming in from it and, considering the level of the sun on the horizon, John assumed he must have slept for a good while.

He felt a warm, steady breath was expiring against the back of his neck, sending shivers down the length of his spine with every second it came. An arm casually slung over his middle, squeezing ever so slightly as its owner slept.

John felt himself blushing and quickly looked away, trying to ignore the fact that Laura's naked body was lying just beside him, the blanket half covering her body and her bare breasts squeezed against his back. He could feel both the softness and the warmness from them.

He considered to move but thought better of it when Laura snuggled up against him closer. John blushed even more. What would happen when she woke up? Her reaction? Not to mention what they did last night was so-

Someone banged loudly at their door.

"The breakfast is ready," the innkeeper shouted, causing Laura to wake from her sleep immediately. A small yelp left her mouth as she snatched up the blankets and covered her body; John himself was rather embarrassed that he was wearing only his dirty shirt. His cheeks reddened as he grabbed whatever covers he could. He tried to avoid eye contact with her, knowing all too well what they had done, and knowing that she knew, too.

It was when John covered himself with some of his ragged clothes which he had tossed aside the previous night did he dare look back at her. Laura choosing the same moment to take a glance at him. Their eyes locked for the moment and they found that they couldn't move.

Then they started to laugh.

They laughed over this embarrassing scene with considerable relief as they heard the innkeeper going back up the stairs, ignorant of their affairs if he dared to open the door.

"Well," John began. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Good Morning, how are you... feeling?"

"I'm good," Laura said, giving John an embarrassed smile, still covering her upper body with the blanket. "And you?"

"I'm very good, but are you really-"

"It was wonderful," Laura said quickly, her cheeks still blushing. "It hurt a little, but I think it's supposed to during... the first time," she paused and strained her neck back to him. "Don't look."

Preparing his own clothes, he refused to view her lovely body- the same one he had touched every part of just a few hours ago. Laura replaced her shirt, pants, and jacket and tried to comb her messy, short hair with her fingers. When she was done, and John's back was still turned to her. Laura walked closer and then grasped his middle and hugged him tightly.

"You're worried," she said.

"Everything feels too good to be true," John murmured, touching her arms with his hands gently.

"This is true. I love you."

"Ever since I laid my eyes on you at the riverbank I wanted you. It was not because of your beauty and your spirit, but the desire to have you, really have you. If I said I wanted you because it felt you were a kindred spirit, would you find it repulsive?"

Laura was silent for a moment before answering. "No. Your answer is from a man. A man filled with love and warmth. You have never treated me as a porcelain doll or something heavenly."

"But you're my angel." John smiled, turned around to face Laura.

"I'm not an angel," Laura said as she leaned up. He leaned down, and their lips met.

Yes, John was a man of needs and desires. Yes, there was no doubt that even as they turned old and crimpled, he would never tire of Laura's soft, warm lips pressing against his, her arms around his shoulders, and her body pressing against his, not to mention the sweet sensation to be in one foot in heaven.

"Now, breakfast it is then," Laura suddenly said with red, blushing cheeks and a goofy smile on her lips before moving out of from John's grasp. Quickly she buttoned her shirt and, without thinking, walked, or rather skipped towards the door. As she opened it Laura moved around and looked back at John. Sitting there, his white shirt half opened so she could see his bare chest with the huge stitch covering it, his cheeks bore a heady flush, his breath ragged with both trembling and desire. Laura felt a burst of smugness and affection for John at that moment; knowing she was directly responsible for his shaken condition. She leaned her head into the doorframe for a moment and looked at him affectionately. So much love, so much tenderness and caring.

She belonged to him now, and he belonged to her. In the eyes of whatever God, Goddess or whatever being who wished to rule this earth, they were as good as married. None would ever keep them apart. It was so overwhelming that she wanted just a brief moment alone with all of these feelings.

"I am your angel but I'm also a human so... breakfast first," she said, flashing a teasing smile and then closing the door behind her.

Victor jumped, squeezing the blanket tightly as he recoiled from the sudden appearance of a man on the other side of the room.

"What in the devil are you doing here? Was this storm too much for you that you have to rush up here like a scary-cat?"

Embarrassed, Victor rushed up from his awkward position and brushed away dust and mouse dirt from his clothes and blanket. "Kind of," he muttered, his cheeks flushed.

"Don't expect to get any discount just because you didn't use your bed," The innkeeper muttered as he opened one of the chests and started to pull out some silver plates and cups.

"You're lucky that I'm in a good mood. It's not every day that we get fancy guests that demand everything from the sky to hell."

"I will go downstairs," Victor said hastily before returning down the stairs. This was so embarrassing. He may have slept outside once, in the marketplace when he had his fever. Never had he slept in an attic that wasn't his only to be discovered by the owner- thankfully the innkeeper- who assumed him a coward or loon.

"Be lucky that you didn't decide to sleep in my wife's bed or else you would have your head in the pile the horse shit behind our house," the innkeeper yelled behind him. He heard him start to laugh of his own joke. Victor blushed as he quickly walked away. He accidentally hit a person with his shoulder as he moved through the corridor. He just briefly saw a boy's back and his short, red hair just giving him a quick glance, then hopping cheerfully away.

Victor sighed as he watched the boy quickly moving down the stairs. The youth today, always in a hurry, not caring for anyone but themselves. How many years was it when he was like that? Young, carefree, optimistic and so naive? Victor hoped that he hadn't slept that long. Perhaps Mr. Dubois was still asleep. If so, he wouldn't have to explain his absence. Just as he was returning to his room, another door suddenly opened and a man with messy, dark hair appeared around it.

"Laura, I want to say-," but the sentence was cut short as John saw Victor Frankenstein, his creator, just a few meters from him, gaping at him.