For a second, she sways before the open window feeling the memory of his face with tingling fingers until those features of his begin to glow. They pinch her skin and lick her nose, and although she wants to pull away, the feel of his lips on her flesh and the warm sting of his nibbling teeth are too much to resist. It makes her groan and grow weak at the knees. Sinking to the floor, she sees his face looking up at her from the photo. It’s been so long, and yet although she’s kept him under lock and key, he always seems to find a way. Despite the passing of years and the distance between them, the connection has never dimmed. If anything, it’s grown stronger, and those feelings stir at the merest of touches. Lifting the photo into her hands again, she takes it with her into the kitchen where she has another mouthful of wine while checking on Herbie. Cradling him in her hands, she brings him to her bedroom and places him on the bed. Shaking her head with a smile, she strokes his fur then leans the photo against the lamp on the bedside table. There’s something in his eyes. Something in the way he had looked at her. At the time it made her giddy, and even now it continues to do something she can’t quite put her finger on. The mark has been made, she says without realising. Going into the bathroom, she runs herself a shower. It takes several minutes for the water to get hot, during which time she has some more wine before removing her dress. Chucking it on top of her dirty pile, she walks from room to room, looking for something she knows she won’t find. Checking on the water, she observes herself in the mirror. There are bruises on her hips and inner thighs. Makes her resemble a manky pear. At least that’s what she thinks. Squeezing her love handles, she frowns and decides the only thing to do is have more wine. She’s polished off half the bottle now, but it’s okay, because she’s thirsty, and it’s fruit, so it’s kinda healthy. Kinda. Going back to the bedroom, she finds Herbie kicking his feet in his sleep. Sitting down next to him, she touches his tiny ears and rubs the back of his neck. Whispering his name, he stops his kicking and settles again. Just before she’s about to jump in the shower, she takes one last look at the photo. Standing there in the doorway, she searches him out, and although she senses he’s not close, she can taste his scent that carries in the breeze through the window, and she can still feel him inside of her, for when two such souls as theirs collide, they change the other in ways no one else could say.

A Journal for Damned Lovers UK

A Journal for Damned Lovers US

Anthology UK / Anthology US