The stench hits her like a fist causing her to collapse into a crumpled heap on the carpet. Daring to open her eyes through the cage of her fingers, she glimpses nothing but the big black of the unknown and foolishly thinks that maybe she’ll be fine, that whatever is hunting her has left. Curling into a ball, she breathes a sigh of relief, but another waft of the smell causes her to gag and tells her that this is far from over. Not by a long shot. And yet how strange and telling it is that still there’s a part of her that wants to taste its source—that desires to lap it up the way a thirsty dog drinks from a puddle, not caring for anything other than to have the liquid fill its wormy belly. Sticking out her tongue and wincing at the same time, she feels hot piss trickling from her noonie down the inside of both legs. She’s mildly ashamed, but not by much. It hardly seems to register. What does though, is the fleeting sensation of something rubbing against her face. At first, she thinks it might be an insect fluttering its wings or perhaps a cobweb fallen from the black lightbulb above her head. Crawling backwards the best she can, her bulging eyes search the void. When it happens again, she swears blind it’s the tips of someone’s fingers. Someone is touching her face. And not just touching, but stroking. Screaming like a banshee, the only thing escaping her throat is the mist that gives form to the shape straddling her as if she were a dog in heat.

X and I: A Novel and A Journal for Damned Lovers on Amazon UK

X and I: A Novel and A Journal for Damned Lovers on Amazon US