My #WedPeeks post for this week is chapter eleven of my new novella, scheduled for release this October. Desiderium is a dark fantasy/horror and is for mature readers.
*Warning: There is violence, sex, and a lot of profanity in these pages.
It has been three days since that wondrous night, the second night we spent together, and I haven’t been able to find her since. I’m nervous, jittery. My legs can’t stop bouncing, I’m chewing my fingernails to the quick. I feel like a junky who can’t get a fix. I have found no peace since I woke up the night after. The TV is annoying and doesn’t offer the mindless distraction it always used to. I can’t focus at work, either. I try to get into the rhythm of my programming work—something that always used to be easy for me—but I can’t find it. Every time I get close I’ll somehow catch a whiff of the smell of her or I’ll hear her voice whispering in my ear as she runs the tip of her tongue along my earlobe. I swear sometimes I feel her handling my balls, her breasts pressing against my back or my chest, and abruptly find myself struggling against a raging erection at my short-walled cube.
I feel like everyone knows. Their looks seem heavier than they used to be, though there is no way any of them could possibly know. What is this paranoia? Where does it come from? And why does it matter anyway? I am a man, I met a woman, and we had sex. There is nothing odd about this. So why this paranoia?
This morning I begged off work. I told them I was not feeling well, and in a way that’s true. I am far too agitated to sit at my desk, my frustration incredibly apparent, and I can’t keep it in check. If I went to work in this condition I would likely be fired for sexual harassment just by being there.
The day passed slowly. I watched the cheesiest shows I could possibly find on the SyFy channel all morning, and drank a pitcher’s worth of margaritas to try to distract myself. At lunch I ordered pizza, and the delivery driver was a woman. She had on a skirt and a button-up shirt. It was a perfectly appropriate outfit and didn’t show a ton of skin. But the peek of her thigh just above her knees and the swell of her breasts under her shirt drove me mad. I gave her a twenty-dollar tip and slammed the door in her face. What the hell is wrong with me?
I drank more, this time skipping the margarita mix and going straight for the tequila. I must have fallen asleep at some point because I woke up with a splitting headache and a roiling stomach, the sun already dropping below the horizon. I jumped up from the couch, took a quick shower, took my time shaving, and then threw on my jacket and left the house.
I felt good about tonight. I was going to find her. And find her I did, in the same place I had found her three nights before. I had gotten there around 10:30, and I sat in the place she had sat when I first saw her. The jittery impatience that had haunted me for the last three days was gone, and an intense but coldly patient anticipation settled over me in its place.
The night was cold, and a light drizzle was falling again, just as it had that first night. The alley was dark; the only light came faintly from a sliver of moon hanging high overhead and visible only in patches as the clouds scuttled across the night sky.
I shivered against the cold, and then felt a flush of warmth suddenly suffuse my body as her scent wafted to my nose. For a moment it was foul, rotting, but then the sweetness overwhelmed me and I felt desire flood my veins. A hand touched my shoulder. I turned and saw Annabel, looking the same as she had three nights before. The desire rocking my body must have been written clearly on my face because her mouth opened in a smile as she looked at me.
“Back for more are you?” she asked. “You didn’t get enough last time?” She laughed as she looked at me and I had a distinct feeling that she knew exactly the torment I had been going through the last three days. The glint in her eyes suggested that my torment was intentional on her end.
“You avoided me.” I was angry, sulky, like a selfish child.
“Yes. That way, the pressure builds and the flavor becomes so much more intense. Also, it is always much better when I am hungry from a fast.”
A weird way of saying it, I guess, but absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that, though our hearts really had nothing to do with what was on both of our minds.
“Besides,” she continued, her voice a low purr, “I like seeing the desire flaming in your eyes, Terryn. It makes me instantly hungry for you.”
I’d had enough of the talking. I stood up and pressed her against the wall. I ground her hips hard against the rough brick as I pressed myself against her. I pulled her shirt from her shoulders and grasped at her breasts. Another waft of that foul rotting-garbage scent hit my nose, and a brief thought suddenly flickered and broke through the fog of my want.
“Annabel, will you tell me about my brother tonight? You know…after?”
Something flickered in her eyes—they narrowed to an almost reptilian slit and I swear I saw them flash from their normally brilliant green to a sickly moldy color. She shoved me back with surprising strength and stared at me with clear fury, but then the overwhelming muskiness of her took me again. I reached for her, and she grabbed my hand. Still staring into my eyes, she slowly ran a sharp nail from the inside of my elbow down to my wrist, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. I gasped at the pain and at the answering fresh surge of desire that thundered through me. I wanted her more than I had ever wanted her before.
“Never again,” she said. I closed my eyes and opened my arms wide, I inhaled the scent of her deeply, and I nodded, accepting the command. All thought of Blake bled from my mind, obliterated by desire.
She pulled me in through the same door we had entered last time, then shoved me roughly so that I fell onto the steps. I said nothing.
She pushed and prodded me up the stairs, cursing at me as I stumbled upwards as quickly as I could. I fell several times, and each time her taunts became harsher.
“Don’t you want me, Terryn? If you don’t want me we can turn around and I’ll never come for you again.” I scrambled up the last few steps, panting, hard, afraid she’d leave if I didn’t do exactly what she wanted me to do.
“They can’t hear your screams from in here, Terryn. There is no one to hear. I am going to punish you, Terryn. You have been a bad, bad boy.”
And God save me, I had, and the Devil take me, she did.