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"I'm there."
That's what she'd seen on her phone.
"I'll be there soon."
That was her reply.
They were millennials. It didn't feel like that, though. It felt like they were a bunch of teenagers.
Rebecca exited the camper and locked the door behind her. Her loose boots squished on the damp grass as she descended from the metal steps.
Off into the night. There was a thick moon out, but she still needed her phone's light.
Her clamshell cell phone was in her hand, shut and with the flashlight on. The pig shaped suction cup on one side helped her keep a better grip. She walked. She went down to the neighbor's pond.
Laughing.
Smooth, masculine laughing.
Rebecca's heart tingled and skittered. She twitched and gasped. Her light zoomed to the left. Her boots halted. Her eyes popped as they searched for anything strange.
Nothing.
Rebecca's skin cooled as she mentally told herself it was fine. Besides, if there was trouble, it didn't matter. She'd soon be in the embrace of a martial artist she was madly in love with. He'd beat ass for her.
Her stride quickened. The empty field was the next landmark. Then the bare road without a single pavement marking. Then all the way down that road to the graveyard. That's where her man would be.
Laughing.
Louder.
In her ear!
Rebecca yelped and spun around. Her light broke through. Up ahead, in the distance she saw it. It was right where she'd been. She could see the damn camper! She could see him! A man!
Not her man!!
A tall shadow, a great figure, a featureless man.
With peculiar extensions growing from each side of his head, branching, splitting, silent.
A proud stance. A sturdy stance.
Rebecca screamed.
Turned and ran.
She couldn't go back to the camper. He was there. The demon. The thing!
Her feet slipped in her boots. She tripped over. Kicked her boots away. Only socks could protect her tiny feet. She felt the wet grass and dirt as she pushed herself up and continued. Her breath scraped inside herself. Her fingers were tight claws on her phone. Her knees hurt. Her calves ached. She was crying.
Then she was knocked over. Flipped over. Made to look up at the thing. Stare up at the thing. Her breath was gone. She coughed. Saliva and mucus splattered out.
The flashlight showed her just enough. A strange face. Spotted fur. A black nose with large, rounded nostrils. Wild, black eyes. A long tongue sticking out of a huge mouth. Uneven teeth that didn't even seem to be in the correct places. Curling antlers with sharp points.
She felt his palm sink into her face. She smelled sweat and musk. Her soft feet rammed into the thick muscle above her. Her nails dug in as she scratched. The fur glided under those dull, weak nails. Loose and powdery soil was disturbed and dusted over her.
She wanted to fight him off.
She couldn't.
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Prina folded her legs to one side and stared at him. Her skirt had scrunched up to just below her hip.
She stared...
Watched as the man steadied himself over a handful of moments.
Disbelief filled her heart.
Had she ... had she just ...
She spouted a rhetorical question.
"Have I kicked a god?!"
His face rose–he was grinning.
Little beads of tears were forming in his eyes. Was it really from the pain? Had she kicked him that hard? Well, being strong didn't mean you didn't feel pain she supposed.
Regardless, the awe in Proserpyn's heart was quickly supplanted by fear and horror. She straightened her legs to kneel, and then she prostrated herself. She blurted out every name she could remember.
"Polydegmon! Odigos! Hades! Zylanthrakas!"
She paused to pant into the mattress. Swallowed.
"Thayn?!"
Her fingers and nails rasped against the sheet.
"I implore you, Death God! I implore you, Harvester! Have mercy on this weak mortal!"
Proserpyn continued breathing into the sheet, heat building under her face. She was shaking as if she might fall apart. Although she should’ve smelled the bedsheet, she only smelled him, sweet, spicy, smoky.
More seconds passed. She could've counted them if she'd thought to do so.
Thayn laughed.
He actually laughed!!
He sounded ...
He sounded ...
Light puffs and gulps of air between each laugh.
He sounded...?
Prina's fingers tightly curled.
"Honey Drop, Dear Honey Drop. Come."
He sounded relieved!
Prina froze.
She felt movement. Thayn was approaching, but she didn't think it mattered if she fled or not. He was a damn god. He could find her anywhere.
He was beside her. His cool hands went to her waist. Prina's belly shrunk into her back.
Thayn lifted her up to an upright position and wrapped his arms around her. His nose went to her cheek. His breath tickled her. "Be at ease, please be at ease."
That tickling breath became uneven. He shuddered.
He truly shuddered!
Yet he grew warmer and warmer.
Proserpyn looked away and folded her fingers into her cheeks. "I'm dreaming."
He sniffed. It was loud in her ear; it made her jolt in his embrace. Some of his hair tickled her.
"What?" he whispered.
"I'm not married, certainly not to any god. All this time, I've been dreaming." She tried to move away, but he did not yield.
"Don't leave!" Thayn's highly embellished fingers spread out. His painted nails didn't pierce her skin, but they did bite enough to make her whine. "I've pined for so long," he said, "too long, and now you're here. You're here, and I can touch you! I can hold you! Don't leave!"
More and more hoarse but also wetter, as if his throat was aching and full of moisture.
One of his hands went to hers as he moved her into position to straddle him. Thayn touched her jaw and turned her face toward his.
Prina closed her eyes and sighed into the mouth against hers.
There was a craving in his lips and teeth, sliding and pressing on her, his humming voice trickling down her body.
A dream.
Only a dream.
Right.
Right?
Krishtina Mayers is a romance fiction writer from North Carolina. She prefers
blending fantasy, humor, and darkness in almost everything she writes. Her
hobbies include playing video games, cooking, and studying history. She likes
her romance the same way she likes her chili con carne, spicy with a good
amount of sausage and beans ... and maybe wrapped in a soft shell tortilla to
make big bites easier to handle.
By day, Alicia Norman is a copy specialist at a major marketing firm, by night,
she is a screenwriter and animator. She lives with her two kids and three cats
in the burbs of Dallas, GA, and aspires to share her own brand of historical
erotic fiction with BFF and co-writer Krishtina Mayers.
Visit Patreon to support her on her
mission: https://tinyurl.com/2p9fh6j6
Facebook https://www.facebook.com/Honeydrops2023/
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The book sounds interesting
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