Page 33 of Claimed By the Mothman
“Don’t.”
She didn’t look back. Not at the whatever-had-shattered-all-over-the-floor. Not at the crumpled sheet. Not at the cryptid with the glowing eyes and the too-many appendages and the wrecked look on his face.
She flung open the door and ran down the hallway, dignity bleeding out behind her with every step.
Chapter 7
The hallway was too bright, or too dark; she couldn’t tell. Everything shimmered. The walls reverberated as she passed, light bending around them.
Nell stumbled into the stairwell, took the steps two at a time, nearly fell, caught herself with shaking hands, and didn’t stop running
The teeth marks in her shoulder throbbed in time with her heartbeat. Blood slid down her collarbone, slowly congealing but not fast enough. The wetness between her thighs wasn’t fading.
She’dbeggedhim. She’d ridden him like a wild animal and felt her body light up like a fuse.
This wasn’t like with Edward. Edward, with his gentle missionary apologies and his “are-you-sure?” pauses. Edward, who smelled like aftershave and self-importance. Edward, who never made her lose herself.
She made it to the fourth floor and dove into her apartment like she’d just escaped a crime scene, her chest heaving as she collapsed against the door.
What thefuckjust happened?
She crawled through the hallway to the living room and pulled herself to the couch. Curling up into a ball against the cushions, she dragged a blanket off the back and wrapped it around her like a protective cape.
The mark between her thighs pulsed with every heartbeat, soft and rhythmic like a drumbeat. She pressed her forehead into the pillows and felt tears flood her eyes.
“I CLAIM HER!”
Nell stumbled to her feet and lurched to her purse. Fingers fumbling. Finding her phone. Dropping it. Picking it up. Dropping it again. Tremblingly flicking the screen on. Scrolling blindly. Hitting call.
It rang once. Twice. Three times.
“Helloooooooo?”Goldie’s voice chirped, bright and sugar-rushed, like she was in the middle of starting a dance party for one.
Nell’s throat clenched. “Goldie,” she rasped. “Goldie, I—I don’t know what time it is, I’m sorry, but I did something. Something bad.”
There was a sharp inhale on the other end of the line, and Goldie’s voice became serious. “Oh my gods. Nell, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Do I need to call the police? Bring a shovel? What happened?”
“I—” Nell’s voice shook. “I almost died and then I had sex with one of my cryptid neighbors.”
Silence.
“I—we—he—we didn’t plan it. There was this thing, thisritual, and I don’t know what happened, but then I touched him and I justlost myself and—I think I’m still vibrating—”
Goldie screamed. A sound of pure, unfiltered delight that was utterly horrifying and oddlysoothing.
“YOU GOT CLAIMED?!”
Nell drew a breath, the sound sobbing from her throat. “Goldie, this isn’t funny—”
“Are youkidding?!This is why I moved to Bellwether! Babe, stay right there. Don’t move. I’m coming over. I have questions, I have snacks, I’m going to rub your back and braid your hair and you’re going to tell meeverything.”
“Goldie—”
The call ended.
Nell stared at the screen. She could still sense him thrusting into her, his teeth on her neck, the roar as he came. Her whole self felt ripped wide open like a wound.
What is happening to me?
