A woman encounters an ethereal beauty at a peculiar gala in this Poe-inspired love story—erotic, eerie, and Gothically romantic…
Excerpt
Madeline grips Ashtophet’s hand and aches like she is torn in two where she stands.
But in the ache, she feels ready. Almost. She knows what she desires, knows that it is not forbidden. The room full of embraces encourages her without noticing her. Ashtophet desires—her arm slides now around Madeline’s waist—and not only will Madeline forbid her nothing, her heart pounds with eagerness to give her anything, everything.
Her vision is a blur of bare skin. Marked. Glistening. Wet with the nectar of arousal, with saliva, tears, sweat. The burning perfume is overcome by a tang of metallic sweetness and salt. Drops descend from brows and shoulders, flung from the tips of hair.
Falling, it looks like rain.
And, having fallen, it is blood.
It stains the purple velvet crimson. Incongruously, Madeline is reminded of an empress’s words—Purple makes the finest shroud.
“Ashtophet—”
Their hands find and grip each other—pale and deep brown, clammy with sudden fear, but so far unmarked by the crimson drops.
A lull falls across the room, then digs a deeper silence. The lovers stop moving, stop touching, and only look at each other.
About the anthology
Curated by award-winning editor Zelda Knight, this collection of reprints will transport readers to diverse retrofutures and realms beyond their imagination.
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