The Final Descent (The Monstrumologist, #4)

by Rick Yancey

I watched her for a moment, and said, “What I would really like is something indescribably euphoric—orgasmic, for lack of a better word.” “You will like it,” the girl answered. “What is your name?” “Pellinore,” I answered. Her sister pressed the pipe into my hand. The girl cupped my hand in hers and brought the stem to my mouth. “Breathe hard and deep, Pellinore,” she murmured. “As deep as you can, and let it out slowly, very slowly, through your nose.” “Don’t leave me,” I said.