The kiss reminded George of drowning, but that’s what he got for kissing a Lashkin, a sea demon of the Deep. He hadn’t exactly planned to kiss the demon, but when its face was right in front of his, he couldn’t help himself. It must have been some sort of glamor the creature had cast on itself that made him do it.

And then the kiss was wet. And fishy. Water ran down his throat as he lip-locked the demon. He chocked but he couldn’t stop kissing the Lashkin. He was sealed to the creature’s lips, and he realized with a sinking sensation that this was probably how the demon hunted. A glamor, a kiss, a drowning without even being in water.

As his lungs and stomach began to fill with water, he panicked and tried again to tear himself away. To no avail. He was going to die here, and he didn’t even get the wish he’d come here to collect. Would anyone even miss him? He doubted it.

He ran out of air, and then he knew no more.