Paranormal,/Fantasy/Horror Romance

Or, what the hell am I doing? My son thinks I should dispense with the romance and pour on the horror, bloodshed, and gory details. (erm, no).

Or, reason number 30,000,567 why I hate this stupid wip: It's blending too many subgenres (subgenres of which I know feck all. *sob*).

Excerpt (copywritten, etc):

She swallowed and turned back to the beguiler; he shuddered as she lay hands on him again. Starting at his shoulder, Yancy slowly and very gently drew her palm down the poisoned limb, over muscles that felt as hot steel and crusted wounds that oozed putrid pus.

As each second passed by his agitation grew. And from her burgeoning heart, full of unspoken wants, came a torrent of disjointed vows.

Minutes grew old while she scanned for the dreadful signs. The room became unbearable hot. The air too thick to breathe. Soon pin-points of light danced in her vision and she was dragged into a vortex of darkness. This wasn’t right! She struggled to call out, but no words came from her paralyzed throat.

She was freed in a flash of pain as Callum jack-knifed up. He swung at her and the blow sent her flying across the room where she slammed into Sarlen and they both fell to the floor.

“Open up at once!” Outside in the passage Ekedro pummeled the door.

They paid him no heed. Yancy lay stunned, every part of her hurting. But she dare not take her eyes off Callum.

His head whipped back and he arched to an impossible angle, muscles writhing beneath his skin like a viper’s nest. His was expression pure agony. Jaw clenched tight and animal grunts sounding in place of breathing. It went on endlessly, the inhuman sounds building in crescendo, veins flexing like harp strings plucked by some hellish hand. With a sickening crack his mouth wrenched opened. Lips stretched wide, split and bleeding, eyes rolled back in his head. Then an explosion of black waste shot from his mouth, splattering the walls, soaking sheets and floor. And from his eyes bloody streaking tears flowed.

Ropey horror knotted in her chest; fear burrowed deep into her belly.

“Gods help us,” Sarlen whispered.

As it began, it ended. Callum collapsed back onto the soiled linens.

“No!” Yancy lurched to her hands and knees, and scrambled towards the bed, then staggered on her feet the rest of the way. “No, no, you can’t die! You can’t, you can’t,” she begged, dropping to her knees again. Her hands trembled as she wiped away the bloody effluvium from the beguiler’s stiff face. She glared at Sarlen through her tears, her insides in shreds. “Do something, damn you!”