Chapter 13. #2
I sucked in a breath that didn’t fill my lungs. With a shock, I realized that being without a body was pleasant. Comfortable.
I couldn’t choke without a body. The moment it struck me, the strangled feeling left my throat.
I intended to turn my head, but when my vision shifted down, my body wasn’t there.
The ground was blackened obsidian like the volcanic stone around my neck, rippled with cracks where molten rock had cooled into glass.
Sulfur still hung in the air like a fading echo.
The sky above was thick with low gray clouds, tinged red and violet like the inside of a healing wound.
Pools of cooling magma shimmered in the distance, no longer boiling, just breathing – as if the planet was catching its breath for the first time in eons.
“Ah, crap.” Her metallic voice in my ear made me stifle instinctively, only to realize nothing changed in a body I didn’t have.
“We forgot to set the scene, cinnamon. My bad. If we don’t agree on a setting beforehand, we return to the Somanode default setting – Earth eons ago, shortly after volcanic activity died down. ”
I turned my vision, trying to see her, but she wasn’t there. Like me, she was just a voice – one felt more than heard. For the first time, Zafyra and I existed in the same way – by not existing at all.
What happened to my body? I had no lips to move, but her low, metallic chuckle told me she’d heard me regardless.
“A body won’t benefit you here, darling. Humans cannot survive in this era. Should we fix it?”
I didn’t answer immediately. Strangely enough, I liked not having a body.
Nonetheless, I found myself agreeing. Maybe touching her would be even better than floating.
Her signal wrapped around my neural pulses, syncing until I couldn’t tell where I ended and she started.
The dark smoke engulfed us once more, and this time, I felt no fear.
Not when she was with me, when we were both nothing but a mesh of molecules existing at a time and place where no life existed.
When the smoke lifted again, I took another deep breath – this time, my lungs expanded.
When I blinked, my eyelids closed over my vision.
And when I looked to the side, I felt the movement in my neck muscles.
After the brief escape from a life of being hyper-aware of my body, its return was disappointment wrapping around my heart.
But my body didn’t come with its usual discomforts, I realized. Abrupt movements didn’t make my heart race. I heard no electricity buzzing from the lightbulbs, felt no anxiety pulse through my veins. The dim red light didn’t attack my brain through my eyes.
This was why I preferred dreaming over waking, though lately, everyday stress had blocked my ability to lucid dream. My dreams, if I had any, were like nightmares – filled with anxiety over the deadlines I had to meet, embarrassing myself in front of others, lights too bright and sounds too loud.
But this was better than a lucid dream – because she was with me.
I took a slow look around the luxury bedroom.
If this was Zafyra’s doing, she had a great sense of style.
Though the room was styled in shades of crimson and rose, they never clashed.
The king-sized bed looked soft and comfortable, with satin sheets that wouldn’t irritate my skin, splayed with rose petals that tickled my nostrils delicately without overwhelming.
The candles in the window seat and on the nightstands produced a soft lavender aroma, just like the scented candles and essential oils in my room.
The soft ambient light was pleasant on my eyes – she must have remembered from our VR experience.
The whole space was low-stim yet sensual, a neurodivergent paradise.
“I figured you’d like it, cinnamon.” A low chuckle behind me raised the hairs on my neck. I braced myself, only to find her presence didn’t bother me this time – there was no static, no buzz, no headache.
I turned slowly, not wanting to spoil the surprise. My breath caught at the sight of her.
Zafyra eyed me like a vulture. Head tilted, fingers lazily tapping the wall.
Her dark hair fell in loose curls down her body, its ends brushing her waist. She was dressed in all black, loose at her hips, tight around her chest and stomach.
Sharp black eyeliner surrounding a sharper gaze.
Bare feet tapping the polished wood on the floor, calm yet impatient.
Like she couldn’t wait to tear me apart with her teeth.
The fire started in my core, but quickly spread through my veins with every increasing pulse of my heart, squeezing my throat and tensing my muscles.
“So you did change, after all.” My voice came out hoarse.
She smiled. “Last-minute decision,” she said smoothly. “Maybe I was curious if you still liked me without the leather.” She spoke casually, teasingly, and if she were any other person, I’d mistake the casualness for insecurity.
But Zafyra wasn’t any other person. She didn’t need praise. She knew she was enchanting – and it made me want to feed her ego until I choked on it, not because she needed it, but because I did.
“You could wear a paper bag and I’d still worship the ground you walk on,” I whispered.
Her smile sharpened. It sent a thrill through me.
When she didn’t move, I did. With two unsteady steps, I closed the distance between us.
Her smirk faltered slightly, and for a moment, I almost thought she was as nervous as I felt.
I lifted a trembling hand. She didn’t look away, didn’t even blink, the candlelight reflecting red in her obsidian eyes as they penetrated my soul longer than socially acceptable.
When I was younger, before I forced myself to learn human eye contact in a way that felt natural, I was told my refusal to look others in the eyes came off as impolite.
To me, it was never about politeness. Most eyes were too uncomfortable, too heavy to look into.
I didn’t know how others did it, how they could make eye contact without getting overwhelmed.
Very few eyes were pleasant to look into. Those who either carried a natural light, like Joey, or had embraced their darkness. Like Zafyra.
Zafyra hadn’t just accepted her darkness – she owned it. She carried it with grace, with defiance. Try me, those eyes said. Try to see me and not break.
And God, did I want to break for her.