9. CodeRed #3
He moves his gloved hand slowly, deliberately, reaching for two strips of black silk from the pocket of his coat, still draped over a barstool. He plants a kiss on her shoulder and spins her to face away from him.
He ties the satin around her eyes and then gently pulls her arms behind her. Calm, controlled, he binds her wrists with the other strip.
I become increasingly aware of the heat building between my thighs. I squirm on the stool, hoping that crossing my legs will help. Apparently I’m a voyeur in addition to the other things I’ve learned about myself this evening.
Something about this man claws at me, like I’ve seen him before. But I haven’t. Have I? I mean I’ve never been here before.
He starts at the base of her neck and runs his tongue down the tattoo swirling all the way down her spine. I can’t really make out what it is due to the dim lighting, but obviously it pleases him.
I look away for a split second, forcing a breath as heat creeps further and settles as a low throb between my legs. My pulse betrays me, a slow ache blooming, where I haven’t felt anything in a while.
Shame follows. I don’t know him. I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t feel so turned on by anything here. Should I?
And yet...beneath the guilt is excitement. I feel alive.
Desire hits me hard; I’m not as numb as I thought. I instinctively look at the monitors, the screens, nothing. Ash’s necklace is working; my body is responding to all the pleasure in this room, but my magic isn’t. It reminds me I’m still human, still capable of wanting.
I look back, their foreplay an erotic, delicate dance of touching and kissing. He steps back, quickly drawing some sort of sword. My mind goes to terrifying places, why is a weapon in here? A katana for stars sakes.
Before I can move, he swipes the sword to the silk on her wrists, cutting them free in a movement so precise, so deliberate, it feels like watching a predator strike its prey.
The edge of the blade kisses her skin but never dares to break it.
She exhales pure ecstasy, like they’ve danced this routine before.
He pulls her mouth to his. Lips meeting in a forceful kiss.
Tongues touching and exploring, igniting a fire between them.
It blazes brighter with every breath they take.
The world fades away around them, and all that remains is the intoxicating chemistry.
It pulls me deeper into an uncharted course for self-pleasure.
He pushes her forward, bending her over the bed, open and exposed to him. He releases the sword with a hard thud to the floor and slides his fingers underneath the straps of her thong, ever so lightly, patiently moving it down her long legs.
A tingle runs up my spine, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. Don’t stare, Lyra...but I don’t listen to myself, and neither does my aching body. I’m so aroused, I have to continue to watch him.
He picks the sword up, flipping it in his hand so the lines of the handle face her. A couple of gentle caresses with his fingers, in...out...and he lines it up to her slick entrance, sliding the handle inside. She moans in sheer ecstasy. My eyes widen.
Two loud crashes fill the room.
I jerk toward the bar, stunned by a blinding white light bursting where the door once was. The music dies, the walls ripple.
A glitch tears through the DreamNet like claws dragging across skin. Whole sections of the RedRoom begin to pixelate and fold inward, lights flashing. Holos caught mid-laugh or mid-ecstasy before freezing, their faces smearing into static.
I stand too fast, and the room tilts with me. I grab for the bar, fingers slipping as the floor shatters beneath my feet, splintering into jagged shards of neon light. The room, the bodies, all of it stutters, then tears like paper-thin film being spliced.
The sound hits my ears with a painful piercing.
I cover them with both hands to stop it, but it continues, as if it is being piped straight into my brain.
Metal scraping metal. Not loud but shrill.
It crawls up my spine, causing me to clench both eyes shut.
The PleazureHolos freeze, mouths open, eyes glassed over.
My stomach drops.
I know this...
That sound. I’ve heard it before. through my thin apartment walls at three in the morning, curled up on my bed. I’ve heard it echo through the vents and through my dreams. It always startles me awake. A noise so wrong it makes your teeth ache, so familiar it fills me with dread.
The room continues to warp, code buckling, walls collapsing inward as if pulled into a black hole of invisible gravity. Cracks race up the bar, light leaking out like bleeding veins. I want to scream, but I know better. It will just glitch into static halfway through.
“No.” I’m already backing away, bracing for the drop into consciousness. My heart is pounding so hard it hurts. “Not here.”
The sound deepens. Angrier now. Refusing to be contained.
Eli.
My brother’s magic is tearing through DreamNet, collapsing it from the inside out, and I’m standing at the center of the rupture.