Page 7 of Noire Moon
The door slams shut behind us as soon as we step inside whatever this room might be.
Oh god. Oh fuck. Goosebumps erupt all over my body as I try to squint and see if I can make out anything, but I can’t even see my hand in front of my own face. Added to that, the sound in here feels deadened.
Almost certainly a padded room.
Or cell.
Fear crawls through me. I want to get out of this particular space as quickly as possible.
It’s only then that my panicky breathing isn’t being echoed by the others. I realize I can’t feel my friends beside me.
“Rita?” I hiss into the darkness.
Nothing.
My heart lurches into my throat.
“Cora?” My voice cracks. I already know she isn’t here either.
That’s when my stomach curls at the realization someone else has been in here and taken my friends without me even noticing.
They could be here, standing two inches from me right now, and I wouldn’t even know.
I wrap my arms around myself. What do I do now? Is this the part where I disappear? Or is this the part where I get my orgasm? Because right now, I’m terrified, but not in a horny way.
I’m genuinely feeling shit scared.
Something brushes my upper arm, and I scream.
Chapter 3
Istumble. Shrinking away from the cool metallic thing grazing the outside of my arm.
Only to collide against a solid figure.
My nervous system has gone haywire, emergency mode activated, and paranoia has completely taken over at this point.
Not only that, but I still can’t see a fucking thing.
My usually reliable, dependable, grounded senses have all but abandoned me. Lights on all floors have been turned off, and sanity has vacated the premises. Meanwhile, all the blood feels like it has drained out of my head.
Somewhere in my consciousness, I remember being told once that it’s a bodily mechanism to send all your blood rushing to your heart in order to help you escape the predator threatening to eat you alive.
All I’ve got to show for myself is numb extremities and feet glued to the floor.
I’m incapable of doing anything except gape as I try to draw ragged breaths.
“Fear smells wonderful on you, little flower.” A deep voice, slightly muffled by the presence of a mask, appears on my leftside. Another stroke of cold metal accompanies those words, running along the back of my upper arm from elbow to shoulder.
I clap both hands over my mouth to prevent myself from screaming. Or maybe to try and stop myself from hyperventilating.
There’s more than one of them crowding my body, that much I can tell.
“Check her band.” That same voice in the dark instructs.
There’s another body, heat that towers over my head and just to the right. I can feel the steady rise and fall of the chest that I’m still pressed up against, although it isn’t him speaking.
My right hand is yanked roughly away from my face, with calloused fingers easily capturing my wrist. A small clicking noise precedes the appearance of a faint glow of a black-light torch. It casts an eerie shadow, highlighting the map of veins on my wrist and a brief glimpse of the floor.
