Page 4 of Lost in the Dark

“Got it.” With a few more adjustments, Artemisia leaves to give me my privacy.

I get comfortable and focus on my breathing as I adjust to the weight of the mask. I complete three meditative breathing techniques, but I’m as wide awake as ever.

I give it time, fumbling with the controls for the eye mask. Admittedly it is very comfortable, and it even massages around my eyes. This entire trip is worth it just for being introduced to this mask. Maybe they’ll let me bring it home with me…

I let the program continue for a few more cycles, and I was nowhere closer to sleeping. Great. So much for their 100% rate. Leave it to me to ruin the statistic.

“Artemisia? Is it bad that I don’t feel tired at all? Like I don’t want to mess up calibrating your reads or whatnot.”

No answer. That’s strange. She’s been so responsive so far.

I push the mask off. The room is darker than it was before. I sit up and tap my watch face. Where the prompt to signal the staff was prominent earlier, now it’s a jumble of letters and numbers.

I slip my feet into slippers and try the door. It’s locked. “Hey! Can you hear me?”

Odd. I move to the opposite wall, where there’s what looks like an intercom. That may work.

I push the button, and then wet, fleshy sounds and delighted gasps sounds filter through. Panicking, I push more buttons, and a flood of light fills the room. The entire wall turns into glass, and what I see in the next room locks me in place.

The room is identical to the one I’m in now, and the patient is nowhere close to sleeping, either.

Instead of a Somni pod, an enormous bed dominates the room. A woman lies on one corner, her back arched, her jaw slack. Her black hair spills like a silken waterfall over the side. She looks familiar, as if I know her from somewhere but can’t quite place from where. She’s glorious in her nudity, without an ounce of shame, reveling in lusty abandon.

I can’t see her partner clearly, but he’s large. His face is buried between her legs, and whatever he’s doing to her makes her squeal.

I press my thighs together. I’m not a prude. Sex holds little interest to me. After some curious encounters that ended anticlimactically—ha, ha—I never sought another partner since.

But there is something about the way this man revels in her, as if he would actually literally eat her, which makes my own breaths come in shallow gasps.

I realize that I’ve been timing my own desperate breaths to that of the woman’s. Her hands curl over the man’s horns, and I can almost feel the rough texture under my own palms.

Horns? What the—?

“Yes!” she wails, head lolling side to side. “Yes, like that!”

The male shifts, sneaking his gaze up her body. Only then do I notice that he’s completely shrouded in curling black smoke. The mists part coyly here and there, teasing parts of him—a hint of horn, a whiplash of tail—leaving me to wonder about the total package.

His large hand roves over her soft flesh, possession in his every gesture. He palms one of her breasts and squeezes before seeking the other one.

His other hand continues exploring her body until he cups the juncture of her thighs. Mewling sounds wrench from her throat with whatever magic he’s unleashing on her.

“Please,” she says desperately.

He gives her a lascivious grin before descending upon her once more to lap up her slit. “Do you want to come on my tongue or on my cock?”

“Yes! Both!”

“My greedy girl,” he says, renewing his fervor.

She clutches his thick wrist as he rolls her dark nipples between his fingers. A fine tremble overtakes her body, and she cries out in an endless wail.

The man raises his face from her quaking body, his mouth and chin shiny with her juices. He savors each drop, his black tongue licking his lips as he rises to his full height.

He is enormous and so not human. His body is an expanse of rippling muscle underneath skin the deep blue color of the night sky between dusk and nightfall. Whorls of golden symbols and runes decorate his chest and shoulders. A pair of mighty wings drapes from his back to look like a billowing cloak behind him. He stretches them wide now and they easily span the width of the room. The movement also reveals a second pair of arms tucked beneath the primary pair.

Leather pants and an armored vest make him look like a warrior from some ancient fantasy. There’s no doubt that he is powerful and fierce, but the woman before him doesn’t fear him. In fact, she craves his attention.

He trails his fingers over the female now, and she sighs under his touch.

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