Page 24 of GlitchBorn Heart

“That obvious?” I sink down in my seat further.

She walks away. I tap my glass nervously. A slight breeze of movement registers behind me, I turn to see who it is. I don’t think I’m ready to participate yet. Still observing.

On the velvet bed in the far corner, a very tall man stands in the shadows, as if he commands the darkness. He shrugs out of a long black coat, letting it slide from his shoulders and fall soundlessly over the back of a stool. His pants and boots stay on, a deliberate choice, like he’s on a mission.

He’s shirtless, sculpted, and devastating. An obsidian dragon tattoo coils down the length of his spine, ink so dark it seems to disappear in the low red light.

Its tail disappears just beneath the waistband of his pants like an invitation. His face is hidden behind a mask, sleek and fox-shaped.

I don’t know who he is. I only know the room seems to tilt toward him, like everything in here was designed for his indulgence.

I glance around the room only to realize most of the crowd now has masks or hoods up to conceal their identities. Some sort of masquerade? Corporates trying to hide maybe? Who knows, but I don’t see the point since basically none of this is real, the beauty of the DreamNet and VR melding seamlessly.

He doesn’t sit at the bar like others. Instead, he claims his own space at the end of the bed like he comes here often, a king without a throne. I turn to get a better look without him noticing.

Stars, what’s wrong with me? I can’t look away.

He faces the corner, and I get a side glimpse of more tattoos running up his chest to the top of his neck. Daggers and vines swirl downward and come to a point just below his waistband, just as an ‘X’ would mark the spot for treasure. My brows raise in interest.

He steps into the neon glow, and I get an even better view. Not a fox mask. A kitsune. Clever, dangerous, a trickster from Japanese lore.

Hot. Mask kink unlocked.

You find out something new about yourself every day in this city.

The mask’s painted grin hides his expression. His movement hums with the kind of confidence that commands attention. He’s certainly got mine.

He’s not alone.

A woman with raven dark hair peppered with neon-pink highlights, much like my own, appears beside him in nothing but a black lace thong. Her face is hidden in shadow, but I can sense that this man dreamed up his own custom holo-beauty just for this occasion.

What I wouldn’t give to be looked at like that, worshipped like that.

One of the elite must be slumming it with the rest of us tonight.

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.