Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
But beneath it, layered like a foul sediment, were the other scents…the coppery tang of old blood from the chains on the walls…the sour reek of spilled Trollox wine…the damp, fungal smell of mildew that seeped from the very stones.
And over it all, soft yet unmistakable, was the scent of sex—the musky, primal aroma of male arousal…of sweat-sheened skin…of heated release. It was the smell of what they had already been forced to do together, and the promise of what was to come—a perfume of degradation that clung to the back of her throat.
Noelle stood frozen on the steps, her own body responding with a treacherous flush of heat, her nipples tightening against the thin fabric of her dress. It was wrong, so wrong, and yet the sight was undeniably, devastatingly erotic.
The sight of the noble, kind Bright submitting so completely to the fierce, tormented Burn, both of them lost in a shared need that transcended their horror…it was burned into her brain. The drone’s red light painted their straining bodies in shades of sin and desire, capturing every detail, every shudder, every helpless, hungry sound. It was beautiful and terrible, and she couldn't look away.
Her heart gave a little stutter as she watched Burn finish and Bright swallow it all. What was this going to do to their friendship? Would they ever recover?
Burn wasn’t looking at her but Bright met her eyes—his face open and flushed, his lips parted.
Noelle stared back in silent understanding. They’d done it and the camera had captured it all.
“Ah, there you are,” Thune’s middle head said, turning toward her and breaking her train of thought.
He didn’t sound suspicious—just smug, Noelle thought.
“Put that down and let it do its business,” he said, gesturing to the cleaner bot. “As you can see, your two males have been having some fun together while we waited for you to find it.”
“Ah… I see,” Noelle mumbled, placing the heavy bot on the floor. Her voice sounded distant in her own ears.
Her eyes flicked toward the wine tumbler—it was half empty.
She scanned the Trollox—his massive body stuffed into a filthy, wine-stained shirt. That crimson blotch on his chest hadn’t been there before, had it?
Did he drink it? Or spill it? Did he get enough of the medication?
She had no idea and there was no way to find out.
But the fate of all three of them might depend on the answer.
68
NOELLE
“Well, well, lesh get shtarted on the real fun, shall we?” Thune slurred as Noelle stepped up onto the massive mattress where Burn and Bright were already waiting—tense and coiled like predators about to spring.
Her heart thudded in her chest.
Dios, he’s slurring—it’s happening. He’s fading, isn’t he? Please—please let it be soon enough.
“Get your clothesh off, girly—time for all the…all the piggy-wigsh to play together,” the middle head announced. The words sloshed out of his mouth as clumsily as the wine sloshed from the tumbler in his thick fingers.
The middle head’s brow furrowed.
“I mean…” Thune blinked slowly, swaying where he stood. “All the piggywigs,” he corrected carefully, each syllable wobbling. “Why am I sho…dizzshy?”
Noelle froze mid-motion, fingers clutching the hem of her dress.
Her eyes flew to Burn and then to Bright. Both warriors were stone-still, their big bodies taut with readiness. Burn’s eyes glowed fiery red and Bright’s jaw was clenched so hard she saw a muscle jump.
“Whash wrong with me?” Thune muttered thickly.
He staggered backwards, his huge bulk making the stone floor tremble under Noelle’s bare feet. Then the massive Trollox collapsed onto the couch with a sickening whump, the halfempty tumbler of wine sloshing out of his hand. Dark liquid splattered across his filthy white shirt, blooming into a stain like dried blood.
The left head snored instantly—loud, rattling, and grotesque.
The middle head listed to the side, eyelids drooping heavily.
But the right head…the right head hadn’t moved. It still drooled, its vacant yellow eyes wandering lazily.
Please go down. Please just go down…Noelle thought, her hands clenched into fists of tension.
“Now,” Burn growled, his voice low and dangerous, vibrating with pent-up violence. “It’s time to get that fucking key.”
He swung off the mattress in one fluid motion, already dragging his trousers back on.
“Burn—wait until he’s all the way out,” Bright warned sharply.
But Burn wasn’t listening. He was locked on Thune like a heat-seeking missile.
Noelle’s pulse roared in her ears as Burn crossed the room in three long strides. The Trollox sprawled limp and heavy on the couch, looked almost harmless—with the three heads in various states of drooling, snoring, or drunken blinking—but she knew better.
They all did.
Burn reached into Thune’s pocket. His big hand slid down into the filthy fabric, groping for the long silver biometric key.
Noelle’s breath caught in her throat.
Come on. Come on—just a little further—
Thune’s middle head stared glassily into space, too drugged to react.
Burn’s fingers closed around the key. And then—