{Cinder}

Matt awoke from another dream of Lucy. His body reacted to her absence per usual. Every muscle strained and hard. He clenched his teeth almost to chipping.

Mornings like this, Lucy would tease him. First with her hand. Then with her mouth. She loved morning sex. Shit, so did he after a few months of it.

After a knock on the door, Sagan called, “We’re heading out.”

“Be right there.”

He stood in the room made of black rock with only one narrow bed. More like a cell in a monastery than any royal chamber. Nox’s Castle redefined minimalist. Spartan was more like it.

Matt headed to the pit where Rayne slept. Glancing at the Martyr Complex, he occasionally wondered about the cylinders drilling into her back. How much did it hurt? Exactly how much blood drained from her per hour? Was she aware of it?

“Love you,” Sagan said in a tight voice as she hugged Tameka.

“I love you most.” The redhead scratched the other girl’s back. “Be safe. Come see me more often.”

“You know I will.”

They separated with a squeeze of both hands.

Matt understood. He didn’t get a goodbye. Just woke up one day to a note and no morning sex. The nod from Tameka passed for a better farewell. He waved to her. “Take care.”

Sagan stepped over to him and within a blink, they stood on an entirely new alien planet. Smelled awful. Pollution, garbage, and terror. Massive black vehicles passed between him and the purple sky above. More black metal and glass composed their surroundings, varying between warehouses and skyscrapers which kissed the atmosphere. Lights and sounds assaulted him from every surface.

Gait.

“It isn’t what I expected,” Matt admitted.

She scanned the area and the sky before crossing the wet street. “It’s a prison planet. What exactly were you expecting?”

“More people in cells.”

Her laughter hit the right note for a good mood. “One would assume. C’mon. The Emporium is down the block.”

Matt followed and placed a smile on his face for her benefit. He liked Sagan and the rest of the Progeny. They kept him working. Working kept him sane.

Now that Gait busted his expectations of the planet, he considered the bizarre Emporium. Sagan stopped at the revolving door to a glass and metal warehouse. Vast, it stretched on and climbed three or four stories high. Elegant and rusted, it promised pain and a pillow to sleep off the nod after.

Matt pushed on the door. “It’s locked.”

Sagan took his hand and Seamswalked them inside. Onto a mezzanine with glass shelves. Someone whispered below.

“It’s okay to cry. But you’re old enough now to know it won’t do any good except to upset you further. Do you understand?”

In the dim of the dusky chandeliers, a man knelt to meet a girl’s eyes. If Matt could even describe that as a man. Tall, with a deep blue complexion and light blue hair.

A heavier man—a Mon3 drone—waited nearby. His wings rustled as he noticed their arrival.

“Are we interrupting?” Sagan’s icy voice raised the hair on Matt’s arms.

The blue man stood with his back to them. He turned to the drone and said something too low for them to hear. The heavy man took the girl. Blond, but not naturally. Her complexion was mottled from the crying. And then she was gone. The drone took her through a hidden door.

In Matt’s work, he saw a lot of crying girls. It set his teeth on edge.

“How old is she, Razor?” Sagan spread her hands across the railing and leaned.

Razor? That’s what he looked like? Huh… Matt swore Sagan described him as—

“Everything I trade in is perfectly legal within the Vast Collective, Seamswalker.” He turned and trained carbon eyes on them. Razor smiled pleasantly, which felt odd given the conversation. “I don’t employ sex workers under the age of legal maturity. Ergo, she is not a sex worker.”

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Casually, he rolled up the sleeves on his white dress shirt before shoving his hands into the pockets of his white slacks. Razor smiled even as Sagan flitted two steps away from him, leaving Matt to use the spiral stairs like a normie. It made the Pain Curator glance at Matt. And then he did a double-take. He hid it well, but the redhead learned a thing or two about body language in his years of infiltrating Cult of Night.

“I’m still skeptical about the legitimacy of your work. How exactly is this different from dealing drugs on my planet? I want to know before I work with you.” Sagan stared up at him. A tiny woman ready to end this guy’s career.

It made Matt smile. Dark gray eyes flicked to his. The weight of infinite lives pressed to escape them. Matt stared them down, but every muscle twitched with the urge to look away.

Razor regarded them both, “After the first experience, I’m sure you’ll comprehend the difference. It will afford you an insight into yourself that you won’t look away from. You’ll embrace it. I know you’re curious, and that’s healthy. Your caution is well-earned. But I promise it’s a valuable service your planets will appreciate.”

Sagan hugged herself through the big sweater. Razor’s eyes tracked her movements. The more nervous she looked, the more harmless he tried to appear. In little gestures, like the softening of his smile and the slouching of his posture.

To break the tension, Matt took a step forward. “I’ll go first.”

Razor bowed with his head. “With a sample of your pain, I can curate your experience. Or you can choose anything from our diverse catalog.”

Matt ignored the request for his pain and walked over to the booth without waiting. “Hit me with your best shot.”

Sagan popped over to his side and searched his eyes. She trusted whatever she found there because she backed away. “Be careful.”

The Pain Curator explained the booth, “Ignore the nacre port for now. Put these goggles on and grip those when it’s time.” He pointed to nacre glass bars spiderwebbed from the ceiling to the walls. “Questions?”

“Yea. You know anybody looking to hire around here? I’ve retired my purpose on Earth, and I need something to do.”

Sagan barked out a laugh, and Matt winked at her.

Even Razor’s eyes sparkled with humor. Humor and too long a life lived. “We can talk after you’re done. I might be looking.”

“All right. Load me up.”

The booth closed with him in it. Silent. The goggles deprived him of light. At first. A sensation thrummed high on his sternum. His nacre. An image appeared in his head. Asphalt. Rough. It scraped at his bare knees. Agitated his skin. His bottom lip stung. Puffy. Bleeding.

A slim finger with one long nail crooked under his chin. A woman stood over him. A Lyrik. Naked. Yellow feathers. Golden eyes. And that trademark pitch-black skin. Curvy and short.

She kissed him. Hard, and it hurt against his busted lip. Her teeth sank into the soft tissue. Matt groaned, and she sank to her knees. She kissed his bleeding palms. Sucked on his bruised fingernails. She straddled him, sinking his knees into the aggregated pavement.

The sensations confused him. Striking and burning. Arousing and agonizing. Every time he came close to shoving her away, the Lyrik apologized for her punishment with her lips and her tongue. It overwhelmed him.

Grinding against him, he hardly noticed she slipped his belt away. Her fingers trailed across his skin as she stepped behind him.

Finished. What a bizarre experience—

A starburst exploded in his vision. The split of leather on his back bruised his bones and left him breathless. Dopamine and serotonin rushed from his brain. He gripped the bars then. Something glided across the raw damage. Warm and wet. Her tongue. It fucking hurt, but did he—

“Thanks for coming.”

The naked Lyrik with the deep purr vanished. Along with the entire simulation.

What. The. Fuck.

Flooded with endorphins, Matt released the bars and removed the goggles. Remotely uncomfortable, he checked his pants and found even that was simulated. Good. It wasn’t like he brought spare clothes.

Matt stepped out of the booth. Razor waited for him with a devious smirk. He quirked a brow, asking a question he already knew the answer to.

“It was more than I expected.”

Razor’s smirk transformed into pure satisfaction.

The redhead cleared his throat and licked his lips. He half-expected to feel the sting of the busted one. Intense. “Where’s Sagan?”

He gestured to the addition. “The Seamswalker isn’t accustomed to sitting still. She’s perusing the museum.”

“You talk as if you know her.”

“I know much about the Progeny. But not about their associates. Take you, for instance. You’re quite the surprise.”

Matt shirked off the man’s interest and recovered enough from his experience to smile at Sagan, who Seamswalked over. “It’s extremely immersive. There’s nothing like it on Earth. And it’s safe. I’m fine.”

“Thanks, Matt.” Her smile fell as she turned to the Pain Curator. “All right, Razor. I’ll give you my pain. But I want to know more about Gait in exchange.”

Razor held out his hand. “As you share your story, so will I. Let me ease your troubles, Seamswalker.”

Sagan placed her hand palm down onto his. He quickly pricked her with a small capsule. Matt expected the other man to force the contact. To linger. He came to expect that of men involved in these kinds of dealings.

But Razor released her without hesitation. The man stared into the vial between his fingers as if it were the true prize. “I will begin at once. Give me a day. Return tomorrow, if you will. I promise to have something for you.”

Sagan didn’t meet his eyes. “Tomorrow.” She turned to Matt. “Ready?”

“Actually, do you mind if I interview… Matthew, is it?”

“Matt. And sure. I’m interested in your work here.”

Sagan glanced between the two before settling on the redhead. “You’re sure about this?”

“Go on. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

After one look with uncertainty in her gaze, Sagan walked through the Seam.

“How many people have you hurt?” Razor cut right to the chase.

“More than I can count.”

The man let the silence stretch between them before he pushed, “You’re searching for something.”

Matt looked away for a moment and changed the subject, “You got a place I can sleep tonight, boss?”

Razor stepped into his line of sight with eyes like tombstones. “I’d offer to ease your troubles, but you and I both know there is no easing what troubles you.”

No. There wasn’t. There was only her. And now she was gone.