{Gait}

“My friends are expecting me. Tonight. Tomorrow. They know where I am. You can’t keep me here.”

Sagan’s heart slammed into her chest. The goggles left her blind. In the dark. Her pulse ran faster with each attempt to break the rope. She could lift entire cars filled with people and supplies. But this rope only tore into her skin. It wasn’t enjoyable.

Seamswalk away. Get. Out. Escape, dammit!

Nothing.

“What have you done to me? Razor? Fucking answer me!” She hated the terror in her voice.

When the Pain Curator spoke, his voice came from right beside her. “I reduced your nacre’s effectiveness by fifty percent. Your friends did an outstanding job with this technology. I assume with help from Xelan’s own research, of course. Brilliance breeds excellence.”

No. Sagan wet her drying lips and asked the hard question in a small voice, “Why can’t I Seamswalk?”

“A fail safe I installed with your port. Fear not. It’s not permanent.” His leather pants creaked this close as he knelt low to elaborate in her ear, “Wouldn’t want to damage my investment.”

The Seamswalker turned her face away. How could she get out of this? Pehton? No. She’s probably tucked into bed in the prison. An idea came to mind. “Matt! Matt, help me!”

“Shh. What do you think I plan to do to you, Pain Kitten?”

She spat, “Don’t call me that! And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll let me go.” Pulling on the ropes only shivved more of the splinters into her wrists.

“Imminent has use of you. I have use of you.” He practically purred it against her ear.

“You’ll use me to hurt Rayne.” Because why else would they want Sagan?

Automatically, Razor recited, “Rayne is safe.” That’s exactly what Celindria said at the Tribunal. Like they knew it for certain.

At this point, Sagan’s head spun. She felt dizzy, suspended in the room with goggles covering her eyes. Trying to remain calm, she focused on her breathing.

“Feeling woozy, kitten?”

Hot tears poured unbidden down the sides of her face. What had Sagan allowed him to do to her? “The food? Was it poisoned?”

“No.” Flat. Honest.

So much relief at that.

To her horror, the Pain Curator tested one of the buckles fastening her coat. Idly, he explained, “The food is low calorie and produces extra endorphins for an addicting experience with no weight-gain side effects. But it’s not sustainable. Perfect for parties. I’ve seen no one take to it quite the way you did. Except T.a.o. She also loves it.” He quickly released a clasp at her breasts.

Sagan swallowed before asking, “Razor?”

He stopped. “What?”

The harmlessness almost made her scoff with incredulity. “Stop. Please. My coat… I’m—”

“Trust me, I’ve noticed. Everything you wear. The dress at the gala. That collar. You’ve kept me on edge. A being as old as myself appreciates the exhilaration. Such an innocent thing with the cutest kinks. Oh, that night that you nursed my concussion. I think I decided I liked you then. Or was it the first time I saw you eat? It makes all this other business quite unfortunate.” By the time he finished, he reached the final buckle all the way down at her hips.

Keep him talking. “What about your people and the Seam? The drive?”

Razor planted his chin on her shoulder and changed the subject. “You asked me once about my predation. Why do I want you? I knew the answer then. Would you like to hear it now?”

Oh, Elden. Sagan wasn’t sure she liked the change in direction of this shit. She tugged on the rope again.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’”

The coat opened almost entirely. The cool air touched her bare skin and teased her bellybutton. Razor’s nail-less fingers grazed her collarbone. The nacre port. When he trailed them between her breasts, her breath hitched in fear. In response to her skittishness, he assured, “I want nothing as mundane as sex from you.” Over her abs. Circled her bellybutton. If he went any lower…

He flatted his hand over her stomach, which twitched at his touch with her relieved gasps. Relieved that he went no further. With his presence leaning over her, the Pain Curator announced, “I want your soul. Assign me your volition, Sagan. And the others can have nothing from you. You’ll be mine. Safe with me.”

A long time ago, when she first started dating an Icarus with a preference for control and pain, Sagan researched Elden’s Tenement’s of Volition. She meant it as a present for Korac. To show him the depth of her love for him. One forfeits control of the user interface within the nacre to a new controller. Her idea was that they shared in sex through her body along with her lover’s full control over her.

Legends and rumors suggested the control lacked authentication from the user. That another component was missing to immerse the full experience. Maybe Imminent discovered that component.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

The Shadow without a Seamswalker. Not exactly neutered, but close to it. Not to mention Imminent would gain one. Or another Seamswalker, if the Shadow’s theories about T.a.o. were correct. Either way, this hurt her family. And Sagan was made of stronger stuff than that. She wanted more information first.

“Why, Razor? Why you, specifically? Why not another member of Imminent?”

The sweet scent of vanilla filled her senses the closer he drew. Razor whispered, “It’s been so long since I could go home. You can take me there. Give me a child that can go there.” Knuckles brushed her face, and she fought the urge to jerk away despite the horror of his proposal. “Unfortunately, you likely wouldn’t survive the first pregnancy to bear another. Regretful, truly.”

Sagan hated how rushed and shrill she sounded. “I thought you said no sex.”

Razor moved back and laughed softly. “Reproduction without sex is much less fun. I prefer the more direct means to this end. Enough postponement. Pain Kitten, what say you?”

“Fuck you.”

The Seamswalker heard the smile in the Pain Curator’s voice, “I expected nothing less.” He ripped the coat open and fully exposed her. She sensed those green and orange eyes rove over her naked skin. His voice seethed with anger and bitter disappointment. “If I can’t have you, I’ll settle for ruining you. Commence program.”

This experience started on a scream. A howl of pain and agony unlike anything Sagan ever felt. Fear, terror, and disappointment.

The heavy metal of the riot gate crashed into her left arm. A sickening, guttural pop erupted from the smashed appendage. Her entire body spasmed in pain.

The Seamswalker bit her lip and tasted blood through her teeth. Fully. Immersive. She lived this experience.

“Powerless.” That was Nox.

Sagan was Rayne. Invasion Day.

“No!” She swallowed three heaving breaths, pinned to the spot, and he slammed it down again. Her body jumped and writhed.

“Hopeless.” Solemnly, he raised the gate again.

No, no, no, no…

“Accepting.” Gazing into her eyes, he rolled the gate down one more time.

Sagan felt Rayne’s hatred of the tears. Hated the way her limbs flailed outside her control. But most of all, she hated that the pain dissipated in its entirety. Numb was bad. Her arm stopped responding. Her mind begged her not to look.

That was it. Rayne believed her arm would never work again. And still, she burned with the desire to fight. It fueled Sagan’s resolve and filled her with pride. The Shadow could do anything.

The scene of the school burning around them faded and transitioned into a structure of black rock. It was hard and porous, cutting into her back. The visual changed, and the person she existed through looked out.

To a sea of Icarean faces. Millions of them watched.

A man’s weight settled on her.

No.

No.

Sagan did not want to live through this.

Resolve like a fire burned in her. The woman lying on this throne—helpless—plotted her retribution. It tasted sweet.

Rayne.

Boundless courage and strength. Even now, as Nox took her clothes from her, she never doubted her revenge. It gave Sagan hope of surviving the ordeal with her.

People paid money for this shit?

Something… unexpected filtered through.

Desire.

Rayne… Oh, Elden. No wonder she hid it from her best friends. This was how the rumor of their love story perpetuated.

Push the memory aside. Don’t experience it.

The scene refused to relent and played on. Sagan wept and fought. And lost.

Eventually, a beautiful mountain spring with stout evergreens and clear water surrounded her. She lay on a rock shelf in the spring after Korac carried Sagan there. The scent of pine and frost comforted her. This was an enjoyable experience to relive. Their first time together outside of her dreams.

The axe. The fire. Her perfect trust in him. His love for her.

Sagan wasn’t ready, however, given what Razor was subjecting her to. Yet, the experience continued without her consent. Contaminating her relationships with the two people closest to her.

Monster.

“But keep your eyes on me.”

“Yes, master.”

Korac and Sagan kissed, and she held on for what came next.

The Seamswalker never screamed so much in her life. Never felt a pain so searing. It wasn’t the trusting play from her memory. But the fires of Hell blistering and splitting her skin with Korac smiling over her—

Razor ripped the goggles off. And she wanted to vomit. The rancid smell of cooked flesh warned her not to look.

Please don’t look.

Gulping and sobbing, Sagan looked.

Two men in black jumpsuits and hoods pressed the scorched blades of her axes into her stomach and thigh. With her nacre only at fifty percent. The soft tissue repair system wasn’t keeping up, and they weren’t pulling away to give it time to cool.

Blood spilled from the charred wounds and dripped off her exposed skin.

Pain for pain’s sake was not her thing. There was no trust in this. Only burns and a smell she’d never forget. Her wrists looked like meat after tearing into that rope. The Seamswalker sagged sickly in her bonds.

“Matt,” she called weakly. “Help. Matt!” The words barely left her lips.

Razor pressed his ear close to her mouth to hear her and when he looked at her, he smiled. Rushing across the booth, The Pain Curator unmasked one of the men. Auburn hair. Freckles. Near black eyes—

“No…” Sagan groaned.

How could Matt not help her? How could he do this to her?

Expressionless, he peeled the blade from her.

The bastard responsible for this situation gazed down at her with eyes that shifted and flashed. “Will you reconsider, Seamswalker? I’d hate to make this a nightly occurrence.” He indicated the projection feed.

A masked audience of Imminent assholes watched eagerly from the auction hall. Each inched to the edge of their seats, practically salivating over her pain.

Sagan sounded tired and weak to her own ears. “Razor, never let me go. Because once you do, I’ll rip your world apart.” Shrieking as Puk ripped off the other axe hurt her intended effect.

“We’ll continue tomorrow then.” Razor gestured for Matt and Puk to cut the ropes.

She fell to the floor and hissed from the searing discomfort. As the Seamswalker rolled onto her knees and elbows, she tried to let the coat fall closed and protect her modesty.

The Pain Curator went to his knees beside her and untied her wrists gingerly. Over his insanely contradictory behavior, he ordered, “Lock her in the basement. We’ll pick back up—”

Sagan cried out as her shins disappeared into the floor. With bleeding hands, she clutched desperately to Razor, terrified of the Seam taking her away.

He held onto her and calmly explained, “The Seam wants you. I can feel it. And you’re so weak. Too weak to leave it when it claims you. Say it, Sagan. Say it, and I’ll save you.”

With her body half sunk into a conduit in the floor, the Seamswalker stared into the Pain Curator’s eyes. Frightened, bleeding, and alone, she ground out, “I only belong to him.”

White. His eyes went solid white with two crescent pupils in each eye. Then Razor dropped her as if it burned him to touch her. He called Matt over who knelt beside his boss. They discussed matters as if she wasn’t sinking into oblivion, and she refused to be wrong about two people this night.

With everything left in Sagan, she reached up and clutched the younger man’s hand. For one kind moment, he squeezed back. And she knew. Not alone, after all.

And then Matt pushed her into the Seam.

“Rayne!

“Korac!”

Forever, she fell into nothing.

Razor’s voice echoed, “Now, you’ve gone where he can never find you.”