And every muscle in my legs fires.
Regaining strength.
Like a miracle of the fucking universe.
Having the use of my legs again is a better feeling than any drug I’ve ever done. It’s not just about the raw physical strength. It’s about the independence. I’mmeagain. Some people say their body is their temple, but I’ve always preferred thinking of it like an untamed animal I’m meant to train.
Strength means that I haveoptions.
Like the option to save a clueless fucking Zenith newbie from being psychologically destroyed by a freak like this.
I keep my arms latched underneath the guy’s armpits, getting him to the bottom of the staircase and dropping him to the floor.
“You don’t get to claim defenseless new meat as your own,” I explain.
He tries to kick at me and I easily shove his leg away from my ribs.
“Zenith is a free-for-all. You have no claim on him.”
“I’m well aware of what Zenith is. And that’s why I’m going to do exactly what I want to do toyou.”
I reach into his pocket as he struggles. My fingers locate the hard metal of the handcuffs and I yank them out, pushing one of his wrists onto the lowest banister of the staircase.
He lets out a low laugh. “Going to lock me up and fuck me?”
“Wouldn’t fuck you if you paid me.”
I close the cuff around his wrist and attach him to the staircase.
And then I leave him behind.
The key to the cuffs is still in my pocket as I head back up the staircase. The guy laughs behind me, and from my peripheral vision I see him fishing his cock out of his pants with his free hand.
Let the fucker jerk off and rot down there for the rest of the night. One problem solved.
I head to the bedroom at the end of the hall upstairs.
The new guy may not be there, but even if he already ran off in fear,Ineed a moment of peace upstairs again.
I push open the double doors to the bedroom. I’ve been attending Zenith nights for a while now, and this has always been my favorite room, whether I’m fighting or fucking or any combination of the two.
I don’t see the new guy inside.
Smart of you to flee, I suppose.
The ceilings are tall, and the canopy bed on the far end of the room looks like it was meant for royalty. Everything is decorated in dark shades of blue and bronze, like the room is meant to be a private retreat.
The balcony is what I like most. Paned double doors open wide onto the curved balcony that looks out over the side yard, with a lit up fountain past a neat row of shrubs and gardens below.
The smell of rain fills the air, coming inside, fresh and alive.
It’s far too pretty, honestly, for how fucked up this place is. Right now everything is sublimely peaceful in this room, like it should be in a painting instead of being surrounded by ruthless violence and people fulfilling their most private fantasies.
Gauzy curtains float in the moonlit clouds as a breeze comes in.
I pull a long, slow breath in through my nostrils.
It makes me sick thinking of how long I had to go without this.