Zero Pleasure - Cover

Zero Pleasure

Copyright© 2026 by Sandra Alek

Chapter 2: Layer by Layer

“Strip the iron,” Stan said, his voice low, focusing all his attention on the woman’s breathing. “Stay in that harness, and you’ll be an ice statue by morning.”

Hiss froze. He couldn’t see her face, but he heard her breath—fast, ragged gasps.

“I can’t ... my fingers won’t work. And the voices ... they’re inside the tomb now.”

“I’ll help. And don’t listen to them. Sing something,” Stan said, pulling off his gloves. His fingers went numb the moment they touched the frozen metal. Without wasting a second, he set to work. He didn’t need to see—he knew her armor by heart.

She began to sing, her voice trembling but hauntingly beautiful. It was some filthy tavern song, and surprisingly, it helped fight off the visions. The work went faster.

First, the pauldrons hit the stone floor. Then he moved to the side straps of her cuirass. Hiss sat motionless, flinching only when his fingers brushed her skin. When the breastplate finally clattered off, Hiss seemed to shrink. Stan felt it with his whole body—without the steel shell, she lost her formidable shape. Just a woman, her heart hammering so hard he could feel the rhythm against his palms.

“Your turn to strip,” she whispered, her voice a dry hiss. Then she started singing another obscene verse.

Stan made quick work of his harness and chainmail. He found his heavy travel cloak, lined with thick fur, and threw it over them both with a sharp tug.

“Get over here.”

He sat back against the wall and pulled her in. Hiss jerked, trying to wrench herself free.

“Hey, easy! I’m no tavern whore,” she spat.

“Get warm,” he rasped back, pinning her back against his chest. “Or do you want to freeze to death? And who’ll be left to slit my throat then?”

She went still. Under the fur, their shared heat began to build. The thin linen of their tunics was no barrier—Stan felt her spine against his chest and the warmth of her thighs.

 
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