What the hell?!?!

Less than a few hours ago, Fensa was running away from the facility.

Less than thirty minutes ago, she’d woken from a deep sleep on the back of a reindeer.

Less than a few moments ago, she had been desperately fighting off a group of miniature-shifters with spears who seemed hell bent on ripping off her clothes. Unfortunately, it hadn’t taken them long to accomplish their disturbing goal. Due to the disposable nature of most clothes, fabrics were thin as hell these days. And Fensa’s shorts and t-shirt had given away to the grabby hands of the males as easily as if they’d been specially designed for a strip show. Leaving her in nothing but her sturdy hiking boots.

Just as she was deciding if it was a good idea to indulge in a full-fledged freak out complete with horror movie screams, she spotted a very tall man emerging from the ice castle, glacier—whatever the hell it was—and it was as if her prayers had been answered. The man wore an animal hide shirt and a pair of leather pants. His eyes were of the same almond shape as the savage shifters who’d attacked her. However, relief surged through her when she noticed his hair.

It was short and black, and neatly coiffed, and accompanied by a well-trimmed beard. He reminded her a bit of that old actor her mother liked. What was his name? Keanu Roberts? Reeds? She couldn’t remember. But this guy could have easily been that guy’s way taller, less scruffy son.

His uncanny resemblance to actors aside…at least this dude hadn’t cut his own hair with a fucking spear. It was evident he had access to scissors and basic hair product. And he lived in a sweet glacier fortress—so yeah, right now the clean-cut actor doppelganger dressed in animal hides was winning the popularity contest over the feral assholes who’d just ripped her clothes off.

Thank the Fenrir Wolf, Papa would say. Based on the appearance of ice castle man, Fensa felt sure she must be in modern times. Or, at the very least, a period after the invention of quality scissors and Vidal Sassoon.

She wasn’t exactly sure what she expected glacier man to do when he interrupted the assault. However, she was hoping for a little more than him standing there as the four shifters tore the very last shreds of her clothing from her body. Nor did she expect him to stare openly at her and her assaulters like they were mere curiosities who’d just popped up on his front step.

“Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Don’t just stand there! Help! Help me! Please help me!”

In what she immediately recognized as a complete betrayal of her badass Viking genes, and her even more badass Motorcycle Pack upbringing, Fensa ran as fast her cold naked legs could carry her, and hid behind the tall guy, clinging to him like a damsel in distress from one of those old-fashioned silent films.

But in all fairness, she was cold and naked with an offline bio-chip. She’d never felt so scared and vulnerable in all her life. She would have loved to suddenly morph into a shield maiden, like her Viking Aunt Myrna who, according to her father, had fought their village’s serpent enemy to the very end. However, the truth was, Fensa was modern as hell, with a dislike of fitness that bordered on the extreme. If a fight didn’t come with a game controller, Fensa was as good as dead.

And Glacier Man was huge. There was even a chance he was carrying underneath the fur-and-hide shirt she was clinging to for dear life—

Fensa pressed pause on her racing thoughts and sniffed the air. Because even though all she could see in every direction was the blinding white glare of snow and ice, something was on fire.

No…wait. Not on fire. But burning. Like an old-timey hearth.

Wait, that wasn’t it either. She raised her nose a little more and inhaled as deeply as her panicked state would allow.

It was him. This seven-foot-something guy she was hiding behind smelled like he was on fire…

The mingled voices of the shifter thugs pulled Fensa out of her musings, and thrust her right back into the situation at hand. The leader of her former assaulters was talking to burning glacier man in monosyllabic words with a short, stunted cadence.

^{“Unknown language,”} her bio-chip informed her again. ^{“Please connect to a server for more options.”} Fensa really was thisfuckingclose to yanking that goddamn thing right out of her neck, severe nerve damage and pain be damned.

However, the big guy seemed to understand whatever the leader was telling him—and that was when she realized…“Wait a minute! Are they, like, giving me to you?!”

The answer to the question turned out to be a big yes. And she soon found herself being escorted down a tunnel by burning glacier man.

“Yeah…um, okay. Can I ask what’s going on? Why did those shifters just let me go? And where are you taking me?” Fensa peppered her new best friend with a litany of questions as they approached what appeared to be a large tunnel with a small stream flowing through it.

Burning glacier man merely glanced at her as he guided her to the right of the stream, onto a kind of smooth walkway. And then a new type of cold hit Fensa, one that was completely unrelated to the temperature, and caused her stomach to seize up into a tight ball of instinctual dread.

The man’s expression, it was…well, there was no way to describe it. Except to say it appeared utterly devoid of emotion. Like the face of a robot garbed in a human overlay. The man looked human, but something crucial seemed to be missing.

And his eyes…they were red. Dark red. She’d at first mistaken them for brown. But now that she’d calmed down from her earlier ordeal and could take a closer look at her rescuer’s face, she realized his eyes weren’t brown at all. The red was weird enough to begin with, but what pushed this guy from “mildly unsettling” into the “hot looking demon spawn” category was that his red eyes seemed to be glowing. Like shifter eyes when the wolf is far too close to the human surface-but red. So unnaturally red.

“Are—are you a wolf?” she asked him, her voice sounding nervous and unsteady even to her own ears.

She was almost positive this guy wasn’t close to being a wolf, especially because she couldn’t smell anything coming off him but fire. But she desperately wanted him to be one. Because it would explain a few things. And it would mean she could finally relax, and not be forced to leap to even more bizarre and dramatic conclusions.

But per usual, Mr. No Talk didn’t respond. Just stared. Much like those shifter guys from earlier, but somehow his gaze was way more unsettling. At least those animals blinked occasionally. However, Burning Glacier Man put her in mind of a reptile. Fensa felt clinically scrutinized, as if he were trying to decide what to do with her.

Once they stepped into the dark tunnel, her suspicions were confirmed: the guy’s eyes didn’t just look like they were on fire. They really were glowing. So much so that for a little while, the only light source she could see as they walked through the pitch-black entrance were the tiny, dark amber pinpricks of light from his pupils.

Maybe he’s a robot, she thought to herself. That would explain the haircut and the crazy red eyes. Fensa recalled a few of the animatronic parks humans were so wild about these days. Even her cousin Koko had visited one in Alaska. And apparently, the gameplay experience was so realistic, Koko hadn’t even realized she was in the game until a man in a leather jacket grabbed her on the way to the bathroom, and told her she had to help him pull off a three-billion-dollar Serbian mafia heist. According to Koko, she’d had the time of her life which eventually culminated in what her cousin described as some serious robot mouth action in a stylish bedroom inside what looked exactly like a swanky Brooklyn high-rise apartment.

Yes, that would explain things. Maybe…just maybe...this whole mess could be sorted out with a simple call to the park’s front office.

“Well, I guess this is better than the dudes with spears. But there will be no sacrificing today; I don’t care what’s in your script. You get that, right? Oh God, please, tell me you get that…because you are like a robot, right? Right?”

Big surprise—he didn’t answer. Okay, well…

Neither of them spoke again as they navigated the remainder of the dark tunnel; him seeming to know exactly where he was despite being surrounded by utter darkness. And Fensa forced to depend on her companion’s glowing eyes, and heavy footfall to make her way to a large, dimly lit cavern at the end.

Upon closer inspection, the cavern appeared to be a kind of front room. It was huge…with a ceiling that doubled as the very top of the glacier. The room also had glowing blue walls and floors, which, based on the increase in temperature, seemed to provide a type of heat source.

“Whoa!” she said, taking it all in.

The small stream of fresh water from the tunnel made its way through this room, too, eventually veering off to the right and vanishing around the corner of one ice wall. Rectangle seams were cut into it. The top one so high, she guessed the rectangle had to be at least fifty feet tall. But it didn’t strike her as decorative. Was it a door maybe?

Burning Glacier man got her attention then, waving his hand toward…

Yes! Yes! The choir sang a-freakin-men. As pretty as the vast cavern looked, nothing was more welcome to Fensa than the sight of a pile of off-white furs scattered across the floor in front of her. She rushed over and pulled one around her body. She quickly wrapped herself up in it like she was making a fur cocoon, and—

Strange, the blanket looked and smelled exactly like polar bear (though it couldn’t be real polar bear—not even the richest animatronic park could afford to decorate its stunning glacier habitat with the hides of a critically endangered species).

Still, the skins were incredibly realistic, right down to their scent. Fensa had to ask, “Did you guys spray these hides with actual polar bear pheromones? Because if so, that’s some serious commitment to authenticity…”

Of course, the robot with the weird eyes said nothing, fixing her with his super intense gaze. And as grateful as she was for the warm blankets, Fensa once again felt deeply unsettled.

“Um…I can’t wait to tell my mom about all this—you might have heard of her? Tee Greenwolf, the head of She-Wolf Games? She’s been considering a few offers from park corporations like yours. They are all really interested in making an animatronic version of her classic video game, Viking Shifters. Maybe you can take me to the park director now, and I can discuss it with him…or her?”

Fensa waited patiently, hoping her third name drop in as many hours might at least spark some interest in whoever was monitoring the park’s current game play.

But the robot gave no sign he understood or cared…his piercing, unblinking gaze making her feel more and more like a specimen under a microscope.

Maybe he didn’t speak English? But seriously, what kind of bullshit animatronics park wouldn’t program their bots to speak English?

Wishing she’d bothered to learn a few other languages the old-fashioned way, rather than always depending on her bio-chip to translate, Fensa tried a new tactic. “Okay, look. I’m pretty sure there’s been a huge mistake. I’m not even supposed to be a guest here. Do you have some sort of emergency alert button on you? Some way I can contact park services or my family or, I don’t know, a medbot? You may have noticed I’ve got some head wound business that needs tending—um, what are you doing?”

The robot had crouched down, his strange unblinking gaze intent on a particular patch of white fur. A funny feeling welled up inside Fensa when she realized…he was staring right where the polar bear hide draped directly over her naked sex.

“Whoa…seriously, there’s been a mistake,” she rushed in to say. “Look, I’m not a guest! I- I’m not here to do that!”

Too late. Her suspicions about the robot’s intentions were immediately confirmed. Ice cold air hit her mound’s bare skin. “Hey…dude! That’s really not something I’m interes—!”

The cold air was nothing compared to the sight of his tongue flicking quickly from his mouth. All Fensa’s protests died a rapid death because…what the hell?! It sure looked to her like the guy’s tongue was forked at the end. And that was some freaky ass shit. But before she could ponder the possible implications, his forked tongue shot out again with a speed she wasn’t at all prepared for.

“No, wait—!”

Fensa broke off with a gasp as the robot man’s serpentine tongue licked up her mound, wet and hot. Like literally hot. It felt like the paraffin wax used by the facility salon staff during her manicure a week ago, the one she received before Papa’s funeral. But it was also wet, dangerously wet. And it delivered a sensation that was like nothing she’d ever felt before.

Which was why Fensa was so very unprepared when his tongue pushed between her folds without so much as a “Hi, how are you?” and then proceeded to explore her wet slit until it found the tunnel previously untouched by any fingers but her own.

What is happening? Why is he licking me? With a forked tongue??? What in the hell?! Her mind screamed silently as she sat on the soft bear fur, her face frozen in a rictus of horror. His tongue was in her so deep, Fensa could feel it snaking around at the back of her canal. Lighting up all sorts of nerve endings she never even guessed she had inside her.

Including one in particular that sent a sharp jolt of pure electricity through her womb. What happened next was beyond all comprehension.

“Oh, God…oh God!” she gasped out loud. Then an impossibly luxuriant and warm sensation arched her back as she came on his forked tongue.

Okay, yeah, that confirmed it. This was obviously not one of those family-friendly animatronic parks her mom was considering for her video game build.

“They’ve got these hot robots that will, like, take you on an adventure, or rescue you, and then bring you back to their place.” Koko’s recap of her naughty animatronic trip slipped back into Fensa’s mind as she floated back down to earth after her intense orgasm. She recalled Koko’s racy description when she visited Fensa at the facility after her recent spring break trip. “The guys don’t have dicks, but they will go down on you for ten minutes to an hour, depending on your package. And let me just say, they’re programmed very, very well.”

At the time, Fensa was pretty sure Koko had to be exaggerating. But now she didn’t doubt a word of what her cousin had told her. Not one word.

And she really hoped to God whoever paid to receive the service she’d somehow stumbled into hadn’t purchased a sixty-minute package. Because this twenty-three-year-old virgin had just climaxed all over this freaky sexbot’s hot tongue in what had to have been under five minutes—

Fensa snapped out of her thoughts when she felt the bot’s tongue suddenly retract from her slit. She watched it slip effortlessly back into his mouth like a measuring tape.

“Uh, sorry if I came too fast,” she mumbled, not sure what else to say.

He continued to give her the silent treatment, rising to a stand, his otherworldly red eyes intent on her forehead. Then in another instance of serpent-like grace, he curled one large hand around the back of her neck.

Oh, he’s going to kiss me!

Koko, who tended to be wildly graphic and giggly when describing her various hook-ups, hadn’t mentioned any kissing. But who was Fensa to deny this sexbot his kiss? If he was programmed to kiss clients, then he could go right on ahead.

Except…he didn’t exactly kiss her. Not even close. Instead, he brought his lips to the gash on her forehead, the one she’d all but forgotten about, and…

Fensa screamed as the robot’s forked tongue swiped across her wound. Hot and stinging. It was like getting licked by a red-hot poker. And when she tried to squirm away, he held the back of her neck in a grip that felt like a band of steel.

She was beyond confused, and not a little terrified. Was this some kind of medical procedure? But how was that even possible? It was against the law for non-medical bots to provide medical services without security clearance and voice activated approval. And even the medbots were frequently programmed to only provide service with the verbal consent of the patient, or consent from the patient’s designated stand-in. In fact, there’d recently been a story in the feeds about some snake bite guy dying right next to a camp medbot because he lost consciousness before he could give consent.

But here she was, struggling against what felt like the complete cauterization of her head wound. Fensa was unable to extract herself from the procedure, even though her hands were on the robot’s chest, and she was pushing at him with all her wolf strength.

Which also didn’t make sense. Most bots were manufactured from super lightweight titanium that put even the largest bot at no more than sixty pounds. This was a deliberate design choice meant to reassure the public that animatronic park bots would be easy to restrain in the unlikely event they went all Westworld.

In other words, this bot shouldn’t be any stronger than a human child, and he for damn sure shouldn’t have been able to restrain her against his large body with nothing more than a hand around her neck, and what felt like a minimal effort to keep her in place.

And that’s when she felt it. A very hard, very big protrusion right where there should be nothing but the genderless smooth metal expanse of a Ken doll.

Real junk on robots were still very much against the law. There’d been a huge court case and everything, which resulted in every major animatronics developer agreeing to keep all robots gender neutral below the waistline. So why then was Fensa standing inside a glacier castle with a robot’s enormous erection pressed against her…?

As suddenly as he’d grabbed her, he let her go, leaving her reeling and so very confused.

Then he took a step back, his unblinking red stare traveling down the rest of her body. Like he was looking for another place to lick.

“Who are you?” she demanded. “Where am I? And why did you—?”

She stopped as her face heated at the memory of his forked tongue slipping inside her. “Wh-why did you do that to me?” she demanded. “And WHAT is going on with your tongue?”

He tilted his head at her. Studying her carefully with his distant, emotionless stare. The one that put her in mind of a reptile. A reptile in a man suit and beard. Oh, dear Fenrir Wolf…

“Talk!” she screamed at him.

Nothing.

A wild, panicked fury began to rise in her. “You tell me where I am! When I am! You tell me right now, goddammit! Before I completely lose it!”

Again…nothing.

And that was when she flew at him. Wolf first, her hands extended like claws as she let out a savage Viking yell she hadn’t been aware was inside her.

Whoever or whatever this guy—this thing—was, she was going to hurt him. Claw off his face, then get the answers she needed while he bled out on his goddamn polar bear throw—

However, her fierce Berserker cry abruptly ended in an ugly choking sound, as the not-robot caught her in the air. By her neck. By her effing neck! Fensa gurgled in a combination of outrage and frustrated disbelief as he held her suspended a few feet above the floor.

As if at six-feet tall and nearly two hundred pounds, she weighed little more than an antique Raggedy Ann doll.

Fensa could do nothing but dangle above the floor, slowly choking as the not-robot’s head tilted back and forth. Studying her dispassionately. How easily he’d overpowered her! Then…

Another scent rose between them. Momentarily distracting her from the chokehold, and from her rapidly decreasing ability to breathe. It was the scent of arousal. Her arousal.

Well, shit. This was one of the many things that made having a wild animal trapped inside her body so inconvenient. It was the way he was gripping her neck. In a tight choke hold that wouldn’t necessarily kill her, but unequivocally kept her under his complete control. Allowing him to dominate her with little effort on his part.

Her human most definitely did not care for this position. Like, at all. But her wolf had seriously misread his intent and responded to his grip as if it was a claiming hold. A promise of things to come. And after being held back for so long thanks to the regular regimen of heat control shots, the wolf inside her wanted this promise fulfilled. Wanted him. Despite his freaky red stare. And reptilian demeanor. And the somewhat inconvenient fact that he was holding her suspended in mid-air. By the throat.

Fensa’s core began to pulse like it had a heartbeat of its own at the mere thought of being mated by this man.

But he’s not a man, she reminded herself. Or a wolf—not with those glowing red eyes. And…maybe not a robot either. She didn’t have the slightest idea what in the hell he was. Or if he was even real.

That last thought stabbed through her like an icicle in the chest, scaring her right out of any primal lust she might have been feeling.

“Let me go,” she choked out, giving him her best facsimile of her papa’s fierce Viking stare.

A beat passed, during which he studied her so coldly, she was scared he might be weighing whether or not to kill her. And he could…right here and now. He could easily snap her neck with nothing but a flick of his huge wrist.

Fensa was still contemplating her imminent demise when he abruptly opened his fingers, releasing her from his grasp, dropping her back down to the polar bear furs below as if she were nothing more than a sack of dirty laundry.

Now, and only now, did he speak. And Fensa immediately wished he hadn’t.

His voice was little more than a sharp hiss of syllables. Sounding as vicious as it was unintelligible, though she vaguely recognized the guttural language used by the wolves who’d assaulted her.

However, despite the shared language, he did not sound like those shifter thugs. Not even a little. Fensa recoiled instinctively. And then again when he started towards her, his stare as hypnotic as it was unblinking. She continued to take small steps back…attempting to keep him from invading her personal space more than he already had (and dude, he’d been all up in it!) when she spotted something in his left hand. A small white circle, only slightly bigger than a quarter. But unlike a quarter, it was covered in short, silver needles.

Fensa didn’t recognize the object at all, but she’d been sedated enough times at the facility to know what was coming next.

“No, wait! Hold on. I’ll be good…please don’t do this,” she begged, just like she’d begged the staff at the facility the first time they caught her trying to sneak out. “I’ll be good—”

But like the facility staff, he didn’t listen.

Fensa stopped begging with a cry when several sharp pin pricks punctured the skin of her upper arm. What if she hadn’t been drugged? Maybe she’d been poisoned. Whatever it was, it burned going in, and she could feel the chemicals crawling through her blood vessels.

Good night, Fensa.

Her thoughts slurred, and she threw a helpless look at the man who’d pricked her. Not surprisingly, he stared back. Showing no emotion at all. Same as when he brought her inside his ice fortress, same as when he made her come with his forked tongue. Yeah, she thought drowsily to herself, there’s a pretty good chance none of this is real. None of it.

Fensa tried to speak, but found her tongue thick and heavy in her mouth, no longer capable of forming words. Then the plush fur of the polar bear skins seemed to rise to meet her. And that was the last thing she remembered before the darkness overtook her.