🔥 When Wrestlers Enter a Hotel That Feeds on Desire
The match was over, but the adrenaline refused to die down. Aj Lynch’s body still pulsed with energy as he left the arena, his muscles tight, his throat dry, his black boots clicking against the pavement. The fans were gone, the roar silenced, yet the weight of the night clung to him.
His hotel wasn’t far—an old building with a neon sign that flickered like it was gasping for life. The “Dreamscape Inn,” as the sign read, was anything but dreamy. Its windows were cracked, the paint chipped, and the front desk clerk barely looked alive. Still, Aj didn’t mind. Wrestlers were used to long nights, strange places, and broken rooms.
But tonight… tonight was different.
As he walked through the narrow hallway, the faded carpet muffling his steps, Aj noticed one of the doors slightly ajar. Room 306. A faint glow slipped through the crack, along with something else—soft laughter, sultry and inviting. His heartbeat stumbled.
He was supposed to go straight to his room, shower, collapse, and be gone by morning. Yet his body moved closer to that door on its own, curiosity tugging harder than logic.
“Aj…”
The whisper froze him in place. His name. Clear. Sweet. Seductive.
He pushed the door gently, and it creaked open.
The room was dim, lit only by a scarlet lamp on the nightstand. The scent of jasmine and smoke filled the air. A woman sat on the edge of the bed, her silhouette striking against the red glow. Long raven hair spilled over her shoulders, her dress clung to every curve, and her lips curved in a smile that felt both inviting and dangerous.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she said softly.
Aj’s throat tightened. “Then why does it feel like you wanted me to be?”
The woman tilted her head, her dark eyes shimmering with secrets. “Maybe I did. Or maybe the hotel wanted you here.”
Aj frowned, stepping inside despite himself. The door closed behind him with a sharp click.
The woman’s voice lowered. “This place… it feeds on desire. It shows you what you crave most, then twists it into something darker.”
Aj chuckled, masking the unease curling in his stomach. “I’ve spent years in locker rooms full of rivals trying to break me. Desire doesn’t scare me.”
Her smile widened, revealing just a hint of sharpness in her teeth. “Then let’s see if fear does.”
She stood, moving toward him with slow, deliberate steps. Every inch of her was hypnotic—the sway of her hips, the glint in her eyes, the way her fingers brushed against his chest like sparks of fire. Aj’s breath caught, his pulse thundering.
The lamp flickered. Shadows on the walls shifted unnaturally, stretching long, claw-like fingers. The red glow deepened, swallowing the room.
Aj staggered slightly, shaking his head. “What is this?”
The woman’s lips brushed his ear as she whispered, “The hotel of broken dreams. Once you enter, your body remembers pleasure… but your soul belongs to the walls.”
Suddenly, hands—cold, unseen—wrapped around his wrists, pulling him back toward the bed. He fought, his muscles straining, but the grip was relentless. The woman pressed against him, her touch searing and intoxicating, while the shadows coiled tighter.
“You wrestle with men in cages,” she breathed, “but here you wrestle with yourself.”
Aj’s heart raced, torn between resisting and surrendering. Every instinct screamed to fight, yet a darker voice whispered that maybe this was what he had always craved: danger wrapped in seduction.
With a roar, he broke one wrist free and grabbed her shoulder. But instead of flesh, his fingers sank into smoke. She laughed, her body shifting between solid and shadow.
“Good,” she purred. “Struggle makes the fire burn brighter.”
The room spun. The walls bled crimson, the carpet pulsing like veins. The mirror cracked, revealing dozens of reflections of Aj locked in embraces with the woman, each more twisted than the last. His chest heaved as he stumbled back.
“This isn’t real,” he growled.
Her lips curved into a smile sharp enough to cut. “It feels real, doesn’t it?”
For a moment, Aj couldn’t breathe. The air pressed heavy against him, his skin damp with sweat. Yet deep inside, a spark of defiance flared. He had survived brutal matches, steel cages, and ladder wars. He wasn’t about to let a haunted hotel consume him.
He lunged, tackling her onto the bed. The mattress erupted in a hiss of smoke, but he held on, forcing himself to stare into her eyes. For the first time, he saw past the seduction. Behind the beauty, there was hunger—an endless void clawing for his soul.
“You picked the wrong wrestler,” he snarled.
With a surge of willpower, Aj ripped free from the shadows binding him. The woman screamed, her form unraveling into smoke that hissed and curled into the walls. The lamp shattered, plunging the room into darkness.
Silence.
Aj stood panting, fists clenched, sweat dripping down his temples. The room looked normal again—faded wallpaper, a crooked picture frame, the smell of dust instead of jasmine. No woman. No shadows.
He staggered out of Room 306, slamming the door shut behind him. His pulse still raced, his body still tingled with the echo of her touch, but he was free.
Back in his own room, Aj dropped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. He should have felt relief, but instead he felt a strange ache. Because deep down, a part of him missed her already.
And in the distance, faintly, from Room 306, came a whisper that made his skin crawl.
“See you tomorrow night… Aj.”
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