Russian Sleep Experiments Novels & Stories

The words he was about to say died in his throat, and he instinctively quieted his breathing. They had taken turns resting through the night, but Nyla had stayed awake the entire time, overseeing the experiment. She must have been exhausted. Ruby Jenner gently draped a lab coat over Nyla, her movements unusually tender for someone typically so energetic and direct. She whispered to Leon, "Let Nyla sleep for a bit. We'll wake her around seven." Leon nodded. "Got it." The two sat down and quietly began analyzing the experiment data. The only sounds in the lab were the soft scratching of pens against paper and Nyla's faint breathing as she slept.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He stood up, walked to the window, then turned back slowly with a wicked grin. “I’m just saying... Igor has a bear in Siberia that acts a lot like you. Sleeps all day. Wakes up only if there’s salmon or honey. And bites anyone who dares to talk too early.” “Pascha Romanov,” I hissed, throwing a pillow at him.

It should be morning already in Russia. Stalin picks up, quickly. “Dima, what’s good?” He asks in Russian. With the way he sounds; sleepy and mild, I know he’s just waking up. “I need you to research something for me.” I gush, not giving him time to ask questions, I continue. “Research about this man…” I parrot the name my prisoner just gave me. ** My skin is blazing, fire licking my veins from the inside, coating my tanned skin with beads of sweat which all but drops on the hardwood floor as I incessantly do push-ups. Akim’s voice is counting the number of times I’ve done the push-up.

From where he was standing, this looked very very bad. “I slept walked,” I still tried to explain, blurting out whatever came to mind. “It’s been happening. I swear. This wasn’t… I wasn’t... I just fall asleep sometimes and wake up at your room. Well usually not in, but outside at your door. And—” I stopped as I noticed his nostrils flaring as he was clearing taking in a scent, and his pupils dilated to twice the size they’d been. Oh shitake mushrooms! “Techka…” Nikolai murmured.

“Let me guess. They sold it to the Russians.” Luca chuckled. “Bingo.” I dragged my hand over my face. “But Connor Rollins didn't die from a heart attack. This shit melted his insides.” “Because Russians resumed the experiments,” Luca explained. “I assume they might have added more substances to the initial composition. Right now it might be nothing but a fucking poison, but imagine what will happen if they succeed…” “I'd rather not,” I muttered before gulping down more than half of the glass. “Do you think you can talk to that friend of yours? Fedorov, right?” Luca gave me a wry smile. “Not accusing anyone, but that guy is on top of the Bratva's food chain. He has to know something.”

I awoke to find him already awake, propped on one elbow, watching me with an expression of quiet, focused wonder. “Your sleep cycle entered REM phase approximately twenty-two minutes ago,” he reported, his voice a soft rumble in the quiet room. “There was a ninety percent reduction in micro-awakenings compared to your baseline in the west wing. The co-location model appears to have an immediate positive effect on sleep quality.” I smiled, still half-swimming in the warmth of the sheets and his presence. “Good morning to you too.”

I tried to listen to Olivia and stop worrying about my girlfriend, but I didn’t have a good feeling about the way things were going at all. I turned my phone off after getting her text message, and attempted to calm myself down mentally long enough so I could lay down and doze off for a few hours. Napping is a luxury I never had when I lived in Russia. There was my full time job, the impossible time difference between Francine and I, and all of the other tasks I kept myself busy with on a daily basis. Since moving to America, all of that went away and I suddenly found myself bored to death. To combat this, I’d go to sleep after studying some English in my text books, and completing whatever

I called out,my voice still gruff with sleep but there was no answer. She hadn’t slept well last night—even being curled up to me, she had found it difficult to fall asleep. I hadn’t asked questions or prodded to know what the nightmares were about but i could tell that they upset her. I’d stayed with her, whispering words of comfort in Russian until she drifted asleep, her fingers still holding me for comfort.

Therefore, we remembered the method, but if you choose between nights with two alphas at your side and a fully humanized existence, I choose the first one. Falling asleep with two rather powerful men on a double bed was not an easy task. We were sometimes cramped, sometimes hot, sometimes uncomfortable. It's funny, from Dyusha's comments when I tried to push Vitka into the wall in order to win more space for myself. Then the conversations of these two alphas prevented me from falling asleep. After all, they were not going to sleep at all, so as not to miss the moment when I would start having a nightmare. As a result, the boys had to agree to sleep in turns, waking each other every two hours