Page 116 of Villainous Intent

When he finally pulled out, I closed my eyes and drifted, boneless. The mattress shifted as he climbed off the bed, leaving a void in the space beside me. I couldn’t even muster the energy to pull my limbs together. I just existed, a collection of thoroughly wrecked and deeply satisfied nerve endings.

Footsteps returned and a warm, damp towel pressed against my thigh. He wiped away the sweat, the slickness, and the evidence of my total surrender. Then the cloth moved between my legs. My pussy throbbed at the contact, and a pathetic whimper slipped from me.

“Shh,” Cipher murmured, his voice a low, soothing rumble in the dim room. “I know. Just let me take care of it.”

His hands slid under my back and the crook of my knees, lifting me. My eyelids were heavy and uncooperative, refusing to open. I didn’t care. I turned my head and pressed my face into the solid, sweat-dampened wall of his chest. His heart beat against my cheek while he carried me a few feet, before lowering me onto a new surface that was much softer than the bed.

A shiver shuddered through me. The crash was hitting hard now, my body finally registering the physical toll of the adrenaline dumping from my system. My teeth chattered.

Cipher draped a heavy, fur-lined blanket over me, trapping the heat against my skin. The weight of it was a comfort, but I was shaking in earnest now, the tremors shaking my entire body.

“Sit up,” he instructed softly. His arm slid behind my shoulders, lifting me just enough to support my head. The cool rim of a glass pressed against my mouth. “Drink, Annie.”

I didn’t bother trying to open my eyes. I just parted my lips and swallowed the water he tipped into my mouth. It felt like heaven against the raw ache in my throat.

He eased me back down onto the pillows and brushed the tangled, damp hair away from my forehead. His touch was surprisingly gentle for someone who had just snapped metal restraints and bruised my skin.

“Open your eyes for me,” he said softly. “Let me see you.”

I groaned, fighting the pull of exhaustion. It took genuine effort to force my eyes open. His face hovered directly above mine, his silver eyes dark as they tracked over my face.

“There you are,” he whispered. He leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my mouth.

“What are you doing?” I mumbled, the words slurring together.

“Ensuring you don’t go into shock,” Cipher replied. “Basic maintenance and aftercare. I can’t have you breaking on me permanently.”

“Okay,” I breathed.

His thumb stroked a slow, rhythmic path across my cheekbone. I let my eyes drift shut again, nuzzling into the warmth of the hand that had just held a knife against me and pleasured me. Then the darkness rose up like a tide, dragging me under.

CHAPTER 23

CIPHER

The decryption algorithm crawled its final percentage points across my screen. Hours of work and Dread’s mysterious data chip was almost cracked. I rubbed my eyes, the glow of multiple monitors the only illumination in my bedroom besides the faux city lights filtering through the false windows.

Fucking Dread.

He was the entire reason my plans for the evening had gone to shit. Annie and I were supposed to attend the fucking League function tonight, another public display of my ownership, another opportunity to watch her squirm in a cocktail dress while the rest of the underworld watched with envy. Instead, I’d rerouted her to a mundane dinner with Dawn.

I had lied to her, of course. I told her I didn’t want her clinging to my arm, that she’d be a distraction while I handled actual business. The truth was far more pragmatic. I had breached the event’s security manifest and Dread’s name was sitting right there on the guest list.

I still didn’t know exactly how Annie was tracking the rogue, but I couldn’t risk putting her in the same room as the bastard. She’d already come dangerously close to him at the Opener. If she figured out Dread was her target too soon, this entire forced partnership would conclude. The Aegis would pull her back to the Tower, and her flimsy excuse to stay in my bed would vanish.

I glanced over at Annie. She was sprawled across the bed, her brown hair fanned across my pillow. The fur throw I’d tossed over her had slipped, revealing the curve of her hip and the bruising on her thigh where I’d gripped her too hard.

I stared at the marks. I should have put her in the quarters I’d prepared for her. They were comfortable enough and far away from me.

Instead, I’d carried her here and dropped her into the center of my own fucking bed.

I ran my hands through my hair, tugging hard on the roots. Her taste was still on my tongue, the salt of her skin and the sweetness of her cunt. I’d fucked her until she couldn’t speak, until the only sound she made was a broken whimper.

It should have been enough.

I had calculated the variables. Saturation. Release. I thought if I used her thoroughly enough, if I drained myself completely, it would buy me some goddamn silence. I thought I could leave her in the Playroom, walk away, and function like a rational creature for a few hours.

The math had been wrong and I never got the math wrong.