Page 123 of Villainous Intent

My eyes darted to the crop on the wall, then back to him.

“I thought you were busy,” I deflected. “I thought you didn’t have the patience to deal with me.”

“I am busy,” he said. He looked agitated but he took another step. The distance between us was shrinking, and with every inch he claimed, my heart beat harder.

“Then go,” I snapped, backing up until my shoulder blades hit the door. “Go back to your lab. I’ll go to my room. We can both pretend I never came down here.”

“No.” His gaze dropped to my hands, then tracked up to my throat. He looked like he wanted to strangle me or fuck me, and the difference between the two felt negligible.

“Come here,” he commanded.

Every instinct I had, screamed at me to run, but there was nowhere to go.

But I didn’t move. I couldn’t. If I walked toward him now, after he’d dismissed me, after he’d made me feel small and useless, I would never recover.

“Annie,” he warned, his voice a low rumble. “Come here.”

I pressed my spine harder against the door and stayed exactly where I was.

“You were very specific,” I said, my voice trembling with a cocktail of rage and adrenaline. “You said you didn’t have the patience to hold my hand while I processed my feelings. You said you had work to do. So go do it.” I gestured vaguely toward the ceiling, toward the lab. “Go solder something. Go be a genius. Leave me alone.”

Cipher uncrossed his arms, his biceps shifting under the black cotton of his shirt, and took a slow step toward the center of the room.

“I am working,” he said. “But my priorities shifted when I watched you stroking that crop like you wanted it to bite you.”

My face flamed. “I was just looking.”

“You were coveting.” He stopped at the foot of the bed, a dark monolith in the crimson light. “And the door stays locked until you walk over here.”

I hated him. I hated the arrogance, the certainty that he could just order me around. But I hated that I wanted to obey more. My body was singing with anticipation at the command in his tone while my brain screamed about autonomy.

“You’re a prick.”

“I am,” he said simply. “Now come here, Annie.”

I pushed off the door. I didn’t stop until I was right in front of him, close enough to see the dilated pupils swallowing the silver of his irises. I glared up at him. “I’m here. Now what? Are you going to mock me some more?”

Cipher’s hand shot out, wrapping around the back of my neck. His thumb dug into the soft hollow behind my ear, forcing my head back further.

“I meant what I said upstairs,” he said, his voice rough. “I don’t have the patience to talk about your feelings. I don’t want to hear about your guilt or your confusion or whatever else you’re trying to justify feeling.” He leaned down, his mouth hovering inches from mine. “I want to put you on that bed and use you until you stop thinking and just take it.”

I hadn’t expected that. I had spent the morning dissecting every second of the previous night, remembering my whimpers and my tears, convinced I’d been too messy. Too human. I’d written myself off as a disappointment, a woman who couldn’t handle the reality of his bed. I thought the emptiness of the bed this morning and his coldness in the lab was a verdict.

But right now, he was looking at me like I was a meal he’d been forced to interrupt.

The validation was a drug, instant and toxic. My knees went weak, my body betraying my brain’s attempt to stay angry.

“You were looking at the crop,” he murmured, his thumb stroking my neck. “You were wondering if it hurts.”

“I...” My voice failed me.

“It does,” he promised, his eyes darkening. “It stings. It leaves welts that last for days.”

He tightened his grip.

“So,” he breathed, the word brushing against my lips. “Are we fighting, Annie? Or are we playing?”

My heart hammered against my ribs, but the anger was gone, replaced by the heat in my veins.