Page 135 of Villainous Intent

“Can I help you, Ash?” Cipher drawled. “Or are you just here to ruin the ambiance?”

The molten fissures on his mask glowed brighter. “Enjoying your night?”

“I was,” Cipher drawled. “Until the smell of burnt meat arrived.”

Ash chuckled. “Keep the jokes coming. The League is reviewing my petition tomorrow. Once they approve the kill request for our match, you won’t be doing much talking.”

“If they approve, you’ll still fail to kill me. I’d say I’m looking forward to it, but I hate being bored.”

Ash tilted his head. The green eye visible through the slit in his mask shifted from Cipher to me and I stopped breathing.

I focused on the condensation sliding down the champagne bucket. I am furniture. I am a prop. I am nothing.

“You’ve been talking all evening,” Ash observed softly and my stomach dropped. “You were feeding her. You were laughing.”

“Usually,” Cipher said, his tone turning mockingly gentle, “when a woman looks at you with something other than terror, you talk to her. You feed her.” He tilted his head. “Is this the first time you’ve seen a woman with actual desire on her face? It can be confusing, I understand.”

Ash took a step closer, the heat coming off him made sweat bead on my skin.

“She’s not just a warm hole to you, is she?” Ash asked, a cruel delight saturating his tone. “You actually like this one.”

Cipher’s hand on my neck tightened.

“She serves a purpose,” Cipher said. His voice was flat. Dead.

“I bet she does.”

Ash leaned in, the molten fissures on his mask flaring with a menacing orange light that made the shadows dance violently across the table.

“Ever since you saved her, she’s been glued to your side,” Ash continued, his voice dropping to a hiss that cut through the club’s thumping bass. “Every public appearance. Every social media post. It’s all the networks are talking about.”

“The fans eat it up,” Cipher drawled. “They love the aesthetic. The big bad Villain corrupting an innocent woman. It’s called branding, Ash.”

“Better keep her close, Cipher,” Ash whispered.

He walked away but the oppressive weight of his attention didn’t lift. It clung to my skin like a film. Even from three tables away, he made the hair on my arms stand up.

I shifted in Cipher’s lap, trying to shake the sensation, but it was useless.

“I wish he’d just leave,” I muttered, keeping my voice low. “I can feel him staring at me.”

Cipher leaned back against the booth, his legs spreading wider beneath me, adjusting my weight.

“Let him stare.” Cipher reached for the slate of food again, selecting a dark, glistening fig. “Let him watch. Let him covet.”

“Covet?” I repeated, incredulous.

“He wants what’s mine. He always has. He knows I’ve been inside you and he knows he never will be. That eats at men like Ash.”

Cipher shifted his grip. His hand moved up my thigh, catching the hem of the already obscenely short dress.

“Cipher,” I gasped, my legs instinctively trying to clamp shut.

“Relax,” he ordered. “Let him watch.”

He didn’t even try to be subtle. He palmed me right there in the booth, his hand cupping me and finally touching the wetness I’d been trying to ignore.

“Look at me,” Cipher commanded softly.