Page 178 of Villainous Intent

“I like to keep this particular prisoner happy,” I murmured against her skin.

I pulled back just enough to look at her, expecting another sarcastic retort. Instead, Annie pressed her lips to mine.

My eyes closed on instinct and I kissed her back, mapping the curve of her lower lip, letting the quiet intimacy of the moment wash over me. Her thumb stroked my cheekbone, a soothing motion I leaned into eagerly.

The warmth expanding in my chest felt infinitely dangerous. This was all too domestic. The comfort of her hands on my face and her mouth on mine terrified me.

I broke the kiss and pulled back, putting inches of necessary physical distance between us before I lost my mind.

“We need to shower for real. I have actual work to do, Bishop.”

I stood up and reached down, wrapping my hand around her wrist to pull her to her feet. She didn’t complain about the sudden shift in mood or the abrupt end to our intimacy. She just turned and walked back toward the bathroom.

I followed a step behind her, my eyes tracking the sway of her hips and the water sliding down her back.

Annie stepped back into the glass enclosure of the shower, the thick steam immediately curling around her. I leaned against the doorframe, watching the water wash away the mess I’d made of her.

My original objective for Annie had been so simple, so ruthlessly pragmatic. But as she tilted her head back, exposing her throat to the water, a suffocating weight settled in my chest. The ghost of her soft kiss still burned on my mouth and the soothing drag of her fingers through my hair felt permanently branded into my skin.

I had spent all this time perfectly crafting a cage of pleasure and pain to keep her trapped. I just hadn’t realized I had locked myself inside it with her. In my obsession to make her addicted to the monster, I had inadvertently ruined myself.

Through the veil of steam, Annie turned her head and looked at me from beneath her wet lashes. It was a silent summons. A challenge wrapped in submission.

I knew I should step back. Go put on my armor and be the Villain the world expected, instead of the addict she had turned me into.

I stepped under the scalding spray, and pushed her against the tile once again. I was too far gone. The possessive, feral ache in my chest had eclipsed my logic.

I buried my face in her wet hair, inhaling her as I dragged my hands down her sides, gripping her waist to haul her up against me. She arched into my touch with a soft, breathy sigh as a sharp, double-tone chime pierced the rush of blood in my ears.

It meant the decryption was complete, the Project Warden files were now accessible.

I was shocked to find I wanted to ignore the alert. I wanted to stay right here in the scalding steam and let the rest of the world burn to ash while I buried myself inside her again. The urge to drag her down to the wet tiles and surrender to the madness of my obsession nearly brought me to my knees.

I drew in a jagged breath of the air and began the agonizing process of detaching my mind from the high she gave me. It felt like tearing away my own flesh as I locked down the feral, possessive noise roaring in my head. I forced my body to obey rational commands it was violently rejecting as I released her waist.

Annie blinked, her blue eyes hazy as I stepped back.

“Finish up,” I ordered. “I have something to take care of.”

I shoved the glass door open and stepped out, snatching a towel from the rack. A dark, anxious energy coiled through me as I went to my workstation.

Project Warden had been buried under layers of encryption that even my systems had struggled to break. Whatever information it contained, the League had gone to extraordinary lengths to protect it.

And now I would know exactly what they were hiding about Wardens.

The alert pulsed softly in the corner. Project Warden had yielded its first real prize, a name. Dennis Reeves. The file contained everything about him: birth date, address history, medical records, family connections. Even his fucking coffee preferences were documented.

But it wasn’t everything I needed. The second Warden, labeled only as “Survivor”, remained locked behind another encryption layer. My system had peeled back one onion skin only to find another beneath it.

“Fuck.”

The estimated decryption time with current parameters was 23 hours minimum without additional processing power. Not good enough.

The screen flickered as I rerouted additional resources, stealing processing power from non-essential systems in the Labyrinth. The estimated time was down to eight hours with the additional resources.

I glared at the pulsing encryption barrier on my screen. Somewhere behind that digital wall was the identity of the only other living Warden besides Reeves, someone the League and the Alliance considered valuable enough to bury under security that would make government systems look like child’s play.

I quickly packaged the information about Reeves into a secure message for Dread.