Page 38 of Villainous Intent

“I sincerely hope not,” I replied, straightening.

He stepped back, the blue fire in his eyes dimming but not extinguishing. I’d spent my childhood watching this man tear through Heroes on television, pressing my small hands against the screen and wondering what that power felt like. Now I knew. It felt like barely controlled murder wrapped in a Hero’s uniform.

He moved aside, clearing my line of sight.

Fuck me.

I had severely miscalculated how the League stylists would handle Annie. They had wrapped her up like a gift for the wolves.

She wore a black gown that seemed to be made of shadow and sin. The smattering of sequins caught the dying light, shifting to a midnight blue that matched the lights on my suit perfectly. But it was the cut that was going to kill me. The skirt was slashed high, exposing a devastating length of leg. The bodice was sheer, an illusion of modesty that vanished the second the light hit it right. I could see the shadow of her curves, the pale skin beneath the dark fabric.

Her hair was styled in tighter curls than it naturally hung, framing her face in a way that made her look just a little wild. Her mouth, Christ, her mouth looked delicious, painted a deep red that made me think of biting into ripe fruit.

I’d seen Annie in her Keeper uniform hundreds of times. I’d seen her in casual clothes a handful of times. This was Annie weaponized and I wasn’t prepared for the impact.

She turned to say something to Havoc, and I saw how low the dress dipped in the back, exposing her spine. I traced the line of her vertebrae with my eyes, imagining how she would shiver if I ran my knuckles down that path.

She turned her attention to me.

“My ship awaits, Keeper Bishop.” I noticed then what she was holding, some cheap, generic mask the stylists had provided. Plain black with minimal detailing. Utterly forgettable, which I supposed was the point.

Annie hesitated, glancing one last time at Havoc, then walked past me. I caught her scent as she passed, that same vanilla sweet scent she’d worn before.

Once the hatch sealed us in, I signaled Number Three to fly.

“Let me see what they gave you.” I held out a hand and indicated the mask.

She frowned but handed it over. I turned the flimsy plastic in my hands. It was safe. It was boring. It was everything Annie pretended to be which made it unacceptable.

I squeezed and the plastic snapped with a sharp crack.

“What the hell?” Annie lunged, trying to grab the shards. “I need that! I have to remain incognito!”

“The League has shit taste.” I dropped the pieces onto the deck. “And I don’t do generic.”

“You don’t do—“ She sputtered, her cheeks flushing. “I am not part of your brand, Cipher!”

“Tonight, you are.” I stepped into her space, forcing her to tilt her head back as I reached for the case I’d left on the console and flipped the lid. Inside lay the mask I’d crafted. It was matte black and it’s shape was meant to mimic my own mask.

“May I?” I lifted it.

“I can do it myself,” she snapped, reaching for it.

I pulled it back, my grin sharp. “Are you sure? It requires a delicate touch and I happen to be very good with my hands.”

Her eyes narrowed, but I saw the pulse jump in the hollow of her throat. She snatched it from my hand, her fingers brushing against mine.

I watched, transfixed, as she lifted it to her face and it slid into place.

It was perfect. I had mapped every millimeter of her bone structure while she slept, while she worked, while she lived her life completely unaware that I was memorizing her geometry. Unlike my own mask, I’d constructed hers so that her eyes were visible. The mask framed them, concealing her identity but highlighting the one thing I couldn’t stop looking at.

“How does it feel?” I asked.

“It fits,” she admitted, her fingers tracing the edge where the material met her skin. “Though I have a feeling you made sure it would.”

“One problem,” I murmured, staring into those depths I’d spent too many nights analyzing while my hand worked my cock. “Anyone who’s ever looked at you, would know your eyes instantly. They’re a liability.”

I tapped the haptic interface on the side of her mask. The chromatic filter instantly washed over her irises and the brilliant, defiance-filled blue vanished, swallowed by a nondescript brown.