Page 50 of Villainous Intent

“Help?” He gave a short, cold laugh. “You think I needed your help with that walking garbage fire? You think I couldn’t handle him?”

“I didn’t want it to escalate.”

“That isn’t your call to make.

“All I did was touch your hand,” I started.

“You signaled weakness.”

Heat flooded my face. “So I’m just supposed to sit here like a brainless doll while you measure dicks with every psychopath who walks by?”

“You are supposed to sit there and look fuckable,” he said. “That is the only value you have in this room.”

The insult landed like a slap.

“Oh please,” I snapped, my temper flaring over my fear. “I’ve been managing Super egos since before you put on that suit. I know how to handle⁠—”

His hand shot out and gripped my chin, his fingers digging into my cheeks.

“You have managed paperwork,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You think because you file reports for Havoc that you understand monsters? How many of the Supers you’ve interacted with wanted to fuck you bloody and leave you for dead? Because that’s what Ash was imagining when he looked at you. He wasn’t here to look for a fight. He was looking for a weak point.”

“I’m not afraid of him,” I said through his grip.

“Then you’re an idiot.”

He released my face with a shove.

“You think you can control this world with your little rulebook,” he said. “You can’t. These people aren’t playing by rules. They’re barely playing the same game.”

The fear, the arousal, the humiliation, it all boiled over.

“Just because you think⁠—”

“You want to know what I really think?” Cipher leaned in and cut me off. His voice was soft. Vicious. “I think you’re a tourist. A pathetic little Keeper playing dress-up in a world that would eat you alive and pick its teeth with your bones. You’re not a player, Annie. You’re a glorified secretary with delusions of importance.”

My hand moved before I could think, my palm aimed straight for the exposed part of his face.

The slap never landed.

Cipher caught my wrist mid-air and twisted my arm behind my back, slamming me chest-first against his chest.

“Careful, sweetheart.” His voice was a low growl against my ear. “I don’t tolerate unruly pets.”

“Let go of me,” I hissed. I tried to scramble off his lap, but he twisted my arm harder until I cried out.

“You want to fight?” He tightened his grip on my trapped wrist, forcing my back to arch. “Good. I like resistance. It makes breaking it more satisfying.”

His free hand slid down my stomach and cupped me right between my legs.

I froze. “Stop⁠—”

“Quiet.”

He pressed the heel of his hand against me. Hard. I tried to clamp my legs together, but that only trapped his hand exactly where he wanted it.

“You’re angry,” he murmured. “You want to hit me. You want to scream.”

He ground his palm against my pussy again and my hips bucked. I couldn’t help it, it was a reflex.