Page 119 of Villainous Intent

I was wrong.

Breaking her hadn’t fixed me. It had only made the addiction worse. Seeing her undone, hearing those broken sounds she’d made... it didn’t satisfy the beast. It made me want to do it again, harder, until there was nothing left of Annie Bishop but the parts that belonged to me.

I leaned in, unable to stop myself, and buried my face in her hair. The scent of sex and sweat filled my lungs. It was a dirty, human smell, but it made my mouth water. My teeth ached to graze the sensitive skin behind her ear, to mark her again.

I hated her for it. I hated that she was sleeping so softly while my mind was racing. I hated that I was terrified to move away from her.

I pulled my head back, putting inches of space between us.

This had to stop. The variables were spiraling out of control. If I kept this up, the sleeping in the same bed, the lingering, the blurring of lines, I would lose the ability to think. I would become enslaved by a fixation.

I looked at her one last time.

We would appear together when the narrative required it. I would fuck her when the static became too loud to ignore. That was maintenance. That was biology.

But everything else? The talking, the touching, the sleeping? That couldn’t happen anymore.

I turned my back to her, moving to the very edge of the mattress. I stared at the wall, listening to the rhythm of her breathing, and began rebuilding my walls. Brick by bloody brick.

CHAPTER 24

ANNIE

I woke up reaching for heat that wasn’t there.

The bed was cold, and empty at my side. I’d spent ten minutes lying still, listening for any signs Cipher was coming, but all I heard was the silence of the underground. Eventually, I’d crept into his bathroom, feeling like an intruder in a temple, and showered.

To my surprise, there had been clothes waiting. And shoes. Actual shoes. After being barefoot and dragged through the sky, the sensation of arch support felt like a luxury.

I hadn’t stayed in his room long. A henchman had been stationed at the end of the hall and he’d escorted me up a level to my room. Breakfast had arrived on a tray shortly after, along with a tablet containing a map of “permitted zones” and a single, verbal instruction delivered by the henchman: Be in your quarters by seven p.m., ready for public appearances.

My shift as a “plaything” apparently had a start time.

Now, standing in the bathroom of my new quarters, I traced the reflection in the mirror.

Cipher hadn’t cut me. Not really. But the knife had dragged, sharp enough to score bright red lines across the tops of my breasts and down my sternum. There were more on my sides and ass. They stood out against my skin like a warning label.

Property of Cipher.

They looked oddly beautiful.

I pressed my finger against the longest, deepest mark, right over my hip. A sharp, stinging heat shot though the mark, distinct and biting. It was a different language than the dull ache on my hips where his fingers had dug in to hold me in place.

I dropped my hand, a flush rising on my neck as I placed what I was feeling. Disappointment.

God, that was pathetic. I was standing here disappointed that the man who kidnapped me hadn’t woken me up with his hands on me. I’d dreamed of him, of the weight of him pressing me into the mattress as he slid into me.

Waking up alone felt like a rejection.

I turned away from the mirror, needing to engage the part of my brain that wasn’t currently melting over a knife-wielding maniac.

The familiar anxiety was starting to itch beneath my skin. I needed a schedule. I could handle being a pseudo-prisoner, mostly, but I couldn’t handle the lack of logistics. Where were we going tonight? What was the itinerary? I couldn’t prepare for a hunt if I didn’t know the terrain. Rules and schedules were my safety net, and right now, I was free-falling. I needed to find Cipher and ask him what the plan was.

I opened the door and the henchman stationed outside turned to look at me.

“Where is he?” I asked.

Twenty-Two tilted his head, likely listening to a voice in his ear that I couldn’t hear. “The boss is occupied.”