Page 40 of Villainous Intent

Annie’s complexion went a shade paler. She looked brittle, like one wrong move would shatter her.

I leaned in and reached up to trace a finger along the edge of her mask.

“Tonight, you anchor yourself to me,” I murmured, my finger trailing down to hook under her chin, forcing her head up. “Without my hand on you, you don’t move. Without my permission, you don’t speak. You look at me like I’m the only thing keeping you from drowning.”

Her breath hitched, a jagged sound, but she didn’t pull away.

“When I touch you, and I will touch you, Annie, everywhere and often, you lean into it.” My thumb pressed against her lower lip, dragging it down. “You let the entire room see that you are accessible to me. That I have the right to put my hands wherever I want, whenever I want.”

Her lipstick was the color of fresh arterial blood. A deep, wet red. My thumb smeared it, ruining the perfect line. Mine.

“And when I kiss you, you’ll open for me. You’ll let me taste you in front of the League, in front of the press, in front of everyone. You’ll kiss me like a woman who knows she’s going to end the night on her knees.”

Annie’s hand gripped the window frame behind her so hard her knuckles turned white.

“And later,” I whispered, letting the darkness bleed fully into my voice. “When I decide to use you...” I traced a finger down the exposed line of her throat, over her collarbone, stopping at the sheer fabric covering her breast.

“If I press you against a wall in a dark corridor and lift this dress, you widen your stance. If I slide my hand between your legs while we’re speaking to a donor, you soak my fingers.”

She was trembling now.

“You accept everything I give you. The pain, the pleasure, the degradation. You wear it like a crown.” My hand moved to her throat, wrapping loosely around it. Reminding her who held the leash. “No one will see Annie Bishop tonight. They won’t see the prim Keeper with her little rulebook. They’ll see my possession. My creature.”

I leaned closer, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. “You will let them believe that I have broken you, Annie. And you will make them jealous of the pieces.”

Annie swallowed hard, her eyes darting from where my eyes would be to my mouth and back.

“I don’t know if I can do all of that.” Her voice shook. “I’ve never really...” She trailed off, unable to finish the thought, but the panic in her eyes was loud enough.

“I’m not an actor,” she stammered. “I’m a Keeper, Cipher. I file paperwork. I help schedule matches. I stand in the background. I’m not supposed to be looked at.”

“Everyone looks at you, Annie,” I corrected. “You just refuse to see it. You’re prey who thinks she’s invisible just because she’s standing still.”

“No.” She shook her head, a jerky, frantic motion. “I can’t. I don’t know how to be what you want. What happens if... what happens if it’s too much? What if you⁠—“

“Stop.”

I cut her off before the spiral could take hold. I needed Annie functional, not fractured.

I hated giving up ground. I hated handing over even a fraction of control. The very idea of limiting myself chafed at me. But if she hyperventilated before we even stepped into the Continuum, the game was over. I needed to give her a lifeline.

“I’ll give you a word,” I said, the concession feeling wrong, like a crack in my armor.

She blinked, confusion warring with the fear. “A what?”

“I’m going to touch you,” I said, keeping my voice low and hard. I didn’t sugarcoat it because she needed to know the terms of her surrender. “I’m not asking, Annie. I’m telling. I’m going to put my hands on your ass and pull you against my cock. I’m going to kiss you. I have to sell this lie, and I plan on enjoying it. I’m going to make everyone in that room think I’m fucking you the second we leave.”

I leaned down, trapping her gaze.

“But if the reality of belonging to me becomes too much for your sensibilities... you say the word, and I stop that specific action.”

“You’ll stop?” Her skepticism was palpable. “Just because I say a word?”

“I want you trembling, Annie. But I want it to be because you’re desperate for my touch, not because you’re paralyzed by terror. Paralysis is boring.”

She swallowed hard. “What’s the word?”

I considered mercy. Please. Stop. All too weak. She would choke on them before she used them.