Chapter 12 #3
“Fine,” I sighed, knowing it was pointless to resist. Besides, my head hurt too much to think about work right now. “I promise I’ll rest.”
Dawn leaned against my dresser. She stood inches from where the air rippled slightly, like a disturbance in the dust motes. She stood next to a monster and she didn’t even know it.
“You’re coming out with me tonight,” she said, crossing her arms.
“That’s not resting,” I protested.
“It’s self-care,” Dawn shot back without missing a beat. “Which you desperately need. Hunter’s having a party at his place. Thomas will most likely be there.”
“Absolutely not,” I said, quickly.
“Why not?” Dawn stepped closer, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “He wants you, Annie. I saw how he looked at you. Like he wanted to eat you alive.” She grinned and leaned forward, pretending to bite at me. “He’s hot, and you need to get fucked.”
My face burned. I could feel the gaze from the empty air. I could feel it sliding over my skin as Dawn discussed his alter ego’s hunger.
“Dawn—”
“Don’t ‘Dawn’ me. When was the last time you got fucked? Years?” She poked my shoulder, oblivious to the predator listening to every word. “You’re drying up, Annie. Let the pretty, rich guy fix it. Even if Thomas isn’t there, Finley’s supposed to show up and you know he wants to fuck you.”
“Dawn,” I groaned.
“Fucking is self-care too, Annie.” She poked my shoulder harder. “Rest. Tonight we fuck. Doctor’s orders.”
“Your doctorate is in history,” I muttered.
“Still. I’m your best friend, Annie.” She paused at the door. “And best friends don’t let each other go years without getting laid.”
She left and I waited until I heard the front door click shut before I sank down onto the bed, head throbbing with each heartbeat. The blood-soaked towel was starting to stick to my forehead, and I winced as I peeled it away to check if the bleeding had slowed.
“Jesus, Bishop, years?” Cipher materialized from thin air, leaning against my dresser.
“Get out,” I snapped.
“Did you really try to headbutt me?” He shook his head, pushing off the dresser. “I love the fire, Annie. Truly. But damaging yourself to keep a secret from me?”
He crossed the room, crowding my personal space again. He reached for the towel, and when I batted his hand away, he caught my wrist.
“Stop,” he commanded.
He pulled my hand away, inspecting the gash on my forehead. His jaw locked, silver eyes burning.
“You’d crack your own skull to protect that cuff? You’d mar your skin just to keep me out?” Cipher looked furious.
“Yes,” I spat.
Despite looking angry, his fingers gently probed the edges of the cut. “This is deep. What were you thinking, head-butting a Super?”
“I was thinking I didn’t want you to break my cuff, you ass,” I muttered.
His eyes met mine, searching. “Why is this cuff so important to you? And don’t give me that bullshit about Havoc’s systems.”
I looked away. “It just is.”
Cipher’s hand moved to my chin, tilting my face back toward him. “You’re terrified of losing it. Why?”
“None of your business,” I said, trying to pull away.
His grip tightened slightly. “It became my business when you bled for it.”
The tears came hot and fast, spilling down my cheeks. I couldn’t stop them, couldn’t even slow them down as the entire morning came to a head.
Cipher froze, his hand still on my chin as his eyes flicked over my face.
“I—” he started, then stopped. His hand dropped away. “Are you crying?”
I tried to wipe the tears away, but they just kept coming. “What does it look like?”
His obvious discomfort only made me cry harder.
“Stop,” he demanded.
“Real fucking helpful, Cipher,” I sniffed.
“I can’t just stop. Havoc thinks I need rest even though I told him I don’t!
He’s locked me out of the Alliance’s system because he’s worried about me, so I can’t do any research on the League.
And I’m just trying to be useful so I don’t jeopardize what we’re doing but I can’t if I don’t have access to the information. Do you know how frustrating that is?”
Cipher blinked, clearly not expecting this outburst.
“And the League websites are absolute shit!” I continued, the words pouring out now. “They’re impossible to navigate, and half the information is outdated or just plain wrong. How am I supposed to do my job when I can’t access any reliable information?”
“You could just ask—”
“And because you’re an asshole, I have to get stitches in my forehead because I was stupid enough to headbutt you,” I plowed on, ignoring his attempt to speak.
“While you stand there with your stupid, handsome face without even a scratch! And Havoc’s going to have to take me to the hospital and he’ll know I fucked up! ”
“Look at me,” he commanded.
I glared at him as I wiped furiously at my tears with the back of my hand, waiting for the inevitable mocking comment about my emotional breakdown.
“Tears are a waste of hydration, Bishop. They solve nothing.” His thumb swept across my cheek, wiping away the wetness. He looked at the moisture on his thumb, then back to my eyes. “You want the League intel? Is that what stops this? Fine. I’ll give it to you.”
I blinked. “What?”
His gaze shifted up, landing on the gash on my forehead.
“But first, let me take you to my physician. He’s discreet. Havoc won’t ever have to find out.”
“Why would you do that?”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Havoc locks you out. I let you in. Remember that.”
I swatted his hand away.