Chapter 12
ANNIE
I squinted against the morning light stabbing through my bedroom window, cursing myself for forgetting to close the blinds. My head throbbed with what I was absolutely calling a wine headache. Not a hangover. Keepers don’t get hangovers while on the job. We have professional wine headaches.
Images from last night flashed through my mind. Cipher’s body pressing me into the mattress. His lips on my neck. The way he’d thrust his hips against me, promising everything while delivering nothing.
Because I’d been drunk.
I groaned, burying my face in my pillow. What was I thinking, throwing myself at him like that? Like some desperate, touch-starved woman who’d completely forgotten he’d betrayed me three goddamn months ago?
Oh wait. That’s exactly what I fucking was.
A new image surfaced. My hand sliding down to the black lace. My fingers pushing inside myself while I held his gaze.
I squeezed my eyes shut and gripped the pillowcase. A dream. It had to be a dream. My subconscious was just playing out some twisted fantasy to punish me. I didn’t actually drop to my knees. I didn’t pull him into my mouth and beg for a taste of the man who ruined my life.
I swallowed dryly, desperate to banish the thought, but the motion brought a flavor to the back of my tongue. Salt and dark heat.
The taste of him was still there.
I want you to remember exactly how I taste tomorrow morning.
A full-body flush ignited under my skin and burned away any hope of denial.
Shit.
I dragged myself to the shower, letting the hot water pound against me. It didn’t help. Neither did the memory of what I’d done after Cipher left. Touching myself, imagining it was his hands, his mouth. Multiple times.
“Pathetic,” I whispered to the shower tiles. “You are absolutely pathetic.”
It had taken exactly one dinner, two villains, and five minutes alone in my bedroom to shatter the illusion that I was getting over him.
I stepped out of the shower, wiping steam from the mirror to face my reflection.
The black lace lingerie lay crumpled on my bathroom floor where I’d tossed it last night. I kicked it under the sink cabinet, as if hiding the evidence would somehow erase what had happened.
I knew better. I knew sleeping with Cipher would be a catastrophically bad idea. He’d lied to me. Used me. Put me in danger.
So why did my body still ache for him? Why had his promise, “When I fuck you, I want you sober”, replayed in my mind all night like the world’s most effective aphrodisiac?
I pulled on my uniform and as I twisted my hair up, my cuff caught the light. It was a reminder of rules and boundaries and all the things I’d spent my life respecting.
All the things I’d apparently throw away for Cipher’s hands on my body.
My phone buzzed on the counter, Dawn’s face lighting up the screen. I frowned. Wasn’t she home?
“Hey, what’s—“
A broken sob cut me off. “Annie, I need you.”
My stomach dropped. “Dawn? What’s wrong?”
“I’m in Hunter’s bathroom.” Her voice cracked, dissolving into hiccuping cries that made her next words unintelligible.
“Dawn, slow down, I can’t—“
“Please come. Please.”
“I’m on my way.” I grabbed my keys, already moving toward the door. “Stay on the phone with me.”
The line went dead.
I cursed, shoving my feet into my heels. Hunter’s place. Cipher’s penthouse. Of course. Because apparently the universe wasn’t done throwing us together yet.
My phone buzzed with a text as I reached the elevator.
Hunter
Dawn locked herself in the bathroom. I told her everything. About being Menace. She’s not taking it well. Please help.
My chest tightened. Poor Dawn. Finding out your boyfriend was secretly a Villain would be devastating for anyone.
I texted back with one hand while hailing a cab with the other. I wasn’t going to spend an hour looking for a parking spot near Cipher’s penthouse.
On my way. Don’t push her.
This was going to be a disaster. For all of us.
I spent the entire cab ride alternating between texting Dawn (no response) and mentally rehearsing what I’d say when I got there. Nothing sounded right. “Sorry your boyfriend’s a Villain” greeting cards don’t exactly exist.
When the cab finally pulled up to Cipher’s building, I bolted through the revolving doors, my heels clicking frantically against the marble floor.
The security guard looked up as I approached the desk. I got ready to explain my emergency, but he smiled before I could speak.
“Ms. Bishop! Good morning.” He reached beneath the desk and pressed something. “Express elevator is ready for you.”
I blinked. “You know my name?”
“Of course.” He gestured toward the elevator bank. “Go right ahead.”
The express elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. I stepped inside, too worried about Dawn to question my VIP treatment. The car shot upward, my stomach lurching with the speed.
When the doors opened into the penthouse, I darted in. I rounded the corner into the main living area and froze.
Cipher stood in the kitchen, coffee mug suspended halfway to his lips, looking like he’d been caught mid-motion by a pause button. His dark hair stuck out in sleep-rumpled waves around his face, and he wore nothing but low-slung pajama pants that clung to his hips.
My body reacted instantly, a flush of heat spreading throughout.
“Annie?” His voice was morning-rough, deeper than usual.
“I—” Words failed me.
The morning light caught the defined planes of his bare chest, highlighting every muscle I’d fantasized about touching last night. Not that I was noticing. Or remembering. Or wanting to trace every tattoo on his body with my tongue.
Nope.
We locked eyes in the most excruciating silence of my life. Five seconds. Ten. Fifteen.
“I didn’t—you weren’t—“ I gestured vaguely at his half-naked state, then immediately regretted drawing attention to it.
“Dawn texted. Well, called. Then Hunter texted. Not that I regularly get texts from Hunter. Or come to your penthouse uninvited at—” I glanced at my watch, “—seven twenty-three in the morning.”
Great job, Bishop. Keep going.
Cipher’s eyebrow ticked up slightly.
“Dawn’s locked herself in Hunter’s bathroom,” I blurted.
“He told her he’s Menace. She’s not taking the whole ‘surprise, I’m actually a Villain’ revelation well, which, honestly, who would?
Not that I’m judging Hunter’s life choices.
Or Dawn’s reaction. Or your hospitality arrangements for other Villains. Or—“
“Annie.” Cipher’s voice cut through my rambling.
“Yes?”
“Breathe.”
I inhaled sharply, suddenly aware I’d been talking without oxygen.
Cipher carefully set his coffee mug on the counter with a soft clink. His expression shifted from surprised to focused, the sleepy confusion clearing from his eyes.
“This way,” he said, leading me up to the second floor.
Cipher’s back muscles flexed as he walked ahead of me and I kept my eyes firmly fixed on the back of his head. Mostly.
He pushed open a door at the end of a hall, revealing a spacious bedroom. Hunter—Menace—sat perched on the edge of a king-sized bed, head buried in his hands. He was the picture of absolute misery.
He looked up when we entered, hope flashing across his face when he saw me, quickly replaced by despair.
“She won’t come out,” he said, voice cracking. “She won’t even talk to me anymore.”
I’d never seen a League member look so utterly defeated by something that didn’t involve prison or superpowers. Just a broken heart and the consequences of secrets kept too long.
I approached the bathroom door, hearing muffled sniffles from inside.
“Dawn? It’s Annie. Can I come in?”
“Just you,” came Dawn’s watery voice.
I slipped inside, closing the door firmly behind me. Dawn stood by the marble sink, wrapped in a midnight blue silk robe that definitely wasn’t hers. Her copper curls were a wild tangle, eyes rimmed red, mascara creating artistic black rivers down her freckled cheeks.
She looked like a Renaissance painting of beautiful devastation.
“Oh, honey.” I opened my arms.
Dawn launched herself at me and I nearly toppled backward into the door. She buried her face against my shoulder, her body trembling with silent sobs.
I stroked her hair, murmuring nonsense comfort words.
“You knew,” she finally whispered, pulling back to look at me. “You knew who Hunter was.”
I braced myself for the accusation, the betrayal, the anger that would surely follow. My shoulders tensed, ready to absorb the impact of her justified rage.
Dawn wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand, smearing mascara further across her cheek. “You told me once that some Supers keep their identities secret, right?”
I nodded cautiously. “Yes. Some do.”
“You couldn’t have told me about... about Menace.” She stumbled over the name. “Not without risking your career and legal trouble?”
“Something like that, yes.” I reached out to tuck a curl behind her ear. “There are rules, Dawn. Lots of them.”
She took a shuddering breath. “I’m trying really hard to understand, but I’m so angry at Hunter.” Her face crumpled, fresh tears welling. “Or is he Menace? I don’t even know who I’ve been sleeping with anymore.”
The confusion in her voice broke my heart. I’d been there, that moment when you realize the person you thought you knew had been wearing a mask all along.
I took a deep breath, my hands settling on Dawn’s shoulders. Time for some hard truth.
“Dawn, I don’t know who Hunter is or who Menace is. But I know who he is with you.” I squeezed gently. “He’s yours. That’s the only identity that matters.”
Her eyes widened, fresh tears threatening to spill.
“And honestly? If he didn’t love you as much as he does, I would’ve told you everything weeks ago.” I shrugged. “Rules be damned, consequences be damned. I’d have risked it all.”
“You would?” Her voice was small, uncertain.
“In a heartbeat. My job exists to maintain order, not to hurt my best friend.”
Dawn sank down onto the edge of the bathtub. She twisted her fingers together, staring at the marble floor.
“Do you really think he loves me?”
“Yes.” No hesitation. No doubt. “I think he loved you from day one.”