Chapter 9 #2
A flush burned across my cheeks, hot and sudden. Shame and arousal twisted together into a suffocating knot until I couldn’t distinguish the two. I licked my lower lip, tasting the sharp, smoky burn of the whiskey he had just pressed into my skin.
Cipher’s hand slid from my throat. His fingers traced the sensitive skin at the back of my neck before tangling deep in the hair at the base of my skull. He tugged backward, forcing my face up.
“Careful,” he warned. “Look at me like that, and I’ll forget we’re in public.”
“And do what?” I challenged. The whiskey had burned a path of reckless bravery straight to my brain. Or maybe it was just his broad shoulders and chest shielding me from the predatory stares of the League. I felt safely hidden in his shadow.
His grip in my hair tightened.
“I’ll see if you swallow everything else I give you just as obediently.”
“You wouldn’t,” I breathed.
“Try me.” The challenge hung in the air, dripping with the certainty that he would bend me over the bar and ruin me right here if I pushed him.
He released my hair and the absence of his grip left my scalp tingling. His hand stroked down the long, exposed curve of my spine.
“I can’t wait until midnight,” he murmured, leaning his face so close his breath ghosted over my ear.
“What happens at midnight?”
“The lights go out,” he said, his thumb stroking a slow, deliberate circle against my waist. “And the last of the rules go with them.”
A flash of crimson caught my eye, slicing through the crowd.
A woman in a dress that looked like spilled blood approached us.
The fabric, if it could even be called that, clung to her skin with a wet sheen, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.
I could clearly see the hard peaks of her nipples and the distinct outline of her pussy pressing against the crimson material.
Her mask was barely there, just a slash of glittering rubies across her cheekbones.
Scarlet Siren.
The League’s files categorized her as a “persuasive negotiator.” The underground forums called her a succubus in designer heels. And now she was invading our space, placing a hand flat on Cipher’s chest, right over his heart. She touched him like she had every right to.
“Cipher,” she purred. “I’ve been watching you all night. When are you going to ditch your little accessory and join me in one of the private rooms? I promise I’m much more entertaining than whatever this is.” She flicked a dismissive glance my way.
Cipher didn’t even look at her. His mask remained angled squarely at me. He reached up and locked his fingers around her wrist and peeled her fingers off him like he was removing a parasite.
“I prefer my playthings tight and obedient,” he said coldly, his rich baritone slicing through her purr. “You’re neither.”
Scarlet’s mouth fell open, then snapped shut with an audible click. She looked from him to me, the heat vanishing as her gaze narrowed into slits of pure venom. She ripped her wrist from his grip, turned on her heel, and stalked away into the crowd.
Cipher’s hand slid from my hip to the small of my back as he pulled me harder against him.
“Now,” he murmured. “Where were we?”
“Tight and obedient?” I challenged.
“I’d say anything to keep her hands off me,” he said smoothly. “But don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it.”
“Enjoy what exactly?”
“Enjoy the fact that I chose you.” His thumb dug hard into the base of my spine. “I felt your pulse jump when she touched me, Annie. You didn’t like her hands on me. You wanted to claw her eyes out.” He sounded immensely pleased.
“Your bedpost notches aren’t my business,” I said, even though the image of them tangled together had made my stomach twist.
“Liar.” He bit the word directly into the shell of my ear. “You want to know exactly whose hands have been on me. You want to know if they made me lose control.”
He pulled back just enough to angle his face down toward mine, like he was searching my face.
“They didn’t,” he whispered. “In case you were wondering.”
I swallowed hard and a wicked, devastating smirk curled his lips.
“I prefer brunettes with rule books shoved up their—”
I didn’t hear the rest as a shockwave hit my senses and I stiffened. I’d been gradually trying to sense the League members nearest to us now that we weren’t in the main crowd and a suffocating signature pulsed as it got closer. It drove a spike of pain straight behind my eyes.
Cipher’s body language changed with terrifying speed. He shifted, deliberately positioning himself between me and someone approaching from my right.
“Revenant,” Cipher said. His voice was stripped of all its usual amusement. “Surprised to see you here. I thought League events were beneath you.”
I peeked around Cipher’s shoulder. The man was standing too close. He didn’t even look human. Revenant wore a suit of matte, sickly gray. His mask had no eye holes, no defining features—just a smooth, blank surface that tilted toward me.
“Cipher. You brought a stray.”
The only way to describe Revenant’s voice was wet. It rattled with a deep, drowning rasp, like lungs full of fluid struggling for air. The sound made my skin crawl.
“She looks fresh out of the box,” Revenant continued, the blank slate of his face cocking to the side to study me. “I wonder how long it will take for her to break.”
He took a step closer. The foul stench of stagnant water and old blood washed over me. My instincts screamed at me to run. To hide.
I pressed against Cipher.
“She isn’t for public consumption,” Cipher growled, his grip on me tightening.
Revenant took another step forward, the stagnant smell thickening. “Once the lights go out, possession is nine-tenths of the law. Maybe I’ll find her in the dark. I’d like to hear the noises she makes when she’s frightened.”
All the air left my lungs in a panicked rush.
“Touch her,” Cipher said, “and death will be the kindness you beg for.”
“Pity,” Revenant murmured, the wet rattle in his chest vibrating. “Pretty little things are always more fun when they’re disoriented in the dark. You’d better make sure you keep an eye on her.”
Revenant bowed, a mocking thing, and slithered back into the crushing crowd, his sickly signature fading.
Cipher’s body remained perfectly squared to the crowd, his masked face tracking Revenant’s retreat through the sea of League members. The sharp, exposed line of his jaw was locked tight, a muscle ticking violently beneath his skin.
The music cut out, severing the bass. It left behind a ringing silence as the Continuum plunged into darkness.
I grabbed Cipher’s arms. I couldn’t see anything but a heartbeat later, the lighting shifted back on, but it had changed. Crimson light bled up from the flooring, casting long, unnatural shadows upward. Harsh, blue-white light cut through the haze from the ceiling. All of the shadows grew teeth.
The Villains around us were no longer guests playing at civility. They were monsters lit from below, their features twisted into demonic grimaces.
Movement rippled through the crowd. The civilians, the reporters, the donors, the un-enhanced staff, they were all being herded toward the exits by armored security. The sanitized facade of the League was being stripped away in real-time.
Cipher stood motionless in the red wash of light. The shadows carved deep, harsh hollows below the curve of his mask, emphasizing the cruel line of his jaw. He looked terrifying.
He gripped my wrist, his fingers locking around the delicate bones like a manacle.
“What’s happening?” I breathed, my lungs tight.
He leaned down. His lips brushed against my ear, the movement deliberate and agonizingly slow. “Now the actual fun begins.”