Page 44 of Villainous Intent

“I can drink on my own.”

His mouth curved into a wicked, knowing smirk. “But you swallow so much better when I make you.”

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.”