Page 13 of Villainous Intent

I braced myself, but she didn’t give me a hungry stare or predatory assessment. She gave me a warm, genuine smile as Menace made introductions.

“Thomas, this is Dawn. Dawn, my friend Thomas Smith.”

“Hunter’s told me so much about you.” Her grip was warm and confident with no lingering or bullshit.

“All flattering lies, I’m sure.”

Dawn laughed, a bright, lovely sound. “Well, he said you’re brilliant but terrible at texting back, so I’d say it was balanced.”

Menace, Hunter in his civilian identity, looked sheepish. “Sorry we’re late. Work stuff.”

“My roommate’s running late too,” Dawn added, looking apologetic. “She got held up at work but said to start without her. She’ll join us when she can.”

I nodded, intrigued. This woman was leagues beyond what Menace typically attracted. Not that I was trying to be unkind about my friend’s appearance, but Dawn could have had her pick of men, yet she seemed genuinely fond of him.

The hostess kept her eyes on me as Hunter gave her his name. She led us through the restaurant, her hips swaying. She was broadcasting her availability on a frequency so loud it was giving me a headache.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to fuck. I used sex like I used caffeine, a necessary chemical intervention to keep the machine running. But I could already write the script for how it would go with her. I knew how she’d look up at me, glassy-eyed and performative, when I told her to get on her knees.

She’d offer herself up like a sacrifice, desperate to be ruined by the handsome stranger. She’d beg for the degradation and I’d give it to her. I’d fuck her until she couldn’t walk.

And I wouldn’t feel a goddamn thing.

We arrived at our table on the covered patio. The fine mist beyond blocked out everything outside the patio’s edge and created an isolating, ethereal effect that was objectively beautiful.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” The hostess’ hand landed on my shoulder and my muscles coiled. The angle was perfect. All it would take is a sharp twist and a pop of cartilage. I could dislocate her wrist in 0.4 seconds and put her through the table in 1.2.

I turned my head slowly, looking at her hand, then up to her eyes. I gave her the cold blank stare of the monster.

“We’re fine,” I said, my voice devoid of inflection.

Her smile faltered as she backed away, hurrying back to her station.

Once seated, Hunter launched into introducing Dawn properly, mentioning that he and I met at University.

Right. University. A sanitized, civilian label for the League’s brutal introductory training program. It wasn’t entirely a lie. We had shared cramped quarters, studied the applied physics of structural collapse, and learned how to survive the unchecked egos of a hundred aspiring sociopaths.

Back then, Hunter’s profoundly unremarkable face and fear-detection abilities had proven highly useful. He could pinpoint the exact moment an instructor’s sadistic combat test crossed from challenging to lethal. I used him to navigate the politics; he used my raw power and genius to survive the physical trials. It started as a strictly symbiotic transaction but with over a decade of shared secrets and buried bodies, that transaction had mutated into genuine loyalty.

Hunter Whitten was the only human being on this godforsaken planet I could look at and mean the word friend.

I arranged my features into the polite, attentive mask of Thomas Smith and regaled Dawn with a few made up exploits of our “college” days.

I allowed myself to relax marginally. Perhaps this evening wouldn’t be the excruciating social exercise I’d anticipated. Dawn was intelligent, engaged with Hunter rather than using him as a stepping stone to me, and seemed interesting.

“Annie’s here!” Dawn said, her face lighting up as she waved toward the entrance.

I turned, preparing to meet Dawn’s roommate with the hollow smile I reserved for these social obligations. But as my eyes found the woman standing at the hostess station, the noise in my head died.

Annie.

Keeper Bishop was Dawn’s roommate.

She’d changed into a soft pink wrap dress that accentuated the curves I gotten a glimpse of this afternoon when she’d been soaked by the downpour. The fabric draped across her chest and I wanted nothing more than to slide my hand beneath it. Her honey-brown hair fell in gentle waves around her face.

She looked soft and utterly harmless. I knew better.

A smile transformed her face as she spotted Dawn, making her appear innocent. Then her gaze drifted to Menace and the smile died. Her eyes narrowed, the recognition hitting her.