“Ah, more guests have arrived to my party.” Elton called smugly. “I was just wondering where they had gotten off to.”
“Party sucks,” Deacon announced. “I think it’s the company. Plus, the Turtle’s got two-for-one Jello-O shots tonight and a bitchin’ poetry slam.”
Elton didn’t look amused and pointed at Deacon. “You are the cause of everything that’s wrong with this world.”
Mia nodded. “He’s totally got your number, Deacon.”
He made a face at her. “I had nothing to do with this.”
“You stole all of my gold last week!” Elton snapped. “I needed that gold, and you swooped in and stole it, just like you stole Mia from me!”
Mia blinked at him in amazement. “I’m sorry? Were we together in another life or something, because I barely know your name in this one.”
“I talk to you every year!” Elton screamed. “Every year I come to these things, trying to convince you to join with me, and this was going to be the year I sealed the deal! I’d finally have you on my team and in my bed!”
Deacon nodded in sudden recognition. “Wait. Is this the guy who always tells you that Washington bounced check story?” He chuckled in amusement. “God, I love that one.”
“Shut up!” Elton bellowed. “It’s your fault that I’ve been forced to rob this year’s party! If you hadn’t stolen from me, I would have enough to pay off Alectryon and focus on winning Mia! But then you had to get in the way, and now I have nothing. Now I can’t use that money to create a…”
“Dude, listen: I don’t care if you’re Jesus and you want the gold as a Father’s Day gift, okay?” Deacon pointed at Mia. “She doesn’t want you killing her mother to get that money, which means you’re not getting it.” He straightened to his full height. “Leave. Now.”
Elton bared his snake-like fangs. “Why don’t you come over here and tell me that?”
“No, thanks.” Deacon calmly shook his head. “I’m allergic to deadly neurotoxin.”
“Fine,” Elton snapped. “Then die where you stand.” He motioned for his men, and they started forward.
Deacon looked down at her. “You ready for this?”
“Yep.” She focused on their adversaries. “Did you really take his gold?
“Almost certainly. You okay with that?”
“Yeah, I’m the type of girl who always falls for the bad guy.”
He winked at her and gave her a light slap on the rear. She giggled in amusement, ignoring the men who were charging towards them. They got within a couple steps when Deacon used his powers and made everything completely black, as if someone turned the world’s contrast all the way up. It wasn’t just turning off the lights. It was turning off light itself.
And in patented Deacon fashion, he had no problems with hurting defenseless people. Mia couldn’t see anything, but the sounds of the fight indicated that he was making short work of the disoriented men.
“I don’t need to see you!” Scream Elton in fury. “I can smell you!”
“Ew,” Deacon said calmly. “What a gross power to…”
Suddenly, the world was once again plunged into the light as Deacon crashed through one of the tables. Mia gasped in astonishment, blinking against the sudden brightness.
Elton stood over him, one hand around Deacon’s throat. “And now I’m going to finish you.”
Deacon looked at her. “Anytime, honey.” He choked.
Elton bared his deadly fangs and pulled Deacon’s neck closer.
Mia swore and dashed forward, trying to think of some way to stop what was about to happen. Her powers didn’t really have a lot of combat applications; they were strictly defensive. So she was forced to improvise, and did the first thing she could think of.
She slammed her palm into Elton’s face and immediately changed into her mist form, filling his airway with her, then changed back into her physical form again. Her entire hand rematerialized inside the man’s face, her fingers poking into the warm goo inside his skull.
Elton limply fell to his knees at her feet.
She looked down at her hand and gave it an experimental tug, trying to see if she could free herself without turning into a mist again. Elton’s head made a wet gooey sound, reminding Mia where her hand was right now. “In a minute, I’m going to start freaking out.”
Deacon nodded, looking stunned and vaguely sick. “…Yeah. Yeah, me too.”
The doors to the party burst open again and Holly stood there looking like she’d just been in a fight. She put one gloved hand over her head. “Best party ever!” She yelled.
The other villains in attendance shouted their agreement with that idea and jumped back to their feet as the music started again.
You could say a lot about villains, but they had strange ideas about what was fun sometimes.
***
The next morning, Mia emerged from the shower in Deacon’s heretofore unseen palatial estate and found him calmly sitting in her room, reading her diary.
He pointed at something written in it without looking up. “I think ‘dickhead’ is one word, Mia.” He casually flipped through the book. “Which is a shame, because you use it every time you mention me.”
“Well, I know you real well.” She flopped into the chair across from him. “You’re breaching the sanctity of my room, you know. I mean, you’re in here uninvited, and I should feel safe in your house, particularly when I’m changing or something.”
He put the book down. “So go ahead and change.” He put his hands behind his head eagerly. “Who’s stopping you?”
She made a face at him. “I don’t know why I ever agreed to spend the weekend with you.”
“Because I asked.”
“Uh-huh.” She looked around the room. “Did you at least bring me breakfast or something?”
He shook his head. “I don’t cook.”
“Don’t you think it would have been something nice to do anyway?”
“If you tasted my cooking, you wouldn’t think that.”
“It’s supposed to be about the thought, Deacon!” She threw a pillow at him. “It’s supposed to be a way to tell a girl that you care about her.” She slouched down into the couch. “But I guess you obviously don’t.”
He rolled his eyes. “Oh, you know that’s not true.”
She made an unconvinced sound.
“Don’t you?” He sounded genuinely worried and sat up straighter. “Listen, I’ve kinda gotten into the habit of not telling you how I feel because I always figured it would frighten you off, so I don’t talk about it much. I mean, if I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.” He shook his head. “But you know what I am already, so I didn’t think I needed to tell you anyway. You’ve always been the one person in my life that I could talk to about everything. The only person who is always there for me. The only person I actually like… well, besides our mothers.” He kissed her hand. “I’ve watched you my entire life, and there has never been a single moment when I wasn’t in total awe of you.” He moved closer to her. “You are… quite simply… adorable.”
She frowned. “That’s really more something you say about a baby, not the woman you’re trying to get into bed.”
“Oh, you know what I mean.” He put her cheek in his palm. “You are the spoiled little princess of crime, just flitting through life like some exotic beautiful bird, bringing utter joy to the poor sad bastards who live in the colorless empty world below you.”
“Yep.” She nodded. “I’ve been saying that for years. Well, not the bird thing, because again, that’s kind of weird. A step up from ‘adorable’ but not much.”
“Okay, how about this…” He leaned closer to her. “Once, I walked away from a diamond the size of my fist and a weekend in Monte Carlo with a nude model, because you called me and asked me to come help you pick out wallpaper.” He met her eyes. “I swear to God that story is true, and I have never regretted that decision.”
She swallowed, trying to maint
ain her composure. “It was beautiful wallpaper.”
He swore. “Jesus, Mia! What’s it going to take, huh? What do I have to do to convince you that I love you?”
“Honestly?” She shrugged. “You don’t really need to convince me of anything, actually. I already know.” She leaned forward to kiss him. “And I love you, too. I’m just being a bitch as payback for all the terrible things you’ve done to me over the years.” She reached down to the belt of her robe. “And I’m kinda thinking that making you work off your debt to me is the perfect revenge and faaaaar more fun.”
He frowned. “What? Like… hanging the wallpaper or something?”
“God!” She made an annoyed sound and pushed him backwards on the bed. “Sometimes I think I was right all along and you really are an idiot!”
“Probably.” He gently parted her robe. “But my fiancée has always done my thinking.”
“Wait… we’re engaged now?”
“Sure.” His mouth closed over the urgent tip of her breast. “I mean, it’s not like we really need to date for long or anything, right? Hell, we grew up together. We’re practically brother and sister.”
“Whoa.” She frowned again. “Mood kill.”
He nodded. “I seem to do that a lot, don’t I?” He shrugged. “At least I didn’t mention you at thirteen this time.”
She nodded. “You’re a work in progress. Don’t worry. I enjoy a project, and I can fix you.”
“Any time you want to work on me, you just give me your best shot, Mia. Meddle away.”
“See?” She tossed her robe completely aside and began to fumble with the buckle of his pants, her hands feeling clumsy with anxious anticipation. “That’s a much better cheap come-on.” A new though occurred to her. “Can I ask you a question?”
He stared at her blankly. “Mia, your fingers are on the zipper to my pants. You have my undivided attention, but for God’s sake please make sure I can answer your question as quickly as possible.”
“Why didn’t you dance with me?”
“Huh?” He moved beneath her. “We’re so close here, baby! Can’t you just…?”
She nodded and began to pull his pants off.
He reached down to stop her. “Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “Listen… if it’s important to you, then it’s important to me, no matter what else I have on my plate at the moment.” He met her eyes. “What are we talking about?”
“My eighteenth birthday. I not-so-subtly hinted that I wanted to dance, and you just blew me off.”
He winced. “Can you please not use that expression right now? It’s like… physically painful.”
She rolled her eyes, then smiled at him, teasingly running one fingernail along the metal prongs of his closed zipper.
“You’re not funny, Mia.”
She giggled, getting impatient to continue things as well.
“Honestly?” He made a vague sort of hand gesture. “If I recall correctly, I had your boyfriend in the trunk of my car at the time, and he only had about two minutes of air left.”
“Wow. I’m actually impressed that you didn’t just let him die.”
He shrugged. “I’m not such a bad guy.”
“Well, hopefully not in bed, at least.”
“What else is there?”
“Good point.”
He cleared his throat. “Besides, I didn’t think you wanted to dance with me anyway.”
She lowered the zipper of his pants, her heart in her throat. “For the record, if you had played your cards right, I would have done more than that.”
“Really?” Deacon sounded interested in that idea, kicking off his pants and crawling towards her on the bed. “Why don’t you show me?”
She shook her head. “I really don’t think that…” The rest of her words were cut off in a gasp as he kissed his way up her inner thigh. His mouth closed over her, and she all but lost her mind.
He sat back a moment later and pulled her onto his lap, running his thumb along her cheek. “You are just the most incredible little thing.”
“’Incredible’ is better than ‘adorable,’ but ‘beautiful’ would still be better, Deacon.”
“Incredibly beautiful little thing.”
“You should probably mention my stunning intellect as well.” She moved her head to the side as he began to kiss her neck.
“I’m not about to make love to your brain, honey.” His hands reached down to pull her onto his lap more fully, caressing her back and lower. “Besides, that just makes me think about happened to the snake guy at the party.” He paused. “You did wash your hand good after you put it into his brain, right?”
She slapped at him in annoyance. “You just can’t go ten seconds without trying to kill the mood, can you? It’s like…”
He pushed himself into her and her words trailed off in a gasp, his eyes meeting hers. “I love you, Mia.” He rolled his hips forward, and she arched her back against the sensation. The movement brought her breasts up to his face again, and he promptly began to kiss and suckle them again.
Mia bit her lip, trying to maintain her control. His body moved inside her, and she ran her hands through his hair, loving the feel of him. He began to make a low rumbly growl of desire and pleasure, his teeth closing over her nipple.
She braced her hands on his shoulders and moved her hips in small deliberate thrusts, her eyes on his as he continued his attentions to her breasts. “You feel that?” She asked, keeping her voice calm through sheer force of will. “That’s you and me. I’m making love to you because you’re the best friend I’ll ever have, and the only man I’ve ever loved.”
He shook his head. “Don’t care why.” His mouth returned to her body for a moment. “Just care that you are.”
“No.” She shook her head, and rocked forward. “No, I mean it.”
He removed his mouth from her body, which caused her to actually give a small distressed sound of unhappiness. “I know.” He nodded. “There has never been any other woman for me. Not really. You are the only dream I’ve ever had.”
She kissed him, his lips moving over hers in reply, mimicking the movement of his body inside her. “You’re learning.” She gasped. “See how easy it is not to be an asshole to me all the time?”
“I go with what works.” He put his hands at the small of her back and began to pull her against his body, thrusting himself into her more forcefully.
She threw her head back as the sensations built up inside her. She clung onto his shoulders, trying to hold herself together as time lost all meaning. Finally, she just couldn’t take it anymore and threw her head back, climaxing around him. Her vision was still swimming as he reached up to redirect her gaze down at him again, his eyes drinking in her pleasure. A moment later, his body surged deeply, his every muscle tensing as he exploded within her.
She rested her forehead against his, trying to catch her breath.
He smoothed a strand of hair off of her face and kissed her cheek. “Have I told you how adorable you are?”
She slapped at his chest. “Oh, shut up.”
He leaned back against the headboard and she moved to rest her face on his chest. She closed her eyes, listening to the comforting sound of his breathing. There was something about having Deacon so close which was so… right. It made her feel so safe and secure. Made her…
Her thoughts were cut off as muffled shouts suddenly came from the other side of the bedroom door. She frowned at the commotion, and sat up. “What’s that yelling?”
“Who knows?” He had somehow gotten out of bed and was now pulling his pants on. “Could be anything really.” He cleared his throat. “I’m just going to… umm… pop out the window for a sec, okay? Be right back.” He dashed outside, obviously trying not to laugh.
“Deacon? What have you done now?” Her eyes narrowed in suspicion and she looked around the room. “Just whose house is this really?”
The door to the bedroom burst open, and half the Freedom Squad stood there, gl
aring at her.
Mia jumped from the bed, trying to frantically grab her clothes on the way, before the angry super-heroes could arrest her for breaking into their home. She jumped through the window and out onto the roof behind Deacon. “You asshole!” She yelled at him, trying to pull her pants on while running and not fall off the roof in the process.
He grinned at her over his shoulder.
“I can’t believe I actually joined your team! Worst job match I ever made! I must be out of my mind to love you, Deacon!”
“Hey, just wait until you see what I have planned for our wedding!”
About the Author
Overeducated and underemployed, Elizabeth lives in Florida with her sister Cassandra Gannon, who is also an author. They're just like the Brontës, only not English, famous, or dead. Also, Emily Brontë didn't write a series of novels about super-villains finding love… Wait, not Emily. She wouldn't be Emily, she'd be the other slightly less maudlin one. She enjoys comic books, soap operas, and reading. She has always been the type of person who genuinely votes for the bad guys in movies, TV and video games, and usually can't stand the hero. You can visit her official blog at:
star-turtle-publishing.blogspot.com
Toeing the Line
K Orion Fray
Every superhero gets a shiny origin story. The same can probably be said for supervillains, though there's a lot less shiny going on there.
Soren wasn't sure which category he fell in, but then again, what made someone super?
He'd always been smart, one of those kids they liked to call “genius” without realizing how much the label could damage a kid's psyche in middle school. It wasn't super to be smarter than everyone else around you. It was annoying and distancing and made it impossible to fit in. Pushing him ahead a grade—and then two grades—didn't help anything. Then he was smarter than the kids around him and the youngest one in the room. He'd graduated before he could drive and gotten a full-ride academic scholarship to his first choice university. He'd walked across the stage, summa cum laude, with a job offer in his back pocket just before his twentieth birthday.
Powerless Against You Page 12
