Even Villains Fall in Love Read online

  Even Villains Fall in Love

  Liana Brooks

  Breathless Press

  Calgary, Alberta

  www.breathlesspress.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or

  persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Even Villains Fall in Love

  Copyright© 2012 Liana Brooks

  Published by Breathless Press at Smashwords

  ISBN: 978-1-77101-077-1

  Cover Artist: LFD Designs

  Editor: Deadra Krieger

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations

  embodied in reviews.

  Breathless Press

  www.breathlesspress.com

  A special thanks to:

  The Slackers, Dreamers, and Tweeps who helped me get this far

  my four ice cream minions whose antics inspire me daily

  my husband for always being my hero

  Chapter One

  I knew from the first time I saw my wife that I wanted her naked. Of course, seven minutes later I wanted revenge. It wasn’t that she had handed me my first defeat or ruined my chances for world domination that year, it was the way she kissed me good-bye. She sent my head spinning, then walked away as if I were the least important person in the world.

  Once my arm healed, I stole some new equipment, cloned some new minions, and I felt a little different.

  I wanted revenge, with a side order of naked.

  ***

  Across the dinner table, Tabitha devoured him with dark, ocean-blue eyes. She put a bite of lettuce in her mouth, full lips pursing around it. Eating salad never looked so good. Her tongue darted out to lick away a stray drop of dressing. She winked at him, promising with every move to do the same to him. “It’s almost bedtime,” she said, her voice husky and luscious.

  “I don’t wanna go to bed!” one of the quads screamed.

  “What about cake? Don’t we get birthday cake?” another asked.

  Evan winked back at his wife from the far side of the table, separated by a few feet and four, precocious just-turned-five-year olds, all as stunning as their mother with big, round eyes and honey-colored hair that fell in loose curls meant to trap hairbrushes and sticky substances.

  He had to peek at the eyes to see who was talking. Maria had green eyes, Angela’s eyes were blue like Tabitha’s, Delila’s eyes were brown like his, and Blessing—their stillborn who miraculously survived—had purple eyes. The waif in question had blue eyes.

  “Angela,” Evan said, “after dinner it’s pajama time, and then story time.”

  “Mommy doesn’t have a bedtime!” Angela wailed.

  Tabitha winked at him again. “Tell you what, tonight Mommy will go to bed the same time you do. Right after we eat cake.” She leaned over to give Angela a hug.

  All Evan could see was the deep V plunge of her tight blue shirt. Oh, yeah. Crime didn’t always pay, but altering someone’s moral compass sure put the O’s back in the bedroom.

  The cake was split into fourths, equal parts purple, white, green, and blue so each girl could have her favorite color in the cake. Baking four cakes was unreasonable, there weren’t any grandparents left to celebrate with, and neighbors had an annoying habit of asking uncomfortable questions. Saying little things like, “You look just like Doctor Charm! Do you remember him? Whatever happened to that guy? Do you know how hard it is to put together a good Villains Vs. Heroes fantasy league without him?” made for awkward evenings.

  So they had a quiet family party. Cake, then presents, after which he hurried the girls off to bed so he could read Dilly Duck’s ABCs in record time before rushing to the bedroom, hoping to catch Tabitha still in the shower.

  She was already out and wearing a blue satin robe that caressed her skin in exactly the way he wanted to. Rose-scented candles cast sensuous shadows on the walls.

  Tabitha turned, lips curved in an inviting smile. Long fingers twined with the sash of her robe. She tossed her honey-blonde hair in the way she always did when she was about to argue, posing with feet apart and one hand casually resting on her waist. “Sweetie, we need to talk.”

  Evan wiped grease-stained hands on his jeans as he forced a smile. “Sure, babes, anything you want.”

  “Really?” She slunk forward, all sinewy limbs and doe eyes. “Promise?” Tabitha nuzzled his nose. One hand flirted up the back of his neck to play with his hair. The other traveled downward, right to his zipper.

  Oh, yes, the little Morality Machine in the basement was working just fine. Another thirty, maybe forty years of this and he’d consider retiring. Or turning the machine down so his wife wasn’t quite a sex kitten every day of the week. Maybe only days with Y in them.

  “Sweetie?” She nibbled his ear. “I want to go back to work.”

  “What?” Evan actually pushed himself away from her, something he wasn’t sure was possible in any other circumstance.

  Tabitha tucked her chin and pouted.

  “Tabby-cat, I love you, but work? I’ve got my...stuff...in the lab. I’m busy. And we can’t afford daycare for the girls. We’re barely making ends meet as it is. Do you really want to go back to being Zephyr Girl? Crime fighting is a game for the young, baby. You’re not nineteen anymore.”

  “I’m twenty-nine. A very—” Her hips pressed against his tight jeans just so”—very healthy twenty-nine.”

  He shivered at her touch. “You’re cheating.”

  “I want to do this, Evan.” She ground against the thick denim.

  “You can do me all you want, baby.”

  She stepped back, frowning. “I’m serious.”

  “So am I.” Evan sighed, reaching for his wife. “Sweetie, I love you, but what’s the point in being a superhero? The government stipend barely covers the dry-cleaning bill. If it’s money you want, write another tell-all superhero book. The Spanish Mask sold his third last month.”

  Tabitha crossed her arms. “I don’t want to write another book so we can live off the royalties while you’re between jobs.”

  He waved a finger at her. “I’m not between jobs. I work freelance in the computer business. I’m self-employed. That’s not the same as being between jobs.”

  “Between paychecks then.”

  “We will have a solid income. This project I’m working on, Tabby-cat, it’s going to set us up for life. We’re never going to worry about money again. I promise. Give me a couple of weeks and everything is going to be perfect.” He caught her hand and pulled her into his arms. The faint scent of her spicy perfume left him dizzy with need.

  She rested her head on his chest. “I want to save the world. Have you seen the news, Evan? An entire town in Kansas held hostage for a week by a bomb scare before a superhero was able to get in to defuse the situation. A week! I could have that done between grocery shopping and paying the bills. Ten minutes, no pulling punches.”

  “I know, baby. No one is better at this stuff than you. But I need you at home, Tabby. Having you out there scares me. I’m terrified I’d lose you. Why don’t you wait until I finish this project? I’ll be done by the time the election rolls around. Two more weeks. Once I get paid we’ll look at this again. I have that armor design for you, I just need some time to put it together.”

  Tabitha sighed. “You’ve been saying that since we got married.”

  “Well, my nights are busy.” He nibbled her ear as he tugged her sash loose. “Are you complaining?�
�

  Tabitha stretched against him, sending a delightful frisson of lust up his spine. “I thought you gave up the super villain schemes.”

  He twitched. “I did, baby. Of course I did.”

  “But you’re keeping me here. Isn’t that a little selfish? Just a teeny-tiny bit super villain-ish?” She slipped her hand between his pants and his skin.

  “Ah!” He caught her hand so he could think clearly. “Not selfish. Necessary. Like oxygen or sex.”

  “Don’t you mean water?”

  “No, definitely sex.” Evan slid the blue robe off, tossing it into the corner. “Come here, Tabby-cat, I’ll make you purr.”

  She tugged at his shirt, pulling it up and off. The shirt joined the robe on the other side of the room. “What are you doing down in that lab?” she asked as her hands drew lazy circles on his back.

  Ten seconds, that’s all he’d need to get her panties off. Three more to drop his pants. Mmmm. “What was the question?”

  “What are you doing in the lab? What’s this project?”

  “Oh, computer stuff. I told you. To help tally everything on election night. I’m trying to make the process run smoother so we don’t have to worry about recounts.”

  “Hmmm.” She gave him a dubious frown.

  Tabitha was built like a supermodel and had a superhero name straight from Campy Comics, but her brain was Mensa all the way. “And this computer program has nothing to do with world domination, or get-rich-quick schemes?”

  Evan contrived to look wounded. “Tabby-cat, how can you ask that?”

  “Because you spent ten years as a villainous criminal mastermind?”

  “I wasn’t a mastermind, I was a super villain, there’s a difference. Masterminds are just thugs with money. My crimes had artistic flare. I was practically Robin Hood! Robbing from the rich and scandalous, and giving to me.”

  “Robin Hood gave to the poor,” Tabitha said with a laugh. “You were never poor.”

  He caught her hand, pulling her close. “Poor is relative. Besides, I’m reformed now. You showed me the error of my wicked ways. Although—” he leaned in for a kiss— “if you’d like to remind me why I gave up a lucrative life of crime, I have the evening free.”

  Chapter Two

  Someday, I know the kids are going to ask for the story of How I Met Their Mother. Every kid asks; it’s a rite of passage like losing a tooth or learning to ride a bike. I just don’t know how to tell them without losing their respect.

  The truth is, Tabitha broke into my lab and kicked me and my minions clear into the next time zone. She can move at sonic speeds even when she’s not flying. She blew past my machines like they weren’t even there. Embarrassing, of course, but that wasn’t the worst part. No, the part that will make my daughters lose all respect for me is how, while their mother was kicking my rear, I couldn’t take my eyes off hers. Not when she wore a skin-tight white bodysuit and bustier on the verge of a wardrobe malfunction. Any man who can think straight when confronted by that must have a wonderful boyfriend at home, because I’ve seen drag queens hand in their Prada kitten heels for a shot at Tabitha.

  ***

  Evan woke up relaxed and ready for another dose of marital bliss. Let the bachelors have their one-night stands, lost to the alcoholic haze of the weekend. Married life meant getting lucky three or four times a day, when dentist appointments and world domination didn’t demand his full attention. He rolled over and reached for Tabitha.

  She wasn’t there.

  “Tabby? Babes?”

  “In here!” she called from the closet.

  He relaxed back into the Tabitha-scented sheets.

  “What do you think?” she asked, stepping out of the closet in her white Zephyr Girl bodysuit: reinforced leather leggings, gloves, and bustier. Knee-high, steel-capped boots and a sky blue cape completed the outfit. Tabitha hovered, the air around her seething with the aurora borealis that always accompanied her use of super powers.

  “You look amazing.” She’d looked like that first time he’d seen her. “Come here.”

  She flew to him, settling over the bed before dropping the last centimeter. “It still fits.”

  “I know.” He caught her lips, tasting her.

  “Do you know where my trench coat is?”

  “In the hall closet.” He reached for her hair, but she was already gone.

  A breeze slammed the bedroom door open and shut. Tabitha cinched the belt to her white trench coat around her tiny waist with a smile. She sauntered away, hips swaying, to pull her purse out of the closet along with a pink scarf.

  He shook his head as she slipped past him to the door. “Wait! Tabitha, where are you going?”

  She froze in the act of putting on sunglasses. “Work, remember? We talked about this. I’m going to work; you’re going to take care of the kids. Right? Good. I’ll try to be home by seven. Make sure dinner is ready.”

  The front door slammed shut on Evan’s bewildered expression.

  Tabitha swung the door back open. “Sweetie? Get the lawn service out here, the yard looks like a jungle, and hide the crayons. The girls found where I was keeping them yesterday. I don’t want them coloring on the walls again.”

  Shut. Open.

  “Love ya!”

  “Um...” Evan ran to the front lawn and watched his wife leap into the sky, flying away to save the day like any good superhero with a deadline. This was not a good thing.

  Back inside, Evan scrambled to find jeans in the mountain of unfolded laundry.

  “Daddy?” Delila said through a yawn.

  “Yes?”

  “I want breakfast.”

  “Breakfast?” He stared at his daughter. “Um, let’s see what Mommy left.”

  The other three girls were waiting in the kitchen.

  “I want Mommy!” Delila said.

  Blessing sat at the table with an expectant expression. “Pancakes?”

  He peeked into the cupboard. There were boxes of things neatly stacked with matching lids. That probably meant something profound in the secret language of women, but he wasn’t even getting a mixed signal.

  “Daddy?” Four judgmental scowls looked up at him. “Can you cook?”

  “For a given definition of cook.” He closed the cupboard door. “Give Daddy a minute.” Evan ran through the garage to the door to his basement lab. “Hert!”

  His warty toad of a minion climbed up the stairs, six-knuckled fingers dragging on the floor. “You bellowed, Master?”

  “Do you cook, Hert?”

  “I wasn’t programmed to, Master.”

  He’d forgotten that. Hert was his original minion, a summer project cooked up from the DNA of animals he’d been able to find in his backyard when he was fifteen and had nothing better to do with his life. Back then, Mom had cooked. In college he’d had the meal plan. Tabitha did the cooking once they got married. Back in the bachelor years between college and marriage... “Girls! Get dressed. Daddy’s going to take you to McDonalds!”

  Angela put her hands on her hips, posing just like Tabitha. “Fast food is very unhealthy for you. Mommy said so.”

  Evan looked at his warty minion for help.

  “Never hurt me,” Hert said, shrugging.

  The girls wrinkled their noses in unison, a move worthy of the synchronized snob team at the country club he didn’t belong to.

  “I don’t want to look like him,” Maria said.

  “Daddy survived on fast food before he met Mommy.” Evan dropped his head. He was arguing in third person with five-year olds, a sure sign of senility. “This is not part of the plan,” he muttered to Hert.

  Tonight, the Morality Machine was getting a tweak. It might mean some extra late nights in the lab after Tabitha fell into a satisfied slumber, but sex would keep her home. Although spending eight hours a day making love wouldn’t actually get the kids fed. “Everybody to the car.”

  The girls watched him with intent glares.

  “There will be
toys.”

  Chapter Three

  Superheroes were new to our world when I met Tabitha. No amount of theorizing, wild supposition, or unethical research revealed to science where their powers came from. Even I couldn’t figure out what twist of genetics or fate controlled those powers, and believe me, I tried.

  My interest in Tabitha may have started out as one hundred percent lust. I couldn’t forget her kiss, the taste of her on my lips. Eventually, the lust dissipated a little and three percent of my fascination was with her power. I didn’t care about the rest of the superheroes. I just wanted to know how Tabitha worked.

  She can fly. She moves faster than any human should be able to. And she makes the world glow. Maybe I’m biased on that last one. When she’s with me, everything seems brighter.

  ***

  “We can’t do this, Hert,” Evan told the minion as he tried to pull the lab door closed. Maria pushed her foot between them as she tried to peek down the stairs.

  “I don’t see what else we could do, Master,” his minion answered.

  Two warty arms stretched across the opening to keep the girls at bay. They were a little taller than his favorite minion, and didn’t seem too worried about the closet monster who’d eaten breakfast with them.

  “I’m not programmed for nurturing or care-giving, sir,” Hert reminded him. “It’s not in my DNA. If you give me a week, I could work out the sequence to clone a nanny minion.”

  “We don’t have a week. Not a week’s notice to clone a minion, and not a week I can sacrifice in work time. It’s almost November.”

  “We could slow time,” Hert suggested. His foot bounced up to keep Delila from crawling under his arm.

  Blessing tugged on Evan’s pant leg. “Daddy, can I go downstairs?”

  “Now, sweetie, what does Mommy say about going to the lab?”

  Folding her arms, she pouted. “Not unless Daddy’s with you.”