Super Bad (a Superlovin' novella) by Vivi Andrews

Author:Vivi Andrews [Andrews, Vivi]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Vivi Andrews
Published: 2012-07-06T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten: Too Cocky to Fail

The clock read three-twelve and the black night beyond the windows made it clear it wasn’t afternoon anymore. Hours. They’d been going nonstop for hours. She’d pushed Julian relentlessly, working at recapturing her memories until she and the file were both exhausted, but he hadn’t complained once. She’d known the man was a hero, but that was above and beyond the call of duty.

He sat on the floor beside the couch, slumped against it, and Mirage wanted nothing more than to tumble into his lap and wrap herself around him. My hero. He looked amazing, even at three in the morning. Tousled. Weary. Sexy as all hell.

He wasn’t touching her anymore, but she still remembered. She felt clear, sharp, and downright giddy. There were still potholes in her memory big enough to swallow a semi, but everything that had been documented in the file, no matter how vaguely, she’d remembered. Her time with Kevin, the original thefts, stealing the Apocalyptum for him. The weeks in Area Nine, when she’d felt like she was in withdrawal, shivering and hungering for his presence. The day Lucien had broken her out and the fight they’d had when she told him she had to go back to Kevin. And she’d needed to return to him. She’d been an addict by then, needing a fix of his presence. She’d recalled Kevin’s arrogance, telling her his plans to use her brother to destroy the city. She remembered how her surface mind had cheered even as a deeper part of her consciousness began to rebel. She’d fought herself, trying to give Lucien clues to help him defeat Kevin even as ninety percent of her mind obeyed, doing everything in her power to see Kevin succeed.

She knew now that the fractured pieces of her memories hadn’t been caused by Kevin. She had done that to herself, because it had been the only way she could break free of him. The only way she could defeat him was to shatter her own mind. It had worked. He was a vegetable. But so was she. Until tonight.

Her time at Trident was a bit hazier, but she remembered her birthday now. She remembered some of her therapy, having the same conversations over and over again with Lucien and Eisenmann, watching their faces close off more each time she couldn’t remember her own answers. And she recalled pieces of her escapes—the urge to break into Nightwing, the bank, making herself invisible as she evaded the police.

“At least now we know your compulsions are just echoes of previous commands,” Julian said without opening his eyes, his head still tipped back to loll against the couch cushions.

Mirage’s fingers twitched with the urge to brush his blond curls back, but she fisted her hand instead. “There are still a bunch of gaps. We can’t be sure.”

Now Julian did open his eyes, the strain in them visible. “I’m gonna have the world’s worst power hangover tomorrow. Let me have my false sense of victory.

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