It was so late it was early, closer to dawn than to midnight. Still, downtown Paragon City hopped with activity: bars, clubs, and cafes went all night long.

Those didn’t interest Torami. Instead, she looked across the street to the sprawling wings and dark windows of the Paragon Museum of Heroism. She had more exciting plans. She checked her watch. It was time — just a few minutes before the guards changed shifts. She stepped out of the all-night cafe. Nobody gave her a second glance: she was just a short Japanese girl with long brown hair and too-big glasses. For now.

But once she had the privacy of an alleyway, she touched the amulet she wore, hidden under her blouse: a jade figurine of a tiger. She reached across her bond with it, touched the power waiting inside, and drew it forth into herself.

In an instant, the figurine was gone and Torami transformed into what she had named Black Tigress.

The darkness seemed to vanish, the city’s sounds to amplify, but it was just her senses. Her yellow, slit-pupilled eyes and feline ears were so much more potent than her plain, human ones. She looked down at herself. Her blouse and skirt were gone, waiting somewhere for her to transform back. Instead, she wore a black domino mask and tight, full-body leather suit, the zipper pulled low to show everything down to her navel. And she had a lot to show: Tigress was six feet tall, her body tight and fit, with curves more dangerous than a mountain road.

Hell, this form was more beautiful in general. The first time she’d transformed, she’d spent an hour just revelling in her new senses and enjoying her reflection. From the tops of her ears and waist-length hair — now jet-black with white streaks in a pattern like a tiger’s stripes — down to the tips of her heeled boots.

But tonight was a night for action. The power within her, tight in every muscle, screamed for her to move, run, jump, live. She took a deep breath and leapt.

That single bound put her on a rooftop across from the museum. Deep inside, in the exhibit on Mr Wizard’s long string of victories, was a jade dragon figurine. Just like the jade tiger that was now a part of her, just like the other ten that had been taken from her family. Soon, she would have it.

She reached to her side. Her power didn’t just make her body more capable: she could conjure up any tool she could visualise. She liked the stereotypical tools of the ninja trade: kunai, lockpicks, she’d even studied the recipe enough to conjure smoke bombs. A grappling hook and rope were easy by comparison, and soon, shadow condensed into the weighty tools and dropped into her waiting hand.

She swung across the street and onto the museum. From there, it went just as she’d been planning for the last month: a stolen keycard got her in through a rooftop entrance, then she glided down the halls, moving around patrols and through cameras’ blind spots. She’d considered using the vents, but they were so narrow and uncomfortable. Definitely not plan A material, and her plan A went off without a hitch. Until she reached the exhibit itself.

It was beautifully laid out. Steel railings separated the hypothetical visitors from the exhibits, which were each contained in glass cases, and each had a plaque describing the villains which the ocult hero had faced over his career, and describing the trophies that had been gathered. That included the Star Dragon, who had used the jade figurine she was after. Torami had walked through the exhibit a dozen times, playing the part of the ordinary visitor while planning Tigress’ heist.

Now there was a real, live hero sitting in the middle of it all.

He looked so unassuming. Short blond hair and a smooth, handsome face; clothes of plain, white linen. Yet he wore several pairs of handcuffs on his belt and his skin and clothing glowed, soft and white.

Fucking Heavensent was waiting for her. Tigress’ heart leapt into her throat. So humble he was practically an unknown, up until the whole nation had seen him fly at a skyscraper-sized demon and cleave through it, wielding a sword made of pure light.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Sitting with his legs folded and his eyes closed, he looked like he was meditating, if not asleep. She could just sneak past him.

She moved like a shadow, gliding across the floor. The only sound she made was her soft breathing and her heartbeat pounding in her ears. But still, as she got close, his eyes snapped open and locked with hers. Crystalline blue, with a glow like searchlights, staring clean through her soul.

Wings made of light appeared on his back. “Leave This Place, Child.” His voice reverberated, sounding like two voices speaking in near-sync and near-harmony. She couldn’t place his accent.

Black Tigress bit her lip. She could just slink away. He was giving her a chance. But ... the figurine was right there, sitting in a glass case in an American museum, ‘owned’ by a wealthy American collector, standing as a symbolic pat on an American hero’s back.

She bent forward, putting her face — and her cleavage — more towards his seated eye level. “Do I look like a ‘child’ to you?”

That made him hesitate and shoot her a look. His blush had a luminescent quality, with that glow behind his cheeks. After a second, he narrowed his eyes, tightening the beam of his searchlight gaze. His wings didn’t flap, but he rose, hovering with his toes just above the floor. “However Lush Your Figure, These Relics Do Not Belong To You.” God, it felt like that deep, masculine tone was resonating with her fucking bones.

“They don’t belong to the billionaries who oh-so-generously ‘loan’ them to this museum, either.” They paced back and forth, side to side, each waiting for the other to make a move. It hurt to work so patiently; the power thrumming through her body made her feel like a lightning bolt waiting to discharge. But she couldn’t rush this. Whatever angle she approached, he kept himself between her and the displays, all of them.

All of them. He couldn’t have known she was just there for one, specific object. She could use that.

She let her eyes linger on Volcana’s old obsidian wand — the display that happened to be farthest across the room from the jade dragon. Then in one smooth motion, she conjured a bomb and threw it down, filling the air with thick, black smoke. She dashed in, then immediately turned away from the wand to run straight for the dragon.

As she left the smoke, she found Heavensent waiting for her. Already between her and the railing, cuffs in hand. He grabbed for her arm.

Pure reflex ducked her underneath his first swipe, then backed her away from his next. While her transformation-granted instincts kept her moving, her mind reeled. How? He couldn’t have heard her approaching, couldn’t have seen her moving in the smoke.

He answered her question, or at least answered her confusion. “I Hear The Truths In Your Heart. I Hear Your Covetousness, Radiating From You, Pointing Right Where You Will Go.”

So on top of everything else, he was some kind of psychic. Great. She finally leapt back far enough to put some distance between them. Even with her firm landing, the tightness of her leather suit controlled her bouncing. “If you want to get that grabby, at least buy me a drink first!”

He sputtered and frowned at her behind his blush. “That Is Not My Intent. Be Not Afraid; I Won’t Hurt You.” Just bind her and hand her off to the much-less-kind authorities.

“Too bad.” Black Tigress smiled at him. “A little hurting can be fun, from a cute guy like you.” Psychic or not, she could still catch him off-guard somehow. Besides, he looked good with that blush. Nobody blushed like that for Torami.

He growled, the tone strangely resonant. As his blush glowed brighter, he pursued her, weightless in his hovering. She kept backing away from him, ducking under one swipe to sidestep another, her back getting ever closer to the wall. He watched her with narrow eyes — partially still affected by her teasing, but also suspicious. He could tell she was planning something, but not exactly what.

Until she rushed to the side, kicked off the wall, and launched clean over him. As he gasped behind her, she hit the ground running. Thrill raced through her as she finally put that power to work. No time for subtly cutting through the case, she’d have to drop to plan C: she started conjuring a simple hammer into her hand—

Click. A sudden force yanked her back by the wrist. He’d caught up with her and got a handcuff around one of her wrists. Gripping the chain, he pulled her back, towards him. “Be Not Afraid.” His voice was soft and husky, the reverberation shifted into a low rumble.

Wires crossed in her mind as she felt his chest against her back, his whisper against her neck, his grip tugging her wrist. He was so warm, so solid. Not body-builder bulky, but a lithe figure with raw power behind it — it was like she could feel her own charge resonating with his.

The feeling of that cuff around her wrist made her heart race. For all her flirting, she honestly hadn’t experimented much. She’d never tried bondage ... but with such a handsome man taking such control, part of her could see the appeal. And she was sure she wasn’t alone. With that glow from his eyes, she could feel his gaze. Between his height and his hovering, he was even taller than Black Tigress in her heels, giving him a perfect angle to look over her shoulder at her ‘lush figure’. Was his breath a little faster, feeling her so close to him? What could happen if she let him—

No, damn it, now was not the time to find him hot!

She twisted and turned, breaking his grip on the cuff even as it stayed around her wrist. The chain jingled as she leapt away from him, the metallic tone sending flutters through her. Now? She was discovering a new fetish now? If not for her transformation making her more graceful, she would have stumbled and fell, but she managed to get some distance again.

Not enough to catch her breath, not with how her heart was racing and he kept the pressure on. Her mind was still reeling, but she put it to work.

She couldn’t beat him in a straight fight, that was out of the question. She couldn’t evade him — that hovering flight was too unfair. She couldn’t trick him—

Although, he couldn’t read her mind, could he? Before she’d vaulted over him, he’d known she was going to try something, but he hadn’t known enough to intercept her right away. Honestly, he’d pretty much spelled it out for her. He heard the truths of her heart. Not her thoughts, but her emotions and where they pointed, like her ‘covetousness’ for the jade dragon.

Great, so he probably ‘heard’ the flash of arousal that pumped through her every time she heard her handcuff jingle or felt the unforgiving metal pulling her wrist.

As she kept weaving away from him, as he kept himself always between her and her objective, she locked eyes with him. She focused on her frustration, turning it into aggression and dredging it to the surface, while she conjured a kunai — a short, simple throwing knife. She sent it flying with a flick of her fingers. He saw it coming, of course, and dived underneath, his body parallel to the floor.

So it sailed above him, uninterrupted. Several things happened in the next four seconds.

Her kunai smashed through the jade dragon’s case, shattering it in a spray of glass fragments.

The alarm failed — she’d cut it on her way in — and so the guards in the security office kept watching the playoffs.

The hardwired magnetic locks, however, instantly sealed every door in the room.

Heavensent collided with her, his strong arms pulling her off her feet while the impact knocked the wind from her.

Her back hit another exhibit’s railing.

Time came back in full force as they struggled: he got hold of her arms, and though she pushed with all her enhanced strength, he wrestled them steadily behind her back.

Her heart pounded so loudly in her ears, she could barely hear her own grunts of effort. It wasn’t fear. Fuck, it felt intoxicating for him to overpower her like that. To feel the effort he put into controlling her, to feel the heat of his body against hers and the power in his hands.

Finally, the second click sealed her fate. Both her hands were bound, cuffed behind her, the chain looped around the railing. She jerked upright, pulling at the chain, feeling it hold strong. She was really, genuinely trapped. A shiver of kinky delight ran through her.

Heavensent stepped back from her, depriving her of his warmth, his masculine solidity. “Got You. At Last.” He glanced at the shattered case with a frown. “More Damage Than I would Have Liked, But...” Then he noticed what he wasn’t hearing, and turned his frown to the ceiling. “Shouldn’t There Be Alarms?”

Black Tigress shook her head. She resisted the urge to squirm, keeping still so that wonderful, jingling chain wouldn’t make it hard to hear her. “I cut the connections. That signal isn’t leaving this room. The doors, though ... if I’d cut those, they’d have locked before I even got in.”

Heavensent tried one. It didn’t budge. He sighed, palm over his face. “They Made Me Promise Not To Break Any Doors Or Locks. Besides, With How Sturdy These Frames Are, I’m Not Sure I Could.”

Tigress had wondered. “And once they lock down, only the manager can unlock them. He’ll be here at eight.”

He boggled at her. “Eight?”

“What’s wrong? Got a girlfriend at home waiting up for you?” She hoped not. Her level of raw, mind-bending horny was already uncomfortable enough. She was surprised she could keep her voice as level as she was, though she couldn’t completely prevent a husky edge coming into her tone.

He didn’t say anything, but his blushing glare said it all. No girlfriend.

“Maybe someone will notice us on the cameras.” She smiled at one. “I was only planning a quick in-and-out, so I left those. But even if they do, they’d have to get a hold of the manager, wake him, get him over here...”

He sighed, leaning against a railing across from her. “Meaning We’re Stuck Here. Just You and Me. Maybe For Hours.”

She groaned. She couldn’t help it, even as the slip made her blush. And her voice grew even warmer, breathier. “What are you going to do to me?” She was squirming again, trying to present herself for him.

He choked, his glowing eyes wide. “What Do You Take Me For? Do You Really Think I’d Assault You?” He stepped closer, staring into her eyes. “I’m Not Going To—” But then he stopped short, choking and sputtering.

Because he heard the truths in her heart. And she’d pushed every fantasy, every dirty image, all to the forefront of her mind, along with the lust that drove and resulted from them. No, she didn’t think he’d assault her. But a big part of her hoped he would.

He was still close, but his bearing had changed. Soft, shy. “You Can’t Be Serious.” His voice was so soft, the reverb was almost gone.

But she could see the way he was looking at her. She could hear his breathing getting faster. He was too much of a good guy to come up with something like this by himself, but hearing it from her — and ‘hearing’ how much she wanted it — intrigued him. Honestly, it shocked her too, but she couldn’t deny what she felt from those cuffs binding her, from feeling his eyes’ glow casting across her body. He just needed a nudge, a little assurance.

“My safeword is ‘crimson’,” she blurted out. Torami had never done anything kinky enough to need one, but she’d decided on one years ago.

He took a quivering breath, shaky with his part of their shared passion. He nodded to her.