Siren of the Shadows - Part 6 [Femme fatale TG]

Tier Reward for EB18

~

Robbing The Vault was different from any other job. I couldn’t just scope it out the night I planned on pinching things and then go for it. It was going to take time, planning and, most importantly, information. Luckily, I happened to know one of the Vault’s biggest investors quite well. I may have decided not to rob Remington Collins, but that didn’t mean I was above using him. He was still part of the snobby elite who wouldn’t have given me a second glance if he didn’t think I was part of them. At least, that’s what I told myself as I walked across the exquisite ballroom at the country club. This was supposed to be a charity ball, but if the decor and food was anything to go by, the organisers could have saved a lot of time and effort by just giving the money it cost to put on this party to charity. It would have been thousands. 

“Sylvia! How wonderful to see you!”

I turned with a predatory smile.

“Rem! I was thinking about reporting you missing. I haven’t seen you around the club lately.”

Remington's charming smile triggered a few butterflies in my stomach despite my best efforts to quash them. 

“Been burning the midnight oil, I’m afraid. Lots of sleeping late on my part.”

“It must be nice to have that luxury,” I replied snidely, but of course, it went right over his head. 

Remington passed me a glass of champagne, and I sipped at it, wondering how much the bottle cost. It was probably more than I used to make in a week; how much money these people threw around was pathetic. The expensive drink was delicious, though, and the taste of it on my tongue reminded me why I was here.

“So, tell me about this latest project of yours,” I said. “The Vault? Sounds impressive.”

“Yes, it is, state of the art! Even The Fox won’t be able to break in.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. She’s pretty slippery from what I hear.” 

“Yes…” Remington hummed. His charming facade slipped just a little as he spoke. “She’s certainly something. This Vault is the city's last resort.”

“So…what sort of defences does it have? How can you be so sure the Fox won’t break in?”

“Let’s not talk about her, " he said moodily, swishing the sparkling liquid in his glass. There was a far-off aspect to his voice that made me pause. His tone had suddenly become melancholy, dropping an octave, and something about it sounded oddly familiar. 

“Why don't we talk about the cause, hm? That seems more appropriate. I attend so many of these events that I almost can’t keep track of them.”
 How humble. 

“I suppose with your breeding and bank account, you get invited to every charity event under the sun.”

I adjusted my black silk gown, its neckline just daring enough to distract but tasteful enough not to draw suspicion. My hair was swept up and pinned with diamonds—fake, of course. I wasn’t stupid enough to wear the real thing to an event like this. Tempting as it might be to flaunt some of the baubles I’d taken from people in this very room. 

I saw them all: the old money, the social climbers, the “philanthropists.” They were all making a big deal about the cheques they passed over to the event organiser. Making sure everybody could see the huge sums written neatly in black ink. Not because they wanted to help but because it made them look good. This was all a show in outdoing one another. They pretended to care about this evening’s cause, a children’s hospital, but I could see through them. Their smiles were for each other, not for the kids on the charity pamphlets they pretended to read. 

“A face that pretty shouldn’t be scowling.” Remington teased, and I almost jumped. I’d gotten so caught up in my own head I’d almost forgotten he was here. 

“Sorry, lost in my own head.”

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“You can pay more than that; that’s why you’re here.”

Remington actually laughed at that. 

“What can I say? They like having me here. Something about the Collins name adds credibility.”

“And do you enjoy lending your name to these causes?” I asked, the question laced with sarcasm. “Or do you just enjoy being the best-dressed man in the room?”

His eyes flicked over me in that way that men do when they’re sizing you up. Again, I was hit with a strange sense of deja vu. There was something about that intense look in his eyes that made me think of somebody else. 

“What about you?” he asked. “Do you enjoy playing the part of the mysterious woman who never quite says what she means?”

I smirked, tipping my glass toward him.

 “Maybe. Keeps people on their toes.”

“I’m not complaining,” he replied, leaning in just slightly. “I like a good mystery.”

We stood there for a moment, closer than was probably appropriate for a gala like this, but neither of us moved. I had to admit, there was something about him that got under my skin. 

“My sister spent time at that hospital when she was younger. I’m not here for the photo ops.”

I blinked.

“That’s what people think, rich man, rich family, only here to show off to other rich folk.” He shrugged. “But the truth is, I want to help this city in any way I can. And the city’s children are a good place to start.”

The mention of his sister caught me off guard, but before I could respond, a commotion broke out near the auction table. A group of men had gathered, laughing obnoxiously loud, waving their donation slips like they were betting at a horse race. One of them shouted: 

“Another ten thousand for the kid with the saddest eyes!”

The crowd laughed. I looked at Remington, waiting to see his reaction. His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing just a fraction. But then, instead of saying anything, he smiled that same charming smile and walked over to join them without so much as a goodbye. He’d already forgotten me. I swallowed down the rest of the champagne despite it tasting bitter on my tongue. That whole line about his sister was probably just a pity grab. He was just like the rest. Maybe he had a soft spot for the cause, but he was still playing the game in the end, just like everyone else in this room. I should’ve known better.

I put down the empty flute and mixed back into the crowd. Remington wasn't the only one involved with the Vault. I was sure I could find somebody else here with a looser tongue who could give me the information I needed. 

~

“A funny joke, to be sure.” Remington smiled as he approached the group, cold fury burning in his stomach. “But, I’m not sure I understand it. Could you explain?”

The man blinked in surprise, and red dusted over his cheekbones, and he began to bluster.

“Oh, you know, just that these kids all have that kicked puppy look, so…whichever one looks saddest deserves more money.”

“Deserves? Are you saying it's funny to brag about the suffering of others?”

“Well-”

“That it makes you, as a well, fit adult, to laugh at a sick child's suffering like some sort of cur?”

The man was spluttering now, and the people who’d been laughing with him were looking awkward and judgmental now that they’d been called out. The small group dispersed, and Remington adjusted his collar; assholes. He had to be careful, though, he’d been so angry he almost fell into his alter ego’s voice. What would all the city’s elite think if the secret came out? That by day, he was the rich, charming Remington Collins, and by night, the hero The Shrouded Spectre? He couldn’t help but wonder what Sylvia would think. She was the only person he’d met at the club who seemed to despise its members as much as he did. She kept it hidden, of course, but he caught the little comments and sly looks. He wondered if she knew he felt the same. Probably not; this act was important, after all, if he was too obvious, some of his enemies might make the connection, and then his secret identity would be no more. And he did need his public face for missions just like tonight. 

He turned back to see Sylvia gone, disappearing into the crowd. Remington sighed; in another life, perhaps he would have pursued her. In a life in which another woman didn’t already occupy his mind near constantly. A part of him almost wished she would appear if only to liven things up a bit, but he shook such thoughts away. He was here on a mission. Their last conversation in Eloquence and Antiquities had aroused an interest in him. In more ways than one. He made his way through the crowd until he found the man he’d been looking for. 

“Ah, Mr. Sutherland, I presume?” Remington offered his hand. “I have been hearing so much about you lately.”

“All good, I hope.” The other man grinned, and Remington had to use all his self-control not to flinch. He could already see the greed in this man's eyes, the way they raked over his body, taking in the expensive suit. He barely saw a man at all, all Sutherland saw in front of him right now was a wallet. 

“Oh yes, all good news.” Remington lied. “Actually, I was wondering about a specific necklace that came into your custody not long ago. One belonging to Catherine Parr?”

“Ah yes, a historic piece to be sure, inlaid with all kinds of gemstones. Once I remove them, clean them up and reset them, the piece will be quite the proverbial feather in any lady's cap.”

Remington thought about what The Fox had said about the owner not deserving the necklace and grimaced. This man really would destroy an artifact just for pure profit. 

“Surely the historic value of the original piece would be worth more?”

“Oh no, all tarnished metal. Nobody wants that stuff.”

“I would. I’d happily pay you a good sum for it.”

For a second, Mr. Sutherland’s eyes gleamed and Remington mentally prepared to be gouged, but to his surprise, the other man shook his head.

“Sorry, I know you’re not the type of man to hear no, but I already have a buyer who will pay top dollar for the gemstones. If I charge you the same amount of the whole piece in its current state…well, I can’t have people thinking I am greedy man, overcharging somebody just because they have the cash.”

He puffed up his chest and Remington had to hold back a fist; this guy really did think he was some philanthropist. Maybe The Fox did have a point after all. 

“I’m sorry, did i hear you mention gems?”

Remington startled, then smiled.

“Sylvia, I thought I’d lost you.”

“Oh just making the rounds, but I couldn’t help but overhear you talking treasure.” She smiled sweetly. “I don’t believe we have met Mr…?”

“Sutherland. And no, I believe I would remember a woman with such fine taste in diamonds.” He took her hand and kissed it. “I am something of a gemstone expert. I can tell those are of the highest quality.”

Sylvia smiled, her expression almost smug as she let him. Though Remington noted the way she quickly wiped her hand on her dress when Mr. Sutherland wasn’t looking. 

“Yes, I was just discussing some stones I am waiting to have removed and restored from an old necklace.” 

“Well, I’d get them in that Vault of Rem’s here.” Sylvia said, “If you have to wait much longer they might get snatched up by that awful Fox woman.”

Mr. Sutherland’s face darkened. 

“Unlikely, we have the highest security.”

“But, didn’t I hear a rumor that she’s struck you twice already?” Remington teased and Sylvia giggled.

“Just rumours I assure you.” Mr. Sutherland said stiffly. 

“Oh, of course.” 

Sylvia gave him a sly smile from behind her glass and something stirred in Remington’s chest. There was something intoxicating about that smile, something almost…familiar. 

~

The Spectre looked out over the city. He’d been perched here for three nights now, overlooking the bank where The Vault was. A few days after the charity event Mr. Sutherland had contacted the Vault’s proprietors and checked that necklace in, along with several other items. That meant it was only a matter of time before the Fox finally struck.

He couldn’t get that last confrontation with her out of his mind. Yes, she was a criminal, on the wrong side of the law but at the same time…there was something different about her. She actually cared about the antiques she stole, yes she stole valuables as well, but she wasn't just some common thief. He followed the trail, looking into everybody she had stolen from, including the owner of Eloquence and Antiquities, and after doing so, he couldn’t say he blamed The Fox for stealing from them. 

Not only would they barely feel the loss of a pair of earrings or a necklace, but they didn’t seem to be particularly nice people. The Spectre knew that he’d been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. His distaste for high society was a huge part of why he’d taken to the night as The Spectre to begin with. Remington Collins could only do so much for this city; he’d needed a new identity. 

“Where are you?” He whispered into the night. “I know you’re coming…what’s taking so long.”

Then, there was a flicker of movement. It was so subtle that most people wouldn’t even notice, and indeed, the security guards down on the street didn’t even flinch as a shadow silently flew overhead. The silhouette was only visible for a moment, but The Spectre knew it well. He’d seen those flexible curves fly through the air half a dozen times; the flash of red confirmed it. The Fox. 

He fired off his grappling hook and slung through the air, landing on the rooftop louder than he normally would. His boots slapped against the concrete, and he watched as the Fox startled. She was bent over a vent port, the first intentional weak point The Spectre had decided not to mention when going over the building plans. She smiled when she saw him, those cunning eyes glinting through her mask. Yet he was still hopeful. This salacious beauty wasn’t true evil; he could fix her. 

“Spectre, darling. I’m flattered, but you need to learn that no means no.” The Fox smiled coyly, “I really don't have time to entertain your interest tonight.”

“Wait, Fox.” He held up a hand. “I’m not here to fight you. Not tonight.”

“Oh?” She cocked her head to one side. “Have I tempted you over to the dark side of the law, Spectre? How scandalous.”

“Never.” He said firmly before taking a step forward. “I will always be dedicated to defending justice and what’s right…but lately, I have started to think that perhaps things are not quite so black and white.”

For the first time, The Fox looked genuinely surprised. She leaned against the building’s wall casually and seemed to let her guard down. 

“I’ve been studying you, your crimes, your prizes.”

“I’m flattered.”

“And I saw how you reacted when that vase almost broke, you steal for yourself but also…to preserve history.”

The Fox shifted a little.

“Yeah, so?”

“Maybe this started out as a necessity for you. Maybe you thought stealing was your only recourse and decided to take from those who would feel it the least.” The Spectre deduced. “But you also decided to protect historical treasures from those who didn’t appreciate them. While I do not condone your methods…I think I can understand them. So I am going to help you.”

For the first time ever, The Fox was taken aback.

“On the condition that you give up this life of crime after tonight.” He added quickly. “You have stolen more than enough to survive until you can find some sort of proper employment. It’s time to leave this life in the shadows behind. I will help you take the necklace that awful man, Sutherland, put in the vault, but nothing else. Understand?”

“And if I decide to keep going?” She asked after a moment. 

“Then I shall pursue you until you are behind bars.” He said sadly. “Neither of us wants that, Fox, I know you’re a good woman deep down. I can feel it. Take the deal, and you can get away and live a proper life.” 

She bit her lip and Spectre felt his heart begin to beat; she was considering it! He had been right all along. 

“How do I know you’ll let me go?” She asked after a moment, taking a step closer. Now, they were barely an inch apart. He could smell her perfume and his mouth began to water remembering the taste of her on his lips. 

“You have my honour?”

“Honour among thieves?” She giggled. 

“I’m no thief. I am justice.”

The Fox rolled her eyes behind her mask but smiled. 

“You know, maybe it’s foolish, but I think I can trust you.” She purred, running a hand down his chest. The thick armour padding of his suit prevented him from feeling the scratch of her nails and he was shocked by just how much he wanted to. 

~

My heart was pounding in my chest. When I stepped out tonight, I knew The Shrouded Spectre would be waiting. He must have known this Vault would eventually tempt me out. I had been prepared for a fight, ready to use all my strength and seductive skills to get him off-kilter and steal that necklace. But when he’d given me the shot, I couldn’t help but want it to be true. Spectre was a naive fool, but he was no liar. If he would let me go after this last job….maybe it would be worth it. I couldn’t just blindly trust him, though; I needed insurance. Blackmail.

I smirked, my red hair blowing slightly in the night breeze, we were so close already and I could feel the sexual tension building. This wasn't like the other people I’d seduced, there was a sort of perverse pleasure in finally tempting somebody as stalwart as The Spectre. 

“I’m giving you a chance.” He murmured. “Don’t ruin it by running.”

I pressed my chest against his, feeling my body suit crush against my skin. 

 "Oh, I don't plan on running, Spectre. Not when I've been craving a different kind of encounter with you." I purred, my voice dripping with seduction.

He raised an eyebrow, his stance rigid, but I could see a flicker of interest in his eyes. 

“Come on, we both know this was coming,” I whispered, leaning in close so that our lips brushed. Before we pull this heist, let’s just be man and woman for a little while.”

He was right on the edge, his arms frozen at my side, hovering an inch away from my hips. One more push and he’d be eating out of the palm of my hand, maybe elsewhere as well. 

"Don’t you want to know how it would feel to have your strong arms around me, your powerful body against mine?"

He took a sharp breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly. 

"Fox, we can't..."

I didn't let him finish. With a swift movement, I closed the distance between us, pressing my lips against his. I could feel his hardness through his costume, a delicious confirmation of my power over him. 

"You want me, hero. Admit it."

His hands trembled for a moment before they found their way to my hips, pulling me closer. 

"I..." He struggled to find the words, his resolve weakening.

I tilted my head back, baring my neck, inviting him to take what he wanted. 

"Kiss me," I breathed. "Just let go.”

The Spectre's resistance crumbled as his lips descended upon mine again, but he didn’t break away this time. The kiss was hungry, fierce, as if he was claiming something that was rightfully his. My hands found their way under his costume, exploring the chiseled planes of his back, pulling him closer.

His tongue danced with mine, and I moaned softly, encouraging him to take control. He responded by picking me up, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. I could feel his erection pressing against my core, and I arched my back, seeking more friction. My hands feverishly worked on the fastenings of his costume. He quickly stripped off the top half, revealing a sculpted chest and powerful arms. I ran my fingers over his hard body, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

My whole body felt like it was on fire. I’d kiss plenty of people since donning the mask but for the first time…I felt my control slipping. My body acted on want, not need. I was as much seducing myself as I was The Spectre. We’d been playing this game for so long now, the teasing, the banter. Ever since I’d first donned the mask and realised how powerful feminine sexuality was, I’d told myself it was just a tool, but now…now I wanted him. I wanted this man so badly my body was begging for it. 

The Spectre's hands roamed under my suit, cupping my breasts, his thumbs teasing my nipples to hardness. I bit back a moan, urging him to go further. There was a small building that housed the rooftop doorway to the rest of the building and we stumbled toward it. Instead of opening the door though, The Spectre pinned me against the wall, his kisses trailing down my neck, sending shivers through my body. His hand slid down, tracing the outline of my suit, and with a swift motion, he ripped it open, exposing my bare skin. I fumbled with his utility belt in turn, loosening it to reveal his manhood slowly. This would be the perfect time to try and steal some of those gadgets of his, but I was too caught up in the moment to bother. I didn't care about anything right now but having him inside me. The depth of my need surprised even me. 

The Spectre lifted me again, and I guided his throbbing cock towards my wet pussy. He entered me slowly, filling me inch by inch, his eyes never leaving mine. I bit my lip, relishing the sensation of being stretched around his thick shaft.

"Move, The Spectre," I whispered, urging him to take control. It wasn’t a lie anymore. I wasn't trying to make him think he was in control, I wanted him to take me. To own me. 

He began to thrust, his movements powerful and deliberate. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure through my body, and I clung to him, matching his rhythm. Our bodies slapped together, the sound of our frantic coupling filling the stairwell.

"Harder, The Spectre," I begged, my voice hoarse. "Fuck me harder."

He obliged, pounding into me with primal urgency. I could feel my orgasm building, my pussy clenching around his cock. I scratched his back, marking him as mine, if only for this night.

"I'm close," I panted, his only reply was a primal grunts. 

I cried out as my orgasm hit, my pussy spasming around him. The Spectre followed, his cock twitching as he filled me with his hot cum. We rode the waves of pleasure together, our bodies trembling in the aftermath. It was the biggest orgasm I’d had since taking on the mask and left me breathless. After a few moments, The Spectre gently set me down, his hands tenderly caressing my face. 

"Fox, you..."

His fingers curled around the side of the mask, and I quickly grabbed his wrist. 

"Shh... No regrets, The Spectre. Not tonight."

He nodded, his eyes filled with conflicting emotions.

“Come on, hero,” I whispered. “Let’s go get that necklace.”

We both took a moment to reclothe ourselves and I gave him a flirtatious wink before popping open the ventilation shaft. We crawled through the large tunnels, and I felt my pussy still throbbing from our lovemaking. And it had been lovemaking, not just sex. What was I going to do? I couldn’t just fall in love with him even if I did give up the mask. I distracted myself by focusing on the task at hand; disabling security measures, slipping beneath laser wires and finally, carefully unscrewing the wall panneling with one of my claws and removing it before dropping down into the biggest safety deposit box room I’d ever seen. 

“Right…which one has the necklace?” I asked.

“One fifty-three.” Spectre replied. “But remember Fox, only the necklace. Nothing else.”

“Scouts honour.” I giggled. Before our tryst on the roof, I had fully intended to take a few extras, but now my mind was buzzed with potential futures. Maybe I could stay Sylvia. Never take the mask off and let my old male life disappear into dust. I could find The Spectre, seduce him all over and then maybe…maybe we could be together. My cheeks burned with a mixture of arousal and embarrassment; one fuck and I was smitten. How had I let my guard down so much? 

I found the box and was about to start the arduous task of unlocking it when suddenly, light filled the room. The front door burst open, and I nearly jumped out of my skin as police flooded in.

“What? No!”

“Quick.” Spectre hissed, “You have to go.”

I looked at him, eyes wide. He meant it too, he really was on my side-

“Well done, Spectre! Your trap worked!” 

The police chief strolled in behind his men with a huge, smug grin, and I felt my heart turn to ice.

“Trap?” I whispered.

“Fox, it’s not what you think. The Vault was originally my idea but I didn’t-” He whispered but the chief was already speaking over him. 

“Quick, men, arrest her.”

“Oh no, you don’t!” I whispered. I refused to let this be the end. 

With an acrobatic flip, I jumped back to the open panelling I’d removed and crawled inside, not even bothering to blow the cops a kiss as I went. The ventilation shafts were a maze that stretched all over the building. I reached into my belt and grabbed a handful of ballbears, and began flinging them down random tunnels, making sounds echo through the building as police tried to chase after me. I finally made it outside and kicked the mount off the wall before diving into the alleyway.

“Over there!”

“Dammit!”

Of course, they had people posted outside. I fled into the night, heart racing and eyes burning with humiliation. Damn The Shrouded Spectre. Damn him! I flitted from alley to alley, taking every twist and turn I could until I saw my salvation: a group of homeless people congregated beneath a bridge. I raced beneath it and reached for my mask, ready to rip it off and suffer through the uncomfortable sensation of becoming male again. 

Only it wouldn’t come off. 

I tugged furiously at the edge of the fox mask, but it remained stubbornly stuck. Panic flooded me. There was no way for me to escape now! I quickly looked around and spotted another dark alley; I just needed a bit more distance. If I could make it somewhere private, I could figure this out.

“Got you!”

A hand closed around my arm, and my heart sank. The police officer was grinning ear to ear. I could already tell he’d be bragging for weeks about being the one to catch The Fox. He started reading me my rights, snapping cold handcuffs around my wrists as he went. The homeless people gawked, as did the rest of the police force, as they caught up. But I ignored them all, my eyes locked on a shadowy figure atop the bridge, looking down at me with sad eyes. Spectre. This was all his fault. I’d set out to wrap him around my finger, and somehow, he’d wrapped me around his.