My days are filled with perusing August’s sexy body, reading, and petting my villain cat. Or they should be. Of course I can’t just kick back and let the world burn around me because August “cares” about people and while I really… don’t, the idea of my one true love waltzing off into danger has me chasing after him, flinging bad guys as far as I can with my telekinesis. This sounds easy enough—I can fling people in my sleep—until someone uses an illusion to make me believe the worst. I might be one of the most powerful supers alive, but when it’s impossible to tell what’s real and what’s not, lines begin to blur. Along with my band of… misfits (I’m trying to be nice here), including a firestarter who seems to excel at burning the clothes off others (I’m never going to complain about a naked August), an excitable assassin who really needs to start asking before he shoots, and an illusionist who is disgustingly normal, we’re going to save the world. I’m joking; I don’t care about saving the world. I just want to make sure no one touches my man.