hadn't even been aware she was capable of it. She slapped the whip against the guard's hip and added in a stern voice.
'Strip, and do it quickly.'
The question had a note of fury that made her smile.
Was it only a day ago those same words had made her furious?
There was a long pause. I don't think thinking about that is
She had to restrain her grin. Hang on a moment. Got to
She slid the tip of the whip down the guard's chest, and lightly flicked it over his cock. He shuddered and swallowed.
'Nice,' she said, sliding the whip down his shaft and lightly toying with his balls. 'Very nice. Turn around.'
He did, his breathing so hard his whole body shook. Yet he was still a little wary—tension rode his shoulders, and he watched her over one shoulder. He still had the gun. She had to be careful.
She stepped closer, resisting the urge to wrinkle her nose at the stale smell of him. Forcing a smile, she met his gaze as she rubbed her studded bra across the width of his back.
'Like that?'
His thick groan was answer enough. She snorted softly.
'I'm not convinced.' She stepped back and slapped the whip against his bare butt. 'Spread your legs.'
He did. Quickly.
'What do you want me to do, little boy?'
He gave another thick groan. 'Rub your breasts up and down my back.'
She gave him another slap with the whip. 'I didn't hear the magic word.'
'Please.'
She slapped him again. 'I don't believe you meant it. And who gave you permission to look at me?'
'Pretty please,' he repeated, his words a shudder of excitement as he turned his head away.
She smiled grimly and reached back, wrapping her fingers around the Taser.
'Get ready,' she whispered, slipping the whip between his spread legs, caressing him even as she pressed the Taser against his back. He didn't make a sound, simply collapsed.
She caught the gun from his nerveless fingers, then stepped back so he could fall.
'Guard number one down and out,' she said softly, more for Jack's benefit than Grey's.
She took one strip of leather from her waist and quickly hog-tied the guard. Then she shifted shape, and began weaving her way through the many rooms that separated her from Grey.
He's big. And a horse shifter.
Yum. I've never had a horse shifter before. I'm told they rather live up to a stallion's reputation.
His voice held that note of fury again, and she felt like laughing. If he was reacting so readily to her teasing, he did indeed care.
I'm a mutt. Mutts have sex on the brain.
I'd rather this mutt concentrate on the business at hand—
me.
So he has no loyalty to our killer?
No. And the killer's name is Marcy Jones. Though he prefers Marshall.
So he is officially a she?
Officially, yes.
Mentally?
A male who hates his feminine side.
So does he really want acceptance? Love? Or was that just a line you were spinning to get me off the track.
She frowned. So why is he slicing these women up the way
So if he wants kids, he has to rely on the very part of him he hates?
Which also explained how he was getting into the bars. He was going there as a fertile woman, not a sterile man.
She trotted through yet another doorway and entered a long corridor. The tang of cigarette smoke began to taint the air, along with the faint stench of burnt flesh.
Silver, she thought. They'd chained Grey with silver. Which would explain why he hadn't escaped. It would also stop her from freeing him. Silver burned, and stopped, shifters of any race. She swallowed the rising sense of sick fury and asked,
He phoned you, didn't he?
Said he was you.