Although that too was a gray area. They wanted to kill him. She, strangely enough, found herself feeling sorry for Lance. She knew what they said was right, that Lance was unpredictable. But the more she thought about it, the more she knew Lance was as much a victim as she was, as they all were. The real bad guys were Dennison and these other scientists who would keep them prisoner, treat them as specimens, use their bodies, their DNA, for profit or worse. Lance was sick. His disease was killing him and he had been able to make something good out of all of the evil of the past years. He had somehow come up with a serum to cure his disease. He just needed more time to perfect it, and if he could do that, he could cure this illness not just for himself but for so many others. He wasn't evil. Rachel didn't believe that, even after what she had been through with him. He was desperate and he would need to learn to manage and control the beast, but how could he without more samples to work with?
The way Lance wanted to do it wouldn't hurt anyone. He would take an egg from her and create matter with which to work. She could give that to him and if she did, then he was no longer a threat. Perhaps even an ally. One to stand against Dennison along with Marcus and Elijah. The greater danger, as she saw it, was Dennison.
The fastest most effective way to deal with this was to use her as bait. But Marcus wouldn't hear of it.
She heard the water switch off and soon Marcus walked into the bedroom. Her body reacted to seeing him like that, bare naked chest dripping wet, a small towel wrapped around his narrow hips, well-muscled legs peeking out from underneath.
"Feeling better?" he asked, looking at her as he dried his hair with another towel.
She inhaled then exhaled. "I don't see why you won't even consider my idea," she began.
He shook his head and took a deep breath before speaking. "Rachel," he said, sounding stern. "Why you think letting this man, this scientist, who kidnapped you and is essentially interested in using you as a specimen-who meanwhile has absolutely no control over when he shifts or what he does when he is that creature-why you think you would be safe to allow even a tiny possibility of him taking you again-I cannot even begin to comprehend. This discussion is over." She opened her mouth but he only raised his eyebrows. "Over. I mean it Rachel. He is out of control. Even if his intentions were good, were noble, which I doubt, he is out of control. You will stay out of this. We're not discussing it again."
"Fine," she said.
"Go have a shower so we can go," he said.
"I'll stay here," she said, refusing to look at him as she folded her arms across her chest. He was wrong on this one and he was just being plain stubborn. "I don't feel much like shopping."
"We just need to pick up a few things."
"Are you going to spank me if I refuse to go?" she asked, turning her face to his, sounding like a brat even to herself.
"No," he began, his tone telling her his patience was wearing thin
"I mean, isn't that what you do? Spank me if I don't do what you say?"
He inhaled, looking as if he were counting to ten before responding. She stared at him meanwhile, her heart racing, her brain asking what she was thinking, why she was provoking him.
"Go have a shower. Elijah will be here soon, I want to be back before he gets here."
"I'll just wait here for him."
He sat down on the edge of the bed and touched her face. She folded her arms across her chest. "Rachel," he began, turning her face to his.
She snapped it away.
"All right," he said, pulling the covers off her and gripping her by the arm. "You're behaving like a spoiled brat who didn't get her way."
"Stop it! Let me go!" she called out.
He ignored her and pulled her so she lay face down across his lap. "If you want me to spank you," he began, his hands rough on the waistband of her shorts, "then I will," he said, pulling her shorts down.
She reached back to slap his hands away, but he only grabbed and held her wrists at her back. "Marcus, stop! Ow!" she protested, trying to get free.
He spanked hard. "Is this what you want?" he asked, continuing to lay fast, hard smacks across both cheeks.
"No! Stop it, it hurts!" She wondered if the people in the other rooms could hear her being punished. "Please."
He reached for the hem of her panties.
"No! Please wait."
"Wait for what?" he asked, pausing, resting his big hand on her bottom.
She turned to look at him. "Why are you doing this?" she asked, tears falling from her eyes.
She watched his own eyes redden for a moment. "Rachel, I can't take a chance of something happening to you. I won't. I know what these men are capable of. I've been at the receiving end and I've watched my brother slowly wither away. I'm sorry, I won't budge on this."
The mention of Collin brought back the pain of those years that Marcus had been gone. The pain of the massacre of his family. She allowed her body to go limp. "Okay," she managed.
He pulled her closer but kept her over his lap. "Put your hands and feet on the floor," he said, releasing her wrists.
She glanced at him, aware of the hardness against her belly, and did as he'd said, the sudden throbbing of her pussy replacing that of her bottom. Slowly, he slid her panties down to mid-thigh and pulled her legs apart. His hands then began to circle her cheeks, rubbing her thighs, dipping in between her legs, just touching her sex, her swollen clit.
"You're wet," he said just as one finger slid into her pussy.
She could only moan as he scooted her farther forward so her hips were even higher and her head was nearly to the floor. His finger continued to push in and out of her slowly, and she could feel the sticky residue of herself on her thighs. With his other hand he found her clit and began to massage the swollen nub, sliding his fingers, wet with her juices, up toward her bottom hole. She arched her back, opening for him as he pressed into her ass slowly, taking his time, sliding all the way in then out again and again until she was panting with desire.
He added a second finger to the first and rubbed her clit harder.
She made a sound and squeezed her eyes shut, gripping his leg with both hands when she came, lifting her bottom into his hands as he pushed deep into her ass and pinched her clit between his fingers. When she released his leg, he pulled out of her and slid her to her knees between his legs. His towel had fallen open and he gripped his cock with one hand. He brought the other to the back of her head while she watched him stroke himself, his thick cock glistening. She opened her mouth and leaned toward him, but he gripped a handful of hair and held her so she could only extend her tongue out, licking the tip, tasting the few drops there while he stroked. She reached to touch him.
"Put your hands on my thighs and keep them there," he said, his voice sounding different.
She did, glancing up at him while she still tried to pull forward, to lick him, to take him into her mouth.
"Please," she begged when he gripped her hair more tightly, standing, lifting her so she was kneeling up.
"Open your mouth and look at me."
She opened her mouth and met his eyes.
"Open wider."
She opened as wide as she could and he dipped his cock into her mouth, closing his eyes for a moment and throwing his head back with a sigh as she wrapped her wet lips around it, still trying to take more of him than he would allow.
"Slow down," he told her.
He allowed her to suck for a few moments longer as his cock swelled. He then abruptly pulled her off, her lips making a smacking sound when he did.
"Turn around, on your hands and knees, ass high," he said.
She moved fast, spreading her knees wide and arching her back deep as he knelt between them. He gripped her hips and dragged her back, pulling her cheeks apart, resting just one finger on her asshole as he thrust his cock into her pussy. He fucked her hard and fast and when she felt him slow, felt him swell and throb, she reached back for her clit and came as he did, her orgasm frantic as he released inside her with a satisfied, almost wild groan.
Chapter Eighteen
Lance watched the man who had come for Rachel walk out of the hotel. Finding Rachel had been easier than he could have hoped. He was almost drawn to her; both her scent and her mind acting as a guide, a map. He had driven to Tucson, unwilling to take a chance on an airplane in case he shifted mid-flight. But now that he was here, he knew he wasn't too late.