“No fair,” I complained. “I’m weak enough as it is without having you spray what remains of my blood everywhere.”
After Harley has been taken care of I’ll need to feed before tackling the others.
He pumped the shotgun, ready to fire again. I wasn’t sure how many cartridges one of those things could hold. It smarted and I didn’t really want to be shot again.
“Isn’t that getting a bit hot to hold?” I asked, smiling.
The metal began to glow red and Harley dropped the shotgun, crying out in pain. I looked at the gun, then at Harley, and my smile widened.
“Matches the colour of my eyes, don’t you think?” I said as I batted my eyelashes.
My body had healed itself. The bra and catsuit were a mess, exposing more of me to Harley than I’d planned.
“I really hate it when that happens,” I said.
