“What do you mean?" she asks. "What sort of… punishments do you… enforce?”
“Probably exactly the type you’re thinking of.” I keep my answer vague, my voice aloof.
"I suppose you… do things like…” She's looking for words and doesn't quite know how to say what she wants to. "Rough people up? Is that an actual job description?"
“Och, aye, lassie, no need to beat around the bush, now, is there?”
She shakes her head from side to side, still gazing at me with nothing short of hero worship in her eyes.
“No, definitely not," she says eagerly. Too eagerly. "Do go on."
I bite back a smile, and I do go on.
"Sometimes we loan money. Sometimes people who borrow money don't pay it back. So they have to pay it back in other ways. Sometimes people steal from us, and that wouldn't be very wise to allow people to steal from us, now, would it?"
She shakes her head again. "Oh, also definitely not."
"And sometimes, people betray our confidence."
"And those people need to be punished, too? This is your job?"
I shake my head. “Sometimes, but I don't like to mete out punishment straight away."
"No?"
"No." I clear my throat, and I speak slowly as if I'm reluctant to tell her the rest. I lower my voice to a deeper register. I'm having way too much fun with this.
"Our enemies that are due punishment need to wait. We like them wondering when we’ll come for them. We like them looking over their shoulders.”
She’s holding onto my every word, mouth open, eyes as wide as beautiful, brilliant moons.
"We don't punish or strike until they least expect it. And then when we do…" My voice grows even more menacing as I draw out the words. My voice is harsh. “The punishment is swift and merciless."
Some of this is true. Some of this is exaggerated. Some of this is embellished for the sake of drawing her interest, and I really fucking enjoy that.
I’m tired of hiding who I am, tired of watching everyone else in my family find their place in this world while I quietly toe the line, maintain anonymity, and enforce the rules of our Clan.
I want her to know exactly who I am. I know she suspects it, and has for quite a while, and I have no doubt my sisters talk.
She leans over to me, and is it my imagination or as has her voice gone a little more sultry?
“Have you ever had to punish a woman?"
My dick hardens, and I shift on my seat.
Is she really asking me what I think she is? Her question drips with sensual interest.
God, how I’d love to punish her.
"I have.”
That doesn't have quite the effect that I was hoping for. She blinks and pulls back to her side of the car.
Is she jealous? Angry? What the hell is this?
"Why do you ask?"
She shrugs. And when she speaks she is once again feigning nonchalance. "I just wondered if you find that hot.”
