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“Then we’re in trouble. Clients get restrained when they interfere with the bodyguards’ ability to keep them safe. Since you won’t tell me why the previous team decided to chain you, I can’t let you go.”
The smile grew wider. “I see your point.”
“Does this mean you’re ready to enlighten me?”
“I’m afraid not.”
I nodded. “I see. Well then, I’ll clear the rest of the apartment, and then I’ll come back and we’ll talk some more.”
“Do you prefer brunets or blonds?”
“What?”
The sheet shivered.
“Quickly, Kate. Brunets or blonds? Pick one.”
Odd bulges strained the sheet. I grabbed the covers and jerked them back.
Saiman lay naked, his body pinned to the bed by the chain. His stomach distended between two loops, huge and bloated. Flesh bulged and crawled under his skin, as if his body were full of writhing worms.
“Blond, I’d say,” Saiman said.
He groaned, his back digging into the sheets. The muscles under his skin boiled. Bones stretched. Ligaments twisted, contorting his limbs. Acid squirted into my throat. I gagged, trying not to vomit.
His body stretched, twisted, and snapped into a new shape: lean, with crisp definition. His jaw widened, his eyes grew larger, his nose gained a sharp cut. Cornsilk blond hair sprouted on his head and reaching down to his shoulders. Indigo flooded his irises. A new man looked at me, younger by about five years, taller, leaner, with a face that was heartbreakingly perfect. Above his waist, he was Adonis. Below his ribs, his body degenerated into a bloated stomach. He looked pregnant.
“You wouldn’t tell me what you preferred,” he said mournfully, his pitch low and husky. “I had to improvise.”
“What are you?” I kept my sword between me and him.
“Does it really matter?”
“Yes, it does.” When people said shapeshifter, they meant a person afflicted with Lyc-V, the virus that gave its victim the ability to shift into an animal. I’d never seen one who could freely change its human form.
Saiman made a valiant effort to shrug. Hard to shrug with several pounds of chains on your shoulders, but he managed to look nonchalant doing it.
“I am me.”
Oh boy. “Stay here.”
“Where would I go?”
I left the bedroom and checked the rest of the apartment. The only remaining room contained a large shower stall and a giant bathtub. No kitchen. Perhaps he had food delivered.
Fifteenth floor. At least one guard downstairs, bullet-resistant glass, metal grates. The place was a fortress. Yet he hired bodyguards at exorbitant prices. He expected his castle to be breached.
I headed to the bar, grabbed a glass from under the counter, filled it with water, and took it to Saiman. Changing shape took energy. If he was anything like other shapeshifters, he was dying of thirst and hunger right about now.
Saiman’s gaze fastened on the glass. “Delightful.”
I let him drink. He drained the glass in long, thirsty swallows.
“How many guards are on duty downstairs?”
“Three.”
“Are they employed by the building owners directly?”
