Authors: Cyndi Friberg
“That’s called a lantern. When the middle part is ignited it emits light.” She pointed at the lantern with her foot.
He turned around and his gaze swept her from head to toe. “I didn’t give you permission to cover yourself.”
“Tough shit.” She softened the phrase with a mischievous smile. “It’s getting cold as well as dark.” She was hoping to keep him off-balance with her semi-flirtatious rebellion. “And even slaves have to eat.”
Without warning, he fisted the back of her hair and snatched the T-shirt out of her hands. He held it out of reach and made her watch it sail to the floor. Then he wrapped his other arm around her waist and pulled her firmly against his body. Finally, with obvious restraint, he pulled her head back until their gazes locked. “Then you admit you’re my slave?”
“That is not what—”
He silenced her protest with his mouth. The kiss was hard and demanding, yet slow, advancing by degrees until she found herself responding, despite her intention to resist him. His tongue teased her lips, caressing and tracing without venturing between. Smart man. If he dared to invade her mouth, she’d bite him hard enough that he’d need stitches.
Suddenly he shifted her head to the bend of his elbow and eased his hand between their bodies. She felt his fingers moving against her breasts, but he wasn’t really caressing her. The cuffs, she realized. He unhooked the tether connecting the cuffs, so she could separate her arms.
With an impatient growl, he moved her hands out of his way and crushed her breasts into his chest. “You’re so soft.” He sounded drugged as he whispered the words against her lips and then he kissed her again.
His hand moved up and down her back, occasionally dropping a bit lower. But he didn’t squeeze her ass or fondle her breasts. It was almost frustrating. He obviously wanted her, so why was he being so…careful?
Because Shadow Assassins didn’t rape their captives. They meticulously seduced them until they were willing participants in their own degradation. Understanding helped clear her head and refocus her purpose. She needed to earn his trust, convince him to let down his guard long enough for her to escape.
And two could play at this game. She wrapped her arms around him and touched him even more aggressively than he was touching her. His skin felt oddly soft in comparison to the flesh beneath. His back wasn’t just dramatically tapered, it was corded with defined muscles. She rubbed against him, easing her legs apart until she straddled his thigh.
Her participation made him bolder. His tongue swept over her lower lip, brushing against her teeth before retreating again. She returned the caress and he groaned, his fist returning to her hair. He dragged his mouth away from hers and stared deep into her eyes. “I want to kiss you, really kiss you.”
“I know.” She allowed herself to smile. “Feed me first and I’ll consider it.”
His gaze narrowed and his nostrils flared, then he released her with a sigh. “Even slaves have to eat.”
And round one goes to Morgan
. Thank God he couldn’t read her mind. Thoughts like that would likely land her flat on her back again. Taking advantage of her momentary freedom, she snatched his T-shirt off the floor and put it on.
He took a step toward her, but she held up both hands. She even lowered her gaze. “May I please wear your shirt? I really am cold.” He said nothing so she glanced up at him.
“What game are you playing?”
The question was probably rhetorical, but she answered anyway. “No game. I was just cold.” He obviously didn’t believe her, but he didn’t press the issue.
Rather than continue their power struggle, he turned around and motioned to the mess he’d made earlier. “Do you see something with which to ignite the lantern?”
Hoping the question wasn’t just a ploy to reel her in, she moved up beside him. The tent had gone from gloomy to dim while they made out, so she didn’t have much time to solve the problem. She didn’t see a box of matches or a grill starter, so she moved to the first crate, the one he hadn’t unloaded. It took a few minutes, but she found a lighter sliding around in the bottom of the crate. Good thing the bottom was solid.
She lit the lantern then hung it from the hook attached to the center support pole of the tent. “Be careful not to brain yourself on this.”
“Brain myself?” He looked at the position of the lantern and nodded. “I’ll never master human vernacular.”
She tossed the lighter back into the crate then thought of something that didn’t make sense. “Did you make a fire earlier? I thought I smelled smoke.”
“I was bored,” he admitted with a hesitant smile. “It was about to gather more wood when you woke up, so I just let it burn itself out.”
“But how did you light a fire without matches or a lighter?”
The hesitant smile turned into a cheeky grin. “I’d do well on
Survivor
.”
“You watched a lot of TV, I take it?”
“There was little else for us to do. We worked out and sparred with each other. We occasionally reinforced Sevrin’s guards, but mostly we just tried not to go insane from the monotony of it all.”
She had no idea what to say to that, so she motioned toward the cooler. “Can I just help myself?”
“Go on. I ate while you were sleeping.”
She opened the cooler and selected a sandwich from the surprising selection of food. The cooler must be battery powered. There was no ice inside, but everything was cold. She took out a cola as well as the sandwich and paused before closing the lid. “Do you want a drink or something?”
“Did he pack any beer?”
She had to dig a bit, but she found a six-pack and tore off a can. “There are only six, so make it last.” She closed the cooler then handed him the beer, moving out of reach before he could stop her. Not that he intended to stop her. She just wasn’t taking any chances.
The stupid cuffs were still buckled around her wrists, the connecting chain dangling from one side. She could easily take them off, but she didn’t feel like asking permission and being rid of them wasn’t worth the fight she’d start if she took them off without asking him first.
So she picked up her meager meal and looked around for a place to sit down. If the outfitter had given Nazerel chairs, he’d chosen not to unpack them. Instead, she pulled the cooler away from the wall and sat down, shivering as her bare legs connected with the smooth metal. He watched her silently, leisurely sipping his beer.
The attack had begun at dawn, but they’d sat in the vehicles for almost an hour waiting for Sevrin to take off with Roxie and Elias. It had been vital that Sevrin lead Lor back to her lab before the rest of them moved in on the Team South house. So it could have been as late as eight o’clock before Nazerel drove away with her. Then it had been at least an hour before they made the final vehicle switch. Much to her mortification, she’d fallen asleep in the stolen car, so she couldn’t be sure of the intervals. Still, that left roughly nine hours before she woke up here. The problem was she had no idea how many of those hours he’d been driving and how many he’d been setting up the campsite and building campfires. He’d been here long enough to get bored.
“What are you thinking about? You look perplexed.” He’d taken off his boots and was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, the bed he obviously intended for them to share.
She saw no reason to lie, so she said, “I was trying to figure out how far you drove while I was out.”
“There aren’t many pine trees in Las Vegas.”
“You haven’t let me go outside. We could be in a parking lot for all I know.”
“Close your eyes. Can’t you smell them?”
She closed her eyes and inhaled slowly, analyzing each scent that registered in her mind. She was closer to the door now, and less drug-addled. He was right. She could defiantly smell pine trees, damp earth—and Nazerel! Had he imprinted her with his scent or something? Why was his smell still so clear?
Ignoring the disquieting phenomenon, she opened her eyes and unwrapped her sandwich. “Are we still in Nevada?”
He arched his brow and took a sip of his beer. “Maybe.”
There were numerous places he could have reached in eight or nine hours, but Utah looked very different than California. She glanced at the zippered exit, wondering if he’d stop her if she poked her head outside.
“It’s dark. You’re not going to be able to see much more than what I just told you. We’re in a mountainous location surrounded by pine trees.”
“Yes, but are the mountains gray or red?” Gray meant they’d traveled north or northwest, either staying in Nevada or crossing over into California. Red meant east into New Mexico or northeast into Utah. She’d know more when she could see their surroundings.
He patted the sleeping bag beside him. “Come here.”
“I’m comfy right here. Thanks anyway.” Despite her growling stomach, she’d yet to take a bite of her sandwich.
His expression remained relaxed, but his tone sharpened. “Are you that anxious to feel me on top of you again? I enjoyed our wrestling match in the grass. Are you ready for another?”
Heat cascaded through her body as his taunt reminded her of how strong he was and how effortlessly he’d controlled her. “Why can’t I stay here?” She tried not to sound like a petulant child.
“Because I told you to join me.”
Another crossroad. If she gave in too easily, he’d realize she was pretending. Yet angering him could give him access to his power. “I worked very hard to become a leader because I’m not very good at following orders.”
He didn’t argue. He just stood up and crossed the tent then scooped her up in his arms. Without bothering to set down his beer, he returned to the bed and sat back down. “I wanted you beside me. Apparently, you wanted to be on my lap instead.” He lowered her into the limited space between his thighs and crossed his ankles, surrounding her with his strong legs. His arm remained at her back, ensuring that she stayed right where he’d placed her.
It was actually more comfortable than the cooler had been, so she decided not to fight with him. She arched her legs over his and used his other thigh as lumbar support then finally took a bite of her sandwich.
He leaned in and whispered, “Have you decided yet?”
She turned her head and looked into his eyes. Their faces were much too close together like this. She could see the blue rings in his eyes even though they weren’t illuminated. “Decided what?”
“If you’re going to let me kiss you after you finish eating.”
Her gaze dropped to his mouth and she was suddenly fighting off the irrational urge to nibble on his lower lip. “Are you sure that thing is working?”
His brows flew nearly to his hairline and then he burst out laughing. “Give me your hand and I’ll let you feel how well it’s working.”
Heat washed over her face and she slapped at his chest, barely touching him. “I meant the collar, you jackass.”
“Why do you ask about the collar?”
There was no way she was going to admit she wanted to kiss him so badly she’d wondered if he’d used some sort of compulsion. “Never mind.” She quickly took another bite and then a long drink of soda.
“Tell me what you meant or kiss me. I’ll let you choose.”
She glanced at him then studied her sandwich as if it were the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen. She could kiss him, really kiss him, or admit that she wanted the kiss as badly as he did? That wasn’t much of a choice. Reluctantly kissing him made more sense. She couldn’t let him know he was wearing her down already. She had more pride than that.
“I’ll kiss you, when I’m finished eating.” She stressed the caveat as he began to lower his head.
“Eat quickly.”
So, of course, she nibbled at the sandwich, taking as long as she possibly could. Time to cool his jets even more. “Tell me about Varrik. Why do you hate him so much? Was it just his betrayal, or is there something personal between you two?”
Varrik stepped out of the transport conduit with Echo at his side. The destination coordinates Lor had provided led to a small, barren room within the human complex known as the Bunker. Lor rushed forward, his smile warm and welcoming. Lor shook Varrik’s hand then gave Echo a quick hug. Lor and Echo had known each other their entire lives, so the familiarity didn’t bother Varrik. Besides he trusted his life mate, knew she loved him unconditionally and would never stray from his side.
“I appreciate your coming so quickly,” Lor said. “I know things are still hectic in the City of Tears. You will be missed.”
“There is still much to do at home, but Nazerel is dangerous. This couldn’t wait.”
Lor indicated the archway to Varrik’s right with a sweeping gesture. It was odd to see Lor in paramilitary clothing. On Ontariese the Mystics wore light gray robes.
Varrik reached for Echo’s hand and she interlaced their fingers. Even after nine lunar cycles his heart reacted to her simplest touch. He hadn’t expected to find a life mate when he kidnapped a princess, but he was grateful for every moment they had together.
The archway led to a tiled corridor that was devoid of decoration. Though well-lit and spacious, the windowless hallway made Varrik restless. He was unusually sensitive to underground settings after having spent the majority of his life in the Shadow Maze.
“Were your raids successful?” Echo asked.
“Very much so.” Lor smiled. “We captured Team South this morning and followed Sevrin back to her lab. We’ll hit Team East as soon as we’re able to regroup, though we have people watching them now. It doesn’t appear that they have any idea the others have been captured. We’re still processing everyone who was apprehended in the first two raids. There were quite a few civilians at the lab.”
“Where are you taking them?” Echo wanted to know.
“The Bilarrians lent us a containment field generator, so the high-interest targets are being kept at a safe house for questioning. Everyone else has been, or will soon be, taken back to Ontariese.”
Varrik nodded. “Congratulations. This mission became much more complicated than any of us anticipated.”
“No kidding,” Echo reinforced with a faint smile. “Lor was sent to round up a handful of refugees and ended up in the middle of a Rodyte plot that went back two generations.”
Lor waved away the praise as he directed them down another corridor. “Sevrin Keire is dead, and all that remains of the refugees is Nazerel.”
Varrik tried not to react to the name, but their mutual history was long and turbulent. “If he is still on this planet, I will find him in a matter of days. If he has managed to leave Earth, I will still find him. It will just take a bit longer.”
Lor stopped beside a privacy panel much like the others they’d passed. They’d only been walking for a minute or two, but the corridors seemed to go on forever. Varrik would love to see a diagram of the complex. It appeared vast.
“This apartment has been assigned for your use,” Lor told them. “The work station is voice activated and you’ve been given access to human and Ontarian databases. There’s an overview of the events that have transpired since my arrival on Earth as well as a report detailing Sevrin’s research. There will be a briefing after the Team East raid. I’d like to introduce you to everyone then. Will that work for you?”
“That will be fine,” Varrik assured him.
“Good.” Lor entered a code into the palm scanner beside the privacy panel. “As soon as this scans you and Echo, the room will belong to you. No one else will be able to open the door, except in an emergency of course.”
Echo gave Lor another quick hug as Varrik scanned his palm.
“It’s always good to see you,” she told her friend. “When do we get to meet your mate?”
“Tori’s abilities allow her to discern truth from lies so she has been helping with the interrogations. We’d planned a quick dinner tonight, as soon as we can both break away for a few minutes. It will have to be informal and fast, but why don’t you join us?”
Echo looked at Varrik and he nodded. They would begin the search for Nazerel in earnest as soon as they figured out where he might have gone. Even with their combined powers, they couldn’t scan the entire planet for one man.
“Obviously, if we find a clue to Nazerel’s location, we’ll have to reschedule. Otherwise, we’d love to,” Echo told Lor.
“I’ll let you know about a time as soon as Tori and I work it out.”
Lor departed and Echo scanned her palm before following Varrik into the apartment. The compact space was well organized and functional, if a bit utilitarian. He didn’t mind the simplicity, but he wanted nothing but the best for Echo. “It’s unlikely we’ll spend an entire night here. Still, it’s nice to know we have somewhere to crash if we need a couple of hours sleep. I want this finished as quickly as possible.”
“I agree, but where do we start?”
“We need a deeper understanding of the situation. I’ve kept up with the basic events, but Lor’s right, things have been hectic. We must work smart as well as fast.”
Echo came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Tell me about Nazerel. You’ve only mentioned him in passing. Who is he?”
Dreading her reaction to the explanation, Varrik dove to the heart of the matter. “Nazerel is the only son of Elder South.”
A long pause followed and then Echo moved around to face him. “Elder South, as in the man we confronted on the Rodyte ship, the man who tortured Aila and was an all-around dirtbag?”
“That’s the one.” The words tasted bitter and filled Varrik with regret. “Nazerel and I were once close friends. As you can imagine, he despises me now.”
“We had no choice. If we hadn’t—”
Varrik shook his head. It was an excuse they relied on too often. “There are always choices.” She started to argue but he stopped her with a lingering kiss. “Past details have no bearing on this situation. Nazerel must be caught.”
“What makes him so much harder to catch than the others?” She remained in his embrace, hands lightly resting on his chest.
“There were four alpha hunters, one for each tribe. Nazerel was by far the strongest. He is cunning and ruthless, not a pleasant combination. And much of his bitterness stems from my actions. I’m the person best suited to finding him, but if he learns I’ve agreed to the hunt, this will become personal.”
She stepped back, out of his embrace, her delicate features now tense with concern. “But Lor’s message said Nazerel had been collared. Doesn’t that mean he has no powers right now?”
“He is collared, which is why we must catch him as soon as possible. If he finds a way to release his abilities, it will be virtually impossible for anyone to find him, and that includes us.”
“Then we better get busy.” She plastered on a cheerful smile, yet worry lingered in her gaze. “I’ll read the information on Sevrin’s research and you read Lor’s overview, then we can memory share. That will bring us both up to speed more quickly.”
“An excellent idea.”
* * * * *
Nazerel studied Morgan’s profile as she nibbled on her sandwich. She was stalling and they both knew it. Even with her gaze averted, her eyes were incredibly blue. And her hair was just as bright, blending all the colors of autumn into one shiny mass. Unable to resist the impulse to see her hair spilling over her smooth white shoulders, he’d freed the long strands while she slept. He’d been tempted to do all sorts of things while she slept, but honor kept him from indulging his baser instincts. Only the truly corrupt took advantage of the helpless.
He knew her body was just as appealing as her lovely face, but he kept his gaze squarely focused on her features. If he let himself think about the curves so delightfully displayed by her undergarments, he would abandon his determination to seduce her slowly and ravage her instead. He was equally adept at either tactic, yet he knew Morgan would respond better to a gradual seduction.
“Tell me about Varrik,” she said again without shifting her gaze from what little remained of her sandwich.
Her stubbornness challenged him, but he was intrigued by her spirit. He’d never met anyone quite like Morgan. Even bound and helpless, she’d dared to defy him. “Why are you so interested in Varrik? He has a mate.”
She ignored the jibe and finally looked at him. “I always try to understand both sides of an issue. All of the information I have on the Shadow Assassins came from Varrik or people like him, people who resent the Customs. Tell me the other side of the story. I want to understand your world.”
He caught a lock of her hair and curled it around his finger, avoiding her gaze for a change. “My world is gone. There is no reason for anyone to understand it now.”
“I disagree. The past shapes us, it helps define who we are and the choices we make in the present.” She was allowing his touch, which in itself was suspicious, but her tone was coxing, almost seductive.
Pushing his fingers into her hair, he turned her face up and teased the corner of her mouth with his thumb. “You’re finished eating, now kiss me.”
“Not until you tell me about the world below. Were you and Varrik always enemies?”
His pride demanded that he kiss her into submission. Captives did not direct their masters. It was the other way around. But ever since the Shadow Maze was “liberated” he’d waited for the opportunity to speak, to offer a different perspective on the situation. The tribunal had met, conducted its inquiry and announced its decision, and still he waited for anyone to show an interest in his side of the story.
“Varrik and I are both First Sons.” Why was he indulging her? Her interest wasn’t genuine. She was trying to distract him.
“What exactly is a ‘First Son’?”
“The chosen heir of a council member. It’s usually the council member’s first-born son, but with Tribe North it became complicated. Varrik’s brother was still a child when their father died, so their uncle became Elder North. Then North’s only son didn’t survive infancy and Varrik’s brother died, so Varrik became North’s heir. I am, or rather was, First Son of South.”
“Then positions on the council were hereditary not elected?”
The world below was far more structured than most people understood. Everyone thought of the Shadow Assassins as mindless killers, but theirs had been a complex society rich in unique culture and traditions. “When a councilman died or, less frequently, stepped down, his First Son took his place. At that time, and only at that time, the transition could be challenged by any member of his tribe. But challengers fought to the death, so few challenges were ever issued.” He paused, his mind a muddle of troubling memories. It all seemed like another lifetime, as if the events had happened to someone else. “Varrik and I were born within the same season cycle, so we trained together. Any son of an elder was held to a higher standard, so the training was often…harsh.”
“Did you help each other or were you hostile from the start?”
“We were rivals, very competitive until the summer when our abilities were assessed.”
“Why did that change things?”
“I was assigned to the hunters and Varrik was assigned to the sweepers. It changed the dynamic between us. We were no longer in direct competition, so there was no reason for our hostilities. We became friends, close friends.” They’d been more than just friends. They’d been constant companions and confidantes. Varrik was the closest thing Nazerel had ever had to a brother. And when Varrik lost his brother, Nazerel had been the only one Varrik trusted enough to show his grief, the only one who’d been able to help him deal with the devastating loss.
“Go on.” Her expression was open and curious, but he understood her true motivation. The longer she kept him talking, the longer she postponed their inevitable showdown.
Unwilling to indulge her without a cost, he ran his fingers down her neck and onto her upper chest. She sucked in a breath and her breasts swelled well above the lacy cups of her bra. He swallowed hard, no longer sure who he punished with this strategy. “Varrik fought his destiny, denied his abilities, even tried to hide them from his uncle. I, on the other hand, accepted the path chosen for me and dedicated myself to becoming the best hunter the world below had ever seen.”
She reached for his wrist then stopped herself and lowered her hand to her lap. Already her nipples were starting to peak. She was not nearly as indifferent to his touch as she would have him believe. “When and why did it go wrong?”
Resentment and pain rushed to the surface. Who could blame him for being bitter? He’d been betrayed by his best friend. He lowered his hands to his knees. Even touching her wasn’t enough of an incentive for him to offer the details of those events. “Surely you know about Varrik and Echo. You seem to know everything else.”
“I know what Varrik put in his report. I want to hear your side of the story.”
His side of the story. The reoccurring phrase made him seethe. No one gave a damn about his side of the story. Varrik sure as hell hadn’t cared about how his decisions affected those around him. “Varrik fell in love with his captive and all hell broke loose,” he snapped. “He sold us out for a female. Then he killed my father, after his mate had stripped the location of the Shadow Maze from his mind.”
She stilled and her gaze locked with his. “I’m sorry. That must have been devastating.” She even sounded sincere. Apparently Varrik hadn’t bothered recording his cowardly actions in his precious report.