Rebel Heat

  Rebel Heat

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Copyright © 2015 Cyndi Friberg

  Cover art by Dar Albert

  Editor: Mary Moran

  Electronic Book Publication, January 2015

  Trade Paperback Publication, January 2015

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author, Cyndi Friberg.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Praise for Beyond Ontariese

  Taken by Storm

  “Taken by Storm had it all—tense action, suspense, erotic sex, humor and a wildly imaginative plot.”

  ~The Romance Studio

  “Unplug the phone and put the kids to bed; once you start reading Taken by Storm you won’t want any interruptions!”

  ~Fallen Angel Reviews

  “For a story that will delight, entertain, and keep you on the edge of your seat, I highly recommend Taken by Storm and award it RRT’s Perfect 10.”

  ~Romance Reviews Today

  Operation Hydra

  “I highly recommend Operation Hydra…it’s one of the best science fiction romances I’ve ever read. Perfect 10!”

  ~Romance Reviews Today

  “Outstanding! This segment only whetted my appetite for more. The heat between Kyrsta and Trey could cause a nuclear meltdown.”

  ~Simply Romance Reviews

  City of Tears

  “WOW! City of Tears by Cyndi Friberg is one amazing blend of science fiction at its best and romance at its hottest…”

  ~eCata Reviews

  Rebel Heat

  Cyndi Friberg

  Shadow Assassins, Book Six: Desperate to escape the suppression collar that has robbed him of his Mystic abilities, Nazerel kidnaps Morgan, director of the human taskforce helping the Mystic Militia. She sabotages him at every turn, determined to escape before he regains his powers.

  Locked in a battle of wills, they use every weapon at their disposal as each tries to outwit the other. Heightened emotions unleash a passion neither invited, nor can they control. They are enemies and yet they hunger for each other with an all-consuming need. Don’t miss this exciting conclusion to the Shadow Assassin series.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter One

  “Why are they just sitting there?” Flynn muttered as he peeked between the horizontal blinds.

  Nazerel moved closer to the front windows of the Team South house and peered out into the hazy light. Dawn had just begun its ascent and much of the scene was still lost in shadow. An SUV and two panel vans were parked in a conspicuous cluster on the street of the quiet residential neighborhood. Increased pressure and successive raids by the Mystic Militia had prompted Sevrin to relocate her base of operations, as well as the two remaining team houses, to less obvious locations outside Las Vegas. Yet Nazerel and his men had not even unpacked and already their enemy was literally at their front door.

  Sevrin. Just the female’s name sent frustration coursing through Nazerel. She was the primary reason he and his fellow Shadow Assassins were on Earth. With far-reaching connections and fantastic promises, she’d lured them to a planet most of his men had never heard of before. But her promises had proved false and her connections far less advantageous than she’d led them to believe. Sevrin was self-serving and ruthless. For a time their goals had aligned, so Nazerel went along with her demands. Such was no longer the case. He was tired of being her puppet, even if his obedience was largely feigned. It was time for Nazerel to secure the freedom he’d promised his men, and Sevrin stood in his way.

  “Look,” Flynn, a fellow Shadow Assassin, motioned toward the SUV.

  Two black-clad figures slipped out of the vehicle and crept toward the house, staying low and deep in the shadows. “They’re headed to the backyard.” Nazerel turned and projected his voice to his men scattered throughout the house. “Hold your positions. They’ll try to keep this fast and quiet. They don’t want to end up on the nightly news—again. Make them come to us.” Turning back to Flynn, he added, “I’m going to check out the lawn creepers.”

  “Maybe we should just get the hell out of here. Tell everyone to flash—”

  “Shadow Assassins don’t retreat,” Nazerel snapped. Flynn’s brow arched in silent challenge. There had been many occasions when retreat was the only viable option and they both knew it. “We sure as hell don’t give up without a fight. You’ve spent too much time inside Sevrin. She’s made you weak.” Before Flynn could respond to the slur, Nazerel turned around and headed toward the sliding glass door that led to the backyard. One of the others shifted closer to the exit, covering Nazerel without exposing his own position.

  Flynn continued his surveillance of the front yard, appearing sullen and restless. Nazerel couldn’t blame his friend for being discontent. Nothing had gone as planned since they left Ontariese. And tonight was no exception.

  Sevrin had showed up with Flynn and her bodyguards about an hour ago, waking up the entire house without explanation. She owned the place and was their primary employer, so they weren’t really in a position to object to her predawn visit. Flynn teleported out a short time later then returned with Roxie Latimer in his arms. Nazerel had done everything in his power, including endangering himself, to warn the foolish human that Sevrin was obsessed with her. Roxie’s human lover flashed into sight a moment later, drawn to their location by a Mystic bond. Nazerel’s men fell on the human like a pack of wolves, but Sevrin intervened, refusing to allow their unexpected visitor to be seriously harmed.

  Nazerel touched the slender band encircling his neck and a fresh rush of fury surged through his system. That helpless human, unable to teleport on his own—unable to manipulate magic of any kind—had slapped a dreaded suppression collar around Nazerel’s throat before Nazerel had any indication that he was a threat.

  Now Nazerel was as powerless as the worthless human.

  Sevrin and her entourage departed a short time later with Roxie and her companion in tow. Nazerel still didn’t understand why Sevrin was so fixated on the human, but it was no longer his concern. His warnings had gone unheeded by Roxie and those claiming to protect her, so her fate was beyond his control.

  Forcing the distractions from his mind, Nazerel visually swept the backyard. No sign of the creepers. They must not have come this far. He followed their example and stayed to the shadows, moving as stealthily as possible. At the corner of the house he paused and peered into the darkness of the side yard. Here the hazy light was mostly blocked by the house. His nanites seemed sluggish and ineffective as they adjusted his vision. The collar must be interfering with their operation as well as his Mystic abilities.

  There was nothing he could do to rectify the limitation, so he ignored it. Crouching low to the ground, he studied the area. Fences were not allowed in this neighborhood; a fact Nazerel had greeted with fierce objections. But Sevrin insisted there would be no need for security, that the Mystic Militia thought they had left Nevada for good. Yet here they were. A strike team waited in vehicles on the street and these two black-clothed figures kneeling in the grass. Even their heads
were covered, making them blend with the shadows. They spoke in urgent whispers as they franticly worked to assemble some sort a device.

  About the size of a female’s purse, they placed the device in the rock bed bordering the grass then activated a three-dimensional control panel. Was it a bomb? The technology seemed too sophisticated to have originated on Earth. Nazerel dismissed the possibilities. The Mystic Militia were unrelenting, not bloodthirsty.

  He shifted his weight and something beneath his foot snapped.

  The invaders jerked their heads in his direction. The smaller one motioned toward him and issued a command, setting the larger one in motion. The smaller one was in charge? How odd.

  Nazerel needed to warn his men that a device was in play then make damn sure these two didn’t turn it on. Instinctively, he reached for the common telepathic link all Shadow Assassins shared, but no sooner had he located the connection within his mind than he hit an impenetrable block. Shit! He’d almost forgotten about the collar.

  For a split second he considered retreat. He was powerless, even somewhat weakened. But the creepers might activate the device before he could dispatch someone else. His opponent reached him in the next instant, making the debate irrelevant. The creeper gripped a pulse pistol firmly in one hand and a glimmer of hope penetrated Nazerel’s pessimism. Most Mystics didn’t bother with conventional weapons. Could this be one of Lor’s human underlings?

  The soldier moved closer, squinting into the darkness in an attempt to separate Nazerel’s shape from the shadows. A Mystic would have increased the intensity of his vision or illuminated the area with an energy pulse. This was no Mystic.

  Nazerel charged the soldier, batting the weapon out of his hand before the man could counter the blow. After the briefest pause to recover from the unexpected advance, the soldier punched Nazerel several times in quick succession. Nazerel blocked one blow, but the second and third landed with resounding force. His ears rang and pain pulsed through his head. Simple physical contact had never hurt this much before. His nanites again. Damn the collar!

  The soldier took advantage of his distraction and swept Nazerel’s legs out from under him with a perfectly executed spin kick. Nazerel landed hard on his back and the soldier followed him down, straddling his legs as he ruthlessly punched Nazerel’s ribs and belly.

  Anger flared within Nazerel and he felt a surge of strength tighten his muscles. He used the intensity without letting the emotion cloud his thinking. He bucked and twisted, easily dislodging the soldier. Before the man could right his awkward position, Nazerel swung his arm, catching the side of his opponent’s head with his forearm. The soldier groaned, wobbled, then fell sideways into the grass.

  Nazerel scrambled to his feet. The smaller one was still there, working with even more urgency. “Now!” Fear made the soldier’s voice oddly high. “Move in now!”

  The second command was clearer, less frantic—and far more feminine.

  Rather than attacking with his full strength, Nazerel pounced on the woman. She went over sideways, but he quickly wrestled her to her back and pinned her arms to the grass on either side of her head. She jerked against his restraining hands, bucking and twisting like a wild animal. Huge, luminous eyes stared up at him in murderous outrage, but the rest of her face was obscured by the knit cap also covering her head.

  Time paused and everything went silent as he stared into those shimmering eyes. As if in a trance, he shifted her wrists into one hand and pulled the cap off her head. Her hair had been pulled away from her face and bound at the nape of her neck. His nanites amplified the meager light, revealing features so perfect, so delicate they seemed unreal. Could a human woman be this beautif—

  The toe of a boot kicked the back of his head as the woman beneath him lurched violently. Pain and humiliation jerked him out of his stupor and sent another rush of strength through his system. He moved farther back on her thighs, preventing her from repeating the agile maneuver.

  “Disable that thing!” He jerked his head toward the device that was vibrating and sparking. Streamers of energy crept across the walls of the house like flickering spiders weaving a luminous web. The phenomenon was even more apparent across the angles of the roof. Was it some sort of shield? Or a containment field.

  Shouts and pulses erupted inside the house. There was only one window on this side, but Nazerel could hear stomping feet and the unmistakable thuds and crashes of a violent struggle.

  “Turn it off!” He yanked her to a sitting position, still straddling her legs. She didn’t respond with either word or deed, so he reached for the device himself. His fingers encountered a transparent field that sent fire up his arm. Jerking his hand back, he glared at his captive.

  “What is that thing?”

  No response.

  Fisting the front of her jacket, he dragged her to her feet. She grabbed his wrist with both hands and tugged against his hold. He spotted a large rock in the landscaping and picked it up. She stomped on his instep and he instinctively turned toward her, rock still in hand. Her hands flew upward, covering her face and he just shook his head. If he bashed in her head, any hope he had of turning off the device went with her. Not that he would actually kill a female, but she didn’t know that.

  He bent to one knee and slammed the rock against the device. The shielding gleamed at the point of impact and his arm vibrated so forcefully that his hand went numb. The rock slipped from his tingling fingers and his captive chuckled. He shook his arm and glared at her.

  “So it’s self-shielding,” he muttered.

  With the female fighting him every step of the way, he retrieved the rock and moved to the window. He threw the rock at the window and it bounced off. He pounded on the window with the rock, but each impact only vibrated more painfully through his arm and shoulder.

  The rock slipped from his hand again and the woman jerked out of his grasp. He abandoned his attempts to break in and ran after the woman. She didn’t make it far. Even without the assistance of his nanites, his legs were more powerful than hers. He wrapped his arms around her hips and tackled her to the grass.

  She quickly rolled to her back, writhing in obvious desperation as he situated himself astride her. He captured her wrists, once again pinning them to the grass on either side of her head. “You’re a wild one.” If he couldn’t disable the machine or break through the energy field, she would have to turn it off.

  Which meant he had to control her.

  Carefully shifting both her wrists into one hand, he scooted back onto her upper thighs. She continued her silent mutiny as he felt along her belt for the delightful metal restraints human enforcers sometimes carried. Instead he found long, ridged plastic strips that served the same purpose. Her eyes widened when she spotted the strips in his hand and her struggles returned even more violently.

  Morgan tried to kick or bring her leg up between Nazerel’s thighs, but his knees squeezed hard, halting the ascent of her shin before it reached its destination. She jerked against his hands and twisted, desperately trying to dislodge his grip. Damn, the man was strong.

  “Stop it,” he snapped. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will.”

  She believed him. At least the part about him being willing to hurt her. Moonlight cast eerie shadows across his angular features and blue rings erupted within the darkness of his gaze. According to Odintar, one of the Mystic Militia, that meant a Rodyte hybrid was pissed off or extremely turned on. Either possibility meant disaster for her.

  He flipped her over and drew her arms behind her back. She wiggled and bucked, but he hardly seemed to notice. Within seconds her hands were firmly secured at the small of her back with one of her own zip ties. Why was he bothering to restrain her? Wouldn’t it be easier to teleport… She turned her head sharply, twisting her torso as she looked back at him. He scrubbed his face with one hand and she saw that his neck was now encircled by a metal band.

  Hot damn, they did it. Roxie and Elias collared the most dangerous male on
planet Earth. Excitement surged through Morgan, renewing her purpose and curving her lips into a subtle smile.

  “You find something amusing about being bound and helpless?” His voice growled with annoyance.

  Continuing in silence was wiser, but Morgan was suddenly feeling much more secure. “I was just admiring your jewelry.”

  In an instant his hand gripped her throat, squeezing just hard enough to illustrate his restrained strength. “Don’t fool yourself, female. I don’t need Mystic abilities to control you.”

  The ease with which he’d done so thus far proved it was no idle boast. Even collared, his strength far exceeded hers. But he’d said he could “control” not kill her, which should give her time to escape. She calmly met his gaze, silently waiting for his next move.

  “Tell me how to power down the device.” He sounded composed and lethal now.

  She said nothing, nor did she move. He was an alpha hunter. There was no thrill in the chase once the prey stopped running.

  Using his grip on her throat to steady rather than hurt, he turned her over and pushed her down into the grass. Her bound arms arched her back and he effortlessly immobilized her legs. She spotted Dekker still slumped in the grass where Nazerel had left him. Was Dekker unconscious or dead? Her chest tightened at the possibility, but she couldn’t allow compassion to distract her right now. Nazerel was too unpredictable.

  He slowly unzipped her jacket and ran his hands over her torso with far more thoroughness than necessary. She stared up at the sky, trying to ignore the tension gathering in her belly. Surely he wouldn’t rape her while the battle raged inside. Everyone claimed Shadow Assassins found rape detestable.

  His warm fingers traced the outer curve of her breasts and her breath shuddered out. His touch was gentle, strangely curious as if he’d never touch a woman before. The possibility muddled her thinking and made her squirm. Her nipples tingled and she closed her eyes. This had to be fear and adrenaline or the early morning wind. She did not find his touch arousing.