Rebel Heat Page 4

  She could finally see her hands. Wide leather cuffs with silver buckles and miniature padlocks now encircled her wrists. A length of chain connected the cuffs and he’d passed the chain behind one of the tent poles. The pole wasn’t secured with stakes and rope. He’d somehow driven it directly into the ground, providing a much sturdier anchor for her confinement. But the chain simply passed behind the pole. It wasn’t locked down like the cuffs. If she could unfasten the chain without him realizing what she was doing, she could easily free herself.

  Slowly easing her hands together, she reached for the chain’s simple clasp. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her hands apart. “You won’t like how I bind you if you free yourself now.”

  Indignation rushed through her, making her want to scream. Was she just supposed to lie here and accept whatever he chose to do to her? She’d been trained by the FBI. Surrender was not in her nature.

  She closed her eyes and concentrated on filling her lungs, keeping each breath slow and even. But his scent became more familiar with each inhalation. Rich and earthy with an intriguing hint of spice, he smelled wonderful.

  “When was the last time a man held you in his arms?” His voice was barely a whisper, his tone oddly rough.

  Her eyes flew open as a possibility unfurled within her mind. “Last night. My husband loves to cuddle. I’m called away so often, we have to make the most of every minute we have together.”

  His chuckle ruffled her hair, his breath warm against her skin. “If you were with a man last night, cuddling was all you did. I would be able to smell him if it were otherwise.”

  “I showered this morning, thank you very much.” She tried to wiggle away from him, but he simply tightened his arm.

  “It can take many days for a male’s scent to leave a female completely. That’s why pleasure givers never satisfy. It’s hard to loose myself in passion when all I smell are other males.”

  If she could shift his focus yet keep him talking, maybe he’d give up on seducing her. Anything was better than giving in without a fight. “What about Roxie? She’s not a pleasure giver. You’ve been very protective of her.”

  He brushed her hair away from her neck, which also exposed her face and ear. “Why does everyone want to put me in bed with Roxie?”

  “You’ve clearly spent a lot of time with her. You’re covered in tattoos.”

  His face pressed against her neck and he inhaled deeply. “Gods, you smell good.” He slowly swept his hand down her neck then up her extended arm. “Do you taste as good as you smell?” His lips brushed the sensitive spot just below her ear then he touched her skin with the tip of his tongue.

  Her treacherous heart leapt in her chest and tingles skittered off to all sorts of unacceptable places. She had to stop this now. “Flynn is my contact.”

  He tensed, his arm tightening around her. “What are you talking about?”

  “Varrik gave us profiles on all of you guys. Elias determined that Flynn was the most likely to flip, so we recruited him.”

  “Who is Elias?”

  “You met him this morning. He was with Roxie when Flynn brought her to the team house. That was all part of our plan by the way. I’m pretty sure he’s the one who collared you.”

  Disentangling his arm from hers, he sat up and rolled her onto her back. Then he swung one of his legs across hers to keep her from kicking him. He propped himself up with one arm and rested his other hand on his thigh, which was still covered with black cargo pants. Thank God.

  “I’ve known Flynn my entire life. He has many faults, but he is not a traitor.”

  She licked her lips. This was a dangerous distraction. If she pissed him off too badly, she just might give him what he needed to free himself from the collar, yet failing to make the conversation interesting would likely result in their returning to their earlier activity.

  “Is Varrik a traitor?”

  “Yes,” he snarled the word, clearly demonstrating his dislike for the man. “Varrik is the worst kind of traitor. He was a First Son, like me, and still he chose to abandon the Sacred Customs for a female.”

  “Varrik wanted a lot more than a beautiful woman. He wanted to liberate your people, to free them from the world below and—”

  “You know nothing about the world below!” He leapt to his feet and raked his hair with his fingers, menace radiating off him in tangible waves. “I know what you’re doing.”

  “I’m trying to understand your point of view.”

  He scoffed. “You’re trying to keep my hands off you, but all you’ve done is postponed the inevitable.” He dropped to his knees, straddling one of her legs. She braced for an attack, accepting that her risk had failed, but all he did was free her arms from the tent pole. “I’m no longer in the mood for lust. Let’s focus on anger.” He pushed off the floor and stood up, moving to the other side of the tent.

  She drew her arms down, groaning as her muscles protested the new position. Her wrists were still locked within the cuffs, but the length of chain between the two gave her a reasonable range of motion. “Where did you get these or why did you think you would need them? Did you plan on taking a hostage all along?”

  “I planned nothing that happened this morning,” he snapped. “You attacked us!”

  “Then when…that’s right. You called your outfitter and told him you had additional requirements then you started speaking in Rodyte.”

  “We were speaking Bilarrian.” He paced what little space there was in the middle of the tent, clearly distressed by the implications of what she’d said. His features were tight and the telltale rings in his eyes had begun to glow. “What did you promise Flynn? He wouldn’t have sold us out for money.”

  She sat, rolling her shoulders and stretching her back before she reached over and retrieved his discarded shirt. If he was determined to parade around half-naked, then she was going to make use of the garment. She folded her legs in front of her and then draped the T-shirt over the front of her body, leaving the bottom to pool between her legs. It was as close to decent as she was likely to come until he returned her own clothes.

  “You’re right, it wasn’t about money with Flynn,” she began. “He’d figured out that Sevrin was full of shit, but returning to Ontariese wasn’t really an option. We offered him an opportunity to take responsibility for his mistakes and start to rebuild his future.”

  “By betraying the rest of us?” His hands fisted at his sides and the rings in his eyes blazed like blue fire. “That’s a coward’s way out. He knew I had other plans. I would have given him other options.”

  There was a lot more she could say, a lot more she wanted to say, but it was smarter to back off right now, give him a minute to calm down. “How did you pay for all this?” She motioned to their surroundings. “I was under the impression that the council’s funds were seized when the Shadow Maze was liberated.”

  A secretive smile curved his lips, but the rings in his eyes continued to burn. “High Queen Charlotte only knows what Varrik told her, and Varrik doesn’t know everything.”

  “Then you didn’t get the money from Sevrin?”

  He scoffed again, but sadness dampened the sound this time. “Sevrin made us beg for everything. We were honestly better off in the City of Tears. Roxie was the only luxury Sevrin allowed. Why do you think she was so popular?”

  “Roxie told Elias that you get off on the pain.”

  His gaze locked with hers and a smile finally parted his lips. “What else did Roxie tell you?”

  She could almost see the tension flow out of him. Roxie was the first name she’d mentioned that had a soothing effect on him. “She told us Sevrin was the real villain not the Shadow Assassins.”

  “Lor should have known that without having to be told.” He turned his back on her and grabbed the open bottle of water out of the crate. He drained it then tossed her a new one. “Are you hungry?” he asked without looking at her.

  “Starving actually. What time is it?” If she could fi
gure out how long she’d been unconscious, she’d have a better idea how far they’d traveled.

  “It’s almost dark. I better locate a light source.”

  He rummaged through the first crate with no luck, so he unloaded the second. Morgan watched him set the lantern aside without realizing he’d found what he was looking for and debated what to do. If she doomed him to darkness, she doomed herself as well. She struggled up from the makeshift bed while keeping his T-shirt pressed to her chest.

  “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.”