Rebel Heat Read online

  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?”

  Chapter Three

  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.

  �
��My father was ruthless, harsh and sometimes violent. He was a product of the world below, but he didn’t deserve to die.” Almost of their own volition, his hands returned to her soft skin. He ran his hands down her arms, soothing himself with her texture and warmth. “He was loyal to the Customs, loyal to his tribe. And Varrik murdered him.”

  “May I ask another question?”

  He shook his head, shocked that she’d bothered asking. “Will you drop the subject if I answer?”

  “Yes.” She glanced at him then away, but their gazes connected long enough for him to see the pity smoldering in hers. He tensed. He would never accept her surrender if it was born of pity. “How could Varrik not know the location of the Shadow Maze?”

  Nazerel sighed. He didn’t want to talk about the past. The present held plenty of challenges and the past could not be changed. But he understood her confusion, so he explained, “We locked on to a beacon when we teleported in. Only the elders knew the exact location of the maze.”

  “Then Varrik told High Queen Charlotte how to find the maze. That’s how they managed to liberate it after all those years.” She stared past him, her tone speculative.

  “Except not everyone wanted to be ‘liberated’,” he stressed. “Varrik had no right to make that decision for all of us. Not all of us were discontent. Many would have chosen to stay if they had been given a choice.” She fell silent as he continued to stroke her arms, his thumbs occasionally brushing the outer curve of her breasts. She didn’t need to speak. He knew all the arguments. Their lifestyle was barbaric and abusive to women. Progress demanded that they adapt. “What? No more questions?”

  “How many Shadow Assassins were there?” she blurted.

  He laughed. “I suppose I asked for that.” But he’d lost interest in the conversation so he resumed their sensual game. “Around four thousand. I’m not sure of the exact count.”

  “Was finding mates your only job or did you have other responsibilities?”