Rebel Heat (7 page)

Morgan touched his arm and he startled.

“Are you all right?” Her voice was soft and coaxing.

“No. Are you finished?”

“Yes.”

Rather than throw her over his shoulder again, he picked her up in his arms. His fingers splayed against the firm flesh of her leg and then registered the icy temperature. “Your legs are freezing.”

“Tends to happen when one goes traipsing through the woods half naked.”

Feeling guilty now, he hurried back to the tent and set her down beside the bed. “Get under the covers.”

“Yes, sir.” She mocked him with a salute.

“That’s yes,
master
.”

“In your dreams.” She’d whispered the phrase just loud enough for him to hear.

He picked up her boots, even though she hadn’t worn them. “I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time.”

After locking her boots back in the SUV. He tried Darrian’s code again. No answer. He switched to cell phone emulation mode and called Sevrin. The call went straight to voice mail. Gods be damned! That told him nothing. She could be in serious trouble or she could just be ignoring him out of spite. Sevrin was often irrational.

He heaved a frustrated sigh then walked back to the tent. It wasn’t fair to take this out on Morgan, but his anger allowed him to refocus on why he’d brought her here in the first place. If he was the only one left, then seeing to the welfare of his men became his sole responsibility. It was more important than ever that he find a way to rid himself of the debilitating collar.

When Nazerel reentered the tent, he looked like a man on a mission. His lips were pressed into a grim line and his gaze was narrowed yet bright.

“You don’t look happy.” Rather than crawling into bed as she’d been told, Morgan sat near the bottom of the sleeping bag and folded the top half over her legs. It allowed her body to rebuild heat without looking as if she were blithely waiting to be seduced.

After zipping them in, he took down the lantern and set it on top of the cooler. Next he tugged off his boots and socks. She watched each movement with tense uncertainty. Was he just preparing for bed or had his mission changed in the past hour? Not really changed, more like regressed. She’d managed to avoid this confrontation by engaging his mind. Obviously, her stall tactics had stopped working.

He reached for his fly and Morgan panicked. She jumped up and quickly unfastened the chain connecting her cuffs. She grasped the loose end of the chain, creating a makeshift weapon. It was possible he was just getting ready to sleep, yet his dark mood made that seem improbable.

His lips curved into a humorless smile and challenge lifted his eyebrows as he lowered the zipper on his pants. She quickly averted her gaze, but he stepped back into her field of vision as he set his folded pants on top of one of the crates. He was wearing gray boxer briefs that left very little to the imagination. Still, she’d been somewhat desensitized to his esthetic appeal by staring at his chest for the past two hours.

He turned off the lantern, plunging them into darkness. She blinked, impatiently waiting for her eyes to adjust. Even with moonlight penetrating the walls of the tent, he was little more than a menacing silhouette.

For a long tense moment he stood there in silence while her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Then he lunged across the tent and grasped her wrist. She swung the chain at his face, but he easily deflected the blow with his forearm then caught that wrist as well. Damn he was fast. Fast and strong. She was in serious trouble.

Drawing her hand to his neck, he pressed her fingers against the cool metal collar. “Unlock it or I’m going to stop being nice.” His tone was flat and serious, convincing her he meant every word.

“I can’t. You know I can’t.” She brought up her knee. He twisted away. She stomped on his instep. He barely noticed. Tugging against his hands, she tried in vain to break his restraining hold on her arms. She kicked and kneed him, throwing her weight one way and then the other. When none of it did any good, she slammed her head into his chest then sharply raised it, hoping to catch his chin.

“Are you finished?” The bastard sounded amused and he wasn’t even out of breath.

With a growl of utter frustration, she vowed, “Never.”

He spun her around and yanked the T-shirt off over her head. Then he unfastened her bra with a deft flick of his fingers. She gasped, instinctively clutching the loosened fabric to her breasts. “Don’t do this.
Please,
Nazerel. You don’t have to do this.” She was beyond pride, beyond strategy, and more frightened than she’d ever been in her life. His kisses and gentle touches had already proven that he could make her feel, make her want things she dare not want with this man.

After snatching her bra out of her clutching fingers, he tossed it aside and then lifted her into his arms. He placed her in the middle of the sleeping bag, making it seem effortless despite her continued struggles. He straddled her hips as he pulled her arms over her head. She clawed at his hands and twisted wildly. He simply ignored her efforts and focused on his task. When he wrapped the chain around the tent pole this time, he secured it with a tiny padlock identical to the ones attached to the cuffs.
Shit
. Where had that come from? Her last hope had been to wait until he fell asleep and then free herself from the tent pole. She’d already tried to yank the pole from the ground. It felt like he’d driven it into solid rock.

His face was directly above her now and he looked seriously pissed. This was the Nazerel she’d expected to see ever since he tackled her to the grass beside the Team South house, ruthless and oblivious to everything except his goal. Instead he’d been rational and reasonable, even charming at times. Then he hadn’t been able to contact his people, which brought out this darker side. He realized his situation was desperate, and desperate people did horrible things.

“It doesn’t matter what you do to me,” she tried again. “I cannot unlock the collar.”

“So you say. But you’re right, it doesn’t matter. It’s time for my other strategy.”

Lust. He intended to work himself into a sexual frenzy and then channel the energy into the collar. And she was the fuel for his bonfire.

Pushing off the floor, he sat up while still straddling her hips. “You can stop this at any time. Remember that. You are in control.” His gaze lowered to her breasts and the blue rings in his eyes ignited.

She closed her eyes and tried to empty her mind, tried to calm her body. Tension coiled through her chest and lodged in her stomach. She was in control? What a joke. She was restrained and at his mercy, and worst of all a dull ache had already erupted in her core. Her logical mind might scream against the injustice, but her body was more than willing to play.

Pull it together, Director Hoyt. You can resist him. You must.

Her only alternative was to release him from the collar and that would restore his abilities. He’d be able to read minds, teleport and who knew what else. No one seemed to have an accurate list of his abilities. They just knew he was more powerful than the other Shadow Assassins, which meant he was much too dangerous to unleash on Earth. She couldn’t endanger others because she was afraid of the things he’d make her feel.

His warm hand covered her breast, squeezed gently, then shifted so her nipple was framed by his thumb and forefinger. As before, her body responded immediately to his simplest touch. Her nipple tingled as it hardened. His thumb circled the bud, encouraging the reaction. She concentrated on breathing, trying in vain not to feel the firm support of his fingers or the tentative brush of his lips.

“Your body is fashioned for pleasure.” He paused to draw on her nipple before he added, “You’re wasted in the military.” Then he sucked in earnest, pulling heat into her breast and launching tingles lower. He switched his mouth to the other side, but kept the sensations swirling with the firm pressure of his fingers.

And it felt good. Why did everything this bastard did feel so damn good?

Each ragged breath made her beasts quiver and he seemed fascinated by the subtle motion. He stroked her skin, exploring her curves with one hand while he aroused her with his lips, tongue, and teeth. She clenched her hands and turned her head to the side, fighting every tingle, every unwanted burst of sensation.

“So lovely.” He murmured the words in between slow, deep sucks and her back arched helplessly.

She felt as if he were drawing her soul to the surface so he could feed on her energy. Some species could take energy directly from other beings. But even if such a thing were among his abilities, he was collared, unable to access that part of his nature.

He scooted down her body, straddling her knees and then her calves. His lips released her nipple and she opened her eyes, curious to see what he’d do next. She wasn’t foolish enough to think he was finished. So why was he moving away? She hadn’t begged for mercy. Perhaps his hunter’s spirit couldn’t stay excited when there was no struggle, no chase. The hopeful thought lasted only a moment and then he caught the sides of her panties and pulled them to her knees.

She instinctively drew up her legs and tried to kick him. The impulse only made it easier for him to rid her of her final garment. He pushed her legs apart and knelt between them, opening her body to his heated gaze.

“I want to be inside you so badly I can hardly breathe.” His voice was so tight he sounded strangled by the confession. “But release me now and I’ll return your clothes instead.”

The power struggle was already lost. He’d issued an ultimatum to which she could never surrender. Each of his skillful caresses only compounded her shame, her failure. She wanted it over as quickly as possible. “I’m not a cringing virgin. You’re not going to terrify me with threats of sex. Do your worst or leave me alone. I want to get some sleep.”

He arched over her, supporting himself on one forearm as he pressed his other hand to the side of her face. “You misunderstand my intention. This won’t be over quickly. I will arouse you with my fingers and my mouth. I will know your taste as well as the softness of every part of your delightful body. It will take hours before I am finally ready to thrust inside you and
do my worst
.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest, but she honestly couldn’t tell if it was fear or anticipation. “But you need to build your lust not mine.”

His thumb traced her lower lip as his penetrating gaze stared into hers. “There is nothing more arousing than watching a woman come and knowing I’m responsible for her pleasure.”

Dread washed over her, momentarily cooling her wayward body. It was easy to justify simple surrender. Fighting him had accomplished nothing. Her goal now had to be survival and escape, which meant she had to make it through tonight without physical damage. A sprained ankle or broken wrist would greatly hinder her escape. But how did she justify wanting him, craving each and every pleasure he’d mentioned?

He lowered his head and kissed one corner of her mouth and then the other. His breath warmed her cool skin and rekindled sensations she thought she’d banished. Her lips trembled as her pulse ramped up to an even faster rhythm. She felt restless and needy, almost drugged.

His body shifted, his hips pressing into hers as his chest lightly grazed her beaded nipples. He rested on both forearms now, his hands framing her face. His image filled her vision and his scent drifted through her nose, sinking deeper with each anxious breath. He brushed his lips back and forth over hers, teasing her, awakening her responses.

“I know this isn’t what you want,” he whispered against her lips. “But I also know you’re wet and this isn’t the first time my touch has aroused you.”

Before she could protest or argue, he sealed his mouth over hers. His lips pressed then slid, caressing as he urged her mouth open. She clenched her hands and remained perfectly still. Allowing this because she had no other choice was a legitimate strategy. Losing herself in these sensations was…weak.

She jerked her head to the side, panting harshly. “I can’t stop you from touching me, but I don’t want to kiss you.”

He turned her head back around as challenge hardened his expression. “Why? You enjoyed kissing me before.”

“This is war.” She stared past him, refusing to meet his gaze. “It’s a twisted sort of battle. I can’t enjoy anything about it.”

A warm chuckle rumbled through his chest. “You keep telling yourself that,
morautu
.”

Then his mouth was on hers again and his tongue swept back and forth, easing farther inward with each pass.
Bite him. Prove that you mean what you say. Make him listen.

He advanced slowly, completely focused on the kiss. His fingers stroked the side of her face as his sensual assault on her mouth progressed. She couldn’t bring herself to bite him, so she tried to remain passive, utterly uninvolved in what he was doing. But his tongue stroked over hers then curled around it, the invitation unmistakable. She was already defeated. Why couldn’t that be enough?

“Kiss me, Morgan,” he whispered. “I want your tongue in my mouth.”

Temptation shivered down her spine, making her skin feel hot and her nipples tingle. Her social life was nonexistent. Most of the men she met were her subordinates and she worked too hard at earning their respect to muck things up with sex. This was going to happen, one way or the other. Why shouldn’t she scratch a long-neglected itch?