Nazerel sat on the bed beside Morgan, watching her sleep. The hotel room Phil had provided was shabby, but clean. The Bilarrian trader promised to have Nazerel’s order ready by six o’clock the following morning. Nazerel was frustrated by the delay, but his request hadn’t been simple. Needing time to fill the order was a reasonable stipulation. When he told Phil the campsite had been compromised, the Bilarrian suggested that he take Morgan to one of Phil’s preregistered hotel rooms so they could get some sleep. Phil even gave them a backpack with clean clothes and toiletries. The layover had been a good idea. Nazerel didn’t require as much sleep as humans, but he’d already been up for almost twenty-four hours when this adventure began.
Exhaustion dragged him into a fitful slumber shortly after they arrived at the hotel, yet troubled thoughts soon had him brooding again. He needed to know exactly what had become of his men. If they were still on Earth, he might be able to free them. If they’d already been dragged back to Ontariese, he would have to be much more creative with his assistance.
Morgan murmured something in her sleep then shifted her bound hands to a different position. He’d unlocked her hands from the leash around her waist though he’d left the cuffs in place. Then he’d reinforced her natural need for sleep with a light compulsion before surrendering to oblivion himself.
She was more challenging than any adversary he’d faced thus far. Not physically, of course. But mentally, she was agile and strategic, using every weapon at her disposal with surprising skill. She’d negotiated, interrogated, bartered, and deceived. And through it all she never lost sight of her real motivation—escape.
When he regained consciousness on the floor of the tent, he’d decided to play his final card. Compassion. Could Morgan face her enemy helpless and in need of care and just walk away? He’d accurately predicted her actions. She had removed the collar, but not to tend his burn as he’d assumed. She’d been in the process of trigging some sort of signal rather than easing his pain.
He was relatively certain he’d stopped her before the signal had been activated. Still, he wasn’t willing to risk capture on a hunch. So he threw the collar in a lake many miles from the campsite then returned for Morgan. Abandoning the campsite had been frustrating, but it was the safest course. Finally, he’d contacted Phil, letting him know that plans had changed again.
Phil wasn’t the only one who needed to know his plans had changed. He took out his comlink and entered Garin’s personal identification code. He waited until Garin entered the corresponding code securing the connection then kept his message short and to the point.
Everything has unraveled. I need to arrive tomorrow morning.
After a short pause, Garin responded, You’re always welcome. Knock before you enter.
I have a reluctant guest. Is that a problem?
How reluctant?
There was no point in lying. She’d arrive in restraints. Very.
He could almost hear Garin’s sigh. This wasn’t the first time his decisions had created problems for his cousin. Is she dangerous?
Only a Rodyte would presume his guest was female. Not to you or your crew. She’s human. No Mystic abilities.
Then she is entirely your responsibility.
Understood.
See you tomorrow.
The connection terminated and Nazerel slipped the comlink back into his pocket. Morgan complicated his plans considerably. So why was he even considering taking her with him? Releasing his own heavy sigh, he reached out and caught a lock of her hair. The colorful strands curled around his finger, making his chest ache. Kissing her, touching her, tasting her had been blissful torture. Each of her sighs, each shiver of pleasure, had been surrendered begrudgingly. Her body had been unable to resist his skill, yet her heart remained unaffected.
Her heart? What in the five hells was wrong with him. Why would he care about her heart? She was the enemy. She’d looked into his eyes and lied without flinching. He would never be able to trust her.
Then why not leave her here?
He dropped the curl and looked away from her lovely face. He should have left her at the campsite. He should lock her in this room tomorrow morning and go collect the package from Phil. Nazerel could be off this planet before she freed herself from the restraints. It was the smart thing to do.
And yet even the thought of being separate from her was intolerable.
She rolled to her back, her hands resting just below her breasts. He’d been with more females than he cared to remember. His father had been very indulgent when it came to carnal pleasures. Shadow Assassins were allowed so few indulgences. South had provided his son, and himself, with an ever changing selection of pleasure givers. Young ones who had been sold to his father by their families, mature ones eager to teach him all the different ways to arouse a female. Thin ones and voluptuous ones, sometimes more than one, Nazerel had experienced it all.
So what was it about this female that he found so fascinating? Yes, she was physically pleasing, but he’d had sex with beautiful females before and they hadn’t left him desperate for more. Maybe that was the answer. He hadn’t actually had sex with Morgan. Their intimacies had been rudely interrupted by excruciating pain.
Morautu. The Rodyte word echoed through his mind, mocking any other conclusion. How could Morgan be his mate? It didn’t make sense, yet he’d never felt like this before. Permanent mates weren’t allowed in the world below. Even so, the concept had secretly fascinated Nazerel for years. He’d never been with a woman who wanted only him, shared herself with only him and the thought was more than appeling.
“What time is it?” she asked without opening her eyes.
“Six thirty.”
Her lids slowly opened and their gazes locked. Hers filled with purpose, though her expression remained calm. “Now that you’ve had time to reflect, do you agree that it’s time we part ways?”
He laughed. She sounded as if she were speaking with an errant child. “I have no intention of releasing you until I’m well away from this wretched planet.”
Her brows drew together and mouth tensed. “Then you’ll leave me with Phil tomorrow when you—”
“So one of the Mystics can scramble his mind? Is that how you treat your friends?”
Rolling to her side, she used her elbow to leverage herself from the mattress. “I’ll create more problems than I solve. I promise you that.”
She was doubtlessly right. He just didn’t care. He’d never met a female like Morgan before and he had no intention of being parted from her. “Give me the number for Elias’ phone,” he ordered as he pulled the comlink back out of his pocket.
“Why?”
“I want to find out what happened to my men and your lieutenant is going to tell me.”
She shook her head, eyes blazing defiance. “He won’t tell you anything.”
“Don’t you want him to know that you’re still alive, that he should continue searching?”
That got her attention. Her sensual lips pressed into a grim line and she averted her gaze as she did so often when she was deep in thought. “Put him on speaker. I want to hear both sides of the conversation.”
He laughed. “Will you ever figure out who is master and who is the slave?”
“It’s doubtful.”
“I can reach into your mind and take the number, but it has been many years since I used those skills. It will hurt like fire and likely cause damage. What do you gain by refusing this simple request?”
His lie must have been believable. She scooted back, nearly off the bed, before she spoke again. “It wasn’t a request. It was an order.”
He didn’t have time for her obstinacy. “Will you please tell me Elias’ number, so I can inform him that you’re still alive?”
With obvious reluctance she told him the number. He didn’t really care if she heard what Elias said, but he wasn’t willing to reward her insubordination, so he didn’t activate the speaker.
The call connected and Elias snapped, “Who is this? How did you get this number?”
“I’ll confirm that your boss still lives if you accurately detail the condition of my team members.”
“Nazerel.” He made the name sound profane. “Your team has been obliterated. So has Team East. All of the hunters are in custody and Sevrin is dead. It’s over. Release Morgan now and you might come out of this alive.”
Infuriated by the human’s arrogance, he lashed out in the only way he could. “Sorry, I have other plans for Morgan.”
“Let me speak with her. You said you’d provide proof of life.”
Morgan held out her hand expectantly. She could obviously hear enough of what Elias said to guess at the rest.
Your team has been obliterated. It’s over. The hateful words echoed through his mind like the resonant clang of a gong.
Stunned by grief and frustration, Nazerel ignored her persistent gestures. “It took some convincing, but she freed me from the collar. We’re on our way off this useless rock.”
“Well, Varrik is hot on your trail, so you better watch your back.”
Varrik. Of course they’d send for Varrik. It took a Shadow Assassin to find a Shadow Assassin. That had been their trouble all along. Anger pushed through his regret and fury made him reckless. “Morgan’s still a little sore after last night, but she’s alive. I’m developing quite a taste for human pussy.”
Morgan gasped and tried to grab the comlink out of his hand.
Elias cursed profusely then shouted, “Let me talk to her!”
“Elias, I think we’re still in—”
He cut off the call. Elias had likely heard Morgan’s indignant yell, but Nazerel could take no more of the human’s venom. Elias had said Team South was “obliterated” yet Nazerel refused to believe they were dead. The Mystic Militia didn’t work that way. They had done their best to capture each hunter and take them back to Ontariese. His men would have fought ferociously, but the Mystics would have incapacitated not murdered them. As long as they drew breath, there was still hope.
“Just when I think you can’t stoop any lower, you prove me wrong.”
He ignored the disappointment in her eyes and the frustration gnawing at his belly. He wasn’t surprised by anything Elias had told him. Morgan had basically said the same thing last night. And both reports substantiated the clues he’d dug up on his own. Still, having the defeat confirmed made it real. His entire team was in enemy hands, beyond his reach, if not beyond his influence.
And he was surprised it had taken Varrik this long to join the hunt. The traitor had been the obvious choice from the beginning.
Grasping her bound wrists, he pulled her to the edge of the bed and unfastened the chain from around her waist.
“You’re vile,” she sneered. “Worse than my reports indicated.”
“Why do you sound surprised? I’m a Shadow Assassin, worst of the worst. Everyone knows I’m a murderous animal.”
She tugged against his hold, fear flickering through her anger. “There is no reason for you to take me with you.”
“You’re female. Do I need any other reason?”
“Yes,” she cried. “Why needlessly endanger yourself? This makes no sense.”
“It’s like I told Elias. I’ve developed a taste for human—”
“Don’t you dare say it again.” She raised both hands as if she would backhand him, cuffs and all.
Rather than react to the provocation, he shoved her to her back and quickly unzipped her pants.
“What are you doing?” She grabbed his hands, fingernails digging into his skin.
“Calm down.” He pushed her hands aside and grabbed the sides of her pants. “I’m just discouraging you from running away.” She kicked and wiggled, but he pulled off her pants then snatched off her socks. He’d made her take off her boots shortly after they arrived. He grabbed her bound wrists and pulled her back up to a seated position. “Do I need to take the T-shirt too?”
“No.”
He searched her gaze then realized the futility of the action. He hadn’t been able to tell she was lying the night before. Why did he think he could now? Gathering up her garments and boots, he stuffed everything in the wardrobe. Then he unplugged the phone and placed it in the wardrobe as well. Finally, he wrapped the chain around the handles and secured the chain with the tiny padlock. She could probably pry off the hinges if she had enough time, but this would definitely slow her down. Unless she chose to take off half-naked, hands bound and barefoot as well, which was still a possibility. He wouldn’t put anything past Morgan.
She sat on the edge of the bed, watching him through narrowed eyes. “Do you believe me now?” When she finally spoke her tone was calm and collected. “The fight is over. Your side lost.”
“I’m hungry.”
Pressing her legs together, she pulled the T-shirt down over her knees.
He chuckled. “I was thinking pizza, but if you’d rather continue what I started in the tent, I’m more than happy to oblige.”
“There was no reason for you to say that to Elias. Now he’ll think… It was just cruel.”
“I’m feeling cruel at the moment, so don’t provoke me.” He crossed to the desk and found a laminated flyer for a pizza delivery shop. “Do you care what I put on it?”
“Onions tear up my stomach and I’m not a fan of anchovies.”
He placed the order then slipped his comlink back into his pocket. The situation wasn’t nearly as hopeless as Morgan presumed. He’d made arrangements for his escape even before he came to Earth. Only a fool would blindly trust a complete stranger. And Nazerel was no fool. The hardest part was that most of his men didn’t realize he hadn’t deserted them. A few had shipped out with him often enough to know he never left anything to chance. The others would just have to believe the worst until his actions proved them wrong.
“What is Phil buying for you?” She’d moved from the bed to one of the chairs arranged around a small round table.
It didn’t matter where she sat. One look at those long, toned legs and his mind carried them back to the bed. She tried to make herself less attractive, but her efforts were futile. The woman was pleasure personified. So why had no one claimed her? Perhaps she had been claimed at one point, but her mate died. That would explain her resistance to being touched and touching in return.
She’d rebel against a direct question on such a personal subject, so he answered her question instead. “Phil is buying me an insurance policy of sorts. How long have you been chasing aliens?”
“Wasn’t that in my dossier? You said you’d learned all about Morgan Hoyt. You just didn’t realize I was female.”
“I know you started as a profiler for the FBI, but there weren’t a lot of details about your taskforce.”
Her brows arched and a smile teased the corners of her utterly kissable mouth. “That’s because it doesn’t officially exist. I’m surprised you found mention of it at all. I have people in my IT department who routinely scrubs that sort of information.”
“What drew you to criminal investigation? It’s an odd occupation for a female.”
“Maybe on Ontariese. Earth is more open-minded.”
He joined her at the table. His primary reason for the conversation was to keep his mind off how badly he wanted her, but he was also curious. Though lacking many details, the information he’d dug up on Morgan Hoyt had made him picture a middle-aged man with military bearing and a no-nonsense attitude. It was hard to believe this delicate female had earned such power and authority. “Ignore my sexist attitude. Why did you become an investigator?”
“Why do you care? You’ve made it obvious that females only had one purpose in the world below.”
“That’s not true.” He grinned. “They had two. We had pleasure givers as well as mates.”
“That’s not funny.”
“Then stop dodging the question. I told you everything you wanted to know about me. Now it’s your turn to share.”
She rested her hands on the table and fiddled with her fingernails. “My mother is a workaholic and my father was a drunk. It gave me a rather warped perspective of life. Mom was never around because she always had some late-night meeting or out-of-town conference she couldn’t afford to miss. It didn’t take long to realize she was simply avoiding her husband.” There was no emotion in her tone. She sounded hollow, alone.
“Why did she remain bonded to such a man?”
One of her shoulders lifted in an unconvincing shrug. “She was a good Catholic girl, so she didn’t have a choice.”
“I don’t understand the reference. Is Catholic a race or a religion?”
“It’s a religion with lots of unbendable rules. Devout Catholics, especially of my mother’s generation, find divorce unthinkable. Besides, Dad wasn’t abusive. He was just useless.”
“Did you have siblings?”
She shook her head. “The Catholic religion also frowns on birth control, but Mom quickly realized she had two dependents, not one, and she was solely responsible for both. Her ambition grew out of a sense of responsibility, but it was an escape as well. She was embarrassed and exasperated by her husband, so she made a life for herself apart from him. They might have lived under the same roof, but they weren’t a real couple.”
“I want to know about you, not your parents.” Their gazes locked and he was shocked to realize how much he meant the statement. He really did what to know more about her, to understand the forces that drove her, had made her so strong.
Both her shoulders lifted this time and still her indifference was unconvincing. “My story isn’t unusual or particularly interesting.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
Her tongue touched her bottom lip and she lowered her gaze. “I was what’s known as a latchkey kid. I’d let myself in to our house after school and ignore my father who was usually passed out on the couch when he wasn’t at one of his favorite bars. Then I’d spend the next four or five hours in my bedroom alone entertaining myself. I was fed and clothed. I always had what I needed and most of the things I wanted. My childhood wasn’t that bad.”
“Weren’t you lonely? Isolation like that had to be hard on a child.” His childhood had been filled with challenges and cruel discipline. Still, he’d been surrounded by people who cared for and supported him.
“It was horribly lonely, but it also made me self-sufficient and unafraid.”
Thinking of her as a neglected child only made him angry at her parents. He wanted to find them and shake some sense into them, yet that wasn’t the purpose for this conversation. “How did your isolation ignite an interest in investigation?”
“It was a gradual progression. I was eleven when I was picked up by the police for the first time. Shoplifting. Luckily, the shop owner only wanted to scare me, so he didn’t press charges. My mother was horrified and immediately sent me to therapy. The councilor helped me understand that the actions of my parents didn’t need to define my life.”
“That’s a lesson many people never learn.”
She nodded. “I understood what she meant, but it took many years for me to implement the concept.”
“Then your misbehavior continued?”
“Of course. I was desperate for attention and determined to get it anyway I could.”
It was easy to see where her story led. It was a fundamental law of nature. Without energy, or in this case direction, any situation deteriorated into chaos. “Your mother continued to ignore you and delegate your care to others?”
“When my ‘antics’—her favorite word for my misbehavior—became more outrageous, Mom sent me to a boarding school.”
“I’ve read about such places. From Lowood in Jane Eyre to Harry Potter’s Hogwarts, few of them are pleasant.”
She smiled, her gaze returning to his face. “Don’t believe everything you read or see on TV. Boarding school was the best thing that ever happened to me. With the help of a really good guidance counselor, I was able to explore my aptitudes and interests. I originally thought I wanted to be a lawyer, but I found criminals more interesting than the laws that protect them.”
“Human laws protect the criminals? Shouldn’t laws protect the victims and punish the criminals?”
“Oh, they should, but too often people manipulate the system or the system is just so convoluted that it’s ineffective. Anyway, I realized my personality required something more hands-on than being a lawyer so I investigated other options.”
A firm knock at the door interrupted their conversation. Morgan looked toward the door, a cunning gleam in her eyes. “You will not move and you will remain silent.” He reinforced the directive with a powerful compulsion and paused to see if it took hold. Her eyes widened and subtle twitches indicated her attempts to move. “I will release you in a moment.”
He answered the door, paid for the pizza and a two-liter bottle of cola. He kept the door angled, blocking the young man’s view of Morgan. After the delivery person departed, Nazerel locked the door and returned to the table. Only then did he release her from the compulsion.
She sprang back to life with a gasp, knocking her chair over as she jumped to her feet. “What the hell… How did you do that?”
“Let’s eat while it’s hot.” He placed the box in the middle of the table and divided the stack of paper napkins. The delivery person hadn’t provided disposable plates, so they would have to eat over the box. “If you want ice for your drink, I’ll have to compel you again.”
“Only the sweepers can use compulsions. How were you able to paralyze me?”
A true sweeper, like Varrik, would have compelled away her desire to escape. Nazerel had never achieved that level of control. Still, she didn’t need to know his limitations.
There was a stack of glasses by the ice bucket. He grabbed two and brought them to the table. “I had aptitudes for both disciplines. I was just better at hunting.”
“But you said you hadn’t used those skills in years.”
He looked into her eyes and smiled. “I lied.”
Morgan stared at him, shocked beyond words. Everyone had hinted that Nazerel was no ordinary Shadow Assassin. She was just starting to understand what they meant. He’d been difficult enough while the collar suppressed his abilities, now her hope of escaping him was threatening to desert her entirely.
No. She would not give up or give in to his magnetic personality. As long as she was alive, she would keep fighting.
“Are you going to join me or shall I begin?” He raised the lid on the pizza box and let the aroma fill the air.
Her stomach growled and her mouth watered. They had their days and nights switched around, but it had been at least nine hours since she’d eaten anything. To escape she would need mental sharpness and physical strength, and both of those required energy. Satisfied with the rationalization, she righted her chair and sat back down.
“Dig in. He didn’t bring plates, so we’ll be dining bachelor style.”
She picked up a slice of pizza and took a bite. The crust was a little tough, but there was plenty of cheese and inviting flavors. “No one just figures out how to control their power.” She paused for a quick drink of cola. “Who taught you how to form compulsions?”
“My compulsions are strong, but they don’t last very long. That’s why I became a hunter.”
“Good to know, but that’s not what I asked. Who trained you?”
“Can’t you guess?” He devoured one piece and reached for another before he clarified. “Varrik taught me how to use my sweeper abilities and I taught him how to use his hunter abilities. We did so in secret to begin with, but once the elders realized what we were doing, they decided cross training wasn’t such a bad idea.”
“How many Shadow Assassins are able to use compulsions?” Controlling minds was so dangerous, even if it was for a short period of time.
“I’m the only Shadow Assassin left on Earth, so why does it matter?”
He was right. She needed to focus on Nazerel. He was her objective, her target, her enemy. So why did she keep forgetting. Her wrists were restrained and he’d taken off her pants and still she found herself fascinated by him rather than repulsed.
“How long have you been with the alien taskforce?” Nazerel asked in between bites.
So they were back to quid pro quo. He’d answered her questions, so it was time for her to answer his. “I’m one of the original members, so fifteen years. I’ve been director for the past six.”
“You don’t seem old enough to have so many responsibilities.”
She paused with her slice of pizza halfway to her mouth. “Thank you, I think.”
“How did you come so far so quickly?” His tone was conversational, his expression calm.
This was way too close to comfortable. It felt like a date, a slightly kinky date, but a date. Could Stockholm syndrome kick in this fast? Or was he influencing her, making her feel… She’d love to blame it all on him, but she’d felt this connection, this irrational attraction even before his powers were restored.
“You really don’t like to talk about yourself, do you? It’s most people’s favorite subject.”
She fought back a smile. At least he hadn’t said, it was most females’ favorite subject. She didn’t see any harm in answering his question, but she kept it succinct and factual. “I’ve always been self-motivated and driven. I graduated from college at sixteen and was contracted by the FBI a few months later. I was restricted to desk work until I turned twenty-three, but by then I was working for the taskforce and we tend to bend all sorts of rules. After all, we don’t really exist.”
“Then you’re in your early thirties?”
“Why is my age important? How old are you?”
“I’m older than I look. Between my Rodyte heritage and my nanites’ ability to regenerate flesh, I could live for hundreds of years.”
“Lucky you.” She took another bite of pizza and tried not to brood, but human existence had never felt so limited before. She couldn’t paralyze people with her mind or teleport. She didn’t have nanites to regenerate her flesh and—she could nurture a growing life inside her body and give birth to the next generation. That was something he would never be able to do, even if he lived for a thousand years. Maybe she wasn’t so useless after all.
“Did something I say upset you? You seem annoyed.”
She laughed. “I’m sitting here in my underwear eating with restrained hands. Why would I be annoyed?”
“Stop trying to run away and I’ll unlock the cuffs.”
She wiped her mouth with a napkin and picked up her glass. “You have your powers back. Why do you need me?”
“Maybe I intend to trade you for my men.”
If only it were that simple. “Why didn’t you make that offer to Elias rather than being obnoxious?”
He smiled, clearly entertained by the memory. “Why did my boast bother you? Are you ashamed of the things I did to you or that you enjoyed them so much?”
Ignoring the taunt, she pushed back her chair and stood. “I’m going to take a shower. Can I have my other outfit?”
He shook his head. “We’ll both dress in fresh clothes before we depart. You can sleep in that.”
Depart for where? And she’d just awaken from a long nap. It was unlikely she’d fall asleep again. Unless he compelled her. She shivered. Knowing he could make her do whatever he wanted was terrifying, so she refused to think about it.
Rather than ask for a clarification, she said, “At least give me the toiletries. I’d like to brush my teeth.”
“Fine.” He motioned toward the backpack Phil had given him. “Help yourself.”
She rummaged through the contents and found what she’d need in the bathroom then held up both hands. “Can you unlock me, please? I don’t want to get the cuffs wet.”
He’d checked the bathroom for escape routes and possible weapons when they arrived, so there was no reason for him to refuse. There wasn’t even a window in the small space. Still, his hesitation was proof positive that he didn’t trust her. Why should he? She’d given him nothing but trouble since he forced her into the Suburban and she didn’t intend to become sweet and docile now.
Dragging the key out of his pocket, he unlocked the cuffs then quickly worked the buckles, freeing her from the restraints. “They go back on as soon as you’re finished.”
“Whatever.” She hurried into the bathroom and closed the door, unable to hide her frustration or her growing desperation. Out of habit she locked the door then shook her head. What good were locked doors when her adversary could teleport through walls? She could pound on the bathroom wall and scream her head off, but it wouldn’t do any good. Nazerel would flash them to a new location before anyone who heard her screams could dial 9-1-1. Never before had she faced an opponent who had this many advantages.
Nazerel knocked on the door, startling her out of her gloomy thoughts. “Get going. I’d like a shower too while there’s still time.”
She glared at the door. The mystery package wouldn’t be ready until morning. What was his problem? She turned on the water at the sink rather than the shower then freed her toothbrush from the rigid packaging.
After giving her teeth a good scrubbing, she closed the shower curtain and turned on the water. The bathtub was small, but the curtain rod bowed outward, keeping the enclosure from feeling claustrophobic. She gave the water a few minutes to warm up then climbed into the bathtub. With her back to the spray, she tilted her head and let the water saturate her hair.
She couldn’t fight her way out of this situation. Nazerel was faster, stronger, and much more powerful than she. Still, her other options were nearly nonexistent. Nazerel had teleported her from Phil’s shop to the hotel room, so she had no idea where they were. Still, if she could get the communication device away from Nazerel, maybe she could figure out how he’d called Elias. Did the Rodyte version of a phone have a redial function?
With a sigh of frustration, she picked up the miniature bottle of shampoo and poured a good amount into her palm. Nazerel was so different from the man portrayed in his dossier. He was ruthless, no one could deny his focus, but he wasn’t bloodthirsty or cruel. Well, he had moments of cruelty. What he’d said to Elias had certainly been mean-spirited. But she’d heard enough of what Elias said to understand the reaction. Elias had rubbed Nazerel’s face in his failure and Nazerel lashed out. If the situation were reversed, Elias might have done the same or worse.
Oh dear God, she was defending Nazerel like a besotted schoolgirl.
She raised her hands to her hair and closed her eyes as she worked the shampoo into a fragrant lather. Nazerel’s treatment of Elias might be debatable, but there was no excuse for what Nazerel had done the night before. He’d mercilessly seduced her, used her passionate nature against her in the most humiliating way.
Lather slid over her breasts and belly like a whisper-soft touch. Her nipples peaked and her core ached as images rolled through her mind. His kiss had been consuming, intoxicating. Just thinking about it made her head spin. He’d looked into her eyes and made it clear that one word from her would have ended the session. So why had she remained silent? Why hadn’t she tried to negotiate, to calm him down and shift his focus away from her body? She’d been trapped by her own stubbornness as much as by his agenda.
She was doing it again, justifying his deplorable behavior. He wasn’t a hapless victim of circumstance. He was the leader of the Shadow Assassins, one of the most ruthless groups of mercenaries she’d ever heard about.
Which brought up another contradiction, Nazerel’s ongoing focus on his men. Heartless murderers weren’t generally loyal to their subordinates.
A familiar scrubbing sound interrupted her troubled thoughts. It sounded like someone brushing their teeth. She opened her eyes and tried to detect Nazerel’s tall form through the curtain, but the rubbery material barely let any light through much less a silhouette. She eased one side back an inch and cringed. He stood in front of the sink, naked to the waist, casually brushing his teeth. Unbelievable!
She started to bolt then realized he stood between her and the door. He’d catch her and push her up against the wall. And she’d be naked while he was still partially dressed, an advantage he obviously enjoyed.
Maybe he’d finish cleaning his teeth then return to the outer room. He hadn’t announced his presence. Maybe he was just tired of pizza breath. And maybe she’d win the lottery tomorrow. She sighed. He was about to join her in the shower. There was no other reason he’d be in here now. All she could do was decide how to react when he did. The ends of her hair were still sudsy, so she stepped back under the spray and closed her eyes.
A strange current washed over her naked body. Her nipples tingled and goose bumps broke out on her arms. That was fast. Had he taken time to undress? She cleared the water from her face with a quick swipe of her fingers then opened her eyes. Nazerel stood in front of her, stark naked, a miniature bar of soap resting on his palm.
“You forgot the soap.” He punctuated the observation with a sexy smile.
He was obviously hoping for a reaction, so she calmly took the soap from his hand and turned around. “Thanks, but I’m not quite finished. Give me another five minutes and the shower’s yours.” Despite her wildly pounding heart and the need spiraling through her body, she sounded casual, as if showering with her captor were an everyday occurrence.
Moving up behind her, he pressed his chest against her back and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I have a better idea.” He snatched the soap out of her grasp and spun the tiny bar between his hands. With his arms still wrapped around her, he set the soap aside and began to lather her arms and shoulders. “I’ll make sure you’re nice and clean.”
“Like hell you will!” She turned around and shoved against his chest. “Enough with these games. I’m your hostage not your pet. Stop trying to seduce me.”
His slick fingers slid across her shoulder and down her back while his other arm banded her waist. “Am I to believe you felt nothing when we kissed last night? Were you pretending to enjoy my touch?”
“I was staying alive.” She arched, using his chest as leverage, but the action only drove her pelvis into his. Each of her agitated movements emphasized the conspicuous hardness rapidly forming against her belly. So she stilled and glared up at him. “Let go of me.”
“I’m not human.” His tone was deep and filled with meaning.
“I’m aware.”
“I sense things, smell things, taste things no human can understand.”
She closed her eyes and balled her hands into fists. If this was where he told her she “tasted” like his mate, she was going to scream. “I don’t care what you think you know. I want out of this shower.”
“Kiss me and I’ll let you go.” Challenge rippled through his voice and one of his hands slid down until his palm cupped her behind.
Her body stirred as memories of the pleasure he’d given her the night before surged to the surface again. His hands caressing, his lips sucking, and his tongue… Gritting her teeth against the temptation, she took two slow breaths. “I don’t want to have sex with you.” She opened her eyes and met his smoldering gaze. “Has no one ever told you no before?”
“You claim that you don’t want me. I think you do. Prove me wrong. Kiss me so deeply my head spins then shrug it off and walk away.”
How could she resist such a challenge? The fastest way to shut up a bully was to confront them. And after last night it would feel damn good to put this jerk in his place. She slid her hands up to his shoulders and rocked to the balls of her feet. He bent his head, ready to take over, but she nipped his bottom lip.
“I’m kissing you, remember?”
“Then kiss me.”
The growling roughness of his voice sent shivers through her body and still she refused to be rushed. She pressed her lips to his, hers barely parted. Then she moved her head back and forth and caressed his lips with hers. His hand fisted in the back of her hair, but he didn’t pull, didn’t try to control her.
Empowered by his restraint, she traced the seam of his lips with the tip of her tongue. His cock bucked against her belly and she smiled. He tasted of mint, his breath hot and humid. She continued to tease his mouth while her hands began to wander. His body felt as incredible as it looked, every bulge and ridge of muscle covered with hot silky skin.
She pushed her tongue all the way into his mouth and inhaled his appreciative moan. His tongue slid against hers and his response grew more demanding. Before she lost herself in the need he ignited so effortlessly, she tore her mouth away from his and stepped back.
He caught her wrist, his gaze narrowed, the rings glowing.
“I’m not leaving,” she assured him and his expression turned quizzical. She reached over and grabbed the soap, quickly lathering up her hands. “I want to touch you, like you touched me. Are you brave enough to let me?”
“If you mean to leave me wanting…”
She closed her slick fingers around his rock-hard cock and he didn’t finish the warning. “Did you leave me wanting?” Her hand slid up and down, her thumb brushing across the sensitive tip at the top of each stroke.
He grasped the back of her neck and drew her to his side so he could kiss her without interfering with the motion of her hand. She didn’t want to kiss him, wanted to remain in complete control while he lost himself to the demands of his body. But his mouth was warm, his kiss coaxing rather than demanding, and she couldn’t make herself pull away.
She savored the tenderness threaded through his passion, amazed by the patience it revealed. His hips began to rock, driving his shaft with more force between the circle of her fingers. Her body ached, craving the fullness she stroked with her hand.
“Oh gods.” His head dropped back and tension rippled down his body. She tightened her hand as his cock bucked against her fingers. His hand covered hers and tripled the speed of her stroking. Pearly fluid jetted from him with each frantic motion. He shuddered and came, then groaned and came some more.
She watched his face as well as his body, fascinated by the agony of his surrender. He’d lost control, submitted to her touch just as quickly as she’d succumb to his. She felt dizzy and empty, yet giddy as she realized what she’d just done. She hadn’t needed restraints or compulsions. With nothing more Mystic than her kiss and her touch, she’d commanded the mighty Nazerel.
Before he could recover from the rush, she threw back the curtain, snatched a towel off the rack and rushed into the outer room.