Mystic Militia

by Cyndi Friberg

  Fine by me. Nazerel was more than ready for a fight.

  He crept down the narrow hallway, combining visual sweeps with sensor pulses. Allenton was the obvious choice to pursue the rebel hunters. It took a Shadow Assassin to find a Shadow Assassin. Still, the betrayal infuriated Nazerel. Allenton had experienced the oppression and subjugation fueling this rebellion. He should know better than siding with the self-serving Ontarians.

  Easing the privacy panel—door—inward with the toe of his boot, Nazerel leaned slowly forward and checked the small utility room. Bathroom, his language implant corrected. He grinded his teeth, wishing he could turn the stupid thing off. Blending in was important, but he couldn’t afford the distraction right now.

  The floor creaked as he neared the bedroom door, momentarily halting his progress. He listened for any indication that she’d heard his approach. Silence. With a controlled breath, he took a careful step and then another, not trusting the floor to cooperate. The door was about half open. It was unlikely he could slip past the barrier without shifting the panel inward. He looked into the room, assessing his options.

  Angie sat on the bed, a book open across her lap. The fall of her hair obscured her face and—her hair was several shades too dark. In the muted lamplight he could barely discern the red.

  This wasn’t Angie.

  It was a trap!

  He shoved the door open and dove for the bed, knowing a hostage was his only hope of escaping this scene alive. His fingers tangled in her too-dark hair as an energy pulse whizzed past his neck, narrowly missing his flesh. Allenton could sense his energy pattern, giving the traitor a basic idea of where Nazerel was, but their Shadow shields kept them both from knowing the other’s exact location.

  The female cried out as Nazerel dragged her off the bed, too angry to govern his strength.

  “Release her and lower your shield or I’ll fry you where you stand!”

  Nazerel pivoted, shielding his body with the human. His gut twisted at the cowardly move, but they’d left him no choice but self-preservation. The Mystic stood near the doorway, his hands glowing with yellow-orange light. Pyrokins could be deadly fighters, but they frequently destroyed far more than their target.

  Without releasing his shield, he taunted, “Go ahead. You can’t burn me without frying this female. Now get the hell out of my way.”

  Stinging particles peppered his back, sizzling through his garments and creating holes in his shield. The female cried out as one of the energy particles burned the back of her arm. Easily anticipating Allenton’s next move, Nazerel shoved the human forward and rolled to the left.

  The Mystic lunged for the female, twisting sharply with her in his arms and shielding her with his broad back. Allenton’s second blast hit the Mystic in a concentrated stream, boring deep into his body. The Mystic screamed, but maintained his protective hold on the woman.

  Panic surged through Tori with terrifying force as the stench of burning flesh filled her nose. Lor sagged against her back, arms still tightly wrapped around her. She turned within the circle of his embrace and did her best to hold him up. Damn the man was heavy. Pain glazed his turquoise gaze and then the irises began to rotate, swirling the rings of color into one mesmerizing mass. Stunned by the bizarre transformation, she just stared at him, unable to think or even move. Then she jerked herself back to the present and steadied his trembling body as she eased them both to the floor. He ended up sprawled across her lap, legs tangled with hers. She awkwardly rolled Lor onto his side, pressing him tightly against her so she could see his back. Blood seeped from the gaping hole which exposed torn muscle and sinew. She refused to be derailed by the gore. There had to be something she could do to help him.

  “Hiding behind a woman?” Allenton snapped as he flashed into sight. The strain on his angular features and fury in his blue-ringed eyes illustrated his disapproval more clearly than his sarcastic words. “I thought you were better than that.” He must have had some idea where Nazerel was because he kept his angry gaze focused on the same spot as he backed into the tiny bathroom and snatched a towel off the rack. He tossed the towel to Tori without shifting his focus from his still invisible adversary.

  Nazerel finally came into view as Tori pressed the towel against Lor’s bleeding back. Nazerel looked even meaner than he had in Allenton’s memory, if that was possible. Lor had called them Shadow Assassins and their predatory natures were obvious as they faced off.

  Nazerel glared at Allenton then glanced at her. “Where is Angie?”

  “It’s none of your damn business,” Tori flared. “Stay away from my sister!”

  His gaze narrowed and he took a step toward her.

  “Don’t.” Allenton shifted the angle of his pulse pistol, the threat unmistakable.

  Dismissing her with an angry snarl, Nazerel turned back to Allenton and switched to their native language. His deep, angry voice sounded in the still room for a moment and then his meaning manifested in her mind. Allenton must have translated Nazerel’s rant and passed the words across Tori’s telepathic comlink. She didn’t stop to dissect the details. She was too busy absorbing the information.

  “How can you betray your brothers?” Nazerel sneered. “You are one of our best, most passionate hunters. How can you work for them? They are as bad as the elders. They promised us freedom, yet they control us at every turn. We are hunters! We must hunt. It is our nature to track, stalk and overpower. Life has no meaning without the hunt.”

  “The old ways are gone,” Allenton responded in the same language, but his meaning also filtered into Tori’s mind. It was like watching a badly dubbed foreign film. “We cannot expect any modern society to accept our Customs. We must—”

  “The Customs are sacred! It is our responsibility to protect our way of life, to preserve it for future generations. We are political refugees, not criminals.”

  “Lor is going to bleed to death while you two bicker like a couple of women. We have to get him to a hospital. Now!” She was careful not to reveal what Allenton had been doing.

  Nazerel muttered something Allenton didn’t bother to translate, then Nazerel stomped toward her. Allenton covered him with his futuristic-looking pistol, but made no move to stop him. Nazerel bent to one knee and moved the blood-soaked towel aside. “I will seal the wound, but you will remain here until long after we have gone.”

  “We? You’re taking Allenton with you?”

  He ignored her questions, his attention fixed on his task. His gaze clouded as his right hand hovered over the ragged wound. His palm glowed, turning his skin translucent and then the faint blue rings in his eyes illuminated like neon signs. He never touched the torn flesh and she couldn’t see a stream of energy, yet the edges of the wound began to regenerate. The opening grew smaller and smaller until only a puckered scare remained.

  “He might survive.” Nazerel stood and approached Allenton. Their gazes locked and silence overtook the room. Tori had no doubt their debate had resumed, but they were communicating mind-to-mind now. Allenton no longer included her in the conversation, which didn’t seem like a good sign.

  Something Nazerel said spiked Allenton’s temper. He shoved Nazerel backward and berated him verbally. Nazerel responded just as passionately. Allenton fell silent for a moment and the look on his face filled Tori with uncertainty. Nazerel seemed to be winning the argument. Allenton looked frustrated now, not angry. She even detected a hint of regret.

  Nazerel looked at her and Lor, malice clear in his expression.

  Allenton objected, grasping Nazerel’s upper arm.

  Tori cringed, wishing she could disappear as easily as they did. It didn’t take much imagination to figure out what they were debating now. Could they risk leaving witnesses alive?

  Dread turned her insides to ice as she desperately looked for anything resembling a weapon. She couldn’t just sit here and die. Who would warn Angie?

  Nazerel raised his brows, likely issuing a telepathic ultimatum.

 
After a tense pause Allenton nodded and Nazerel relaxed.

  Had they just agreed to let her live or let her die?

  Tori braced for the worst, holding her breath and pressing Lor’s warm body against her. She didn’t want to die, but she was unarmed and helpless against these…aliens. Would pleading do her any good? Surely she possessed something of value to these men.

  She opened her mouth to begin the negotiation, but no words made it past her dry throat.

  Chapter Four

  Before Tori could humiliate herself by offering her body for her life, both Shadow Assassins flashed out of sight. Tori released her pent-up breath and whispered, “Thank God. Oh, thank you, God.”

  She was still alive and so was Lor. As long as they were alive, there was hope for saving Angie. And all of the other potential victims of these Shadow Assassins. Hadn’t Lor said there were fifteen of them? Make that sixteen now. It was possible Allenton was Nazerel’s hostage, but it had looked more like a defection to her.

  First things first. She had to get treatment for Lor. She wasn’t sure what Nazerel had done, but she didn’t trust the enemy to have healed Lor completely.

  “Lor.” She rolled him outward without lowering him onto his back. His skin looked ashen and drawn. How could she still find him handsome? “Lor, you need to call for backup or whatever you guys do.” She was pretty sure he wouldn’t want to be taken to a human hospital. Well, because he wasn’t human. A chill shook her shoulders. She’d listened to his hurried explanation with surreal skepticism, but none of it felt real until this moment. She was cradling an alien, a telepathic, fire-throwing alien in her arms.

  He didn’t stir, but his steady breathing assured her he was still alive. Were Lor and Allenton alone on Earth? Allenton had said something about a militia, but had he brought troops with him? Did they have a ship stashed away somewhere? Maybe the ship would have an infirmary or at least medical supplies. The speculation was utterly useless. She had no idea how to contact them even if they were out there.

  “Lor.” She patted his cheek, afraid of increasing the damage if she shook him. “You need to wake up. I don’t know how to help you.”

  He groaned and his eyelashes twitched, but he didn’t quite open his eyes. “Mouth.” He groaned then whispered, “Press your mouth to mine.”

  But he was breathing just fine. “I don’t think—”

  His fingers tangled in her hair and he drew her head down. Okay, so he needed a kiss. She could deal with that. His lips felt warm and resilient beneath hers. Then he tilted his head and contoured his mouth more firmly to hers. There was no passion, no real intimacy in the kiss. Why had he…?

  Tingles erupted deep inside her, spinning slowly then gathering speed and intensity. Frightened by the unfamiliar sensation, she instinctively pulled back. His hand fisted and he held her in place as the twirling sensation built. Heat was drawn from her limbs into her torso. Her hands and feet went numb while her breasts felt heavy and her core clenched painfully. Nothing in the connection was sexual, so why was her body reacting like this?

  Before she could sort through the impressions, he inhaled deeply, drawing the tingles out of her body and into his. Their mouths broke apart and she gasped. His hand slipped from her hair and he panted harshly, as if he’d just run a marathon.

  “What the hell did you just do to me?” She felt lightheaded and dizzy, yet oddly—turned on.

  “Energy.” He panted several times and finally opened his eyes. “I need energy, badly. The pulse blast caused serious damage.”

  Stunned, she nodded. She understood his words and the bizarre sensations corresponded with what he’d said, but how he’d accomplished it was beyond comprehension. He continued to stare at her with those freaky, swirling eyes. “Are you better now?” And why was she so damn horny? He’d left her with one hell of an itch to scratch.

  “It’s a survival mechanism,” he sounded apologetic.

  Was that the answer to her unspoken question? “What are you talking about?”

  “If the liplink isn’t sufficient, my body automatically emits a stimulant. That’s why you’re so restless.”

  “You need more?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to go through that again.

  “I do.” He still looked pale and exhausted, but he sat and moved off her lap.

  “And what does that have to do with making me want sex?” She had no idea where she found the courage to ask the question. Perhaps this stimulant suppressed inhibitions as well.

  “You know what to expect this time, so you’ll instinctively fight me. Evolution found a creative solution, a pleasurable way of distracting you.”

  “You get me off while you feed?” She sounded like Angie. Whatever he’d done to her was definitely making her bolder.

  “Basically.”

  She ran her hands down her sides, her fingers skimming the outside of her breasts. “Are you any good at it?”

  “Let’s find out.” He launched himself at her, knocking her over onto her back as he came down on top of her. His knees wedged her legs open and his mouth took possession of hers. There was no other way of describing the aggressive, overwhelming kiss. His lips urged hers apart as his tongue sank into her mouth, staking his claim before he began to explore.

  He interlaced their fingers and dragged her arms above her head. His chest rubbed over her breasts and his crotch pressed firmly against her mound. He was hard, the thick ridge unmistakable proof of his need. An equal ache pulsed within her core, ready and willing to accommodate him.

  No! A tiny voice in the back of her mind shouted. This wasn’t real. Regardless of how her body burned, she could not have sex with Lor. He wasn’t even human!

  I won’t join our bodies, but I need to touch you. He shifted her wrists into one hand and pushed her shirt up with the other. I won’t do more than touch. You can trust me.

  His lips left her mouth and brushed against her jaw as his free hand stroked over her breasts. Her nipples gathered against the cups of her bra and she helplessly arched her back. If he changed his mind, she’d let him take her. The fact made her whimper then moan. She wanted to feel him inside her, thick and hot as he slid in and out.

  He nipped the underside of her jaw. “Think of something else, or better yet, don’t think at all.”

  She tried. She really did, but his mouth was hot and his fingers strong and he kept rubbing his cock against her. “I think…I want you to.” She dug in her heels and canted her hips, bringing his ridge into perfect alignment against her clit.

  Ignoring her plea, he continued his downward trek. His fingers tugged on her bra cup, drawing it down until he exposed one of her nipples. His lips latched on and sucked hard enough to make her gasp. Don’t think. Just feel my lips. Accept each sensation as it comes. He tugged down the second cup and tasted her nipple, keeping the first tight and tingly with his fingers.

  Then he rocked his hips, dragging the thickness of his cock against her sensitive clit. She paired his rocking with a circular motion, grinding herself against him as she closed her eyes and imagined him deep inside. She wanted him naked and thrusting into her, riding her hard enough to make her scream.

  He groaned around her nipple, punishing her with an especially hard suck. The sharp sensation blazed a trail to her clit and launched a series of strong contractions. She cried out and went wild beneath him, bucking her hips and tossing her head as tension ricocheted through her body.

  Orgasm crashed down upon her, eclipsing everything but the pleasure. Her core clenched and sensations blasted in shattering pulses. She shuddered and moaned, her nails biting into her palms. Gradually she calmed enough to feel the sucking sensation. He was more controlled this time, taking from her slowly, with long, gradual pulls.

  When he finally raised his head and looked into her eyes, she was too weak to move. “Are you all right? My control was hampered by my injury. Please tell me I didn’t hurt you.”

  He’d just fed from her like an energy vampire while she wri
thed in mindless orgasm. It had felt incredibly good, yet she hadn’t been in control of her responses. She couldn’t help feeling sort of violated.

  Lor hadn’t had a choice. Nazerel hurt him badly. “Did it work?” She adjusted her bra and pulled down her shirt, haphazardly tucking it inside her jeans. “Can you finish healing your back now?”

  With obvious reluctance, he crawled off her and looked around. “It will take some time, but the danger is past.” Confusion suddenly creased his brow. “Where is Allenton?”

  He wondered about this now, after he’d bared her breasts and dry-humped her into submission? Who was she kidding? Allenton could have watched the entire exchange and she wouldn’t have cared. She’d been just as lost as Lor.

  Lor was still waiting for her answer and there was no way to soften the blow. “He went with Nazerel.”

  Maneuvering his leg beneath him, Lor pushed to his feet. “Is he a hostage or did he leave willingly?”

  Having him loom over her was unnerving, so she stood as well. Her wobbly legs just barely supported her. “I’m not sure. They were arguing in your language. For part of the time Allenton sent a translation to my mind, but then it just stopped.”

  Lor raked his hair with both hands, frustration radiating off him in tangible waves. “I knew it. I never should have agreed—” He cut himself off and waved away whatever he’d been about to say. “This is my problem not yours.”

  “I don’t think so.” She put her hands on her hips and moved closer. “Until these lunatics are captured, Angie is in danger and that means I’m involved.” She’d spent half her life looking after Angie. She sure as hell wasn’t going to back down now.

  For a long, silent moment Lor searched her gaze. “I need to hear the argument. May I reenter your mind?”