Born of Fire

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Unable to fathom it, she placed her hand on his whiskered cheek.

  Syn was afraid to move for fear of scaring her. Something was different about her now. She looked at him, not with fear or anger or pity.

  But with . . .

  Understanding.

  And before he could move, she closed the distance between them and kissed him. Growling at the taste of her, he carefully pulled her into his arms and held her close as every hormone in his body fired.

  Shahara lost herself to the feeling of his body against hers. Of his bare skin under her hands. She'd always wanted to be like a normal woman.

  Unafraid of trusting a man in her life.

  He's a convict. How can you trust a convict?

  He shifted and she felt his arousal against her stomach. In that instant, involuntary horror flooded her as she remembered Gaelin holding her down by her neck and tearing at her clothes.

  Panic tore through her. "Let me go!" she snapped. "Don't touch me!"

  Syn understood that anxious tone and knew it wasn't directed at him. Instantly he let her go and moved as far away from her as he could so that no part of him was touching her.

  That had been the irrational cry of someone whose past had just risen up and tackled them to the ground.

  "You okay?"

  Shahara scowled at his question, but even more baffling was the concern on his face and the tender note in his voice. She'd expected him to be angry or offended.

  But he wasn't. "Yeah, sorry."

  "Hey, don't apologize. We all have shit to deal with. I have the same reaction sometimes, too."

  She scoffed. "I find that hard to believe."

  "It's true. You ever want to see me really wig out? Hand me a candy bar."

  She rolled her eyes. That was ridiculous. "A candy bar?"

  "Yeah. A bad thing happened to me over a candy bar once when I was a kid. Never got over it. I break out in a sweat just at the sight of one."

  She gave a short, sarcastic laugh. "You're messing with me, aren't you?"

  He held his hand up and gave a Ritadarion gesture of honor. "I swear it. To this day I won't even look at chocolate. Breaks me out in hives."

  A slow half smile curved her lips. "I think you're just trying to make me feel better."

  "Is it working?"

  It really was. "Thanks."

  He scratched at the dark whiskers on his face. "So how did you get in here last night? Don't get me wrong. It was a great surprise, but I would have thought you'd rather sleep with our lizard friend from yesterday than bed down with me for even a nap."

  "I don't know . . . lizard man or you . . . Nah, you're right, the lizard would have won it."

  He laughed. "Seriously, what prompted you to come in?"

  "Well for one thing you were pretty harmless and you were drugged. But mostly I couldn't let Digger sleep on the floor while I took the couch, even though he insisted."

  Syn didn't know why, but that touched him. It seemed out of character for her tougher-than-nails facade. And it had been a decent thing to do for an old man. In his world, decent acts were rare enough that they always shocked him whenever they happened.

  But now it was morning and they had a lot to do. He couldn't afford any more down time. Sooner or later, the Rits would remember he'd had an uncle and come here to check.

  Shahara frowned as he moved away from her. The sheet fell away and she realized he was completely naked. Her face flamed at something she hadn't realized when she'd crawled into bed with him. That would have definitely made her reconsider her actions . . . Sheez!

  Oblivious to her mortification, he retrieved his clothes from the other side of the bed. Most of the bruises from yesterday were gone, making the sight of his bared flesh all the more yummy.

  Delectable.

  Her cheeks blistered. Turning to face the window, she heard his low laugh.

  "Sorry, I wasn't planning on company."

  "Don't you ever wear bed clothes?"

  "No."

  She heard him moving around behind her. "You really should develop some modesty."

  He laughed again. "Why bother? I never have enough people around me to worry about it, and in jail you don't have any privacy anyway, so you learn to not think about other people's sensibilities, or your own."

  Her heart clenched at a fact he glazed over and joked about. She knew from her own brief experience how brutally kept they were. And he didn't even talk about the routine cavity searches and other horrors prisoners were subjected to.

  Her own brief experience with having no control over what was done to her body had been bad enough. She couldn't imagine how many times he'd been violated and at an age when someone should have still been rocking him to sleep.

  It offended and disgusted her on his behalf.

  He cleared his throat. "It's safe now. I'm dressed."

  Not sure if she could trust him when he seemed to delight in embarrassing her, she turned around slowly and sighed in relief. He really was dressed.

  As she looked him over, she realized the bruises had all but healed on his face and neck as well. Only a faint telltale sign of light yellow across his left cheek betrayed the fact that he'd been severely bruised just the day before.

  "Wow," she said, drawing closer. "Prinapin does work." And before she thought about her actions, she reached up and fingered his stubbled cheek, his arched brow, and the little wrinkle between his brows.

  His eyes darkened. Mesmerized, she watched the emotions flicker behind his dark gaze. Mercy, he was gorgeous and . . .

  Suddenly a voice growled behind them. "Hands up, scum. You're under arrest!"

  CHAPTER 9

  Syn snapped around, ready to attack.

  Then he gaped in utter disbelief. No . . .

  It couldn't be . . . "Vik?"

  The little metallic bird postured on the windowsill, eyeing him coldly. Vik's paint was iridescent and glossed--something the mecha had never liked, since he said it made him look like a girlie bird. "I'm surprised you remember my name." Vik paused before he added an acerbic "Asshole."

  Syn laughed as he rolled away from Shahara. "You prickly little shit, get over here."

  Vik swooped in to land between the two of them on the bed. He burst apart, shifting from bird form to that of a more traditional mechbot. With his hand, he smacked Syn in the arm. "I thought you were coming back for me."

  "I tried. I really did, but by the time I could, I figured you'd be gone."

  Vik hissed then looked at Shahara. "He lie to you like that?"

  Shahara's mouth worked as she tried to place this creature in Syn's life. "Who exactly are you?"

  He literally bristled. His skin flicked up like spikes before it settled down again. "Oh that's great. Your girlfriend doesn't even know me." He smacked Syn again. "Traitor."

  Syn grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up to dangle by it. "Hit me again, and I'm putting you in a compactor."

  "You might as well. You two-timing bastard."

  Shahara frowned. "What are you two to each other?"

  Syn set him back down on the bed. "Vik is one of the first things I created when I was a kid."

  "I was your partner."

  He smiled. "Vik was my partner. When my father used to send me on jobs, Vik was my eyes and ears to make sure I got in and got out."

  "Yeah, and how does he repay me? He abandons me the first chance he gets."

  "That's not true. You were supposed to watch out for Digger."

  Vik ignored him. "Does he call? No. Does he email or even text me? No. He just ran off and left me here to rust and die." He turned back to Syn. "You really suck as a friend."

  "I do suck as a friend. I'm sorry."

  "Mmm-hmm. You think you can sweet-talk me? Who you been two-timing me with anyway? Some low-tech battery-operated device? I hope it shocked you every time you touched it."

  Syn laughed. "There's no one else, Vik. You're the only mecha I could ever stand."

  Vik shook hi

s head. "Lies, lies, lies. They just roll off your tongue like slobber off a dog's snout."

  Shahara wrinkled her nose at the graphic image.

  "Hey, if it makes you feel better, I went to prison because I didn't have you at my back."

  "I would say you deserved that, but even I'm not that cold."

  Shahara was fascinated by the AI. It was extremely sophisticated and very well programmed. "How old were you when you created . . ." She stopped herself from saying "this" as she didn't want to offend the mecha. "Him?"

  "Seven, and I did some modifications over the years."

  Wow. She was impressed. This showed a level of skill that was unrivaled and to have been so young . . .

  Syn had never been a typical kid.

  "Is there anything you can't do?"

  He gave her a droll stare. "Find a woman who won't stab me in the back and betray me. Oh wait, you stabbed me in the arm, didn't you?"

  She deserved that, and what stung most was the fact that it was true. But she didn't respond, especially since he hadn't said it in a snotty tone. Just matter-of-factly.

  Vik moved to sit down by her arm. "You want to leave him for a real man?"

  Shahara laughed. "You're not my type, Vik."

  He tsked. "Yeah, it's hard for you fleshy types to admit that we're better in bed. 'Sa'ight. I understand." He sniffed. "Not like I don't have a crush on a lamp."

  Syn smiled. "You know I have missed you."

  Vik gave him a shaming stare--something incredible given the intricacies of programming that went into facial expressions. "But not enough to come back."

  "I'm truly sorry, Vik. I didn't know it would hurt your feelings. I thought you liked it here with Digger."

  "He all right. But he not you. He so cautious, it boring. You ever try to run with an old man? I miss what we had." He paused before he added. "Can I come with you now?"

  Syn hesitated. On the one hand, he'd like that a lot. On the other . . . "What about Digger?"

  "He not doing much these days. Please, Sheridan. I don't want to stay here. I'm going to rust and die from inaction."

  That was the last thing Syn wanted to happen to him. "All right, but don't call me Sheridan. I don't use that name anymore."

  "Asshole? That works for me."

  Syn rolled his eyes. "Syn. Call me Syn."

  Vik snorted. "Syn? What kind of stupid name is that?"

  "Better than Vik."

  "Not really, but okay. If that be the terms, I abide by them." He returned to his bird form and flew to sit on the sill. "By the way, I knew you were back when I heard some bonebags talking about the price on your head. They gathering men to come get you. You might want to prepare."

  Syn cursed. "We need to get up and get out of here." And with that came a streak of worry over Digger. Wondering where he was, Syn headed to the front room.

  The room was empty except for a pile of dark material and a note placed on the sofa. He picked it up and glanced to see Shahara as she came forward to stand in the doorway. "Digger went to buy some food."

  Folding the note, Syn's gaze fell to the clothes. He tossed the smaller set to Shahara before he saw the black boots. "Hallelujah," he breathed in relief. "I can finally put my feet into something that fits."

  "I've never seen a man so obsessed with shoes. Is there something else about you, you need to tell me? Any other weird fetishes like wearing my underwear?"

  He snorted as he remembered all the times in his childhood when he'd sliced his feet open because he'd been forced to go barefoot. "Hey, where I grew up, shoes that fit were a rare luxury and it's one I've since grown way too accustomed to." He noted the two backpacks at the foot of the sofa. Good. It looked like Digger had found the equipment they needed. He'd check it out more fully later. Right now he was dying to get cleaned up. And to get the ragged, scratchy hair off his face.

  "I'm going to shower. Digger said in his note to make yourself at home."

  Shahara moved aside to let him pass. She watched him walk into the bathroom and didn't move until she heard the water come on. All too easy, she could imagine him and that naked, ripped body glistening from the water.

  Leaning back against the wall, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath to steady herself as a wave of fierce desire went through her.

  What she wouldn't give to be like Kasen. Her sister would be peeling off her own clothes right at this moment while she headed straight for Syn and that shower.

  And she was sure it was a wondrous sight to watch the water drip off his chiseled features, catch in his dimple. See his wet, black hair curling around his neck and broad shoulders. Watch the water catch in the fine hairs on his legs, and other more intimate places.

  To follow those droplets with her tongue while she suckled hard muscles that . . .

  She let out an appreciative breath.

  He would be magnificent. If only she were different.

  Still, she couldn't quench the fire in her blood. What would it be like to make love to a man like him? To feel his strong arms hold her tight while he kissed her softly until she begged for mercy?

  Shahara bit her lip in indecision. Was all of his kindness just a deception?

  Was Syn like Gaelin, deceiving her with a false facade, waiting until he'd weakened her defenses before he struck?

  Something told her Syn wasn't like that and yet she couldn't bring herself to trust him. She couldn't afford to be wrong again.

  Sighing, she pushed herself away and went to find something to eat.

  A very short time later Syn joined her in the kitchen.

  "What smells so good?" he asked, walking to the counter.

  Shahara wanted to answer, but the sight of him cleaned up was the only thing she could focus on.

  His black pants hugged his hips and other parts in a way that was pretty much obscene and left very little to the imagination. Not that she had to imagine. She knew only too well what resided beneath that tight fabric.

  Blood droned in her ears as her body became white-hot.

  He'd draped his shirt over his muscular shoulder. He reminded her of some mythic god emerging from the mists. Perfect in every way. Never, ever in her life had she seen a man so gorgeous.

  When she didn't answer, Syn turned around and stared at her. "Do you mind if I have some?"

  Shahara forced herself to swallow. "Go ahead." She diverted her gaze down to her own plate and hoped he didn't notice the color on her cheeks.

  As he turned his back to her, she couldn't resist another look at his tantalizing form. Without a doubt, he had the nicest, firmest ass she'd ever seen. And for the first time in her adult life, she wouldn't mind a healthy serving of that rump roast.

  Once he had his plate full, he joined her at the table. He took a bite, then made a terrible face.

  Before she could blink, he dodged from the table to the compactor and spat his food out. Upset at his reaction to her cooking, she put her hand on her hip and gave him a chiding glare. "It's not that bad."

  Grabbing a glass of water, he took two long, deep drinks. "No wonder you're so skinny. I'd die of starvation too if I had to eat that."

  "Thanks a lot."

  He turned contrite. "I'm sorry. But you could have warned me it was deadly."

  Rolling her eyes, Shahara took a bite of her eggs. In all honesty she did have to agree with him. The eggs were runny and salty, the bacon burned, and the rolls wouldn't be too bad. Provided you used them as a doorstop.

  "What can I say, Tessa and Caillen are the cooks in the family, not me."

  Syn grabbed a piece of bread from the glass container on the counter and shoved it in his mouth as if he were trying to kill the taste.

  She'd probably be more offended if she hadn't grown up with Caillen being every bit as a cruel to her whenever she cooked.

  "So what's our agenda?" she asked, changing the topic.

  He took another drink. "First thing, I need you to help me tape my ribs."

  "The Prinapin didn't work?"

  "Prinapin is good for minor injuries, pain, and cosmetic fixatives. But it won't do anything for more serious injuries, such as cracked ribs. And the last thing we need is for me to puncture a lung."

  She set her fork and plate aside. "Then what are we going to do?"

  "I'm going to commit suicide."

  She looked at him in shock.

  "Not literally. I need to go back to my place for a few things. If I know the Rits, someone will be there watching for me. So I need to leave you here and go it alone."

  "Now wait a min--"

  "Don't argue. I was trained from birth to break into buildings without being seen. You, on the other hand--"

  "Did a remarkable job breaking into your flat without your detecting me."

  "Yes, but you did get caught."

  She couldn't argue with him there.

  "It won't take me long, then I'll come back for you."

  Would he?

  She didn't know for sure. And she wasn't sure how much she trusted him on that issue. "Well, I think it's time for my shower," she said, reaching for the clothes she'd placed in the chair beside her. "That is, if you left any hot water."

  "Nag, nag, nag."

  Shahara rolled her eyes.

  "Wait," he said, stopping her before she left the room. "My ribs."

  Some wicked, buried part of her jumped in delight at being able to touch him so intimately.

  Shahara crossed the room and took the white, ribbed sterile wrap from his hand. "How do I do this?"

  He opened the roll and held a piece just above his navel. "Wind it tightly about my rib cage. But please, make sure it's not so tight that you cut off my circulation."

  Shahara did as ordered. She lightly wrapped the bandage around his upper torso, her fingers brushing against the hard, firm muscles. As her hands glided over them, she watched as they twitched and jerked in response. He really did have an amazing body . . .

  Her breathing ragged, she did her best not to think about the desire throbbing like fire in her most private places. Or the chill bumps that spread over his flesh and hardened his nipples as her fingers brushed his skin.

  Or her own breasts that tingled and hardened, begging for his touch.

  But the worst, most torturous part of it all was the step into his arms she had to take every time she drew the roll around his back. A step that brought her breasts straight up against his hard stomach.

  Syn licked his suddenly dry lips as he watched her work. It took every piece of control he possessed not to pull her into his arms and sample her lips. He put his hands on the edge of the counter and held on so tight that his knuckles cut against his flesh, and the counter bit into his palms.

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