He should have known better.
She was awake and by the look in her eyes it was obvious she hated his guts . . . and that was without knowing he was Nemesis. Damn, how much worse would her lips curl if she knew the truth of him?
Not that it mattered. She was just a momentary blip in the stream of his life.
Yet even with her obvious disdain for him, his body reacted to her as if she caressed him with her hands. He was so hard and aching, it was all he could do not to curse. Every part of him was attuned to her.
Every part craved her . . .
Syn's right. I am an asshole.
Kiara was the only woman he'd ever really wanted and damned if he knew why. There was just something about her that reached out to him. The way she moved like a dream. So graceful. So tranquil.
Something about her seemed pure and untouched. Innocent. And it made him forget, even for a moment, how sullied he was.
You're such an idiot.
He was Nemesis. Alone. Lethal. Cold. That was all the comfort he'd ever need. Yet a part of him he hated wanted to know, just once, what it would feel like to be held by a woman like her.
Gah, you're nauseating. If he kept this crap up, he was going to make himself sick.
Narrowing his eyes in aggravation at himself, he finally spoke. "I assume Mira has gone for clothing."
Kiara scooted back on the bed as she eyed him warily. "You're Andarion."
Wow, he'd stupidly thought her disdain couldn't increase. There was more venom in that one word than in the poison capsule he kept tucked in his pocket for the seriously off chance he might be in a no-win situation one day.
He ran his tongue over his long, canine teeth. Ah, hell, who was he kidding? They were fangs, pure and simple. And by now, he should be used to humans despising him for them. "Don't worry, I've eaten already."
That only seemed to anger her more. "Are you the one who will take me home?"
"If you prefer, I could float you back."
He expected her to cut loose with profanity all over him. But she surprised him. "You know, your sarcasm isn't appreciated right now. I've been drugged, beaten, nearly raped, saved, drugged again, hijacked, and now threatened by you. Tell me, what else should I look forward to? Torture, or just a good maiming?"
Nykyrian did something he'd never done before. He backed off. She was right. She'd been through one hell of an ordeal and all things considered, she'd come out of it with her spirit intact.
He cut a slight bow to her. "Forgive me, mu Tara. I'm not trained for manners."
Kiara would have asked him what he was trained for, but the answer was obvious.
To kill.
Their exchange was curtailed as Mira returned with the battlesuit Syn had given Kiara earlier. "Oh, Nykyrian," she said in startled alarm. "I didn't know you were here."
Kiara noted Mira's instant discomfort. The woman literally cringed as if terrified he'd lash out and hit her.
Just how many times had he beaten her for her to react that way?
"I'll wait outside." He moved to the door.
Mira's frown followed him.
As soon as he was gone and the door solid again, Kiara drew the bed veil to one side and stepped from the bed. Her toes curled away from the chilly floor. "You don't like him?"
Mira jumped as if she'd stepped on her foot. "No," she said in a rush. "It's not that. It's just . . . He's just . . . a little frightening, I guess." Mira handed her the suit.
No, he was a lot frightening.
"Who is he?"
"Nykyrian . . ." Mira paused, her brows knitted. "I don't know his last name. It's never used."
"Really? Why?"
"They don't say."
Now that was odd.
Mira leaned closer and whispered, "The rumors that run around here claim he's a renegade League assassin."
Kiara's jaw went slack before disbelief filled her. No, it wasn't possible. "The League doesn't allow their assassins to leave."
"Exactly. Nykyrian's the only one who's ever left who managed to live beyond a few hours. I've heard it whispered he was some kind of decorated hero, too. A commander even. They say he dug out his tracer with his own bare hands, threw it in their faces and walked away."
Kiara found that even harder to believe. There was no way he could have done that and lived. Most likely it was a story the man made up to make himself appear even more fierce.
Cowards tended to do that. They lived off reputations they didn't deserve.
"Why did he leave?"
Mira shook her head. "No one knows. It's not something he ever talks about. Then again, he seldom speaks even when spoken to. Most people around here tend to avoid him because he's a hybrid."
Kiara's frown deepened. "Hybrid what?"
"Half human, half Andarion."
That too surprised her. "I didn't think we could breed with them."
"Neither did I, but have you ever seen a blond Andarion before?"
No, she hadn't. "How odd."
"Hmmm," Mira mumbled. "But don't worry. I'm sure you'll be fine alone with him. He's one of the best The Sentella has." She held her hand out to Kiara. "Enough gossip. It's been a great pleasure meeting you, Princess. I wish you success with your new show. I've heard it's one of the best out right now."
Smiling, Kiara took Mira's warm, velvety hand and gave a short, smart shake. "It's been an honor to meet you, Mira. Thank you for your kindness. If you ever want to come to the new show, just give my company a call and I'll leave you a pass at the door."
Mira's eyes were bright with friendship. "Thank you, Princess. I just might do that." With one last smile, she quit the room.
Quickly, Kiara exchanged her gown for the black battlesuit. After she finished lacing the front, she opened the door and entered the corridor to meet her hostile escort.
Once again, she was stunned by the fierce sight of him. Even though he leaned nonchalantly against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, she had a feeling he could launch himself at an enemy faster than she could blink.
He could probably kill her just as quickly. The lethal power of him was absolutely compelling and mesmerizing. Like staring at a beautiful wild animal you knew could rip you to shreds before you could even call for help.
He pushed himself away from the far wall, his jacket moving like water that flowed gracefully around him. "Are you ready?"
Kiara nodded as she tried to discern the truth of his past and character. She'd heard many tales about The League's most prized soldiers. They were a fierce lot, trained to kill political targets and jealously protected as The League's most valuable commodity. Most were bioengineered. Others were taken into The League's academies at a young age and trained to be ruthless.
Even intentionally psychotic.
If they were accepted into The League after a harsh battery of tests that included killing another trained assassin, they were allowed no spouses. No friends, family, or social relations of any kind. No physical comforts.
Isolated to the point of insanity.
It was kill or be killed.
Once trained, they were The League's eternal property. The only way out was to die.
Kiara wondered what kind of man could defy the nefarious League that protected and intimidated all governments with its military power. Even her own father, who had more courage than most, refused to disobey a League directive.
"Were you really in The League?" Granted it was a blunt question, but she wasn't one for timidity, and her curiosity was killing her.
Nykyrian showed no emotion whatsoever. Nor did he answer her question. "You need to tel-ass," a slang term that came from teleporting one's posterior quickly. "Your father's worried about you."
"You called him?" Kiara was shocked he would be so considerate.
"One of our people did." Again, no emotion whatsoever as he continued on his way without even looking back at her to make sure she wasn't getting lost.
Kiara was miffed by his rude dismis
Whoa . . .
She'd never seen a more impressive collection of ships and fighters. They had things here her father's army would kill to possess. Very high tech and cutting edge.
Except for one that looked really out of place.
Nykyrian led her toward the antique black fighter in the far left corner of the bay. They passed several people, but no one spoke a greeting to him. In fact, a number of them purposefully moved out of his way or hid behind something as soon as they saw his approach.
Just what kind of bully was he that everyone feared him so?
He stopped next to the antique fighter and released the cockpit hatch by splaying his hand over the lock on the side. The controls moved as fluidly as he did, but not nearly as silently. Turning, he waited until she was next to him. Since she was a full head and shoulders shorter than him, she couldn't reach the boarding ladder.
"Should I jump for it?" she asked sarcastically.
That seemed to amuse him, but his features didn't change at all as he placed his hands around her waist and effortlessly lifted her up to the ladder. The heat of his strong hands through the material of her suit seared her. Not to mention that the scent of him hit her hard.
He was delectable even for a psycho killer.
Unwilling to go there, Kiara climbed to the top, then paused in confusion as she glanced inside his fighter. There was only one seat . . .
She looked down to where Nykyrian stood on the ground, oblivious to her.
Uncertainty filled her as she glanced back inside the cockpit. Was this the correct ship? Where was she supposed to sit?
His lap?
As if . . .
"Sit forward on the seat," Nykyrian instructed from below as he finally noticed her hesitation.
Still unsure about that, she did as he said. It was actually a lot roomier inside than it'd appeared at first. But there was no place for him to sit except behind her.
Touching her.
That wasn't exactly what she wanted and if he tried anything, assassin or not, he'd be limping.
From her seated position, Kiara saw someone come forward with two helmets and a computer log. Without a single comment to the worker, Nykyrian quickly signed the log, grabbed the helmets, and joined her in a fluid jump that the dancer in her envied. Very few men possessed that degree of agility and grace.
Who are you fooling, girl? There aren't many women who could do it either.
Trying to distract herself from the warm body sliding in behind her, she studied the ship's controls. The main panel reminded her of a museum piece. But even so, it was in prime condition and more than well kept.
Nykyrian must have noticed her interest. "It's a Bertraud Trebuchet Fighter."
A chill went down her spine as she recognized the model. Expensive and fast, they were the preferred ships of the top scum and elite outlaws the universe over. "Doesn't Nemesis fly one of these?" She turned to look at him over her shoulder. "Are you he?"
His features were impassive. "We're really good friends."
She arched her brow at the way he said that. There seemed to be a note that told her they were closer than just friends. "Like lovers?"
He handed her the helmet. "I fuck him all the time." Again his tone was completely devoid of emotion.
Kiara curled her lip at his unnecessary crudity. She didn't know why, but her heart sank at the thought of his being gay.
Figured. Men who looked that yummy were never straight. What a wasteful tragedy for all of womankind . . .
"Have you any idea how much money you could make by turning your lover in?"
"Yes, I do."
"Then why haven't you?"
"It's not worth my life. Besides, some days I actually like him."
What an odd thing to say. "I would think you should always like your lover."
"Do you always like yours?"
Kiara blushed at such a personal question. Then it dawned on her just how nosy she was being with him. He placed the black helmet over her head and fastened it for her.
She could feel his arms moving behind her and realized he was removing his shades.
Curious, she tried to turn around.
"Don't!" he snapped, finally breaking through that facade of ice.
Kiara stiffened. What about his eyes made him so angry? Was he deformed?
He's an assassin, girl. You know they're not right in the head. None of them.
It was true. Normal people didn't kill for a living and normal people didn't sleep with the most notorious assassin to ever live and not turn him in.
His strong arms came around her to press and flip the switches in front of her. As he did so, his sleeve pulled back enough that she could catch a glimpse of The League tattoo on his wrist in the gap between the sleeve and his black gloves. Her breath left her with an inaudible gasp.
It was true.
He really had been in The League.
Holy . . .
With a deafening roar, the engines fired, then settled down to a soft whir. In the crackling distortion filling her ears, she heard the controller's voice through the intercom in her helmet as he gave them launch instructions.
She leaned back as Nykyrian reached across her. The moment she did, his body jerked at the unexpected contact and she brushed against a part of him that was swollen and hard.
A wicked smile curved Kiara's lips. He was so not gay.
At least not entirely . . .
Nykyrian was instantly inflamed by her body pressed against his. Her hip was right against his cock which only made him harder. The sweet scent of her body filled his heightened senses, making him want to bury his face against her throat and inhale her as he cupped one of those perfect breasts in his hand.
God, he was an idiot. Why hadn't he thought to borrow Jayne or Syn's double-seated fighter?
But then he knew. If he had to dogfight, there was no ship out there faster or better than this one. And it was one he was so intimate with that it was like an extension of his own body.
In his world, he needed every advantage.
What he'd really underestimated was how Kiara's presence would affect him. Could he make it to Gouran without his hormones taking over?
Of course you can. You're a soldier.
Fully trained.
Sex equaled exposure. Exposure equaled death.
Never let anyone at your back. Never let anyone see you. Those lessons had been hardwired into his psyche and he wasn't about to forget them now.
Not even for her.
He forced his thoughts from the soft body molded against his and gave full attention to the directive for launch.
The g-forces brought her body solidly against his, increasing his discomfort. And his arousal. His hand trembled as he clutched the throttle.
But he ignored the heat he felt, just as he ignored her. Besides, a woman like her would never willingly touch something as unclean as he was. And it wasn't only the blood on his hands that would offend her. Nothing about him was decent or right. He was an abomination.
Never forget what you are . . . what I've made you. His adoptive father's words echoed harshly in his ears. How could he ever forget?
He remembered, even when he didn't want to.
You're a disgusting animal.
And that was all he'd ever be. Hell, he was lucky his adoptive father had even allowed him into his house--for that matter that anyone had ever allowed him into their home.
He flinched as old memories came back to bite him.
There was no use in reliving a past that had been excruciating enough the first time. So he did what he always did and shoved those memories aside and focused on his mission.
Getting her home to the people who loved her.
Within a few minutes, they cleared orbit.
Kiara watched as the murky gray planet shrank out of sight. She still had no idea which one it was. Shifting in the seat, she heard his sharp intake of breath.
"Sit still," he ordered, his voice hard. Not that it was by any means the only part of him hard . . .
His tone irked her. "What do you expect with me crammed in front of you?"
"I expect you to sit still."
"And I expect you to be a little less acerbic. You know, I didn't want to be here. You're the one who put me in your lap. If anyone should be bitching over it, it should be me. Not like I'm getting any kind of thrill from this, especially not with your attitude, buddy."
Nykyrian cursed under his breath. He knew he should apologize for his curtness. But apologies weren't something he'd ever concerned himself with. Honestly, he was amazed that he'd barked at her since he could count on one hand the number of times in his adulthood that anyone had elicited that much emotion from him.
She crossed her arms over her chest and slammed back against his chest so hard that he felt his breath leave him. Grinding his teeth, he fought the urge to take her head off again.
Or kill her.
But that was what she expected him to do and God forbid he ever do something that was expected of him. Not to mention, she'd been right earlier. She hadn't asked for any of this to happen to her. She'd been through a lot. The bruises on her face and neck and the deep cuts on her wrists testified to the severity of what she'd suffered.
At least she hadn't been raped. Her earlier tirade had told him that much. She'd been spared that particular humiliation, but by the looks of her, they'd more than intended to do it. Better than anyone, he knew what it was like to be held down while other people took their anger out on him.
To feel powerless and lost . . .
Violated against his best fight.
So he gave her space and silence for the rest of the long journey.
Kiara sat as still as she could, but she couldn't keep her anger up. She was too tired for that. And as Nykyrian relaxed behind her, she found herself following suit as the deep thump of his heart and the warm scent of his skin lulled her. It was actually kind of nice to be held in someone's arms after all she'd been through. She wanted comfort.
No, she needed it, and she hated herself for that weakness. She'd always prided herself on being strong. But right now, she felt like that scared little girl who'd begged for her mother's life. Like the little girl who wanted someone to hold her close and to reassure her everything was all right and that she'd be home soon where no one could touch her.
Unfortunately, she knew that even there she wasn't really safe. She would never in her life have safety . . .
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