The League 1: Born Of The Night

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  No, she couldn't allow all the time and energy she had spent building herself up to just lose it all now. She would allow Nykyrian to remain aloof and distanced, as much for her sake as his.

  She switched off the viewer. "I'm going to bed."

  Nykyrian stopped his typing and listened to her walking down the hallway to her room. He closed the terminal to ease some of the ache from his eyes and allowed the rigidness to leave his body as he relaxed back against the couch.

  The sounds of Kiara preparing for bed formed a strange comfort to his soul. He removed his glasses, balanced them on his knee, then rubbed his burning eyes until they adjusted to the light. His soul didn't need comfort, it needed solitude.

  His job— to protect, not seduce.

  Contrary to his thoughts and noble code, an image of Kiara holding him flashed across his mind. Enough! he roared at his treacherous thoughts and instantly the image vanished.

  Nykyrian placed his glasses on the low table and stretched out on the couch, listening to the soothing, empty silence surrounding him. He drew strength from it and swore to keep his thoughts on the men tracking Kiara, not on his seducing her.

  * * * * *

  Kiara woke from troubled sleep. Once more her dreams had tormented her with the sight of Nykyrian killing her. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she pulled her robe on and went to the kitchen to get her ritual glass of spara juice.

  At the entrance to the kitchen, she paused in shock. On the kitchen table placed before her chair sat a warmer with a full breakfast and a glass of spara juice. Amazed at the fare, she looked over to Nykyrian who sat on a bar stool reading a stack of papers. He was, as usual, completely oblivious to her.

  "Impressive," she said, retrieving a piece of toast from the warmer. Her tastebuds reeled at the strange, sharp spices he had added to the bread. "Very impressive."

  He ignored her compliments. "What do you have to do today?" he asked in a gruff voice that set her teeth at odds.

  Kiara swallowed a sip of juice. "I have rehearsal this afternoon, then my performance— "

  "No," he interrupted. "No performances or rehearsals."

  She sat the juice down on the table and stared agape at him. "You're insane if you think you can keep me from dancing."

  He put the papers on the counter and stood. "Next time, they'll bomb the building to get you."

  She smirked. "How do you know?"

  "I would."

  His deadpan voice frightened her more than anything else he could have said. Kiara swallowed the lump burning in her throat. "This is my career you're talking about. A missed performance could end it."

  "Death would be a much more permanent end to it."

  Well she couldn't argue with that logic. "What am I supposed to do? Stay imprisoned here, waiting for the next assassin to come in and kill me? Why not just bomb this building and have done with it?"

  Nykyrian didn't so much as twitch a muscle as he responded in his low, unwavering voice, "League rules."

  Kiara stiffened in confusion. "What?"

  "The League forbids a free-assassin to detonate a bomb in a housing building."

  She laughed at the absurdity of the idea of paid killers following a code of honor. "You mean assassins actually have rules to follow? Why should someone who kills for a living give a damn about some League ordinance?"

  Still no visible reaction from Nykyrian The Tough. "If you had ever disobeyed the League, you wouldn't ask that question."

  She moved closer to him and leaned against the bar. "What's that supposed to mean? Are you speaking from your own experience?"

  He moved away from her. "Very few free-assassins have the ability to outwit League Assassins. Despite the corruption inherent in their own system, the League does try to keep some type of law over the free-assassins to make sure they don't become more powerful than the fat bureaucrats."

  Kiara pursed her lips. That didn't answer her second question at all.

  She studied Nykyrian, finding it amusing that he allowed someone to govern his behavior. She cocked a disbelieving eyebrow at him. "And you abide by these laws?"

  "When it suits me to."

  Kiara clutched her robe closed. The underlining threat of his words was not lost on her. She had been right, he respected no man's rules, except his own.

  She cleared her throat and quickly changed the subject. "Can I at least go shopping? I have a birthday present to buy for a friend of mine."

  He went perfectly still and she wondered why her question bothered him. "If we must," he said at last. "I suppose you want to go today."

  Kiara narrowed her eyes at him. "Well, with my pressing schedule, I don't know. I think I might be able to schedule it between my luncheon and party."

  He didn't even bother to smirk at her sarcasm. "Go get dressed. It'll be better to go before the afternoon crowds start swarming."

  With a sigh, Kiara retrieved her juice and a slice of grasdin then headed to her bedroom.

  It didn't take her long to shower and dress, but before she finished, she heard Rachol talking with Nykyrian in the main room. They spoke a strange language she couldn't understand even though she listened very carefully for her name or any other word she might recognize.

  Well at least Nykyrian's harshness seemed to fade a tad around Rachol. She would like to see some reaction from her bodyguard other than shrugs and clipped retorts.

  A wicked smile curved her lips. Before her common sense could rear its ugly presence, she changed clothes. If there was one thing she had learned in her adulthood, it was that men loved her lean, muscular body. Maybe a little sight of it just might wring some form of reaction out of Nykyrian.

  She pulled on a pair of tight black slacks and the low-cut matching blazer that hugged her curves in just the right way. Kiara tucked a white scarf into the deep décolleté to disguise the fact she didn't wear a blouse.

  This was the outfit that had gotten her noticed by some of the most desirable men in the universe. She couldn't wait to see how Nykyrian would fare against it! Slipping her feet into a pair of low-heeled boots, she went to join him and Rachol.

  As she entered the main room, Nykyrian looked up from his conversation and didn't so much as prolong a word, let alone trail off in the startled appreciation she usually received from men when she dressed this way.

  Rachol turned around in his chair and almost fell out of it. He cleared his throat. "Whoa," he said, looking back at Nykyrian.

  "Thank you," she said with a disappointed sigh.

  Nykyrian came to his feet, still refusing to acknowledge her dress. "Are you ready?"

  Grinding her teeth together in disappointed frustration, she nodded. She thought Nykyrian would at least take her arm to keep her near him, but all he did was open the door and scan the corridor before waving her out of the apartment.

  "Is Rachol staying here?" she asked, noting he didn't move from his chair.

  Rachol's laugh answered her. "Yeah, Kip gets to guard you and I get to house-sit. Life bites the big tee-tawa."

  She frowned. "The big what?"

  "We won't be gone long," Nykyrian cut in before Rachol could answer. He shut and locked her door.

  "That was rude," she chastised.

  Instead of the sharp, angry barb she expected, he brushed his hand through his long, unbraided hair. "Don't ask Rachol what half his vocabulary means. Most of it's acronyms that you're better off not knowing the meaning to."

  She laughed, grateful some of his usual tenseness was missing. "Tee-tawa?"

  He pressed the button for the lift. "That one I don't even know the meaning to, but my guess is it's not fitting for mixed company."

  The doors opened with a soft whir. "So what's your favorite Racholism?" she asked, stepping into the lift.

  A corner of his mouth twitched. For a moment, Kiara thought he might actually smile, but he just tucked his hands inside the pockets of his long, black coat and the doors closed with a ping. "Duwad," he said at last.

  She
smiled. "Which means?"

  "Dude with a death wish."

  Kiara thought about that for a moment and why Rachol would have come up with it. "Conceived for you?"

  "Kip was conceived for me."

  She wondered how he could keep his voice so flat when he spoke. She doubted she could do it so well even with years of practice. "And what does Kip mean?"

  "Keyaya imporus petana."

  She listened to the strange language roll from his lips like warm liquid on a cold day, the sound soothing her like a lullaby. "Am I supposed to know what that means?" she asked, stepping out of the lift, into the lobby.

  "The answer is another of your allotted questions about me, mu Tara. " He walked outside and hailed a transport.

  Kiara walked up to him deliberately invading his personal space. To her surprise, he didn't back away. "I still would like to know."

  A transport pulled up to the curb, its brakes squealing. He opened the door for her. "It's Ritadarion for brother in spirit."

  She sat in the seat. "And are you?" she asked, typing her destination into the transport's system before inserting her debit card.

  "In many ways."

  She felt the wall seal shut around him. True to her inquisitive nature, she couldn't help probing the boundaries of the wall. "How are you brothers in spirit?"

  He turned away from her and studied the blurred scenery whirling past the car. At first she didn't think he would answer, then finally he sighed. "Like most beings of a similar past, we bonded to each other, understand each other."

  She probed the wall a little further. "Most beings can understand others if things are explained to them."

  He snorted. "Were that true, war wouldn't exist."

  Kiara considered that for a moment and decided it was true enough. "How can you assess situations so easily?" She paused barely a heartbeat before answering for him. "Let me guess, more survival skills."

  He remained awkwardly quiet. If not for his rubbing his biceps, she would have thought him a statue. Kiara sighed, wishing she knew how to deduce his feelings and past the way he did hers. Sitting back in the seat, she tried to enjoy the rest of the ride.

  Nykyrian smelled her exotic perfume and yearned to bury his lips in the sweet, scented flesh of her neck. He found it difficult to breathe with her so close. It would be so easy to share his past with her, lose himself in her charm and wit. His body throbbed with desire and for a moment, he wanted to pull her into his arms and take what he needed most.

  Steeling himself, he dared a glance at her. His breath caught in his throat. Her arms were crossed over her chest in annoyance as she stared out the window, and displayed to his casual glance was the top swell of her breasts covered by the black lace of her undergarment.

  His hand ached to touch her, his loins tightened. Nykyrian shifted in the seat and drew a trembling breath. He had to get away from her. He didn't need her for anything. He didn't need anyone, period.

  Finally, the car stopped in front of the shopping complex.

  Kiara slid out of the car behind him. She studied the already thronging crowd over his shoulder. "Looks like they got an early start as well."

  His answer was a grunt.

  Well at least she was making some improvement, it wasn't his usual growl. Without thinking, Kiara took his hand to lead him to a nearby shop. He snatched his hand away from her as if she had stuck it inside a blazing fire.

  "Don't ever touch me," he said in the most growling, intimidating voice she had ever heard.

  She swallowed the fear choking her. "Sorry," she apologized weakly. "I didn't think."

  He tucked his hands into the pockets of his coat without saying anything more.

  Shrugging off his distemper, she started toward her favorite store. Nykyrian stayed a step behind and eyed the crowd like a mother gimfry guarding her young.

  As they entered the store, Kiara became acutely aware of the reactions he inspired around them.

  She glanced about, noticing the way mothers snatched up the hands of their children, pulling them out of Nykyrian's path, and other patrons who eyed him in fear. Her heart ached as she overheard some of the hate-filled whispers—"Killer, cannibal." She looked up at Nykyrian's face, and she could tell he heard them as well by the hard, tight line of his lips.

  Trying her best to ignore the imbeciles and their prejudice, she made her way to the women's section.

  It took several minutes before Kiara could find a clerk to wait on her. "Excuse me," she finally said, cornering one before the woman could escape to another department. "Do you have this jacket in a size twelve?" she asked, holding up the present for the clerk's inspection.

  The clerk's eyes drifted over her shoulder to where Nykyrian had withdrawn and Kiara wanted to shake the woman for the unwarranted fear. The clerk's gaze returned to Kiara and the jacket. "I think so," she said, her voice trembling.

  She took it from Kiara's hand and disappeared into the back. Kiara's eyes narrowed in anger. Looking around, she couldn't believe the way people stared and for once, it wasn't because of her fame.

  After a minute, the clerk returned with the right size. "Will this be all, ma'am?"

  Kiara nodded, her teeth clenched.

  After ringing the order, the clerk leaned over the counter and whispered, "Where did you find an Andarion? I've never seen one on Gouran before. Aren't you afraid to be with him?"

  Kiara tossed a strand of hair over her shoulder as if she were obliviously stupid. "Why no, I'm not afraid, he's already had his daily feeding."

  "What do you feed him?" the clerk asked, fear heavy in her voice.

  Kiara glared, unable to believe the nerve. Snatching up her package, she left the store. She started toward another shop, then reconsidered. By the tenseness of Nykyrian's jaw, she could tell he wanted an end to this expedition. It actually amazed her he didn't say something to that effect.

  "I'm ready to go home now," she whispered, her throat tight in sympathetic pain.

  "Not so much fun with me around. I should have sent Rachol with you."

  She stiffened at the simple way he stated the fact as if it didn't bother him in the least. "Do people always act this way around you?"

  He shrugged as if it were just a normal occurrence to be overlooked. "You should have seen the reactions when I wore a League uniform."

  Kiara stared at the sidewalk while he hailed another transport. "Do Andarions react the same way to you?"

  He choked.

  She looked up in startled amazement that her question had wrung such an unnatural response from him. "I think that was a negative answer."

  He took a deep breath and faced her. "Humans fear me because they think I'm going to feed on them at any minute, Andarions look at me like a pitiful, weak giakon."

  "Like I know what that means," she said bitterly.

  "A castrated coward."

  Her mouth formed a small o. Her hair rippled from a sudden breeze as a transport pulled up to the curb. Stepping inside, she thought about his words.

  Depressed, she leaned back against the cold seat. No wonder he closed himself off from people. He was caught in the middle of all the hatred and fear of both races. "Has anyone ever attacked you for your mixed blood?"

  "You can deduce that without my help."

  She sighed at his flat, emotionless tone. "Why are people so stupid?" she asked rhetorically.

  His voice surprised her. "They fear for themselves. I'm a reminder humans and Andarions aren't two separate species, but derived from the same genetic make-up. Unfortunately, neither race wants to admit it could possibly be anything like the other. I quit blaming them for it years ago. Now I just try to avoid mingling with them. It makes life easier to live."

  Coldness consumed her as she thought about what it would have been like growing up an anathema to everyone. "What about your parents?" she asked. "How did they cope?"

  He took a deep breath. "My mother abandoned me when I was five."

  "And the commander?"<
br />
  "He adopted me."

  Kiara smiled. She vaguely remembered Nykyrian's father from a few of the political trips he had made to Gouran when she was a child. "He must have loved you dearly."

  "Never assume anything."

  This time, there was no mistaking the emotion in his voice. Hatred, cold and simple. She trembled, trying to remember what Huwin was like, but all she could recall was the image of a kind man who patted her on the head while speaking with her father.

  She wanted to reach out and soothe away Nykyrian's pain. Kiara couldn't imagine what it must have been like for him. Her parents would have torn anyone apart who looked at her the way people did Nykyrian. She couldn't believe a mother would give up her child for any reason.

  Kiara sat in silence the rest of the way home, her mind mulling over her lessons for the day.

  * * * * *

  When they returned to her flat, Rachol looked up from where he lay on the couch watching the viewer, shock etched on his face. "That didn't take long. I've never known a woman not to take at least half a day to shop for anything."

  "I can't imagine why the trip was so short," Nykyrian said in a sarcastic voice that made Kiara take a second look at him.

  Rachol laughed, switching off the viewer and sitting up. "You should try smiling. I think it would take the edge off people."

  Nykyrian doffed his long, black coat and draped it over a chair. "Actually, they mistake it for an attempt to bite. Once my teeth are bared, they quake in fear. I've even seen a few lose control of their bodily functions."

  Rachol laughed even harder.

  Kiara didn't find it amusing in the least. She sat her bag by her chair and moved to the closet to get wrapping paper and tape.

  "Do you want me to relieve you tonight?"

  Kiara paused at Rachol's question. Biting her lip, she looked at Nykyrian.

  He continued to face Rachol. "No," he said to her immediate relief. "I think I can handle everything. You know how lightly I sleep."

  Rachol snorted and glanced at Kiara. "If you come out while he's sleeping, don't touch him or make any sudden moves. He's been known to bite."