With a final smile, a quick hug and grasping her latest present, Tiyana floated off into the crowd.
Kiara searched the huge gathering for friendly faces. So much for Tiyana's word that she had invited just a "few" friends and associates. It looked like everyone Tiyana had ever spoken with was here.
Kiara glanced back at Nykyrian. "How do we do this?" she asked.
Instead of looking at her, he scanned the crowd. "I'm not going to hover over you like a buzzard." Kiara noted the irritation in his voice and wondered what upset him more, the fact she had drawn him along to this soiree, or the fact that they were forced into a large thronging mass of people. "Just don't get out of my sight."
Kiara smirked. "That sounds like hovering to me."
He didn't respond.
Fine, Kiara thought, heading off to the punch bowl. He's a grown killer, he can fend for himself.
"Kiara Biardi!"
Kiara spun around to face Elfa Dicuta, her understudy. "Hi Elfie, how are you?"
Elfa gave her one of those famous fake smiles. "Just fine. I can't tell you how sorry I am you had to pull out of the show. I feel just terrible about it."
I bet. "So how's the show going?"
This time, Kiara suspected the smile might be real. "Great." Elfa's eyes drifted to where Nykyrian leaned against the far wall. "Didn't you come with that Andarion?"
Kiara picked up a cup of punch, wanting to toss it at the little blonde. "Yes, I did."
A scheming look crossed Elfa's face. "The promoters might not like that." Kiara detected a hopeful note under the girl's tone. "Have you been dating him long?"
Gripping her cup tightly, Kiara swallowed her mouthful of punch. "I'm not dating him at all. He's my bodyguard."
"Well honey, he can guard my body any time!"
Kiara turned around at the voice in her ear. "Shera!" she said, relieved to find another friendly face in the shark-infested waters.
Shera pulled her into her arms for a quick hug. "Now don't wrinkle me," Shera said, pulling away. "Some of us have to work at looking good, isn't that right, Elfie?"
Elfa puffed up to the point Kiara thought she might burst. Narrowing her eyes, she left them without so much as a polite "excuse me."
Kiara laughed with Shera, her favorite costume designer. Shera was always good for depression and worry. "I'm glad you're here," she said, squeezing Shera's hand.
"Did I have a choice?" Shera asked, gesturing dramatically like a diva. "Tiyana threatened my life if I missed this." Turning serious, Shera pulled Kiara off to the side, away from the nearest group of people. "Is that gorgeous hunk of man really your bodyguard?"
Kiara nodded.
Shera's smile was wide and hungry. "Girlfriend, were I you, I'd be at home doing a little sheet dance with that boy!"
Kiara laughed, looking over to where Nykyrian stood apparently oblivious to the people around him, knowing he was watching everyone intensely. "I'm afraid he's not interested."
Shera laughed, her face a mask of comedy. "Then I'd find a way to make him interested!"
Kiara shook her head, grateful to be laughing so much again. "You are incorrigible."
Shera shrugged in an unconcerned manner. "I always say incorrigibility is good for the soul, but sex is infinitely better!"
Kiara rolled her eyes.
"Seriously though," Shera said, looking back in the direction Elfa had disappeared. "I wanted to warn you about your understudy."
Kiara's laughter died. "What?" she asked, fear closing around her.
"Little two-face got a fantastic review last night and since then, she's been going around telling promoters and directors that a certain dancer is past her prime."
"I'll kill her!" Kiara slammed her cup down on the table and started toward Elfa.
Shera grabbed her arm. "Not now," she said in Kiara's ear. "There are too many promoters here. If you start something, she'll tell them you're too temperamental and impossible to work with."
Kiara clenched her fists at her sides, wanting to jerk every strand of bleached blond hair out of Elfa's head.
Shera patted her arm. "The best way to get back at her is to return to the show as quickly as possible. I promise you her review was nothing compared to the ones you receive." Shera's laugh returned. "Besides, think of this, I had to let your costume out two sizes to accommodate her fat butt!"
In spite of herself and her anger, Kiara laughed. "Did you really?"
Shera nodded. "And red isn't that girl's color."
* * * * *
Kiara retrieved her punch from the table and reluctantly allowed Shera to drift off.
Looking over to Nykyrian, she wanted to smile at him as she recalled Shera's words. He was definitely the most handsome man at the party even with those glasses obscuring the majority of his face. And she would like very much to do a sheet dance with him, if he would only cooperate.
"Aw, there you are. Tiyana told me you were here."
Kiara cringed. It wasn't Paulus, it was worse. Wicmon, her own show's promoter, the one man she couldn't afford to be rude to no matter what.
"Hi," she said, smiling her prettiest smile.
Wicmon took her hand and placed a sloppy kiss over her knuckles. "I was so disappointed you pulled out of the show," he said, a lecherous look on his face. "I had so hoped to become better acquainted with you."
Kiara tried to tactfully withdraw her hand, but his grip tightened. She admitted he was handsome, if he just didn't have that cold, calculating look behind his clear blue eyes. And at the moment, she felt like a cornered gimfry. How was she going to extract herself from him without offending him?
Fretting, she looked up to see Nykyrian moving toward them. A smile curved her lips as he stopped next to them. "Kiara, Tiyana was looking for you."
Anger clouded Wicmon's eyes at the interruption. He turned around, then took a step back.
Kiara stifled her laughter at his reaction. No doubt he had assumed Nykyrian would be another dancer he could intimidate. As it was, all he could do was gape.
"If you'll excuse me, Wicmon," she said, side-stepping him, her heart pounding in relief.
"Thank you," she whispered to Nykyrian as soon as they were out of Wicmon's hearing. "How did you know to come over?"
He shrugged. "You looked uncomfortable."
With adoring eyes at his concern and action, she stared up at him. She ached to kiss him for his kindness. "I owe you."
Now, he looked uncomfortable. Without a word and to her greatest dismay, he moved away from her. Kiara wanted to stamp her foot in frustration. How could he be so kind one moment, then aloof the next?
In extreme aggravation, she started toward the balcony. Out of the crowd, a rough hand gripped her elbow. Kiara was tempted to cry out, but assumed it was just another promoter.
"I knew we'd meet again."
Her blood drained from her face as her heart pounded. Pitala. Two thoughts shot through her mind at the same time. One was the fear he would kill her, the other was the fear she would live and this episode would end her career.
She felt a sharp jab in her ribs.
"Walk outside to the hallway like you want to talk to me. No sudden moves or I pull the trigger and spray your guts all over your friend's flat."
Kiara nodded, her heart lodged in her throat. She looked about for Nykyrian, but he seemed to have vanished. What kind of protector was he? Sweat beaded on her body as she moved to do what she had been told.
She prayed no one would approach them. Glancing sideways, she noticed Pitala was dressed in an expensive suit, his hair tied back into a sleek ponytail. To the casual observer, he would pass for either an aristocrat or a wealthy promoter.
Fear choked her as tears gathered in her eyes. Fiercely, she bit her bottom lip to keep from screaming or begging for help.
Kiara neared the door. A trickle of sweat ran down her temple. If she crossed the threshold, she knew Pitala would kill her. If she struggled inside Tiyana's flat, everyone would s
ee— the promoters, the directors, everyone.
Her life or her career? She chewed her lip in indecision. Without her career, what kind of life would she have? With that final thought, she opened the door.
Pitala pushed her through, then slammed the door shut behind him. Kiara hit the floor. Her entire body trembling, she looked up to where Pitala was turning around to face her and then she saw Nykyrian hiding beside the door.
He grabbed Pitala's blaster from his hand and brought his own blaster up under the man's chin. "I'm only going to say this once," Nykyrian said, his voice lethal. "Kiara is under the protection of the OMG. If you harm her, threaten her, even look at her again, you're going to have a visit from Nemesis. A visit you will long regret and remember."
Even Kiara cringed at the threat.
Nykyrian's lips curled into a ferocious snarl. "You'll find your partner down the hall locked in a storage closet. Take him and leave. And if you value all the pieces of your body remaining in their current positions, you'll revoke your contract on her life tomorrow." He clicked back the release of his gun. "Do you understand?"
Sweat covered Pitala's face. "My retraction will be posted tomorrow. I swear it."
Nykyrian replaced the latch on his blaster. "Good," he said, shoving Pitala away from him.
Kiara watched the assassin hurry down the hall away from them. She looked up at her savior, her breathing labored, her head light in panic.
Nykyrian holstered his blaster, then held his hand out to her. She grasped it with her shaking hands, and he gently pulled her off the floor. "I'm sorry I didn't help you sooner," he said quietly. "But I didn't think you wanted your friends to know what was going on." Before he could move away and before she could stop herself, she put her arms around him and hugged his lean waist with all the relief coursing through her body. "Most of them aren't my friends," she said, coming to the awful realization. "They're back-biting, two-faced, soulless mongrels who aren't much better than Pitala."
Kiara leaned her cheek against his chest, listening to the soothing sound of his heartbeat. Though his body was rigid, he made no moves to push her away. She trembled, knowing Nykyrian would never let anyone hurt her. She was safe with him.
Nykyrian held her against him, reveling in the feel of her arms holding him close. At the moment, it would be so easy to forget his past, forget himself and stay with her. But he couldn't. He knew that.
Her arms tightened around him and she leaned her head back. Unconsciously, he moved to kiss her, then caught himself just before he complied. Her breath fell against his lips and it took all of his self-control not to complete the one thing he wanted to do most.
"We have to get you home," he said, pulling away.
Heat stung Kiara's cheeks. Dejected, she nodded, trying to still her trembling limbs.
Why did she bother? Nykyrian wasn't interested in her in the least. If she had any dignity at all, she would forget him and just go on with her life ignoring him as easily as he ignored her.
"Fine," she said, her voice shaking from the tears she was trying hard not to shed.
Without a word, he led her down the hall, checking every few steps to make sure Pitala wasn't lurking after them. Kiara was strangely numb as she followed, her thoughts drifting over the entire party and assault.
Maybe she was just getting older. Maybe it was the fear of what had happened with Pitala, happening during the party for all the promoters to see. That must be why she didn't enjoy herself today, why Elfa's biting comments cut her more this afternoon than they had last year when her understudy had said the same thing. Kiara couldn't ever remember having a worse time in her life.
She studied Nykyrian's back as he led her out of the building. At least there was now one less assassin after her. With any luck, Nemesis would be able to bully the rest of her pursuers into leaving her alone, then she could return to her old life. Couldn't she?
Kiara swallowed the clump of tears. She was just tired. A little sleep and everything would be fine. She'd be fine.
* * * * *
Sitting in her favorite chair, Kiara watched Nykyrian clean his blaster, her mind still numb over Pitala's attack.
Death had become a morbid fascination for her as she watched Nykyrian break down the parts of his weapon, carefully wiping each piece with a clean, white cloth and a pungent-smelling solution.
Since Rachol left, Nykyrian hadn't spoken, and after two hours of silence, Kiara was nearly bended.
He changed the battery pack, the sharp click raising the hair on the back of her neck. "Why didn't you kill Pitala?" she asked, her quiet voice seeming like a shout after all the quietness.
He screwed another piece back into the blaster. "Would you rather I had?"
A chill stole up her arms. "No," she said, rubbing the chill away. "It just seems strange to me that you allowed him to get away twice."
Nykyrian sighed. "If I killed everyone who annoyed me, everyone I've ever met would be haunting me for the crime of murder."
Kiara nodded in understanding. "No doubt I'd be at the top of your kill list."
He looked up at her, but said nothing, his face unreadable.
She watched him put the blaster back together, his hands running through the procedure with practiced ease. It was a strange ballet, mesmerizing. "When you decided to quit the League, how did you do it? Did you just tell them no thanks, or what?"
He grimaced, slamming a piece of the grip back into its position. "Why do you want to know?"
She shrugged, an image of the promoters running through her mind and how they'd react if she told them to go roast their parts like she'd wanted to many times in the past. "Curiosity. You still owe me four answers."
"Three," he corrected, before blowing down the barrel of his blaster.
Kiara gave him a sad smile. "Okay, three. So how did you leave?"
He set the blaster down on the table between them. He leaned back on her couch and appeared to stare straight at her. "I walked out of the assignment chambers one afternoon and never went back."
She frowned. For some reason, she hadn't imagined it would be that easy to leave the League. "Why?"
"They wanted me to kill a friend."
Shock rippled through her and she repeated her earlier question, "Why?"
He swallowed and looked away. "A false charge of treason had been leveled against him, and his government wanted him executed."
Kiara bit her lip, considering his words. "How do you know he was innocent? If a court found him guilty— "
"No court was involved," Nykyrian interrupted her. "For a large enough fee, the League will convict and execute anyone."
Her throat tightened in fear. "So the League doesn't really protect anyone."
"Only the fat politicians who run it."
Her stomach knotted at the thought. "Why doesn't someone stop them?"
Nykyrian shrugged like he found the whole matter boring. "Who knows?"
In a daze at her newfound knowledge, Kiara got out of her chair and headed to her room. She paused at the hallway, looking back to where Nykyrian sat on her couch.
"Nykyrian?"
Kiara waited until he faced her. "When you left the League, did it feel good?"
He looked away from her and for a moment, she thought he'd just ignore her. "It felt great."
She nodded, her heart hanging heavy with just one more thing she needed to ask. Finally, she found the courage she needed to bring it up. "Do you ever think of dying?"
He rubbed his hand across his jaw. "Do you?"
Tears welled up in her eyes. "I never did until a little while ago." Her tears poured down her cheeks. "I'm so afraid of it!" she sobbed.
Covering her trembling lips with her hand, she ran down the hallway to the safety of her room. Kiara threw herself across the bed, her sobs wracking her body. She didn't want to die, not now, not ever. There was so much more she wanted to do, to experience.
Suddenly, she found Nykyrian's arms around her, pulling her into hi
s lap. He sat on the edge of her bed, holding her against him like she was a small child who had broken its favorite toy. She leaned her head against his shoulder and sobbed out her grief.
Nykyrian remained silent, comforting her, holding her, brushing her hair from her cheek, rocking her gently in his arms. Never had Kiara felt so protected. She didn't know how long she cried, but when she finally pulled away, the silk of his shirt clung to his chest where her tears had fallen.
"I'm sorry," she said with a sniff, wiping the back of her hand over her cheeks.
He moved her hand and wiped the moisture away for her. "Feeling better?" he asked in a gruff voice. Kiara nodded. "This isn't like me," she whispered, reveling in the feel of his warm, strong hands moving over her icy cheeks.
"It's understandable. You're not used to people holding blasters to your head."
She swallowed her tears, wishing once more she could see his face, read his thoughts. "Are you?"
He took a deep breath, his hand tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "It's happened more than twice." Kiara stared at him. In so many ways he was a complete stranger, yet they sat now like old lovers. She burned for him, ached to kiss his lips, but knew if she tried, he would push her away again and end this peaceful moment. And she desperately didn't want it to end. "Aren't you afraid of dying?" she asked, stifling the next wave of tears that threatened to fall. "That one day, you won't escape when someone puts a blaster to your head?"
His arms tensed around her. For a moment, she feared he would get up and leave. When his answer came, it wasn't what she expected. "The only thing I fear is growing old."
"What's wrong with growing old?" she asked, aching to touch his cheek.
"Nothing," he said, his voice hoarse. "Unless you do it alone."
Her heart wrenched, then to her utmost disappointment, he stood. He reached down and fingered her cheek like he was touching precious china. "No one's going to harm you. On my life, I'll keep you safe," he said, then was gone.
Kiara's heart pounded at the audible sincerity behind his words. Her cheek burned in the memory of his fingers. There was so much more she wanted to say to him, to ask him, but she didn't know how.
The League 1: Born Of The Night Page 9