The League 1: Born Of The Night

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  He was so contradictory. In one minute he pulled away and snapped if she dared to even touch his hand, then the next he held her like a treasured love and comforted her tears.

  Kiara drew a trembling breath, wishing for the nerve it would take to strip her clothes from her body and go out to the main room where Nykyrian slept. Shera had done that to gain her last lover and had told Kiara it was a never-fail ploy to be used when she really wanted someone. But Kiara couldn't do that, she was a coward.

  Sighing, she leaned back on her bed, imagining what it would be like to have Nykyrian by her side, making love to her, soothing her fears all night long.

  He was still on her mind when she finally drifted off into a fitful sleep.

  When Kiara awoke, Nykyrian was gone. She had rushed from her bed to see him before he left, but she was too late. Hauk sat on her couch, munching what was left of her friggles.

  Giving him a shy, disappointed smile, she went to dress. Kiara took her time, wishing she had stayed in bed and slept through the hulking Andarion's guardianship of her. She held no desire to spend the day under his glares and threats.

  When she returned to the main room, Hauk had a plate of muffins waiting for her. She lifted a questioning brow, shocked by the gesture.

  "They're not as good as Nykyrian's, but they won't kill you either," he said gruffly as if being friendly with her embarrassed him.

  "I thought you hated me?" she asked, retrieving a muffin.

  He shrugged and flipped stations on her viewer. "I hate over-privileged people in general. You just happen to fall into that category."

  She swallowed her bite of muffin. "Nykyrian didn't strike me as being exactly poor. As the son of a wealthy, respected commander I would think he falls into your category as well."

  A harrumph was all that answered her.

  After a moment, he snarled. "I don't suppose you have a better way of occupying our time? There's nothing on that's even good enough to rot my brain with."

  Kiara laughed, understanding his mood all too well. "Other than eat friggles and humans, what do you like to do?"

  Hauk stood and towered over her. "Anything beats talking."

  She sighed at the underlying hostility in his words and indicated the closet in the hallway with her thumb. "I have some games."

  Without a word, he moved to the closet and began rummaging through her things. He emerged with a wide smile, his fangs flashing. "Tareba!" he exclaimed, pulling out the strategy game. "Would you mind playing?"

  Kiara smiled in disbelief at his exuberance. "Of course not," she said.

  He was like a child with a new toy as he pulled out the pieces and set up the board.

  A smile curled her lips at his enthusiasm. "Where'd Nykyrian go?" she asked while she watched him.

  He looked up from the box with a stern frown. "Did you ask him?"

  "Didn't have time."

  The frown lessened. "He went to get information about the people after you."

  She licked her lips, trying to bolster her courage enough to ask the next question. "Why is Aksel Bredeh so important to Nykyrian?"

  "What do you care?" he barked.

  Kiara glared at him, her cheeks warming in anger over his unwarranted hostility. "You guys have to be the most defensive group alive. Mia kitana, can't I ever get a simple answer out of any of you?"

  Hauk laughed deep in his throat, a sound that she found far from comforting. "You're right. We are a prone to evasiveness. You should play Questions with them sometime. I've never seen anyone hedge an inquiry better than Nykyrian and Rachol."

  It was magical the way his personality changed from coarse to friendly. "I'm not even sure what went on between Aksel and Nykyrian. Then again, there's not much I am sure about where Nykyrian is concerned except for the fact he would die for me."

  She frowned at the newfound knowledge. "Why do you say that?"

  "He's taken enough shots protecting my hulking ass over the years."

  Kiara watched him finish setting up the game, thinking about what he said. "Have you ever seen him smile?"

  Hauk closed the box, his eyes carefully shuttered.

  "No."

  His response brought an ache to her chest. She used her next ploy to gain more tidbits about Nykyrian from him. "How long have you known him?"

  Hauk gave her a cold stare. "Since he was nine."

  She dropped her jaw in shock, his revelation pouring through her. "And you don't know him well enough to have ever seen him smile?"

  Hauk shrugged. "He doesn't smile. Hell, he barely speaks. It was worse when he was a kid. At least now he doesn't glare and hiss every time someone speaks to him."

  Kiara's heart lurched at the thought. Nykyrian was a strange fascination for her—the more she learned about his past, the more she wanted to know all about him. "Then you've seen his eyes," she said, hoping to find out why Nykyrian hid them.

  Hauk sat perfectly still and watched her. "Yes, I have."

  "What do they look like? Yours?"

  "If he wants you to know, he'll take his glasses off. Were I you, I wouldn't wait on that day."

  Kiara sat back on her heels, gnashing her teeth in frustration. At this rate, she'd die of old age before any of these tight-lipped misers gave her any information about their beloved companion.

  Well fine, she'd just have to see if she could get a glimpse of Nykyrian's eyes by herself. She never could stand a mystery and she wasn't about to leave this one unsolved!

  Chapter 6

  Kiara and Hauk were watching a comedy when Nykyrian returned. She looked up at him with a smile, but he didn't even bother to glance in her direction. Disappointed, she shifted her gaze to Hauk who offered her an apologetic shrug before standing.

  "Well, I guess it's time for this baby-sitter to evaporate," Hauk said, nodding to Nykyrian. "Beware of her roast," he said before leaving them.

  Nykyrian looked at her. "What was that about?" he asked gruffly.

  Kiara shrugged. "He told me he liked it. Would you care for any? I left a warmer on the stove." She tossed the pillow from her lap and uncurled her legs.

  "I'll get it," he said, dropping his pack by the door.

  He was acting strange, even for him. Kiara watched him move slowly to the kitchen, a deep frown on her face. What had happened?

  Several minutes went by as she waited for him to rejoin her, but he stayed in the kitchen out of her sight. Worried and curious, she went to check on him.

  He sat at the table, his food untouched. His head was propped against one arm and he appeared to be staring at the table as if something had his mind transfixed.

  "Is something wrong?" Kiara asked.

  Immediately, he straightened up and retrieved a fork. "I'm just tired," he said before taking a bite.

  Kiara sat down across from him. Drawing her legs up in the chair, she propped her chin on her knees. "Hauk and I spent the afternoon playing games," she said, trying to bring him into conversation and out of the melancholia he seemed to be wallowing in. "Do you play any?"

  His grip tightened on the fork. "No."

  Exasperated, she glared at him. "You don't have to bark at me. I was just— "

  "Look," Nykyrian interrupted her, making her jump in surprise at the sharp tone. "I'm in no mood to be sociable. Why can't you leave me in peace!"

  Sputtering in indignation, Kiara came to her feet. She rounded the table to stand next to his chair. "You know, I'm getting really sick of this abuse. If we have to be together constantly, the least you could do is be civil."

  Nykyrian came to his feet with a loud scraping of chair leg against her porcelain floor. His lips snarled at her, his breathing labored. "Why do you continue to pursue me when you know I have no interest in you as a woman? Are you incapable of having a man in your home without having him in your bed?"

  She had never had words cut her so deeply in her life. Before she could think, she slapped him as hard across the face as she could.

  He didn't even flin
ch. He just stood there, motionless. She couldn't even detect the rise and fall of his chest. Kiara was horrified by her actions. Her palm stung from the blow. She had never in her life struck anyone for anything.

  "Forgive me," she gasped, cupping his face in her hands.

  He pushed her hands away. "Don't touch me," he growled in a low, fierce voice.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but a sharp knock on the door silenced her. Nykyrian went to open it.

  Kiara stood in the kitchen, gripping the counter as a multitude of emotions tore through her. What had made her do such a thing? His insult rang in her ears, reminding her the action was justified. Wasn't it?

  A lump in her throat, she moved towards the front room to see who was here and what was going on. She hovered in the hallway, watching Rachol unbutton and peel Nykyrian's shirt back.

  Her brow knitted at the way his hands tenderly moved over Nykyrian's body. Nykyrian didn't protest in the least. Instead of snapping at Rachol, he just looked down at him.

  Rachol cursed before moving away. Kiara went cold as she realized Rachol's hands were covered in blood.

  "How'd you reopen the damn thing?" he barked at Nykyrian.

  Kiara walked forward, wanting to help, her stomach twisting over the wound.

  At her movement, Nykyrian faced her. "Go away," he snarled, baring his teeth to her.

  Swallowing her fear at his reaction, she ran down the hallway to her room, tears streaming down her face.

  * * * * *

  "That wasn't necessary," Rachol said, pushing Nykyrian toward the couch.

  Nykyrian didn't say anything. It took all his concentration just to remain conscious from the throbbing, heated agony splitting his side. Breathing was getting harder by the heartbeat.

  He tensed as Rachol struck a nerve, but said nothing. He thought about what he'd said to Kiara and wished he could take it back. But then, there were many things he regretted.

  He could use the pain as an excuse, but that was all it would be— an excuse. Nykyrian clenched his teeth at his stupidity. What did it matter?

  "I'm going to give you some Synethol," Rachol said, straightening up. "I know you hate it, but it'll help you heal a lot faster and this is one time I can't afford for you to be nursing a wound."

  Nykyrian nodded, knowing Rachol was right.

  Wearily, he watched Rachol wipe the blood from his hands and rummage through his pack until he found the injector.

  Rachol rolled back the sleeve of his shirt. Exposing the crook of Nykyrian's elbow, he positioned the injector over the skin. "I'll stay over tonight. I just hope Kiara has a sleeping bag." He pressed the trigger.

  The needle bit into Nykyrian's arm and the thick syrup moved into his skin with painful slowness. He pulled his glasses off and handed them to Rachol. "Tell her I'm sorry for what I said" he whispered, the drug making his vision cloudy.

  Rachol frowned at Nykyrian. It was the first time he had ever known Kip to apologize to anyone, for anything. What had he interrupted?

  Tossing the injector back into his pack, he rechecked Nykyrian's bandage. A red stain was already creeping back through the white cloth. He cursed. The little dancer had almost cost Nykyrian his life and he would like to tear her into pieces for it.

  Kip was the only family he had in this life and by God, he wasn't just going to lie back and watch the only friend/family he had ever known die because of some harita.

  In an angry stride, Rachol walked down the hall to Kiara's room. He pounded on the door, using the wood as a good scapegoat for his mood.

  "Come in."

  Rachol heard the tears in her voice and hesitated, all the anger draining out of him. He'd always been a fool for a crying woman. Clenching his teeth, he opened the door.

  Curled up into a small ball on the bed, she looked about as pitiful as anything he had ever seen, and he had seen a lot of misery growing up on the streets. He cleared his throat of the strange emotions gathered there to choke him. "I need to get some blankets or a sleeping bag or something."

  With a sniff, she wiped the tears from her face. "Are you staying over tonight?"

  He nodded.

  She came to her feet and went to a closet across the room from him. Against his normal code to enter no one's threshold without an invitation, Rachol crossed the room.

  Kiara handed him a pile of blankets and two pillows. "Nykyrian never asked for any," she whispered, her voice laced with more tears and agony than he could stand.

  "Yeah, well, he doesn't ask for much, period, besides he doesn't usually sleep with covers."

  Glumly, she nodded her head.

  Rachol cursed under his breath. "Don't look at me with those doleful eyes. Geez, you remind me of a condemned man in court."

  Tears fell down her cheeks. Rachol groaned and dropped the blankets. "C'mon," he said, leading her back to her bed. "Tell me what happened."

  She gave him a startled, hurt look.

  Rachol felt like a louse as he sat down on the mattress. Hell, he hadn't done anything wrong, why should he feel awful? "Kip wanted me to tell you he was sorry for whatever he said. Knowing him, it was probably something brutal, but don't take it to your soul. When he's wounded, he's as snappish as a wild lorina."

  Kiara's wide amber eyes watched him. Tears sparkled on her dark lashes. "What happened tonight?" she asked in a baleful whisper. "How did he get hurt?"

  His anger built as he remembered their mission. Coming to his feet, Rachol paced beside her bed. "We went to meet with an informant. Unfortunately, some of Bredeh's dogs beat us to him. By the time we got there, the bastards had taken the guy's kid as hostage."

  Needing to vent some of his anger, he slammed his fist into the wall. Pain erupted through his knuckles, numbing his hand, but it didn't help ease the ache in his conscience.

  "Rachol?"

  He couldn't mistake the fear in Kiara's voice as she stared at him with widened eyes. "Sorry," he said in a half humble apology. "I just get so damned angry about life and how it plays that ..." His voice trailed off. He sighed wearily. "They killed the kid's dad right in front of him."

  "Rachol, I'm sorry." Kiara left the bed and headed for him.

  Rachol backed away and shook his head. "Don't touch me," he said, sidestepping her.

  She held her hand to her mouth and appeared to be fighting off another round of tears. "That's what Nykyrian said."

  He nodded in understanding. "We're not really ogres," Rachol said, wondering why he bothered to explain anything to her.

  She returned to her bed and sat cross-legged. Her large, pain-filled amber eyes stared at him. "You just don't like to be touched."

  "Exactly."

  Her sobs racked her body and wrenched his soul. "Hey now, don't do that," he said, raking his hand through his hair. "Have pity on me, I can't stand a weeping female."

  She clutched her pillow to her stomach and cried as if her heart were breaking. "But why, why can't I touch him, why can't I touch you?"

  Rachol stood for a moment, trying to think of someway to make her understand. His gaze drifted to the shelf beside the door and the griata statuettes that lined it. Moving to them, he took one off the shelf.

  "Here," he said, handing it to her. "Tell me what you see."

  She looked at him as if he were crazed. "It's just one of my— "

  "No, I mean really look at it."

  He watched her graceful fingers play across the hard planes of the little boy standing beside his dog.

  "When you hold it," he explained, "It's sharp, cold, and we both know griata is one of the hardest substances in existence."

  She nodded, a tiny smile playing across her lips as she realized his point. "It's also the most brittle. One wrong hit on the wrong side and it crumbles into pieces."

  Rachol turned away from her. "So nature has given griata a tiny shell that covers it to keep it safe. Before you can claim the treasure, you have to carefully remove the shield."

  She wiped her eyes with the back of
her hand, reminding him of a little girl he knew a long time ago. "Part of your shell is not touching," she whispered.

  "You got it. It's easy to stay distant if you don't rely on anyone for anything, including creature comforts like touching."

  She cast him a doubting look. "Are you really that jaded?"

  He shrugged. "I'm a lot more brittle than Kip. All things given proper credit, my life has been a hell of a lot easier than his. Instead of a griata, he's more like a torna."

  "What's a torna?"

  "It's a rare flower grown on Ritadaria. If you try to pick the blossom, the leaves wrap around you and strangle you to death."

  Horrified by his words, she stared at him.

  He shrugged. "You asked." Stooping, he retrieved the blankets from the floor. "I hate blankets," he muttered, leaving her alone to dwell on his words.

  * * * * *

  Nykyrian woke first.

  Quietly, he stepped over Rachol's sleeping body, his glasses forgotten. The pain in his side had ebbed to a dull ache, a sad reminder of the life lost last night by a moment of carelessness. He clenched his teeth thinking of the informant, blaming himself for the whole affair.

  As he reached the bathroom door, Kiara's door opened. Before he could think to avert his eyes, she saw them.

  Kiara's mouth dropped. The eyes staring at her were nothing like she had imagined. They were clear and the lightest, prettiest shade of green with just a hint of a brown band around the edge of the iris.

  His eyes were human and beautiful.

  Her throat tightened in happiness. Those eyes gave her the first true glimpse of his soul. In them, she saw all the mistrust, anger and bitterness. She felt as if she were seeing him naked. Kiara ached to take him into her arms and soothe away all the pain swirling in those magnificent eyes.

  Biting her lip, she shifted her gaze to take in his entire face. There, she had no surprise. He was every bit as handsome as she'd suspected.

  He blinked and looked away, seemingly embarrassed. "I'm sorry about what I said last night," he whispered, meeting her gaze for a moment to show her his sincerity before he looked away again.