She cleared her throat of the sudden thrill that choked her from his apology. "Rachol told me. I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have hit you, it was wrong."
He shrugged and moved into the bathroom.
Kiara trembled in her newfound knowledge. Without his glasses, he wasn't a fearsome phantom to haunt her dreams. He was a mortal man who could be wounded and loved. She gasped at her thoughts. Love? That's not what she wanted from him. Was it?
No longer feeling satisfied, she started breakfast.
* * * * *
Nykyrian's hands shook as he dragged them over his face. Well, at least he wouldn't have anymore eye strain. She had finally seen him.
Now it would begin. The initial pity would be first — poor deformed half-ling, then the worst part, the eventual hatred of his mixed blood, of the fact that he bore too many characteristics of both races.
People had never seen anything more in him than the antithesis of their own traits, not realizing or caring he could be hurt by their scorn.
Clenching his teeth, he ripped the bandage from his side, taking a small amount of satisfaction from the throbbing protest of his skin. Physical pain was easy to deal with and it took his mind off other things.
Disrobing, he stepped into the shower.
The water burned as it slid against his wound. Despite the pain, an image of Kiara tormented him. "No!" he hissed, hitting the wall with his palm.
She didn't deserve him. She needed someone free to love her entirely, not a man who had divided loyalties, wanted by authorities and criminals. He saw all the lonely nights she would spend while he pursued his missions, tormented by fears of his being killed.
Kiara would be better off with someone else. He couldn't allow himself to love her. Ever.
* * * * *
Kiara smiled at Nykyrian despite her warnings to herself to remain aloof. "I'm just going to have to get used to you all over again," she said, handing him a plate.
He didn't comment.
She filled a plate for herself and sat across from him. His wet, white hair was combed off his face. His eyes, with their long, dark lashes, absolutely fascinated her. "How do you feel?" she asked.
"Like I've been shot," he replied dryly.
She smiled. "Gee, I wonder why?"
He glanced up at her, then quickly looked back at his food. "I'm surprised you're speaking to me after what I said to you last night."
She shrugged. "My father tutored me well on amnesia. He always claimed it was a necessary ingredient for friendship." She cleared her throat and said in deep voice, "Kiara, my angel, no matter how long you live or how good a friend you've got, someone's always going to say or do something they didn't mean to do. And if they're truly your friend, you'd better forgive and forget."
Nykyrian sipped his juice. "Your father's wise."
"Good day!" Rachol yawned, stretching as he entered the kitchen. "What smells so good?"
"Frisanian tarts," Kiara said, returning his smile.
He walked over to the warmer and pulled a couple off. Rachol turned around and smiled. "If you want a man in your life, call me anytime."
Kiara laughed, amazed at how handsome he was without the eyeliner ringing his eyes, or hoops in his ears. But then, he wasn't nearly as gorgeous as Nykyrian.
"Will I be blessed with both of you today?" Kiara bit into her fruit.
Rachol sat next to her. "Cursed would be a more concise description. In which case, I reply affirmatively." He smiled at Nykyrian. "Kip will no doubt, and you can see proof by the look on his face, object to my hanging around."
"I don't need a nursemaid," Nykyrian said quietly. "Well, in my case it's a nurseman. So don't bother with your usual bluster, I'm committed."
"You should be."
Kiara burst into laughter at Nykyrian's even-toned response.
Rachol sputtered. "Kiara, please. Don't encourage him to abuse me, he does enough damage on his own."
Nykyrian put his fork down and eyed Rachol with a dark frown. "You know, I always wondered what it would feel like to strangle a Ritadarion."
Kiara glanced to Rachol, not sure if Nykyrian was joking.
Rachol continued to smile. "You missed your chance three years ago on Tondara."
"And never got over it."
Kiara continued to listen to their banter. She was amazed at how well they got along and was certain Nykyrian wouldn't allow anyone else to treat him so lightly. After a few minutes, Nykyrian excused himself and went to the main room.
"Is he really all right?" Kiara whispered to Rachol.
Rachol leaned down to her. "Whispering does absolutely no good around him, he can hear from miles away. It's one of those damnable Andarion traits."
Rachol straightened and continued talking, "He's just sullen as a swollen gimfry." He popped his knuckles. "So what trouble shall we get into?"
"I thought you had too much to do to be troubled in this place." Nykyrian's voice traveled into the kitchen without him shouting.
Kiara raised her eyebrows, surprised he really could hear them.
Rachol winked at her. "I do, but you're crazed if you think I'm leaving this sweet thing in your surly presence."
Nykyrian said something else in that strange language he used with Rachol.
Kiara looked at Rachol and saw his eyes widen before he shot from the kitchen.
"Bredeh's coming for her," Nykyrian said in Ritadarion to Rachol. He glanced up to see Kiara join them from the kitchen.
"Do you think he'll bomb the building?"
Nykyrian nodded, his stomach tightening at the thought. "We've got to move her. Call her father on the telelink, tell him he has less than a half hour to get here and see her before we leave. Scramble the message."
Rachol nodded and moved to comply. Nykyrian beckoned Kiara to come to him. She hesitated for a moment, before walking forward.
Taking a stylus and computer ledger, Nykyrian wrote his commands for her: “We have reason to believe we're being monitored. I need you to pack enough clothes for several days. We have to move quickly.”
Her eyes widened as she read the note. "Oh God," she whispered and ran from the room.
Kiara trembled in fear. Who was monitoring them? Was it this mysterious Aksel? She opened her bedroom door and heard Rachol arguing with her father over the telelink next to her bed. Through the view screen, she could see the worry in her father's face as he glared at Rachol. Cold, clammy sweat chilled her hands.
"Father," she said, as she stepped into range for the viewer and interrupted his long list of what he intended to do to Rachol. "Everything is fine. I trust them completely."
"I don't," he snapped, eyeing Rachol with a murderous glare.
"Trust my instincts," she said, placing a hand on Rachol's shoulder to prove her words. She was a bit surprised Rachol didn't protest.
Instead of calming her father, the gesture seemed to push his anger to full boil. "Don't you dare move her until I get there, or you'll wish to God you had stayed in whatever hole you crawled from!" He cut the transmission.
"Geez," Rachol snorted. "What a grouch."
"He's just worried about me."
Rachol scratched the stubble on his cheek. "Yeah, well, the man needs a couple of drinks."
Before Kiara could reply, Nykyrian leaned through the door and tossed Rachol his blaster. "The attack's already started."
Kiara went cold. Nykyrian stepped back and Rachol ran to the front.
"I'm scared," she whispered, half expecting to drop into a faint at any moment.
"Don't be," Nykyrian reassured her. "They've got to come through me and I'm no easy obstacle." He held his blaster in his left hand and stretched his right hand out to her.
Without hesitation, she placed her icy hand into his large, warm one. She knew she was safe.
He pulled her with him out into the hallway. They crouched together beside the bar. Nykyrian surrounded her with warmth, her back against his chest. She could smell the clean scent of soap from h
is skin.
Rachol hid behind the chair closest to the door. Kiara stared at the laser cutting through the door, remembering her brief time on board her kidnapper's shuttle.
She swallowed her panic, telling herself Nykyrian was here this time and he would see her to safety. As if he knew her thoughts, he rubbed a comforting hand down her arm. She stared at his left hand held out near her face and watched him click back the release of his blaster. Waiting.
The hissing of the torch grew louder.
"When they come through, be prepared to run," Nykyrian whispered to her, his warm breath stirring her hair and raising a chill on her cheek.
She nodded.
"Meet me at the usual rendezvous," he shouted to Rachol over the sound of her door splintering.
Kiara's heart pounded in her ears, deafening her to all other sounds. The charred stench stuck in her throat and choked her. Fear restricted her vision and all she could focus on was the weakening door that separated them from the men who wanted to kill her. Where was the building's security? She prayed.
With a cloud of smoke and a loud triumphant shout, a group of men came through the door. Rachol fired, killing the first two.
Rachol made a holy gesture to his lips and ran into the chaos of the hallway. She couldn't believe her eyes. Nykyrian wrapped his right arm around her waist like a safety belt, then pulled her to her feet.
She trembled in fear, praying she wouldn't trip and cost them their lives. Nykyrian held her against him, his body shielding her from the blasters' fire. She stumbled against him as he led her into the smoke infested hallway.
He fired his blaster, his arm tightened around her. In spite of her fear, she wanted to see what was happening.
"Don't look," Nykyrian said before pulling her around behind him. "God, I hate this job," he snarled, spinning around and firing at something behind them.
He pulled her down the corridor, away from the lift. Kicking open the stairwell, he scanned the stairs, then pushed her through the door. He pulled a device from his pocket and used it to seal the door closed behind them.
"Wait here, I need— "
"Don't leave me!" Kiara gasped, desperately grabbing onto him.
He clenched his teeth. Taking a deep breath, he took her hand and led her down the stairs and into the landing bay in the basement of the building.
Her legs trembling, Kiara stumbled twice. "Leave me," she said, as he helped to her feet. "They'll let you go."
Nykyrian snorted at her words. "Believe me, Aksel would much rather hang my scalp in his house than yours. Just calm down, you're doing fine."
"How can you be so damned calm?" she snapped.
He shrugged and continued leading her behind the docked shuttles. "Either we'll make it, or they'll kill us. If they kill us, they can't torture us. It's a win-win situation."
For some reason, Kiara didn't subscribe to that philosophy. Then, she heard them. Her heart pounded as she realized someone was approaching! Nykyrian covered her lips with his finger and motioned her into the shadows of the landing bay.
As the soldier paused several yards away, Nykyrian removed his finger from her lips. "Listen," he whispered in her ear, "I have to leave you alone. I have to clear the sentries from my ship, okay?"
She rubbed the chills on her arms. "I'm scared."
He nodded. "Me, too," he said, and was gone.
Kiara crouched down behind the fighter, straining her ears to hear what was going on. Footsteps returned and she pressed herself deeper into the shadows.
Nykyrian moved atop the ships as silent as the specter for which he was named. From his hearing, he deduced there were three soldiers in the bay, two together and one roaming about. Taking a deep breath, he checked the setting and charge of his blaster to make sure he had enough juice to get them out of here alive.
The cold lump of dread he had always hated to feel, sat in his stomach like a rock. Well, time to do business. He rolled off the ship and came to a standing position between the two soldiers.
One guard faced him, the man's mouth falling open and moving spastically like a fish. The man gurgled before bringing his weapon up. Nykyrian fired, then spun about to catch the second guard before the soldier could shoot him in the back. A chill raised the hair on the back of his neck. "I've got her, hybrid!"
Nykyrian clenched his teeth in anger and frustration, it wasn't Aksel, but worse. His demented younger brother.
"Turn yourself over to Aksel, and I might let her go.”
"Yeah, right," Nykyrian muttered, resetting his blaster. "And I'm a one-legged dung dealer."
Damn! How had Arast doubled back behind him and found her? His hearing was not what it used to be. Nykyrian skirted around the ships to where the idiot stood, his blaster aimed at Kiara's head. "Hybrid!"
"Nykyrian, run!" Kiara shouted. Arast tightened his grip around her throat. "Another word, harita and I'll snap your neck," he hissed.
Nykyrian knew he had one chance and one chance only. "You want a piece of me?" he asked, his voice echoing in the bay.
Arast turned around, looking for the direction it came from. Nykyrian watched, his hands trembling in fear for Kiara's life.
"Where are you, hybrid?"
"Let her go and put your weapon down."
"And let you shoot me?" Arast laughed sadistically. "I'm not stupid."
"About as smart as my boots," Nykyrian whispered, doubting his own intelligence for letting the imbecile get the upper hand.
Clenching his teeth in determination, Nykyrian slid his blaster across the floor. The hollow, piercing sound of metal against pavement grated against Nykyrian's ears. Arast wanted much more than just to kill him, and Kiara was only icing on the gundry.
Nykyrian had always known it would come to this one day. "Let her go and you'll get the chance you've been waiting for," he shouted, watching Arast carefully.
Arast slung Kiara away from him. Not waiting for the bastard to shoot her, or to throw down his weapon, which would be a miracle anyway, Nykyrian launched himself from the shadows, straight at his target, Kiara screamed as the two men entwined. They moved so quickly, all she could see was a blur of color, black and brown moving in a dreadful dance, Nykyrian's life balancing on the outcome. She rubbed her throat in nervous strokes of her fingers, barely feeling the welts left by the assassin's cruel hands.
A flash of light fired. Nykyrian cursed. The assassin came to his feet and angled his blaster at Nykyrian, but before he could fire, Nykyrian caught him about the head and twisted. She recognized the sound of grinding bone a split second before blood gushed out of the soldier's mouth and he crumpled slowly to the ground.
Horrified, she stared at Nykyrian as he stooped over the man's body, feeling for a pulse. He had killed with his bare hands! Nykyrian came to his feet.
Kiara's heart pounded in fear. For the first time, she fully realized what he was and what he could do. The stench of blood clung to him, choking her.
"Come on," Nykyrian said, holding his hand out to her. "The others will be here shortly."
Her illusions shattered, tears ran down her cheeks in two icy paths.
"Kiara!" Nykyrian snapped, grabbing her arm and pulling her to his ship. "We have to leave."
Somehow, she managed to climb up the ladder and seat herself in the cockpit of his ship. Her heart hammered in her chest as he joined her.
He had just strapped them in, when his body went rigid.
Kiara looked up to see more soldiers entering the bay. Nykyrian flipped switches in front of her. The engines of their ship fired with a deafening roar.
Transfixed by the large group of assassins, Kiara stared at them. One man stood out at the head of the soldiers, glaring at her and Nykyrian with a handsome, cold face that mirrored cruelty and hatred.
Aksel stared at his two targets, knowing Nykyrian had once more slipped from his grasp as the Arcana flew out of the bay. "Dammit!" he shouted.
It was then, he noticed the body of his brother. His teeth cha
ttered in rage and hatred. "Find them!" he snarled to his soldiers. "I will have that hybrid's life, or your own!"
Shoving his men from his path, Aksel made his way back to his own ship. This was far from over. He would claim Nykyrian's life no matter what!
Chapter 7
Kiara trembled in shock and fear. Over and over, she saw Nykyrian break the soldier's neck, heard the bone splintering, the blood . . .
They had just landed outside the building where Rachol lived. The scent of warm, sticky blood clung to her. The assassin's blood from where Nykyrian had killed him, she thought, her stomach twisting. She tried to rise from the seat, but her limbs wouldn't move.
Gently, Nykyrian wrapped his arms around her and carried her into Rachol's flat. Kiara wanted the strength to push him away, to bathe the smell of blood from her body. But just then, it took all her strength to keep her mind from replaying the entire fight, her ears from hearing once more the final macabre snap of bone.
Nykyrian placed her on the couch. Sitting next to her, he rubbed her cold hands. Kiara's mind protested. "Don't touch me!" she shouted, pushing him away. "My God, you killed that man with your bare hands!"
His hands stiffened on hers, then he moved away without a word.
Kiara leaned against the arm of the couch and cried. Granted they had both talked about his profession many times, Nykyrian had even made jokes about it, but the reality of what he could do had never really struck her, until now.
Nykyrian stared at her quaking shoulders, wanting to comfort her, but knowing he couldn't. He thought about Arast and his gut knotted. Guilt consumed him. Since he, Aksel and Arast had left the League, he had done his best to avoid them, knowing what would happen if they ever found each other.
His throat tightened as he listened to her cry. He had known what Kiara's reaction would be to him once she realized what he really was. She hated him. At least now she would be easier to guard. She wouldn't bother making attempts at friendship.
Still, her tears tore through him. He watched her shaking shoulders and his heart thudded a hollow, empty beat against his ribs. He should have refused the contract.
The League 1: Born Of The Night Page 11