"Your Highness," Kiara interrupted before the tensing guards could launch themselves at Nykyrian. "I would be honored to perform on Triosa. If you contact my manager, I'm sure something can be arranged." She offered Jullien a false smile.
Jullien glared intensely at Nykyrian. "Very well, mu Tarn. I have no desire to further embarrass you." Jullien stood, his eyes locked on Nykyrian's face.
Nykyrian sat there, his arms folded across his chest as if nothing in the universe was wrong. Kiara waited until Jullien had left before she narrowed her own eyes at Nykyrian. "That was unbelievably rude!"
"I get worse with age."
Kiara's palm itched to slap him. She had never been so angry at one person in her life. "Why did you attack him that way? What has he ever done to offend you?"
"He was born."
Nykyrian's aloofness wore at her nerves. Kiara sat back in her chair. "Fine," she snapped.
Kiara continued to stare at his stoic face until she couldn't bear it any longer. "I'm tired of you locking me out. I might as well go after Jullien. I'm sure he would gladly welcome me!"
The look that crossed Nykyrian's face startled her. For a moment, she thought about apologizing, but her anger held fast. He had started this argument, let him deal with her foul mood.
"You would probably enjoy having his bastard children," Nykyrian snarled in a vicious whisper. "Don't flatter yourself for one minute into thinking he would have you as anything more than his kept mistress."
The insult brought a blush of rage to her cheeks. "How dare you! Do you think you could do better? I haven't seen any woman want you at all!"
The moment the words left her lips and her brain registered them, Kiara gasped. She couldn't believe she had said that. How many times had her father warned her to keep her mouth closed when she was angry?
"Nykyrian," she said softly. "I'm so sorry." He sat there unmoving until she feared she would scream.
"I think we should leave," he said, standing. Kiara looked up at him. There appeared to be no anger in his face or body.
Worse, Kiara detected she had hurt him deeply by her callous, stupid comment. "What are your feelings toward me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I think you know."
She shook her head. "No, I don't. One minute you hold me as if you fear I'm going to leave you, then the next you snap and hiss like you want me to leave."
Without answering, he turned and walked out of the cafe. Groaning with frustration, Kiara joined him. Never had she been so confused. She wanted to shake her fist at him, beat him, shake him, soothe him and even more terrifying to her, make love to him.
She clenched her teeth in frustration. Did he feel the same way about her? Was that why he was doing this, because he was every bit as confused by his emotions as she was by hers? Why couldn't he just talk to her and tell her what bothered him, why he did what he did?
Nykyrian kept glancing back over his shoulder to make sure Kiara was still behind him. He regretted his words. For that matter, he regretted his life. He knew he should explain his feelings to her, but he wasn't sure if he could stand the barrage of emotions that would batter his soul if he released all the pain in his past. No, she would be much better off not knowing anything about him. It wasn't too late for her to find someone else. Someone who . . . A lump formed in his stomach. He couldn't stand the thought of going back to a life without her. What was he going to do?
Kiara stared at Nykyrian's back, wondering if he ever felt anything at all. All she wanted was one sign from him that he cared, that he could love her. Her heart pounded. Was that asking so very much?
They picked up her packages and made their way back to Nykyrian's house. Kiara remained silent, her emotions clumped in a tight knot in her throat.
Rachol appeared amused by their hostility as he helped unload the fighter. The only words Nykyrian spoke to her were to tell her where to store her clothes. Other than that, he grabbed a toolbox and made his way out to the bay to work on Rachol's ship.
In angry, irate jerks, Kiara pulled her clothes out of the bags and boxes, and set about putting them away. As each second passed, she became angrier and angrier at herself for caring what Nykyrian thought anyway. She was acting like some love-sick teenager. If he didn't want her, fine. She could easily find someone else.
Her heart sank at the thought. She didn't want anyone else. She wanted Nykyrian. Ignoring her new clothes on the bed, she curled up on the mattress and sobbed out the misery burning in her soul.
"So what did you two do today?" Rachol asked, helping Nykyrian jerk open the panel on his stabilizer.
"Nothing," Nykyrian said. "Did you find Driana's address."
Rachol nodded, his eyes probing Nykyrian in a way that always made him want to throw something at the man.
Rachol handed him a power wrench. "I also found out some interesting tidbits about you and Driana."
Nykyrian narrowed his eyes. He definitely wanted to throw something at Rachol. "You weren't supposed to go into her personal file, or mine for that matter."
Rachol shrugged and unwrapped the new part. "Couldn't resist."
Nykyrian held his breath, waiting for Rachol to build up enough courage to ask him the next question.
Sure enough, he found his courage. "So how did she end up married to Aksel and not you?"
Nykyrian loosened the plate's bolt, his mind whirling with memories he didn't like to think about. "Her father and the Commander thought he'd make a better husband."
"Yeah, but- "
"Enough!" Nykyrian roared. "I don't want to think about this anymore. It was a long time ago. Leave it alone."
* * * * *
Kiara stroked Ilyse's ears, wiping the tears from her face. A few weeks ago, she had known who she was and what she wanted. Now, she wasn't sure of anything. Why was she so attracted to a man who didn't seem to care about her at all? True enough he had bedded her, but that was not love.
With a trembling sigh, she pushed herself off the bed and started folding her clothes. She didn't understand why Nykyrian did anything. Why did he buy her so much, then push her away?
He had been so tender last night, she had been sure he loved her, needed her. Then the morning had dawned and again he was distant. Clenching her teeth against the miserable pain in her breast, she pushed the button to open the closet door.
A flash of light from the windows caught her attention and she looked out the clear wall next to the closed off bathroom to see Nykyrian and Rachol working on Rachol's ship. Rachol's voice was muffled, but clearly audible as they talked, and for once, they spoke in a language she could understand.
"I hope you've thought about this," Rachol said, tossing a tool up to Nykyrian.
Nykyrian caught it. "Kiara is my concern."
"No, she's all of ours. My God, with one word, she could destroy you. Hell, all of us for that matter."
Nykyrian grimaced as he tugged on a part. "So could you."
Rachol shook his head. "You know better than that. Be reasonable. We've worked too hard for what we have for you to just toss it away because of some harita. If all you want is a good— " Rachol barely had time to dodge the tool that flew past his head.
Nykyrian jumped off the ship and grabbed Rachol by the collar of his shirt. Kiara held her breath, afraid of what he might do.
"Don't ever insult her again!" he snarled, his hands tightening around Rachol's shirt. "It's my life I risk, not yours."
Anger clouded Rachol's face and for a moment, Kiara feared they might begin fighting. "God dammit Kip, don't do this. You're all I've got. She's not worth your life, don't you understand? We need you. I need you."
More tears fell down Kiara's cheeks as she watched Nykyrian release Rachol.
Nykyrian stood there, watching him, his face unreadable. After several seconds, he sighed. "I've had so many people dictate my life for me. I'm tired of doing what's expected. I thought you of all people would understand what it's like to want something and t
hen once you get it, not let go."
Rachol shook his head, his lips in a tight line. "C'mon, you know better than this. Since when are women reliable? They leave the first time anything gets difficult."
Nykyrian snorted. "That's not true."
Rachol's eyebrows lifted. "Isn't it? She'll never leave the theatre to be with you. And you can't live out in the open. If you try, you know how long it'll take before a League Assassin cuts your throat."
Nykyrian slammed his hand into the side of the ship. The hollow sound echoed in the bay, through Kiara's mind. "I've spent my entire life listening to people tell me why I can't be loved." The bitterness in his voice tore through Kiara. "I always told myself that I didn't care, or need anyone to love me."
Nykyrian raked his hand through his hair and leveled his gaze on Rachol. "It was a lie, you know. I do care and I want Kiara. If it costs me my life to be with her, it doesn't matter. I've already lived past my prime anyway. I wake every morning with more pain in my joints than the day before. If I have to die, I'd rather die knowing someone loved me, just once."
Kiara barely heard the end of his words. Sobs raked her body as she sank to the floor. Burying her head in her hands, she cried. He loved her.
She didn't know how she was going to reach him, but she promised herself that someday soon, she would, she had to. Her happiness hinged on her ability to claim him fully, to make him admit to her just how much he did care.
Chapter 10
Nykyrian stepped out of the shower and dried himself off. Maybe Rachol was right, maybe Kiara would be his death. But then death had been something he had craved most of his life anyway. With a tired sigh, he wrapped the towel around his hips and opened the door. He froze.
Kiara lay on the bed in a filmy black negligee, her hair combed out around her. His blood raced at the sight. He steeled himself. "I thought you were downstairs," he said, trying to remain distant, knowing it was futile.
He reached to retrieve his clothes from the bed. Her silken hand covered his. Nykyrian's flesh burned at the gentle touch, he wanted her surrounding him more than he had ever wanted anything. His gaze traveled from her hand, up her perfect arm, to the beauty of her face. Her soft, amber eyes sparkled in the dim light of the room.
"I'm sorry for what I said earlier today," she whispered. "For all I know, Jullien deserved everything you said and more. I tend to say things when I'm angry, things I seldom mean."
Nykyrian was tempted to apologize as well, but he couldn't bring the words past his lips. He dropped the towel and pulled his clothes from the bed. Kiara's face turned bright red before she averted her eyes from his body.
Pulling on his clothes, he studied her profile. True he had been with women who were more beautiful than she, but none of them had ever made him feel so much at ease, or soothed the ache inside him.
There was so much he wanted to tell her and so much he feared telling her. He took a deep breath. Either way, there were things she had to know, he owed her that much.
Kiara looked back at Nykyrian when the bed dipped under his weight. He was dressed and staring at her with a strange look. She sat up, wondering if he would bother telling her what had him upset now.
He reached his hand out and toyed with several of the curls laying on her shoulder. "You have the most beautiful hair," he said in a ragged voice that set her blood on fire.
She smiled, taking his hand in hers. Kiara opened her mouth to speak, but he placed a finger on her lips. "I have some things to tell you and I need you to listen."
She swallowed, curious about his grave tone. He stared at her for the longest time as if he wanted to memorize her face. "I'm not what you think. No," he said, cupping her cheek as she started to protest. "Listen. I've done a lot of things in my life that I regret." He looked away from her and his hand fell away. Emptiness consumed her, Kiara wanted desperately to bring his warm touch back to her skin. To tell him she didn't care about his past, that he could never do anything to drive her away.
Nykyrian sighed, his gaze still focused on the wall. "I used to tell myself what I did was right, that the killings I performed protected governments and innocent lives." The angry twitch beat a determined rhythm in his cheek. "Then I learned the truth."
He stood and paced the floor around the bed in angry strides. Kiara's heart pounded in sympathetic pain and she wished once more she could soothe him.
Nykyrian looked up at her, his eyes troubled. "I can't explain to you how it felt to realize everything about you was a lie and everything you had been doing for six years was immoral and wrong."
"That's why you quit the League?"
He nodded.
A smile curved her lips, tears gathering in her eyes. Her heart hammered against her ribs and love spread through her.
"That's when I became Nemesis."
Her smile faded as he faced her and his words penetrated her thoughts. "What!"
"I'm Nemesis."
Kiara's mind went numb. Over and over, she heard the news broadcasts informing the public of the grisly killings. She sprang from the bed, cold terror washing over her. Dear God, she was in the house alone with a brutal killer!
Nykyrian caught her by the arms as she tried to run down the stairs. "Kiara, listen to me."
"No!" she shrieked, struggling against him. "My God, you rip people into pieces! You . . . You eat pieces of them before you dump their bodies!"
Nykyrian closed his eyes and released her. Without another word, he left her alone in the room.
Kiara sank to the floor, unable to believe his declaration. Nemesis. Dear God, what had she involved herself in? No wonder Rachol was so afraid of her. With this knowledge, she could hand Nykyrian over to the authorities and put an end to all the brutal assassinations. Everything she had thought about him was a lie. He was a killer, a cold-blooded, ruthless killer!
An image of Jana flashed through her mind. The way Nykyrian had protected, then soothed the child before carrying him to safety. I'm scared too, she heard Nykyrian whisper the day he saved her from Aksel. He had been chained to the wall, Orinthe said in her ear.
Kiara took a deep breath to slow the pounding beat of her heart. Nykyrian had trusted her. He had given her the most sought-after secret in the universe.
She sat on the floor for close to an hour, trying to sift through her warring emotions. Part of her wanted her to do the right thing and turn him in, but her heart and soul wouldn't let her. Nykyrian wasn't a brutal killer, she knew that. Deep inside her, she saw the part of him who had saved a starving boy off the street, who helped Rachol, who guarded her. There was more to his being Nemesis than the reports given by the news. Standing up, Kiara went to find Nykyrian and the truth behind his facade.
She found him in the exercise room, stripped to his waist, pounding a weight bag. Each blow he delivered to the bag was one in studied fury. She could feel his anger and pain as if it were her own.
"Nykyrian," she said softly.
He hesitated, looking over at her. The bag swung back, knocking him sideways. He let out a loud grunt and pushed the bag away from him. Kiara stifled her laughter over the shocked look on his face.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded in a fierce voice, striking the bag again with his fist. "I might get blood on you."
She swallowed the knot in her throat as he turned to deliver a succession of fast, angry blows to the bag.
Kiara watched his hands pound into the rough canvas. "I'm sorry for my reaction, but what did you expect?"
His hand flew into the bag with a heavy thud that caused the chains suspending it from the ceiling to rattle. "I don't expect a damned thing from you. Just take your prissy," he pounded the bag, "spoiled," another forceful blow, "ass out of my sight before I show you just what Nemesis is capable of."
Kiara's common sense told her to leave, that he was too angry to talk to, but she couldn't. Before she could rethink her actions, she crossed the room and pushed him away from the bag. He gave her an astonished look. The ba
g swung in an arc between them.
"You are going to talk to me!"
Nykyrian snorted. "Or what? Don't think for one minute you can do anything to me someone else hasn't done already."
Kiara lowered her gaze from his face as pain consumed her, wanting some way to break through his overdeveloped defenses. Then she saw his knuckles. She gasped at the blood dripping from his hands.
"What did you do?" she asked, crossing the distance between them to take his bleeding, swollen knuckles into her own hands.
"It doesn't hurt," he mumbled, trying to pull them away.
Kiara held on tightly. With a fierce frown she studied his eyes and there she saw his agony. He closed his eyes and pulled away.
"Nykyrian, talk to me, please. I swear I'll listen. I know you aren't capable of tearing someone apart."
Instead of the soothing effect she expected, her words angered him more. He spun on her with a snarl, pushing her back against the wall, his light eyes raging with emotions she couldn't decipher. Kiara gulped in fear, her whole body shaking.
"Do you really think I couldn't tear someone into pieces?" he ground out in rage. "I was trained to tear men apart so fast that they had the opportunity to see whatever organ I ripped out of them before they hit the floor dead!" His arms, braced on either side of her, tensed. "Have you ever held a beating heart in your hand? Felt the warm, sticky blood slide between your fingers while it pulsed."
Tears rolled down Kiara's cheeks. He had to have a soul, she had seen him do too many things that contradicted such brutality. "I asked you once if you enjoyed killing." She took a deep breath. "Do you?" He looked away from her.
For a moment, she didn't think he would answer, then he shook his head. "I hated it," he whispered, pushing himself away from her. "Every damned minute of it."
A glimmer of hope shot through her. "You haven't assassinated anyone since you left the League, have you?" He rubbed his right biceps, his hand hesitating over the League tattoo. "No."
Satisfaction tore through her and left her trembling. Kiara hesitated, remembering the news reports. "Then where has your reputation come from?" He looked at her, a tiny smile on his lips. "Jayne." A ripple of shock jolted through Kiara. "Jayne?" she repeated.
The League 1: Born Of The Night Page 16