Born of Defiance

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  "Just around you."

  "Why?"

  He shrugged. "Not used to conversing with others. Especially young females, unless they're in uniform. Then, we only speak when relaying or issuing orders. I'm not sure what to say to you, really."

  She looked away as the doorbell rang.

  "That's the manager, I'm sure."

  "Oh." She hated to leave him so soon. "Can I have lunch with you tomorrow?"

  "Sure. I'd like that. I'll e-mail you the address."

  "Okay. I'll see you then." She turned the link off and kissed it, wishing it was him.

  Stop it, Felicia! Keep this professional.

  He wasn't her boyfriend. Talyn was a patron. He could and would never be anything more than the male who paid for her services. That was it.

  Her gaze fell to his card.

  Your happiness, safety, and comfort are my priority.

  Professional. Always. His happiness and comfort were her priority. That was what he was paying her for. And she would keep her heart out of this. No matter what.

  *

  Felicia wasn't sure what she'd been thinking when she'd asked to meet with Talyn for lunch. The fortified Anatole military base was extremely off-putting and a little scary. The guards at the gate had all but strip-searched her before she was admitted here.

  And they'd interrogated her like a prisoner of war.

  Worse were the number of curious stares she collected as she stood surrounded by three giant guards in the humongous hangar bay of fighters and military transports. She couldn't stand being the center of anyone's attention.

  There were pilots and ground crew bustling all around. It wasn't until a red and black fighter landed and she saw Talyn's name on it, above his call sign, Pit Viper, that she realized he'd been out on maneuvers.

  Her heart pounded as she watched him climb down from the cockpit of his fighter. His red and black flightsuit and jacket clung to his muscled body. He paused to sign an e-ledger from one of the ground crew before he pulled his helmet off and approached her with an adorably bashful half grin that seemed completely out of character with his lethal persona.

  A half grin that turned into a stern countenance as he stopped in front of the soldiers with her. "I'll take it from here."

  They saluted him, then left.

  "Do I salute you, too?"

  He leaned down to press his cheek to hers. "Only if you want to." Pulling back from her, he called one of the crew over to him and handed his helmet to the male. "Could you put that in my locker?"

  "Yes, sir." The crewman saluted him.

  Talyn returned the salute before he tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and led her toward the base's entrance. "There's a small deli and Andarion, Ritadarion, and Kirovarian restaurants close by. What would you like?"

  She tried not to focus on how taut and large the muscle of his arm was. Dang, he looked simply edible in that flight suit.

  Her face flushed as she realized he was waiting for her to answer his question. But what she really wanted to snack on wasn't one of her choices.

  She glanced down at his backside. Yeah, major rump roast would definitely be more appealing to her than anything he'd named.

  Felicia! Stop!

  "Um, I've never tried Ritadarion before. Is it good?"

  "Yes, but spicy."

  "I love spicy."

  "Then Rit it is. However, it's not quite walking distance." He led her into a transport locker.

  Which she was fine with until he stopped beside a sleek, expensive airbike. That must have been what he was riding when she last spoke to him. "You're kidding, right?"

  He glanced about with an adorable baffled expression. "I don't think so." Then his look turned playful. "Don't tell me you're scared."

  Felicia swallowed hard. "I have never ridden one of those before, and I've been quite happy and healthy that way. Maybe we should go someplace we can walk to?"

  Now that was the most charming smile any male had ever given a female in the entire history of Andaria. No doubt that had gotten him out of many punishments with his mother. "C'mon. Try it. You know you want to. I won't let you get hurt, I promise. If I go too fast or you get scared even a little bit, squeeze my stomach and I'll slow down instantly."

  Biting her lip, she debated the sanity of this.

  "I'm a fighter pilot, Felicia. Almost three years now. Thousands of hours logged. Countless dogfights with the Tavali and Gourans."

  "How many times have you crashed?"

  "Never."

  That made her feel better. "Okay, but remember, you have to pay for all medical treatments that result from any injury I sustain as a direct result of your actions."

  Laughing, he shrugged his flight jacket off and wrapped it around her.

  She staggered from the weight of the "light" armor. Not to mention, it swallowed her completely, and gave her a whole new appreciation for how strong he had to be to move so effortlessly in it. Grinning like a child who'd won a game, he pulled two helmets out of the seat and handed her one before he put his on.

  Still not sure she should do this, she watched as he slung one incredibly long leg over the bike and pressed his hand to the bio sensor to start the engine.

  With a deep breath for courage, she straddled the bike and took her seat. The way it was cut, it intimately pressed her body against his, and her legs were tucked beneath his buttocks. Wicked, warm fantasies tormented her at their close proximity and the wall of hard muscle that made up his luscious body.

  Yeah, okay, this was nice. Smiling in pleasure, she slid her arms around his lean waist and sucked her breath in sharply at how solid he was. How good it felt to hold him.

  He looked at her over his shoulder. "I'm about to lift us. Remember, if you get scared at all, just tighten your arms or tell me and I'll slow down to a crawl."

  "Okay. I'm ready."

  He gently rubbed her hands with his before he leaned forward and hit the lifters.

  Her stomach sank at the sensation, but his skill was superb as he navigated them from the locker, into traffic.

  "You all right back there?"

  "I am. It is kind of fun, isn't it?"

  He turned right. "Absolutely. I'll make a pilot of you yet."

  She wasn't so sure about that. Unlike him, she didn't thrive on danger.

  Boring ... that was her sweet spot. And she rather liked it that way.

  A few minutes later, he landed in a parking space outside a small cafe and helped her dismount. While his features held their usual stern expression, there was a childlike gleam in his eyes that made him even more adorable.

  "You like to live on the edge, don't you?"

  He secured their helmets and the airbike. "Extreme sports appeal to me."

  And that made her nervous again. Did that include bedroom activities, too? He was so strong and massive, he could easily snap her bones without any effort. One hit from him, and she'd be dead....

  Violent and merciless, the Iron Hammer dominates the Ring like no other fighter in history. He's the one fighter the others unanimously fear facing. We have it on good authority that several have even gone into seizures after their managers told them they'd been contracted to fight him.

  He paused as he looked at her. "You okay?"

  "Yeah."

  Talyn hesitated. In spite of her response, she was obviously upset. "Did I say something wrong?"

  "No. It's all good."

  But it wasn't. And that made him ache deep inside. Was it his birth standing?

  That made sense. It was the most common thing held against him by the world. And it was why he refused to give interviews. First question was invariably about lineage, then next how his parents felt about his fighting record. Whenever he answered that he had no father, it made them gasp and step back like he was a disease carrier. The second evoked pity, and he hated that most of all.

  So he'd learned to keep himself isolated and avoid or deflect awkward questions like a crotch plague. He'd hope

d a companion wouldn't make him have to tiptoe through land mines and guard every word he spoke.

  Obviously, he'd been wrong. You know better than to speak to others, dumbass. How stupid are you that you can't ever be taught?

  Why had he thought anything could change? That she, a paid companion, wouldn't be bothered by his social standing? If he'd learned anything in life it should be that his sheer force of will didn't matter for Andarion shite. In the eyes of his race, he was garbage and that was all he'd ever be.

  Feeling daunted, he withdrew into himself and put more space between them. Fuck it. He couldn't change their culture.

  Or her mind or morals.

  Lesson learned. He'd just get through this meal in as much silence as he could manage, and return to base. Let her live out the next six months in his condo, and then he could go back to what he knew.

  What he was used to.

  She took his jacket off and handed it to him. No doubt, she didn't want it touching her skin and contaminating her. Heartsick, he shrugged it on, and gestured toward the cafe door.

  Felicia hesitated, wondering about his suddenly withdrawn mood. He was very reserved and stern now. Quiet. Even more so than when he'd been waiting for her at the agency. Did he have a chemical imbalance?

  A little frightened by his unwarranted somber mood, she entered the small cafe first, and immediately noticed how many Andarions cut Talyn a wide berth. He paid them no attention as he sat her toward the back.

  "Major," the waiter said as he brought menus for them. "Tara."

  "Thank you." Felicia opened the menu while Talyn set his down on the table. She peeked over the top of hers to find him staring at the floor. "Is something wrong?"

  He shrugged nonchalantly. "Not used to having lunch with someone."

  "You don't normally eat with your friends?"

  "Don't have any."

  She scowled at his emotionless tone. "None?"

  "I'm a bastard," he said simply.

  "Yeah? So am I." Yet she had a ton of friends. Well ... depending on the time of the month.

  "Your father isn't an Outcast, Felicia. I have no paternal lineage. At all. My caste class is -12-6."

  "Oh." Yeah, that would be a problem in a society that placed high importance and all personal value on dual family lineages. The only thing lower than his standing was an Outcast male.

  Something no Andarion wanted to be.

  While her parents had never married, both her mother and father came from elite noble families with very prestigious standings. Her caste was miles above his, which was even more rare on Andaria. Females always took care to tie themselves to males who were either equal to or above them in standing. The only exception being the royal eton Anatoles, who, as the ruling family, were the highest caste in their empire.

  His eyes filled with remorse, Talyn shifted in his seat. When he spoke, there was no emotion in his tone at all. "If you want to terminate your contract with me before I taint you, I'll understand. You won't have to worry. I'll pay the severance fees and you can go back to your agency."

  "Talyn," she breathed, touching his hand. "I don't care about your father or his standing. I'm more than happy to be here with you."

  Before he could respond, the waiter returned with water. "Are you ready to order?"

  Talyn inclined his head to her. "What would you like, mu tara?"

  You on a platter.

  Unfortunately, Talyn tartare wasn't one of her options. "I'm not sure. What do you recommend?"

  "I'm in training, so all I'm eating is lean white meat with nothing on it and whatever plain grain they have. I don't recommend that."

  She screwed her face up. "Seriously?"

  He nodded.

  She looked to the waiter. "What do you recommend?"

  "The sunset steak is exceptional. As is the summer salad."

  "I think I'll have the steak, well done."

  "And to drink?"

  "Wine."

  He took the menus without asking Talyn for his order.

  As she opened her mouth to speak, a human male hesitantly approached their table.

  "Hammer," he said to Talyn, whose face turned even more rigid. "You ready for tomorrow night?"

  "I am."

  "Good. I've got a month's credit riding on you. I'm looking forward to the payout." He held a small link and stylus out to Talyn. "Would you mind signing this for my grandson? He's a huge fan of yours."

  Only then did Talyn relax a degree. "Sure. What's his name?"

  "Gelun. G-e-l-u-n."

  Talyn signed it and handed it back to the man, who smiled happily.

  He clutched the autograph to his chest. "I won't keep you from your female. Good luck tomorrow night."

  "Thanks."

  Felicia arched a brow at the strange occurrence.

  "I'm a Ring fighter." Talyn took a drink of water.

  "One of my friends told me that after I'd signed our contract. I had no idea before then. What made you want to be one?"

  He sighed heavily. "They wouldn't let me into OT, otherwise."

  "OT?"

  "Officer training."

  Felicia felt sick at what he was telling her. Ring fighting was a brutal blood sport where opponents tried to kill each other for entertainment. Many times, they succeeded. Honestly, the entire sport and those who participated in it repulsed her. "How long have you been fighting?"

  "Nine years."

  That shocked her even more. Who in their right mind would allow their child to participate in something so horrific as a baby? "You were an infant when you started."

  "Almost eleven. Normal age for most boys who seriously go into it. I was big for my age back then. They thought I was fifteen and I didn't bother to correct them." He let out a bitter laugh. "Besides, Open doesn't ask for ID--which is why it's called Open. So long as you have the entry fee, they'll let you fight."

  Felicia barely caught herself before she contradicted him about the beginning age for fighters. For Vested fighters with lineage, seventeen was the normal age to start--after years of private training, with carefully selected instructors, and very specific rules and limitations for those who weren't ranked as pros. As a bastard without lineage, Talyn would have been in the Open league, which was even more brutal, as they were treated like, and viewed as, cockfighting animals. They had no rules whatsoever, or personal trainers, and she had no idea how old those boys were when they began. Obviously, they started in infancy.

  "How often do you fight?"

  "Two or three times a month, during prime season."

  She was aghast at the amount.

  "Iron Hammer! Holy shite!" This time it was an Andarion male in business clothes who came up to them. "I didn't know you ate here! Would you mind taking a photo with me?"

  "Sure."

  The male handed his link to his friend as Talyn rose to stand beside him. After his friend took the picture, he held his hand out to Talyn. "I'm a huge fan. It's so awesome to meet you."

  "You, too." Talyn retook his seat after they left.

  Frowning, she was confused by all the attention he garnered. "Are you famous?" Since they were considered the mongrel dogs of the Ring sporting world, it was rare for any Open league fighter to be known to the general public.

  His cheeks mottled with color before he answered. "I just won the Zoftiq title for Vested a few months back. And I'm the former Open league Zof champ. I had to surrender that title when I won Vested."

  She gaped at something that was as impressive as it was rare. Fresca had definitely not told her that. Nor had she found it on her cursory search.

  Strange.

  "Really?" she gasped.

  Sheepishly, he glanced away. "I'm also undefeated in both leagues."

  Her head spun at what he was saying. "Talyn ... that's incredible! Why didn't you tell me?"

  "You said on your profile that you hated Ring fighting and wanted no part of it."

  "Well, yeah, but--"

  "I didn't think you'd talk to me if you knew."

  He was right. She probably wouldn't have. She'd always thought of fighters as brain-addled morons who pummeled each other because they were too dumb to know better. But that wasn't true of Talyn. He was definitely not what came to her mind when she thought of the lunatics who made their glory in violence and entrails.

  "How long do you intend to fight?"

  "Just until I make a commander's rank. If I don't fight, I have no other way to get promoted."

  That didn't make sense to her. "You're Zoftiq champion of both leagues. Why aren't you a commander?"

  "I'm the bastard son of a disowned male, Felicia," he repeated. "-12-6. A slave or criminal has more standing than I do. Even in the military."

  In that moment, her heart broke for him. He was right, and it wasn't fair. Any Vested Andarion would be adjutant to the prime commander of their military if they'd achieved so much, especially at his age. They'd have their pick of posts and ranks.

  Yet he was merely a major. Not even one with a command position.

  In that moment, she, a diehard pacifist, wanted to beat someone.

  "Why has no one in your father's family adopted you?" That was normally what the family did to protect the children of sons who, for whatever crime, had been cast out of their lineages. Almost always, the grandmother, great-grandmother, or a sister stepped in and reclaimed the innocent children. "Do they not know about you?"

  There was no missing the anguish her question caused him. "They know. They just don't care."

  The waiter returned with their food. Felicia had to force herself not to curl her lip at what Talyn was forced to eat. Water, and a giant portion of plain white meat, brown rice, cut-up raw fruit, and three hard-boiled eggs. They weren't even salted.

  "Is that really what you're eating?"

  He nodded. "I have a very restricted diet whenever I'm in training."

  "Out of curiosity, champ, when aren't you training?"

  He snorted before he spoke again. "I have a very restricted diet, all the time."

  She shook her head. "When was the last time you had cake?"

  "My tenth birthday."

  "Is that a joke?"

  "I don't think so."

  Feeling guilty, she sampled her delicious-looking food. Which was quite tasty. "So what exactly is your daily schedule like?"

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