Born of Fire (54 page)

“And I was drunk at the time.”

Nykyrian shoved him back to the couch. “The Syn I know has never been a coward. Don’t tell me you’re going to let some piece of ass—”

“Don’t you dare insult her!”

“Then there’s your answer, boy.” He handed the bottle back to him. “You have two choices. Put yourself out of all our miseries, or get off this damned couch and live. Really, Syn. This is beneath the ruthless man I call friend.”

“Fuck you. You have no idea what she said to me. She told me she was using me.”

“And Kiara told me she wished I’d died. I know your pain, Syn. I chugged it down whole and I even tried to wash it away with alcohol. But only one thing cured it.”

“And that was?”

“Swallowing my pride. No, it wasn’t easy and I choked on it. But I tell you what. Every day I wake up with that one tiny hand touching my skin makes up for whatever manhood I thought I’d lost by apologizing to her. You can sit here and masturbate all you want, but in the end it’s not the same thing. Trust me. I do know.”

Nykyrian pulled back to glare down at him. “Now, I’m going home to my wife and I’m going to be grateful that I was man enough to fight for her. I dare you to be the man I know you can be.” And with that, he left.

Syn lay there while Nykyrian’s words tormented him. In the end, he knew his friend was right. The only problem was he didn’t have it in him to get up.

Shahara leaned one hip against her kitchen counter, watching Caillen scroll through job listings on her computer.

“I’m never going to find another job,” he ground out between clenched teeth.

“That’s what you get for being a jerk.”

He cast a dirty glare her way. “So when are you going to dive into all that money you were paid? I need a loan.”

“Do I look like a bank?” She popped him playfully on the back of his head. “Get a job and then we’ll talk.”

“Fine, but if I had that much money, I sure wouldn’t live in this slime hole.”

Shahara looked around at her patched walls. Caillen was right—she did live in a dump. Over the last week, she’d looked at a couple of places to live, but so far she hadn’t found any place that seemed like home.

Even if she had, she wouldn’t have bought it. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t bring herself to spend any of the money.

Her guilt over Syn ran too deep.

It’d been six months since they released him. Six incredibly long, lonely months of wondering how he was, what he was doing.

Who he was doing it with.

He wanted nothing to do with her and she wasn’t about to go begging again. She might not have much in this world, but she did have her pride.

Sighing, she walked over to her shoddy cooling unit and poured herself a glass of juice. “Surely there has to be someone somewhere who needs a no-account pilot like you.”

Caillen made an obscene gesture at her.

Before she could respond, a knock sounded on her door.

Caillen frowned. “You expecting company?”

She shook her head, then went to answer the door.

It was a uniformed delivery man. “Good afternoon,
Fria
. I have a package here for Shahara Dagan.”

“I am she.”

“Good.” He held a ledger out for her. “If you’ll just sign—”

“I didn’t order anything,” she said, interrupting him.

“Ma’am, I’m just the messenger. If you’d like to talk it over with someone who knows something more about it, there’s a number on the invoice you can hail.” He held the ledger out for her once again.

Signing her name, she took the box from his hands.

Caillen looked up. “What is it?”

She shrugged and reached for a knife to open it. Unfolding the box, her frown grew. Layers of gold tissue paper met her hand and she dug through it until she touched something incredibly soft.

Picking it up, her mouth dropped open.

It was the blue-green dress from the hotel lobby that she’d wanted so badly. Not only the dress, but everything that went with it—stockings, shoes, even a shawl.

“Did
he
send you that?”

“Shut up, Caillen,” she snapped, reveling in the softness as she held the delicate sleeve up to her cheek. It really did feel as soft as a spider’s web. Warmth spread through her.

Why would Syn have sent her this?

Unless . . .

Her heart sped up. Could it be his way of apologizing?

It must be.

And if he were ready to see her again, then maybe, just maybe . . .

Elated, she rushed to the bathroom to try her dress on. Once she had settled it over her body, she ran her hands down the front. Oh, it was magnificent. And it made her feel so beautiful. So feminine.

Needing to share it with someone, she twirled back out to where Caillen sat. “What do you think?”

He glanced over at her and snorted. “You look like some rich guy’s mistress. I think it’s disgusting.”

“You’re so mean.” Shahara unbraided her hair, then twisted it up into a loose bun. Pulling stray tendrils of it around her face, she glared at Caillen. “It’s your own
fault you can’t find work. After what you said to Syn, you deserve to starve and go begging in the streets.”

For the first time, she saw contrition in his eyes. “I know I shouldn’t have said what I did. But you have to understand that there’s a special code between guys—you don’t bed-rock with your best friend’s sister. Ever.”

She rolled her eyes at his crudeness.

“You’re my big sister, Shay, and I always thought you were above baser emotions.”

“Oh, thanks a lot.”

Caillen sighed. “I wish I could tell him I’m sorry.”

“Why don’t you?”

His spine went ramrod stiff. “I’m a man,
Trisa
, not a wimp.”

“There’s a spice shipment that needs to be delivered to Derridia tonight.”

Shahara turned around at the deep baritone voice she’d longed to hear. Like a feral predator watching its target, Syn stood in the shadow of her sheet, just inside her bedroom.

She looked over to Vik, who sat whistling guiltily in the corner. The little booger must have let Syn in while she’d been trying on her dress.

“Why don’t you call Criam and tell him I said for you to take it?”

Caillen rose slowly to his feet. “You sure?”

Syn glanced to Shahara. “Good pilots are a
dina
a dozen, but great pilots are hard to replace.” He looked back at Caillen. “Now go on before I change my mind.”

Caillen shrugged his jacket on and gave Shahara a quick peck on her cheek. “I’ll call you later.” Then he dashed out the door.

Shahara licked her suddenly dry lips as Syn turned his obsidian gaze back to her.

Gods, he was gorgeous. With his hair down and his cheeks dusted by whiskers, he wore an entirely white outfit that made his skin appear even darker than normal. The white linen outlined every corded muscle, and his pants hugged a rump so prime that it begged to be savored.

In spite of herself, her blood raced.

Feeling suddenly awkward, she searched for something to say.
Tell him you love him.

No, she couldn’t do that.

Not yet.

“Thank you for the dress,” she said, deciding that was innocuous enough.

With a sheepish grin, he rubbed his neck. “I thought it would be a nice change to see you in something other than pants and work clothes.” A hungry light flickered in the darkness of his eyes. “You look great.”

So do you.
He’d lost some weight. Not much, just enough to heighten the appearance of his well-developed muscles.

Every piece of her was attuned to him, and all she wanted was to rush to him and pull him into her arms. Run her hands over his muscles and take him . . .

But the thought of his rejection kept her feet riveted to the floor. She wouldn’t embarrass herself.

At least not yet.

Silence hung heavy between them. Shahara bit her lip, waiting for him to say something.

Vik turned into a bird. “You know, I’m feeling really awkward, people. Think I’m going to visit with Caillen for a bit.” He took off out the window.

At last Syn crossed the distance between them and took her hands in both of his. An emotion she couldn’t define creased his brow. “I’ve missed you, Shahara.”

His words gave her so much ecstasy that she felt like singing.

But she couldn’t.

Instead she gave him a tender smile. “I’ve missed you, too.”

“No.” He cupped her face in his hands while he stared at her with those obsidian eyes. Eyes that mirrored the depth of his emotions, and allowed her to see straight into his soul. “I mean I’ve
really
missed you.”

“And?”

“And what?”

She looked up at him. All she wanted was for him to say it. For him to tell her that he loved her.

Was that so hard?

She saw his devotion, but that wasn’t enough. If he couldn’t say it . . .

“Never mind.”

Syn stared at her in confusion as she pulled away from him. Why was she being so distant?

Fine, then. Two could play that. Folding his arms across his chest, he leaned against the wall. “I heard you quit your job.”

“Yeah.” She shut down her computer that Caillen had left on. “I surrendered my license as soon as I came home.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “Before I met you, I always thought justice was black and white. Right and wrong. You showed me that it wasn’t that simple. And I became terrified when I thought about how many innocent people I might have helped execute. I don’t want to be that person anymore.”

She looked up at him with those haunting golden
eyes that seared his soul. “I couldn’t stand the thought of what I’d done to you.”

He pulled her back into his arms. “I need you to be a part of my life.”

She tensed. “Yes, you’ve told me that before and then you refused to speak to me for six months.”

“Well, you did hand me over to the man who wanted to kill me.”

Sadness shadowed her eyes and she looked down at his chest. “I know.”

He lifted her chin so that he could see her expression. “Why didn’t you give Merjack the right chip?” He wanted her to tell him it was because she loved him too much to see him die.

“Because I was a seax, sworn to uphold justice and I was on a mission for them.”

He winced as she confirmed his fear. He really didn’t mean anything to her.

“Oh.” He took a step back and released her.

Shahara waited for him to continue.

When he started for the door, she called out, “Why did you think I did it?”

“Nothing. It was stupid.” He reached for the latch, then stopped.

She watched as various emotions crossed his face. He closed his eyes and looked like he was battling the devil himself.

Finally he spoke. “I can’t do this again,” he said in a voice so low she wasn’t sure she’d heard him.

Before she could ask him what he meant, he returned to her side. “I love you, Shahara. You showed me what it was like to talk to someone. Really talk. And now . . . I can’t live without you.”

He knelt before her and took her hand in his.

She stared down at him, awed that a man so strong had humbled himself for
her
.

“Save me, Shahara,” he whispered. “Save me from the lonely nights that never end.” He reached into his pocket and took out the ring she’d seen that night in the hotel. He slid it on her finger and kissed it. “I want you to marry me, Shahara.”

Shocked, she stared at the beautiful ring. “Whose ring is this?”

“Yours.”

That destroyed her mood and the tender feelings he’d stirred. “Oh, please,” she snapped. “I saw you with it the night you were arrested. How many years have you had it?” She narrowed her gaze. “Who did you buy it for?”

He smiled up at her. “I bought it for you because the color reminded me of your eyes. It was in the store where I bought our clothes. I have the receipt if you want to see it.”

She shook her head, her heart pounding. He really did love her. She couldn’t believe it. “No, baby. I trust you.”

“Then say you’ll marry me.”

She smiled as joy swept through her and left her breathless. “I will marry you, Sheridan Digger Wade.”

His dimple flashed. “Call me Syn.”

“As much as I’d like to
give in to Syn,
” she said, crinkling her nose playfully at him, “I don’t think I can. You’re not even willing to share
that
name with me. I still don’t know what the C.I. stands for. Besides, Shahara Syn sounds like a disease, or a city.”

His warm laugh thrilled her as he stood up in front of her. “Okay, you want to know what C.I. stands for?”

“If you want me to agree to marry you I do.”

She watched in amazement as a deep red stain crept over his face.

Could it
really
be that embarrassing?

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at her from under his lashes. “Do you remember, years ago, that little cartoon vorna cub on the back of
moglas
boxes?”

What did that have to do with anything?

“That cute one who was always getting into trouble?” she asked.

He nodded. “He was named C.I.”

Her mouth dropped open as it dawned on her. A laugh bubbled up and before she could squelch it, it burst through, making his face an even brighter shade of red.

“You’re kidding. You named yourself after a cartoon?”

“I told you it was embarrassing. I was just a stupid kid, and no one wanted to deal with a kid who didn’t have at least a pretense of a real name. I thought it sounded cool.”

She shook her head. “In that case, I will definitely be calling you Sheridan.”

His eyes twinkled. “I don’t think you can do it. You’re too used to calling me Syn.”

“Oh please, Syn, I . . .”

He flashed his dimple at her. “Told you.”

Unwilling to let him have this victory, she tried to think of a name to call him. “How about Syn Wade?”

“How about
you
,
Gildagard
, kiss me and we go and find a priestess so that I can make an honest woman out of you?”

She stood on her toes and met his lips.

Syn’s arms tightened around her waist as he kissed
her senseless. He pulled away from her with a soft moan.