Born of the Night (4 page)

Nykyrian hated the way Rachol was able to read him. Though he kept his expressions and

moods carefully guarded, Rachol had always possessed an uncanny ability to see past his

facade. "I really wish you would stop second guessing my thoughts. We're too back-

logged to take on any more. You'll have to apologize to her father. Tell him to call out his

Gourish troops to protect her."

Nykyrian stood. He moved to the right wall and pushed the buttons for his change of

clothes. "We're not baby sitters," he finished, stripping his battlesuit off.

Rachol turned his back to Nykyrian and continued talking, "You're attracted to her?"

"I'm not blind," Nykyrian snapped. "Can you tell me she holds no appeal for you?"

Rachol laughed. "Oh yeah. But, I also know how many times you've gone to see her

dance. Face it, Kip, you're infatuated with the woman, and that's not like you."

"I lust for her, nothing more." Nykyrian replaced the wall. Picking up his boots from the floor, he sat in his chair.

"Nothing more?" Rachol asked, swinging his chair around to face him with a cocked eyebrow.

Nykyrian glowered at him as he jerked his boots on. "This discussion is terminated." He retrieved his glasses from the table and put them on to hide his odd green, human eyes.

With one last grimace at Rachol, he left the room.

Nykyrian disregarded Rachol's words. He was a soldier, not some love-besotted fool. All

too well, he knew his duties and obligations, nothing would ever distract him from them.

Making his way toward Mira and her post, Nykyrian was glad to shed his Nemesis guise.

The birth of Nemesis had been necessity— it left him free to roam without many snipers

taking shots at him. And with his hybrid looks, if the authorities were to ever learn the

identity of Nemesis, it wouldn't take his enemies long to find him.

For now, people assumed Nykyrian Quiakides to be a minion of the Nemesis; a role that

suited him well. As long as his identity was secret, he could maintain a quasi-normal

existence.

He reminded himself that his identity was only one of many reasons he could never

involve himself with someone. If he had learned anything in his life, it was that no one

could ever be trusted.

People were his friends, until he looked the other way.

Nykyrian stifled the emotions that filled him as he thought of Kiara, and reverted to the

soothing emptiness he relied upon.

Two

Once again, Kiara woke to unfamiliar surroundings. She recalled Nemesis and jolted up,

her heart lodged painfully in her throat.

Where was she? What had they done with her?

Kiara searched the room hurriedly with her eyes, looking for some clue about her fate.

The dim overhead light reflected against the pale steel walls, giving them a strange,

shadowlike appearance. Drawn by a sudden movement in one corner, she focused her

eyes on a pudgy, elder woman who watched her from a reclining chair.

"You're safe." The woman smiled sweetly, her aged face that of a kind grandmother. "No one here will hurt you."

The woman's dark brown eyes glowed with honesty and warmth. Kiara trusted her.

Surveying the room as the lights brightened, she noticed the richness of the furnishings.

The bed she sat upon was made of dark, carved wood, a rarity few could afford. White

gossamer sheers hung over the tall posts, shielding the bed from a stray draft.

Kiara looked back at the woman. "Where am I?" she asked.

"The where isn't important. You'll be home soon now that you're awake." She stood,

beaming with a face Kiara recognized as one belonging to a fan. "Are you hungry or

thirsty?"

At Kiara's declination, she moved toward the door. "My name's Mira. You stay here and

I'll retrieve your battlesuit."

Kiara watched her leave. In the still quietness of the room, she heard the fierce wind

outside and an insistent thumping. Her gaze was drawn to the brightly colored windows

on the far wall. An odd-shaped tree blew in the strong wind, knocking branches against

the window. Kiara felt every bit as controlled by unseen forces and just as helpless

against them.

Kiara sighed, her thoughts turning toward her father. No doubt he was frantically hurling

angry curses at his poor soldiers, ordering them out to search every fraction of space for

her. Her throat tightened as she prayed these people really intended to return her to

Gouran.

The door slid open, startling her from her thoughts.

She turned to see a man entering, not Mira. Kiara pulled the cover to her chin, hesitant

toward the stranger, not quite afraid, but definitely grateful for the tiny amount of

protection the sheers provided her.

Nykyrian paused. He had assumed Kiara would still be asleep. He should have known

better.

Her wide, amber eyes watched him with keen interest. Morbidly, he wondered what they

would look like if he were to announce himself as the feared, unholy Nemesis.

But then, he knew all too well what her reaction would be. Her eyes would grow wide in

panic, she would no doubt scream in terror, and beg for her life.

He breathed a weary sigh.

Her gaze drifted over him, and his body immediately reacted as if she had caressed him

with her hands.

She was the only woman he had wanted in many years. It took all his self-control not to yield to his torturous desire to kiss her and find out how it felt to have her slender arms

wrapped tightly about him while he buried himself deep within her. He also felt another

need he couldn't quite name.

Kiara's heart raced. The man was tall, dressed all in black. Even through the sheer veil

separating them, the silver inlays on his boots and gun-belt shimmered in the light. A

thin, black coat trailed to his ankles, pulled back on the left side to show the presence of a holstered blaster.

The first three buttons of his silk shirt were left undone, displaying the promise of a

tanned, well-muscled body. A deep scar ran from the base of his throat along his

collarbone, disappearing under the shirt. She had a strong desire to investigate where that

scar led.

Even though the top half of his face was covered by dark opaque glasses, she could tell

he was extremely handsome. His face, tanned and clean-shaven, held a look of steeled

determination. His long, almost white blond hair was braided down his back. By that, she

knew he was a warrior of superb skill.

An aura of power and danger emanated from him, intoxicating her. She could almost feel

the strength of his body.

"I assume Mira has gone for clothing," he said in an accent she couldn't quite place and a deep-timbred voice that sent shivers along her body.

"You're Andarion," she said, noting his teeth. She was slightly afraid at the revelation.

Nykyrian opened his mouth and ran his tongue over his long, canine teeth. "Don't worry,

I don't eat humans," he replied.

Kiara was relieved. "Are you the one who will take me home?" she asked as he came

forward to lean against the tall bedpost.

"If you prefer, I can find a human to deliver you."

She considered him for a moment. Maybe it would be safer to have a human escort.

Kiara lowered her gaze down his body, admiring the casual pose. His tight, leather pants

emphasized the muscled thighs beneath. Her blood ignited. Never had she been so

attracted to a man. Licking her suddenly dry lips, she decided she could tolerate him long

enough to return her.

"No, I trust you." Kiara smiled.

"Not wise. I'm not trustworthy," he cautioned, sending a wave of apprehension and curiosity over her.

Their exchange was curtailed as Mira returned, the battlesuit draped over her shoulder.

"Oh Nykyrian," she said in startled alarm. "I didn't know you were here."

Kiara noted Mira's obvious discomfort.

"I'll wait outside," he said, moving to the door.

Mira's frown followed him.

As soon as he was gone, Kiara drew the bed veil to one side and stepped from the bed.

Her toes curled away from the chilly floor. "You don't like him?" she asked.

Mira jumped as if she had stepped on her foot. "No," she said in a rush. "It's not that. It's just . . . He's just ... a little odd, I guess." Mira handed her the suit.

Kiara admitted there was something about him that unsettled her as well. "Who is he?"

"Nykyrian ..." Mira paused, her brows knitted. "I have forgotten his last name, very few ever use it. He has a dislike for it."

"How peculiar."

"Yes it is." Mira leaned closer and whispered, "He's a renegade League Assassin."

Kiara's heart stilled. "I didn't think the League allowed their assassins to leave."

Mira shook her head gravely. "They don't. Nykyrian's the only one to ever leave who

managed to live beyond a week. I've heard it whispered he was some kind of decorated

hero."

Kiara frowned. A hero? "Why did he leave?"

Mira shook her head. "No one knows for sure. He keeps to himself, almost never speaks

even when spoken to." Mira sighed. "Actually, most people around here tend to avoid

him because he's hybrid."

Kiara's frown deepened. "Hybrid what?"

"Half human, half Andarion."

"How odd."

"Hmmm," Mira mumbled. "I'm sure you'll be fine alone with him. He's the best scout the OMG has."

Kiara digested Mira's gossip as she toyed with the sleeve of her battlesuit. "He doesn't kill anymore?"

"No, at least not to my knowledge." Mira held her hand out to Kiara. "Enough gossip. It's been a great pleasure meeting you, Miss Biardi. I wish you success with your new show."

Smiling, Kiara took Mira's warm, velvety hand and gave a short, smart shake. "It's been

an honor to meet you, Mira. Thank you for your kindness. If you ever want to come to

the new show, just give me a call and I'll leave you a pass at the door."

"Thank you. I just might do that." Mira's eyes were bright with friendship as she took her leave.

Quickly, Kiara exchanged her gown for the black battlesuit. After she finished lacing the

front, she opened the door and entered the corridor to meet her escort. Nykyrian pushed

himself away from the far wall.

Kiara blushed as she realized how disheveled she appeared to him. She glanced down at

the suit. Obviously designed for a man, it trailed to the ground and fit her like a large

sack. Heaven only knew what her face looked like after the way Chenz had played

Griball with it.

Her dance promoters would definitely abandon her if they ever glimpsed her in such a

state. How many times had they told her she was an image and her image must always be

preserved.

Well, it couldn't be helped.

Recovering her lost vanity with a shake of her head, she looked back at her escort.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice reverberating in her mind, scorching her with its rich, refined tone.

Kiara licked her lips, wondering what it would feel like to kiss a dangerous assassin.

She had heard many tales about the League's most prized soldiers. They were a free lot,

trained to kill political targets and jealously protected as the League's most valuable

commodity. Kiara wondered what kind of man could defy the nefarious League that

protected and intimidated all governments with its military power. Even her own father,

who had more courage than most, refused to disobey a League directive.

For a moment, she thought Nykyrian might answer her unconscious summons for a kiss.

Then the most incredible thing happened, he moved away.

Kiara frowned in confusion, her cheeks warming from his rejection.

Nykyrian paused a few feet away from her. "Don't just stand there," he chided. "You need to get home. Your father was very worried."

"You called him?" Kiara asked, shocked he would be so considerate.

"Rachol did," he said before continuing down the hallway.

Kiara was miffed by his easy dismissal of her. She had to struggle to keep up with his

long strides which rapidly took him down the corridor to a large, landing bay.

Nykyrian led her to a black fighter in the far left corner. They passed several people, but

no one spoke a greeting to Nykyrian. Kiara thought about Mira's words. No wonder the

man was distant.

He released the cockpit hatch by pressing a button on the side of the craft then placed his

hands around her waist to lift her up to the ladder. The heat of his strong hands through

the material of her suit, thrilled her. The gentle pressure massaged her skin, and stole her

breath.

Stop it, she told herself, he's not the first man to hold you. A small smile curved her lips.

No he wasn't, but he was definitely one of the most intriguing.

Finally gaining a modicum of control over her tumultuous emotions, Kiara climbed to the

top. She paused in confusion.

She looked down to where Nykyrian stood on the ground, oblivious to her.

Uncertainty filled her as she glanced back at the
one
seat inside the fighter. Was this the correct ship? Where was she supposed to sit, his lap? Warmth rushed through her at the

thought.

"Sit forward on the seat," Nykyrian instructed from below as he finally noticed her

hesitation.

She did as ordered.

From her seated position, Kiara saw someone come forward with two helmets and a

computer log. Nykyrian quickly signed the log, grabbed the helmets and joined her.

Trying to distract herself from the warm body squeezing in behind her, she studied the