Biting her lip, Shahara looked back at her food and realized she wasn’t hungry after all.
God, how she wanted to walk over to him and hug him. To let him know that he didn’t have to be alone like this. It would be so easy and yet it was far too difficult for her. She would never be able to give him that comfort.
After all, it wasn’t her place. They were strangers trapped in a desperate situation. She was nothing to him.
But as she watched him, she realized she didn’t want to be nothing where he was concerned. She wanted to be like her brother and call him friend.
She’d seen enough to know that he was the best friend anyone could ever have.
At last the calls stopped. Syn turned his back to her and began hammering away at an old-fashioned keyboard.
Shahara pushed her food around her plate while she looked around the room again. Her gaze paused on the piano. He must really like to play, given that he owned two of them. But that, too, seemed incongruous to her.
When had he learned it? Who had taught him?
“What’s your mother’s birthday?”
She looked back at Syn. “What?”
“Your mother’s birthday. What is it?”
Her defenses went into hyperdrive. “Why do you want to know that?”
He let out a sound of utter aggravation. “After all her questions, she won’t answer one simple one for me.” He shook his head. “I’m leaving a message coded for Caillen. I thought I’d lock it with something only he would know.”
Shahara raked him with a skeptical look. “Are you telling me that the great computer filch can’t find out a simple birthday?”
He snorted. “Yeah, I could access her medical records, but it’d be a lot faster if you simply gave it to me.”
“8510.25.3.”
“Thank you.”
Shahara carried her plate to the sink, then, taking her drink, she went over to the desk. “What are you doing anyway?”
“Nothing.”
As she scanned what he’d been working on, she gasped. “Is that your will?”
He darkened the page. “It’s nothing.”
Setting her glass down on his desk, Shahara was stunned by his actions. “Why would you leave everything to Caillen?”
Syn started to move away.
She reached out and grabbed his arm. “Why?”
“I don’t have anyone else to leave it to,” he said, shrugging her grip away.
“What about Nykyrian?”
“He doesn’t need any more money and neither does Darling.”
His features impassive, he moved to stand before the windows and stare out into the darkness. Shahara wondered how often he did that and something inside told her that he must do it a lot.
She ached for him. Ached for a way to ease the pain that must haunt him.
What would it be like to be all alone? To have no one to talk over problems with? No one to share birthdays with?
He’d lived that way most of his life. Yes, he had friends but they all lived independent lives.
Wanting to comfort him, she went to stand beside him. “Tell me about Kiara Zamir’s murder. How were you involved?”
His jaw turned to steel.
“I’m not accusing you of it,” she said quickly. “I just want to know how you got blamed for it.”
His jaw eased a little. “It’s simple really. We were hired to protect her. Because of his past with The League, Nykyrian has a lot of enemies out to kill him. One of them took the contract out on Kiara and Kip is just bonus pay.”
“Kip?”
“My nickname for Nykyrian. Anyway, we were keeping her at her flat when one of the assassins and his team showed up for them. We had to move her before her father could approve the new location. Needless to say, he overreacted to us moving her without his knowledge.”
“Where did you take her?”
“Nykyrian’s place. It’s where they both are right now, shacked up in suicidal bliss. Crippin’ idiots.”
She didn’t understand the problem, if that was all there was to it. “Why doesn’t Nykyrian return her?”
The look he gave her was chilling. “He would rather die than give her up. They are in love.” Could there be any more loathing added to his tone?
“And you’re caught in the middle of it?”
He nodded. “I signed the contract and took responsibility for the princess. In her father’s mind, I’m as guilty of kidnaping her as Nykyrian is.”
“What about the rape charges?”
“That one baffles me, but I guess in his mind we are low enough that if we have her, we must be animals enough to rape her. Cause let’s face it, we’re unconscionable scum.”
She hated the fact that he was right. To the upper crust, they were garbage, barely one step up from rodents. “Surely you can explain it to him.”
He snorted. “Have you ever tried to reason with an aristo? Mercy and understanding aren’t exactly things they concern themselves with. Killing us plebs is.”
That was certainly true enough.
“Doesn’t it anger you?”
“Every minute of my life, but there’s nothing I can do about it. It is what it is. Just like I can’t help being hunted down and tortured because I know a secret about another aristo.” His look cut through her.
She glanced away, ashamed of how wrong she’d been to do to him what she had.
“I’m going to call Caillen,” he said quietly. “You want to speak to him?”
Before she could answer he added, “On second thought, let me call first and then you call him. He’d have a fit if he knew we were together, and I’m really too tired to deal with his crap right now.”
Shahara nodded at his wisdom and watched him while he made the call. She sighed as the line buzzed. As usual, Caillen wasn’t home.
“Hey, Cai,” Syn said as he left a message. “I wanted you to know that I’ve already taken care of this week’s pay and I’m leaving you a hefty bonus. If you need more, just pull it from petty cash and we’ll settle it up later. I don’t want you doing another run through Solaras. Damn boy, get a brain. Stay safe and I’ll catch up to you soon.” He cut the transmission. “You want to call?”
She shook her head. “I’ll wait.” If she called too close after Syn, he might get suspicious. Especially if Kasen had told him the two of them were last seen together.
That could get really bloody.
Syn let out a long breath. “I’m sure you’re tired, so follow me to the bedroom.” He went over to the door beside the kitchen and pressed the controls.
Once more, her mouth dropped. A jumbo-sized, ebony-wood bed was set next to another window with a breathtaking view. The cream-colored silk comforter and pillows looked as soft as a cloud.
The bed’s ornately carved headboard matched the geometric design of the ebony-wood dresser and nightstand. There were also more paintings on the walls, originals she was sure.
He stepped into the room and opened another door to the left. “The bathroom’s in here. You’ll find plenty of fresh linens and soap. I don’t really have anything for you to sleep in, but if you want to clean your clothes, you can borrow one of my shirts from the closet.”
Putting her head inside the bathroom, she saw the personal-sized clothes washer and dryer set into the wall.
“Do you need anything else?”
Just you, she thought, but she knew she could never say that aloud. “I think I have it.”
“All right, I’ll be outside reviewing data on the Rits and their activities if you need me.”
And then he was gone.
Shahara took a seat on the bed and wondered how many nights Syn had lain here, alone, and watched the quiet peacefulness of space. Did it soothe him? Or did it just make him feel all the more lonely?
“Oh, what does it matter?” she whispered. “He has his life and you have yours.” And the two of them could never be together. She couldn’t even stand for a man to touch her.
So why did she keep imagining fantasies of them together?
It just wasn’t meant to be.
“At least you have a family,” she said with a sigh. But right now, that wasn’t much comfort at all.
Syn heard Shahara moving around in his bedroom and it made him hard enough he could hammer a steel spike with his erection. She’d left the shower several minutes ago and he was sure she was digging around his closet. An image of her wet, naked body flashed before his eyes and he cursed.
“Focus, rat,” he snarled, looking back at his sat readouts. “You’ve got a lot of info to cover and not that much time.”
Still, his mind tortured him with thoughts of her beneath him until he feared he’d lose what sanity he had left.
What was wrong with him? He’d tried this before and look what had happened. He’d had his heart torn apart.
His past would never let him be and it would forever separate him from any other person.
Caillen doesn’t see you that way; maybe she won’t either.
He paused at the thought. It was true. Neither Kasen nor Caillen ever threw his past back at him. They treated him like a friend.
And if they could, maybe, just maybe, Shahara could too.
“Stop it,” he growled at himself. “Don’t do this. You’re being stupid.” Because at the end of the day, they didn’t know as much about him as Shahara did. They only a knew a very sanitized version of his past.
Hell, for that matter, she only knew a sanitized version.
Even so, he couldn’t quite stifle the tiny voice in his head that begged him to take one more chance.
Hours later, Shahara came awake to the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard. Floating through the heavens, she could hear a soft melody that whispered around her, cajoling her, soothing her.
Then she realized it wasn’t a dream. Opening her eyes, she tilted her head to catch all the strains of the haunting melody. Played with such passion and skill, it brought a lump to her throat.
Curious, she rose from the bed and went to investigate. The outer room was dark except for two electric candles that flickered next to the piano. Syn sat on the bench, his hands flying over the keys as he played with his eyes closed. The shadows played against his dark skin, making him look even more dangerous than normal.
He’d taken off his tight black shirt and wore a loose-fitting cream one very similar to the one she’d chosen to sleep in. With the candlelight around him, he cut a dazzling picture.
She stared in amazement. Wherever had he learned how to play like that?
Suddenly, he opened his eyes and jumped. The music instantly stopped. “Ah, jeez,” he gasped. “You scared the hell out of me. I thought you were asleep.”
“I was.”
He closed the cover over the keys. “I’m sorry. I thought I had the volume turned down to where it wouldn’t disturb you.”
“It didn’t disturb me,” she assured him. “I just wanted to hear more. It was incredible.”
He offered her a shy smile. “Not really, but thanks.”
Without thinking, Shahara moved to sit next to him. “I always wanted to play one of these. My uncle had one in his house, and whenever we’d go to visit when we were kids, I’d fiddle with it.” Back then she’d have given anything to be able to play like he did.
“Why didn’t you take lessons?”
She looked at him drily.
“Sorry, stupid question.”
“How did you learn to play?”
Shrugging, he reached for a glass of wine and took a sip. “Too much time on my hands. I taught myself.”
She shook her head. “It seems like a strange thing for . . .”
“A street rat, filch, trash—”
She cut him off with a growl. “No. I was going to say a man like you to want to do. What made you want to play?”
He paused as if thinking about something in his past before he answered. “There was a woman who lived across the street from us when I was a kid. She gave lessons each afternoon and I’d sit out on the stoop and just listen to them play. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard. Like a piece of heaven. My father hated music, so to me it made it all the sweeter. After I’d started working for Kip, I was walking past a store one day and saw the one I have at my apartment in the window.” He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth as if he were savoring the memory. “It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. So I bought it without a second thought and then sat there until I’d learned to play it.”
“So Mara didn’t get everything then?”
Pain flickered deep in his eyes and she hated that she’d inadvertently caused it. “No, I walked out on it and left it with her. But Kip . . . he bought it off her and returned it to me. He said he knew how much it meant to me and he wasn’t about to let the whore sell it to someone else.” The ragged emotion in his voice brought an ache to her throat.
“You love him?”
“Like a brother. He’s the only person I can fully trust at my back.”
And that was why he was willing to die rather than take Kiara home to her father and clear his name. It made sense to her now. He wouldn’t hurt his friend for anything.
Better he should die . . .
The candlelight flickered against the burgundy liquid of his wine and flashed in his entrancing eyes. He cleared his throat and Shahara became aware of where she sat.
What had made her stray so close to him?
Still, it didn’t seem wrong or frightening to her. Somehow it felt only natural to be beside him.
“Do you mind?” she asked, touching the cover.
“No, go ahead.”
She flipped it back and stared at the black keys.
“Here,” he said, turning the volume up. “Pound to your heart’s content.”
Syn watched as she played with the keys and set a disjointed melody. Maybe it was the wine—and he’d drunk a lot of it—or the scent of lilac that drifted from her hair, or maybe his earlier thoughts, but something sent wave after wave of heat to his groin. And every minute she sat next to him wearing nothing but one of his shirts, the more uncomfortable it became to just sit and not touch.
He shifted slightly, his pants suddenly way too tight.
She frowned as she struck an ugly chord.
He took another drink of wine and set the glass to the side. “Here,” he said, marking the spot on the keyboard. “This is C.” He showed her how to arch her fingers and alternate them down a simple scale.
She duplicated his movements and finally produced something that was harmonious. “I did it!”
When she looked up at him, her gaze sparkling, his breath caught in his throat.
Candlelight flickered in the golden depths of her eyes, catching the raw spark of vitality that glowed from deep within her soul. The thin shirt she wore was drawn taut over her hardened nipples and her unbound breasts shook with her excitement. Gods, she was beautiful.
Her smile slowly faded. Her breathing sped up and she licked her lips.
Syn tensed, his control slipping as he watched her tongue moisten the very thing he wanted desperately to taste.
Was it an invitation? The last time he’d kissed her, she’d been so afraid that he hesitated to try again.
But as he watched her, a fierce hunger gripped him and he knew he’d die if he walked away unsatisfied.
Shahara opened her mouth slightly. She wanted to beg for a kiss, but the words were lodged in her throat. And just when she was sure he’d never comply, he dipped his head down and took possession of her lips.
This time there was no panic. Instead, he teased her lips lightly with his own while his right hand came up to cup the back of her head. Shahara moaned at the sensation. How she wanted this man.
For the first time since Gaelin, she wanted to know what pleasure could be had between a man and a woman.
Even though the thought almost overwhelmed her with fear, she knew that Syn was the only one she could trust. He wou
ld never hurt her. And she knew she would never feel this way again about any other man.
He alone made her feel safe.
Protected.
I’ll never have this chance again.
Pulling back, she stared deep into those dark eyes that hid an unfathomable pain. “Teach me, Syn,” she whispered against his lips. “Show me that it doesn’t have to hurt.”
His eyes mirrored shock. “What?”
“I want you to make love to me.”
CHAPTER 13
Syn stared in total stupor at her request. Did she mean it? One look into her eyes and he saw the sincerity.
No . . . I’m dreaming. Or high.
Brain damaged.
Something’s happening cause I definitely didn’t hear what I think I did.
There was no way Shahara Dagan would ask a piece of shit like him to make love to her. That would only happen in a drunken hallucinatory fog.
You are drunk.
Yeah, but not that drunk.
“I trust you to take away my fear,” she said softly, fingering a piece of hair by his ear. “Show me, Syn. Show me what it’s like to be unafraid.”
That was enough to actually sober him. His body sang in response. And before he could argue or have his conscience rear its ugly head, he stood and swept her up in his arms. He claimed her lips once more.
Taking her to the bedroom in record time, he placed her gently on the bed. As he looked down at her, he was awed by her beauty.
He’d never been with a woman like her before. All of his previous lovers had known many men before him. But Shahara was still technically a virgin.
She’d been taken, but never loved.
His mouth went dry at the thought. Who was he to be with her like this?
“Syn?” Shahara asked hesitantly as she watched him. Sadness darkened his eyes and he looked as if he, the man who feared nothing, was scared of her. She reached out and took his hand, then pulled him to sit next to her. “Are you all right?”
“I need a drink.”
She laughed at his ragged whisper. “I need you.”
He looked up at her words an instant before he reclaimed her lips with a hungry kiss that told her how much he needed her as well.
Sherrilyn Kenyon - [League 02] Page 24
