Born of Night

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Hauk arched one cynical brow. "What kept you?"

  Nykyrian didn't answer as he led them to their council chambers where Jayne was already seated and waiting for them.

  He could tell Hauk wanted to press the issue, but fear for his life kept him silent as he moved to sit down across from Jayne.

  The room was covered with a myriad of star charts and maps as well as whispers from some of their monitoring equipment. Everything was neat, tidy, and efficient, just the way he liked his life.

  Nykyrian walked to the monitor on his left and called up their assignments. He sent them to the table which was a large interactive monitor for their files where all of them could review their schedules.

  As he waited for his friends to remove their helmets and take their chairs, Nykyrian perused the listed items. It was a heavy load they were carrying, but that was nothing new, since The League and others seemed to think they were above the very laws they'd put into place.

  Nykyrian removed his own helmet and took his place at the head of the table. He gave the small group a cursory glance before he spoke to Syn. "Send a message to Kiefer Zamir that I'll return his daughter. I want him to know The Sentella had nothing to do with her abduction."

  Syn snorted as he made a note with his stylus on the terminal that glowed through the glass of the table. "No good deed goes unpunished." That was Syn's mantra that he repeated constantly, not that Nykyrian blamed him for it. It seemed to be ever true.

  He glanced up at Nykyrian. "Your luck, they'll shoot you down when you take her back." He made another quick note on his tablet. "By the way, I got the news from one of our spies that the Gouran Consulate fell apart two days ago when the Probekeins threatened to assassinate the councilors' kids. Eight contracts were drawn up for the terminations. Six children have been found mutilated, including Councilor Serela's boy we saw last night. I'll make sure word gets around that Chenz's death was because of his brutal murder of the kid."

  Nykyrian mentally flashed on Serela's tormented face and the sight of her son's remains. He'd killed Chenz too mercifully for his tastes. If only they'd had more time . . .

  "Other than Chenz, who were the others who accepted the Probekeins' contracts?"

  "Don't know," Syn answered.

  Nykyrian rubbed his jaw. "What were the negotiations between the Probekeins and Gourans over?"

  At Syn's shrug, Nykyrian folded his arms over his chest. "Sher, you're supposed to stay informed of all contracts for assassinations. Get off the bottle and find out the definite reasons for the killings as well as the name on the last contract and who holds it. My guess, the murders are over the new weapon the Probekeins are building. Either way, we need to know."

  "I'm on it." Syn quickly jotted it down.

  Nykyrian waited until he was finished. "You'd best inform Zamir immediately that his daughter's safe. I'm sure he's about bended over her disappearance."

  Syn stood, moving to comply with Nykyrian's last directive.

  "I think we should target Emperor Abenbi," Hauk said, watching Syn leave. Abenbi was the Probekeins' leader and head asshole. "It's time we showed the Probekeins they can't continue to bully other governments. Give them a taste of their own feces."

  Nykyrian shook his head. "That's not our decision. We'd best attend to our contracted hits. Our backlog is already too long. It'll be several weeks before we can take on any new assignments. At this point, it'd have to be a major emergency for new hire."

  Jayne sighed irritably as she leaned forward to read the table monitor where she'd maximized her schedule for viewing. "Why don't we expand our number? Surely out of the multitude we employ, there are a few suitable to doing the physical executions of contracts."

  Nykyrian gave her a dry stare. "Would you trust them at your back? The five of us are friends, have been so for years. Our loyalty to one another is without question. Are you willing to put your life into the hands of a stranger?"

  Jayne snorted. "Not with the price on my head . . . I suppose you're right."

  No shit. Jayne was one of the best, but sometimes she didn't think things through. Then again, he had a bad habit of thinking things over to the point of exhaustion. Between the two of them, they formed an almost normal balance.

  Syn returned a few minutes later and took his seat. He met Nykyrian's gaze. "Zamir will be expecting you. He also wants a meeting with me. Funny how we're wanted criminals until they need us." His gaze was as bitter as his tone. "I think Zamir's going to propose a contract for Kiara's protection."

  Nykyrian's heart quickened, but he hid all signs of it. "Did you schedule a meeting?"

  "This evening."

  Hauk turned in his chair, a smirk twisting his lips. "I thought we were too backlogged to take on anything new."

  Nykyrian shot him a venomous glare.

  Hauk held his hands up apologetically.

  Satisfied Hauk knew better than to question him further, Nykyrian pointed to the table where their schedules were displayed.

  As was typical, Hauk complained immediately about his. "Why am I always the backup for Darling and Jayne? Especially Darling. I wish you would teach him how to breach access codes. That dick's dangerous."

  "Me, dangerous? Last time we went out together, you set off two alarms. For a techspert, you're seriously lacking."

  "Careful, human," Hauk warned, showing Darling his fangs. "I might get hungry one of these nights and decide we no longer need a weaptech."

  Nykyrian shook his head at their bluster, knowing they were good friends. However, they continually harassed one another about their racial differences.

  Darling was from Caron, a human system. Hauk was Andarion--an advanced predatorial race that sometimes fed on humans. A hybrid of the two races, Nykyrian didn't really like listening to their bullshit.

  Hauk had the traditional Andarion features which made for an exceptionally handsome face. The long canine teeth flashed as Hauk smiled.

  Nykyrian was grateful his own teeth were smaller versions of Hauk's. Still, they were long enough to mark him as a bastard half-breed, especially when combined with his eyes, which he never showed to the world.

  Unlike Hauk, he couldn't stand his.

  But that was neither here nor there.

  "Jayne," Nykyrian said, facing the Hyshian assassin. "If you need help with your hits, I'll back you. That will free up some of Hauk's time."

  Jayne gave him a seductive smile. She loved the thrill of hunting and killing the corrupt. Nykyrian remembered a time past when he'd shared her enthusiasm, but those days had long fled. Now, he just wanted peace and solitude.

  "The number is low this week." Jayne scanned her list. Dragging her finger over a picture of the Probekein Emperor she'd called up, she electronically shot the photo across the desk to Hauk's seat. "I think I could schedule an opportunity to take out Abenbi." She winked at Hauk.

  Nykyrian shook his head as he closed Abenbi's file at Hauk's end. "Stick with the assigned political assassinations. I want no messages of the Probekein Emperor's murder."

  Hauk curled his lip. "That bastard deserves to die."

  Nykyrian tensed at the direct confrontation. "We have enough warrants out for our arrests. Let's not give them a reason to execute us, shall we? We need solid proof before we act. When I have it, I'll gladly allow you and Jayne to have him. Hell, I'll even help," he compromised, unwilling to fight with one of his few true friends. He had enough enemies for that.

  Hauk retreated back into his chair.

  Nykyrian glanced around at each of them. "We haven't any missions in the near future that require the entire group. There are some overlaps. Note them and plan accordingly. Keep your links open in case of an emergency. Our next meeting is in eight days, the time is noted on your schedule. Good luck," Nykyrian finished more out of habit than necessity.

  The members downloaded their assignments into their various portables, then grabbed their helmets and took their leave with Hauk donning the guise of Nemesis--a safeguard in c

ase someone was watching the room.

  Syn remained seated with Nykyrian, waiting for the room to clear.

  As soon as the door closed, Syn turned to face him. "I don't know if you should accept Zamir's contract. We can't afford liabilities."

  Nykyrian hated the way Syn was able to read him. Though he kept his expressions and moods carefully guarded, Syn had always possessed an uncanny ability to see past his facade and he was the only creature alive Nykyrian allowed to question his actions. "I really wish you'd stop second-guessing my thoughts. Like I told Hauk, we're too backlogged to take on any more. You'll have to apologize to her father. Tell him to call out his Gourish troops to protect her."

  He moved to the right wall and pushed the buttons for his change of clothes. "We're killers, not babysitters," he finished, stripping his battlesuit off.

  Syn turned his back to Nykyrian and continued talking, "You're attracted to her." It was a statement, not a question.

  "No shit," he said drily. "I'm not blind or dead . . . yet. Can you tell me she holds no appeal for you?"

  Syn laughed. "Oh hell yeah--I'd definitely love to get a piece of that. But I also know how many times you've gone to see her dance. Face it, Kip, you're infatuated with her, and that's not like you."

  "She's a beautiful woman. I lust for her, nothing more." Nykyrian replaced the wall, unwilling to let anyone, even Sheridan, know about his real feelings. Picking up his boots from the floor, he sat in his chair.

  "Nothing more?" Syn swung 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 shades from the table and put them on to hide his odd, green, human eyes.

  With one last grimace at Syn, he quit the room.

  He shoved Syn's words out of his mind as he walked down the corridor while people scurried away from him as if they feared he'd kill them just for being there.

  Like he would bother with any of them.

  Nykyrian rolled his eyes at their actions and Syn's stupid fears. He was a soldier, not some lovesick idiot. All too well, he knew his duties and obligations, nothing would ever distract him from them. Especially not a dancer whose father ruled a government and an army that wanted him dead.

  He was and had been many things in his life, but stupid had never been one of them.

  Making his way toward Mira and her post, he was glad to shed his Nemesis disguise. The birth of Nemesis had been a necessity--it left him free to roam without too many snipers taking shots at him. And with his unique hybrid features, if the authorities were to ever learn the identity of Nemesis, it wouldn't take them long to run him into the ground.

  Not that they weren't already trying, but he didn't need to give them another reason to come for him.

  For now, people assumed Nykyrian Quiakides to be another minion of Nemesis; a role that suited him well. So long as his identity was secret, he could maintain a quasi-normal existence.

  But his identity was only one of many reasons he could never involve himself with someone. If he'd learned anything in his life, it was that no one could ever be trusted.

  People were his friends until he looked the other way.

  Even as much as he trusted Syn and the others, he still wouldn't be surprised if one of them went for his back someday. It was, after all, inherent to all their species. The entire histories of their worlds had been written in the blood of friendships and alliances gone bad.

  But Kiara . . .

  Nykyrian stifled the emotions that filled him as he thought of her, and reverted to the soothing emptiness he relied upon.

  She was nothing to him and she would never be anything more than a leftover memory.

  At least that's what he thought until he entered the room and came face to face with her and those haunting amber eyes . . .

  CHAPTER 4

  Once again, Kiara came awake to unfamiliar surroundings, but these didn't seem quite as ominous as before. For one thing, she wasn't lying on a pile of filthy garbage, and for another, her wrists had been cleaned and bandaged. They no longer hurt her at all.

  But as she recalled Nemesis, she jolted up, her heart lodged in her throat.

  Where am I? This wasn't the ship where she'd fallen asleep. There was no movement. No gentle hum of engines . . .

  She was on the ground somewhere.

  What had they done with her? It was extremely disconcerting to wake up with no idea of her location or how she'd come to be here. She was alive, but for all she knew, she was still being held captive.

  Angry and scared, she searched the room, looking for some clue about her fate.

  Suddenly, the dim lights brightened. The door faded to transparency to show Kiara a heavy-set, elderwoman in a nurse's uniform looking into the room. The woman hesitated as if uncertain whether or not she should enter. A kind smile like that of a doting grandmother curled her lips as the door finally slid open to admit her.

  "You're safe." She moved to stand next to the bed. The door returned to being an opaque dark gray. "No one here will hurt you. I promise." The woman's dark brown eyes glowed with honesty and warmth. Kiara trusted her.

  With the lights brightened, she noticed the richness of the furnishings. The bed she sat on 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. Yet there was an armoire of medical equipment next to it. The room looked like a strange cross between a hospital and a hotel.

  Confused, Kiara looked back at the woman. "Where am I?"

  "The where isn't important. You'll be home soon now that you're awake." She beamed with a face Kiara recognized as one belonging to a fan. "Are you hungry or thirsty, Your Highness?"

  At Kiara's declination, she moved toward the door. "My name's Mira. You stay here and I'll retrieve your battlesuit for you. If you need anything, just press the call button and either I or another nurse will come immediately." With one last smile, she left.

  Kiara let out a slow breath, hoping the woman wasn't lying to her. Mira seemed harmless enough, but one could never be too sure.

  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 oddly shaped, knobby tree blew in the strong wind, knocking branches against the window.

  Frowning, she wished she could identify the tree. That might help her figure out where she was.

  But then she'd never been the most attentive of students even on her best day, and while she knew the basics about the planets that made up the United Systems of the Ichidian Universe, she didn't know anything as advanced as their different vegetation.

  Scrap, her father had been right. That trivial garbage they'd tried so hard to teach her could have come in handy after all . . .

  Kiara sighed, her thoughts turning to her father. By now someone had most likely discovered her absence and reported it. No doubt he was frantically gathering forces to search every fraction of space for her. Given what had happened the last time she'd been kidnapped, she could only imagine the terror, fear and anger he was going through.

  Her throat tightened as she prayed these people really intended to return her to Gouran. She wasn't sure her father could mentally handle losing her like this.

  Not after what had happened last time . . .

  The door slid open, startling her from her thoughts. Expecting Mira, she turned, then froze as her breath caught at the last thing she expected to see.

  Whoa . . .

  This wasn't Mira.

  Tall and lean, he was the sexiest thing she'd ever seen in her entire life, and given the hot pieces of cheese employed by her dance company, that said a lot. But none of them compared to the dangerous stranger in her room. While the men she was used to were hotter than hell, what they lacked was the fierce aura of power that emanated from this man and his stern, steely features.

  It was as if he were the deadliest of predators.

  Feral. That was the only word to do him justice. Surely there wasn't another soldier in the entire universe who could match him in terms of raw beauty or lethal demeanor.

  His blond hair was snow white and his features sharp and icy. He wore a pair of black shades that annoyed her since she couldn't see the upper part of his face or the color of his eyes. Not that it mattered. She saw enough to know that in the land of gorgeous men, he had no competition.

  As a stark contrast to his white hair, his clothes were a black so deep they seemed to absorb all light, and they were trimmed in silver . . .

  No, not silver. Those were weapons tucked into the sleeves and lapels of his ankle-length coat. The left side of it was pulled back, exposing a holstered blaster that was strapped to his left hip. The tall flight boots had silver buckles going up the sides that were fashioned into the image of skulls. At least that's what she saw at first glance, but as he moved closer she realized those could come off and double as weapons, too.

  Wow, he was either extremely paranoid or more lethal than a team of League assassins.

  And that said something.

  The collar of his shirt was high, but opened enough at the neck to show her a glimpse of a vicious scar along his throat. It looked as if someone had tried to behead him.

  And as he came closer, she realized he had more scars just above and below his ears, along with fainter scars that cut across his cheeks to his nose. They didn't mar his attractiveness, but were obvious nonetheless. Like something had clawed him . . . only they were more precise--as if his face had once been inside a vice or some sort of contraption.

  Had he been tortured?

  As he turned his head to the side as if listening for something outside, she saw the silver and black comlink in his ear and the long braid down his back--the mark of a trained assassin. And since he wasn't in a military uniform, it meant he was freelance. The lowest of the low.

  No, he wasn't dangerous.

  He was a coward and a bully.

  Her blood ran cold as her anger snapped.

  Nykyrian paused as he caught the look of hatred in Kiara's amber eyes. He'd assumed, or maybe hoped, she'd still be asleep--that he'd be able to return her to her father before she awoke.

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