The members grabbed their helmets and took their leave. Rachol remained seated with Nykyrian, waiting for the room to clear.
As the door closed, he turned to face Nykyrian. "I don't know if you should accept Biardi's contract. We can't afford liabilities."
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.
Chapter 2
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 so
on 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 ship's controls. The main panel reminded her of a museum piece. She hadn't noticed how old this craft was.
Nykyrian must have noticed her interest, because he said quietly, "It's a Bertraud Trebuchet Fighter."
"I thought they quit making them years ago and the only one to survive was sold to Nemesis."
"We're good friends," he said in a strange tone that made her wonder if they were lovers.
Before she could ask him another question, he placed a helmet over her head. Kiara could feel his arms moving behind her and realized he was removing his glasses. Curious, she tried to turn around.
"Don't!" he snapped.
Kiara stiffened.
Her agitation melted as his strong arms came around her to flip the switches in front of her.
With a deafening roar, the engines fired, then settled down to a soft whir. In the crackling distortion filling her ears, she heard the controller's voice through the intercom in her helmet.
She leaned back. Nykyrian's body jerked at the unexpected contact. A wicked smile curved Kiara's lips. Well, he wasn't quite as oblivious to her as he pretended.
Nykyrian was instantly inflamed by her body pressed against his own. God, he was an idiot! Why didn't he think to borrow Jayne's double-seated fighter? Could he make it to Gouran without his hormones taking over his common sense?
He forced his thoughts from the soft body molded against his and gave full attention to the directive for launch.
The G-force brought her body solidly against his, increasing his discomfort. And his arousal. His hand trembled as he clutched the throttle.
Nykyrian was tempted to abort the launch and avail himself of the woman in his lap. Instead, he availed himself of his famed iron-will.
Within minutes, they cleared the orbit.
Kiara watched as the murky gray planet shrank out of sight. For some inexplicable reason, she felt safe in this stranger's arms. Common sense told her he was a trained military assassin and she should be very much afraid, but her heart discounted her fears. For some insane reason, she didn't think he would ever hurt her.
Shifting in the seat, she heard his sharp intake of breath.
"Sit still," he ordered, his voice hard.
His tone irked her. "What do you expect with me crammed in front of you?" she asked.
"I expect you to sit still."
With a harrumph, Kiara leaned back. Her ire melted as his heart thumped heavily against her shoulder. She became aware of his body heat, of the strong masculine scent of leather and musk. She wanted this man more than she had
ever wanted anything.
Kiara sighed, knowing he was beyond her abilities to claim.
Nykyrian felt Kiara relax against him. He knew he should apologize for his curtness. But apologies were not something he had ever concerned himself with. Besides, it was just as well she not like him. There was no hope for anything between them. He reminded himself he had chosen his life carefully, but never had that decision weighed so heavily upon his mind.
They remained silent the rest of the long journey.
Kiara was ecstatic as her world came into view. She heard Nykyrian's deep voice speaking her native Gourish flawlessly, explaining his business to the controller.
The controller's voice cracked as he gave them coordinates.
Kiara blinked, unable to believe her eyes as an air squadron surrounded them. The ships were not a welcoming party, they were military fighters, fully armed and ready to fire.
Nykyrian's arms tightened in expectation. Her heart pounded. What if one of her father's soldiers panicked and fired for no reason? Though the pilots were carefully trained, mistakes happened and she didn't want to be included in a statistics book. "Release the fighters!" she snapped.
"Kiara?" her father's relieved voice burst through her headset. "Angel, are you all right?"
"Papa, please," she begged before a misfire happened. "He is here only to return me. Call your troops off."
Silence greeted her for a few seconds. Finally, her father sighed and recalled his soldiers to base.
Nykyrian's arms relaxed around her as the fighters dropped away.
It took several minutes to reach the main landing bay. The huge glass and masonry structure welcomed Kiara. Never had she experienced such a happy homecoming. The capitol city hummed with activity as they lowered their altitude.
Nykyrian executed a smooth landing inside the bay.
After releasing the canopy, he unbuckled Kiara from her seat. She removed her helmet and turned to face him. She raised a questioning eyebrow as she noted he made no moves to remove his own gear. "Will you not join us for awhile?"
The League 1: Born Of The Night Page 3
