The League 1: Born Of The Night

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  The door opened. Nykyrian spun about at the sound, his blaster leveling at the figure.

  Rachol held up his hands. "Whoa, friend!"

  Nykyrian closed his eyes and holstered his blaster. "Sorry," he mumbled.

  Rachol shook his head, a knowing smile on his lips. "Whatever you did to Aksel, you got him screaming mad. He's sent his men all over looking for you." He paused as he noticed Kiara. "Is she all right?"

  Nykyrian shook his head, his guilt mounting. "I killed Arast in the bay before we left."

  Rachol paled. "You what? Are you okay?"

  He shrugged, not sure of anything at the moment. "I've got some things to do. Get her to safety."

  Kiara heard Nykyrian leave, but she didn't bother looking up. She wasn't sure she liked Rachol anymore at that time than she did Nykyrian. Dear God, between the two of them, how many men had they killed?

  "Here."

  She jumped as Rachol handed her a glass of brika. "I don't drink intoxicants," she said, sniffing.

  "It'll help," he said, pressing it into her hand. Without further argument, she tossed the scorching liquid down her throat where it burned a path to her stomach. She gasped, her eyes watering.

  She handed the glass back to Rachol and studied his pensive face. Was he as soulless as Nykyrian?

  A new knot formed in her throat. No one could do what Nykyrian did and still have a soul, or even be normal. As far as she could tell, killing that man had been nothing more to him than tying his shoelaces!

  Rachol sighed, interrupting her thoughts. "If you like, we can send you back to your father. But I warn you, it'll mean your life if we do."

  She looked up at him, her eyes burning from all the tears she had cried. "I would rather take my chances with my father's men. I trust them."

  "I thought you trusted us."

  "I did."

  His eyes narrowed. By the look on his face, she thought he might like to strangle her. Instead, he curled his lip into a fierce snarl. "Why don't you quit feeling sorry for yourself. I'm just a little tired of it."

  Warmth rushed to her cheeks. "How dare you!"

  Rachol leaned over the arm of the couch, forcing her to lean back. He braced his arms on each side of her, penning her in. She didn't like being cornered. His eyes blazed and for a moment, she thought he might actually strike her.

  "You think you're so unsullied. How dare you sit there like some queen dispensing her will on others. If you would get off your dais long enough to live, you might realize other people have feelings and needs besides you!"

  His breath fell against her cheek in angry pulses that punctuated each biting word. "I —"

  "You what?" he sneered. "Do you know who Aksel Bredeh and Arast are?"

  She shook her head, no longer even caring.

  "Nykyrian's brothers."

  Her breath left her body in shock. "No," she whispered, numbed disbelief washing over her.

  Rachol pushed himself away from her and walked toward the bar that separated the main room from the kitchen. "Oh yeah. Right now, wherever the hell Kip is, he's not in good shape. You think you hurt, imagine how he feels. He has spent the last few years avoiding them, allowing people to call him a coward, to prevent from happening what you caused today!"

  Her temper flared at his accusation. "You can't blame this on me!"

  Rachol curled his lip. "Who else? If not for your spoiled little butt, he wouldn't have been anywhere near them today."

  Her hands shook as she clutched them in her lap, thinking about his words. "How could he kill his own brother?" she whispered, unable to comprehend such a thing.

  Rachol shook his head. "Stop it, please," he snarled. "Don't waste pity on Arast. If he had been given the chance, he would have raped you, cut you into little pieces and fed you to his dogs. And that's nice compared to what he would've done to Nykyrian."

  Kiara stared at him, wondering if he were telling her the truth. No, she couldn't believe anyone could be that cruel to their own brother. Nykyrian was the demon, not Arast. "I don't understand how you can say such a thing."

  "No, you don't and you don't even try to."

  She stiffened her spine. "How can I when all of you close me out."

  To her surprise, shock rippled across his face before he gave a half laugh. "I guess that's true enough."

  She rubbed her forehead where a small ache was beginning to throb. "So what does it take to understand him, or you for that matter?"

  Rachol snorted. "I doubt you ever could."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  He shrugged his shoulders. "I doubt you can even imagine the kind of homes Kip and I grew up in. They don't exist in the candy-coated worlds of little spoiled girls."

  His patronizing voice set her temper ablaze. "I'm not a child anymore."

  "Then why are you acting like one?"

  She glared at him. "I suppose killing a man is mature."

  "It beats the hell out of self-pity."

  Kiara sat there, staring at him, his words hanging in the air between them like a pall. He broke eye contact and moved to the bar. He picked up a bottle of brika and poured a large glass full.

  For several seconds he stared at it, then cursed and emptied it into the sink. "Self-pity," he mumbled so low, Kiara wondered if she had even heard him. He refilled the glass with water and took a deep draught.

  A sudden realization struck her as she watched the envious way he stared at the bottle of alcohol. "You have a drinking problem, don't you?" she asked, wondering what other surprises awaited her about Nykyrian and Rachol.

  He tipped the glass of water to her. "No problem really until I sober up. Makes Kip crazed though. You ever want to really set his temper off, let him smell alcohol on my breath. He hates self-destructive habits."

  Her anger faltered. "Are you a duwad?" He smiled at her, his dark eyes twinkling. "That had to come from Kip."

  She nodded, wondering how he could wax from anger to humor so quickly.

  Rachol sat the glass down and ran his hand over the condensation on the outside of it. "No, I'm too much of a coward to openly try and kill myself. Alcohol is just a good way to numb myself until nature takes care of it for me."

  A loud knock pounded on the door. Kiara gasped, fearing Aksel had found them.

  "You wonder why I drink," Rachol said, pulling his blaster from the holster.

  "Stay down," he warned her, creeping toward the door. He flicked on the console then breathed a sigh of relief. He holstered his blaster.

  Taking that as a sign it was a friendly caller, Kiara sat up. Rachol opened the door and hauled Darling into the flat by his arm.

  "Hey!" Darling snapped. "What the hell are you doing?"

  "Aksel's after us," Rachol said, locking the door.

  Darling looked at her and nodded a greeting. "No wonder Nykyrian was so skittish."

  Kiara stared at the black eye marring the exposed side of Darling's face. His eye was red and the whole cheek swollen.

  "My God," Rachol said, finally seeing it, too. "What happened to you?"

  Darling signed. "What d'you think?"

  "I swear I'm going to kill that boowah someday."

  Darling gave a bitter laugh. "Kip said almost the same thing. Anyway, he sent me here to get that disk you've been working on for Aksel's base on Oksana."

  Rachol frowned. "Why?"

  "As if he would tell me?"

  Rachol rubbed his hands over his face like he had a headache to match Kiara's. "It's in the safe in my room." Rachol met Kiara's eyes. "Darling, I hate to be rude, but I've got to get her to safety before you know who figures out where I live. Lock my door and don't forget to hook up my scanner."

  "Done."

  Rachol held his hand out to her. "Are you staying with us your queenship?"

  Kiara took his hand, not really sure if what she did was for the best. "For now." He pulled her to her feet and they headed toward the door.

  Kiara waited until they were in Rachol's ship and
out of the planet's orbit before she spoke, "What happened to Darling's eye?"

  Rachol stiffened while he flipped switches on his console. "Arturo."

  She frowned. "Family?"

  "In a manner of speaking," he said with a sigh. "His stepfather turned legal guardian."

  Kiara thought the matter over, her heart pounding in sympathetic pain. "Why doesn't Darling just leave home?"

  Rachol took a deep breath. "He can't. According to Caronese law, he's a minor until his twenty-sixth birthday. Three years from now." Rachol turned the ship to the right. "Does his eye shock you?"

  "No," Kiara said. "What shocks me is the fact he allows Arturo to beat him."

  Rachol sighed again. "That's a long story I'm sure Darling doesn't want you to know."

  She nodded, not really sure she wanted to know either. "Where are you taking me?" she asked.

  "Kip's house."

  In spite of her better sense, her heartbeat raced. "I'm surprised he would dare allow me near it."

  "Me, too." Rachol shifted in the seat. "You're the only person besides me who's seen it."

  She frowned in confusion. "Then why are you taking me there?"

  "Because he told me to."

  With that simple statement of loyalty, she remained quiet and watched the stars zoom past outside the window.

  It didn't take long to reach the planet. Kiara stared at the swirling orange and yellow mists. It seemed so peaceful and isolated. Rachol landed outside a house that was almost as large as her entire building. He docked in the bay and pressed a button.

  "We have to wait for the bay to pressurize and a breathable atmosphere to mix."

  She didn't respond. Instead, she concentrated on the huge, empty bay.

  After a couple of minutes, they left the craft. "Stand back," Rachol warned before opening the door.

  Kiara frowned at his cautioning, then was bombarded by a huge lorina. The animal jumped up on her, licking her cheek with its large, rough tongue. Three more danced around them.

  "I hate these things," Rachol hissed, pushing them away from him. "They think they're lap pets."

  Kiara smiled, petting the one licking her arm. "Are there just the four?"

  "Yeah. Believe me, four's plenty. Come on in and make yourself cozy. There's no telling when Kip'll return."

  Rachol walked through the house switching on lights with a hand control. "This is the kitchen," he said, showing her the gleaming white area to the right of the door. "Kip's room is up those stairs, along with the bathroom."

  Kiara looked around. The entire place was spotless. Nothing was out of place.

  "Everything in the house, is wired to this," he said, holding the control out to her. "You can lighten the ceiling to see the sky, and the same for the upstairs wall where Nykyrian sleeps."

  She listened to Rachol ramble as he showed her the two rooms in the back, an exercise room and a viewing room.

  "This is an impressive place," she breathed. "I didn't realize he had so much money."

  "You wouldn't believe his account balances if I showed you the statement," Rachol mumbled, heading to a desk at the rear of the main room. "Look, I have some things to do. Wander about, or whatever."

  Kiara rubbed her arms, her eyes scanning the sparse, but luxurious furnishings. The main room contained two cream couches, a low table, the expensive wood desk where Rachol worked and not much else.

  The room she most wanted to see was one she was certain Rachol wouldn't like, or show to her— the bedroom. People usually kept the most telling items about themselves in their bedrooms.

  Maybe later.

  "Are there any files or books to read?" she asked.

  "Yeah, check the closet behind me."

  She opened the closet and froze. She gave a low whistle at the quantity and variety of books concealed inside. "Does he read all these languages?"

  "And more," Rachol commented absently. "He graduated top of his class at Pontari Academy with a degree in Translation and Interpretations."

  Adequately impressed, she pulled down one of the Gourish volumes of poetry. "Rachol?"

  She waited until he looked up at her. "Can I ask a personal question?"

  "About me or Kip?"

  She clutched the book to her for courage. "Well, both of you really."

  He looked back at the computer screen for several seconds and chewed his bottom lip. "Let's hear it, then I'll decide."

  Kiara steadied herself against the couch, mentally bolstering herself to hear what his reply might be. "What was so horrible with your pasts that both of you are so closed to other people?"

  Rachol took a deep breath before swiveling his chair around to face her. He folded his arms over his chest, his eyes carefully averted. "In my case, my mother abandoned me and my sister to our father when I was three. My father was Bynan Verlaine, the infamous spy/thief."

  She gripped the book, noting the hatred in Rachol's voice as he spoke about his father. She knew the story behind the Bynan Verlaine only too well. His career and political trial had been one of the most publicized events in her lifetime.

  "He was executed when I was ten."

  "I'm sorry," she said, rubbing her thumb down the ridged, leather spine of the book.

  He shrugged. "Don't be, I wasn't."

  She watched him for a moment, his brown eyes, locked onto her face, betrayed no hint of what he was feeling. "And your sister?"

  His gaze hardened. "She killed herself six months before my father was caught and tried."

  Kiara closed her eyes, a wave of pain washing over her. "So you had no one."

  He nodded, his face as stoic as Nykyrian's. "Grew up on the street with a cardboard box for a house."

  She digested the news slowly, realizing just how lucky she had been. "So how'd you meet Nykyrian?"

  Rachol laughed aloud and unfolded his arms. "I tried to pick his pocket."

  An amused smile twitched Kiara's lips. "You didn't?"

  Rachol scratched his ear, a wide smile splitting his face. "Oh yeah. I couldn't believe it when he bought me dinner instead of beating the hell out of me."

  Warmth flooded her at the thought of Nykyrian's kindness. "You've known him ever since?"

  "In a manner of speaking. I don't think anyone really knows him at all."

  A loud crackling engine sounded outside in the bay. Kiara bit her bottom lip, realizing Nykyrian had returned. She looked down at her arm where some blood had dried. Flicking it off, she was no longer sure what she felt about Nykyrian, or herself.

  The door opened. Nykyrian paused in the doorway, his eyes locked on hers. He slid the backpack off his shoulder, dropping it on the floor along with his helmet. The lorinas circled around him and rubbed against his legs. He patted them, staring at her all the while. She didn't know how to break the tense silence. Luckily, Rachol did it for her.

  "Where've you been?"

  Nykyrian broke eye contact and walked past her to rest beside the desk. He leaned on one arm and studied the screen. "Information gathering," he said quietly, his eyes scanning the screen. Rachol glanced up at her. "Did you find anything interesting?"

  Nykyrian pressed a couple of keys. "Arturo's address," he said and straightened.

  Rachol shifted in his chair. "Is that it?" he asked pointing to the screen.

  "Yes."

  Rachol smiled at Kiara. "Did you beat the hell out of him?"

  Nykyrian looked at her sheepishly. Guilt consumed Kiara as she realized why he hesitated.

  "No," he said at last. "Darling made me promise I wouldn't do anything. But I didn't say you or Hauk wouldn't."

  Rachol laughed. "Thanks for the bait. I never could resist bullying a bully."

  Nykyrian moved to stand on the other side of the couch, staring at her. There was so much Kiara wanted to say to him, but she couldn't bring herself to do it in front of Rachol. She ached to apologize for her stupidity and her words to Nykyrian after he had saved her worthless life.

  "Rachol and I have bus
iness to discuss," he said in a sharp tone that cut her deeply. "If you don't mind, we need to be alone."

  She nodded in dejection and headed to the viewing room. Opening the door, she wanted to cry. What had she done to him by a few callous, stupid words? Kiara remembered the way he had held onto her during the fight, the way he had protected her. Rachol was right, she was a spoiled brat who didn't realize just how fortunate a life she had.

  Sighing, she sat the book down on the white couch and walked to the screen on the wall. A disk cabinet sat catty-corner to it. She opened the door and flipped through Nykyrian's video disks. A smile curved her lips as she recognized several disks were of her past performances. Warmth flooded her body. Despite his constant denials of interest, she must hold some fascination for him to have bothered purchasing her disks.

  When she found the group labeled private, her heart stopped. She pulled out a handful and stared at the cold pieces of metal that could tell her more in a few minutes than a year spent with the tight-lipped men around her.

  The overhead light glinted across the disks in a bright rainbow of colors. Her conscience told her to put them back, that she had no right to pry into his past, but she was too compelled to see what they contained.

  Tucking her conscience away, Kiara inserted her handful into the machine. She picked up the control and switched on the viewer. With a satisfied smile, she plopped down on the sofa to see just what his horrible secrets were.

  The fuzzy lines cleared into the face of a young boy. Her smile widened as she recognized Nykyrian around the age of ten. He sat at a dinner table with two other blond boys who appeared to be a few years older.

  "There now," a woman's voice said off camera.

  "Why're we doing this?" the oldest boy whined.

  "It's Nykyrian's birthday," she said, stepping around the camera to straighten Nykyrian's shirt collar. Nykyrian didn't budge, he just stared absently at the tabletop, a huge black eye on his left cheek.

  "We don't celebrate his birthday," the younger boy said, kicking at Nykyrian's chair.

  Nykyrian didn't move. He continued to sit there, staring at the table as if transfixed by some dream.

  "Arast, Aksel" the woman snapped, shaking her finger at the boys. "How many times have I told you not to pick on him? You're twice his size!"