Born of Fire (The League #2)(29)
Author: Sherrilyn Kenyon

“But you did.”

“What can I say? I’m a tough bastard.”

Yes, he was.

And maybe it was his story or maybe their close proximity, Shahara wasn’t sure what had made her suddenly so bold. But before she could stop herself, she reached out and touched the stubble on his cheek that still held a faint discoloration from his beating.

He nipped playfully at her fingers.

Embarrassed, she dropped her hand and thought to distract herself. “So how did you meet Nykyrian Quiakides?”

He picked her hand up and toyed with her fingers. The circular motion of his thumb against her skin sent electrical waves up her arm and straight to the center of her body. “He was wounded from a mission gone awry and I went to pick his pocket. He started to kill me and then when he realized I was just a starving gutter rat, he tossed his wallet at me and told me I looked like I needed it more than he did.”

She scowled at what he described. Nykyrian was a trained League assassin—someone not known for any kind of compassion. All assassins killed without remorse or hesitation. “You’re messing with me again, aren’t you?”

“No. I swear. I knew he was dying from his wounds and I started to leave him to it, but I couldn’t. Not after he’d been kind to me—the Mothers had taught me not to turn my back on people, especially those who helped me. Before I could think better of it, I helped him back to where I was staying and tended his wounds.”

“An assassin?”

He nodded. “Because I saved his life, he paid for me to go to school.”

“Out of the goodness of his heart?”

“Yes and no. I also worked for him.”

“And what did you do?”

“Helped him gather information on targets. Provided a few toys for him to use while tracking and fighting. All legal.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and began to suckle the pad of her forefinger. His tongue slid sinfully over her flesh, doing terrible things to her will. “And he paid a damn good salary.”

“Which kept you off the street.”

He inclined his head.

“So tell me about Sheridan Belask. How does he fit into all of this?”

His entire body turned rigid. His eyes returned to their normal frigid state and he pulled her hand away. “What?”

A wave of embarrassment consumed her. “I saw your surgeon’s certificate.”

His breathing intensified with the anger that flickered in his eyes. “Why were you searching my things?” And before she could speak, he answered for her, “That was a stupid question. You were looking for a weapon.”

Shahara nodded. “So how did you become Sheridan Belask?”

Something strange passed between them then, a shared flickering heat that she couldn’t define. Shahara realized then that she was probably the only person he’d ever told about this part of his life.

It made her feel so . . .

She didn’t know what the word was. All she knew was that in spite of how they’d come together and what might happen in the coming days, she was glad she was here with him at this moment.

He lifted her hand again and brushed a kiss along her fingers before nipping her fingertips with his teeth. “I was always interested in chemistry and biology, so I started taking courses in that. One day one of my professors suggested I think about a career in medicine.”

“And you became a doctor.”

“Well, it wasn’t quite that easy.” He took a deep breath and swapped her hand for her braid.

She watched as he brushed it against the palm of his hand, then twisted his fingers in it. “I knew I didn’t want to be a filch the rest of my life. For one thing, my activities had a way of getting back to the Rits and I had to stay on the move. And besides that, filches have very short life expectancies. So after a while I started thinking about what the professor had said.”

He touched her braid to the tip of her nose. “It started looking like a great opportunity. All my life, all I’d ever craved was respectability.”

“And doctors are always respected.”

“Exactly.” He raised her hair to his face and ran the tip of her hair across his chin. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was savoring it.

“How did you get into school? Don’t they require birth certificates or records?”

“Nykyrian forged everything I needed. He used his League contacts to give me a whole new identity.”

“Ah. So what happened that you left it all behind?”

He dropped her hair. “I was found out.”

“By?”

“It’s not important.”

And though she longed for an answer, the note in his voice told her that he was through confiding in her. He’d exceeded his word count.

She started to point out that his tongue had yet to explode, but she thought better of it.

Besides, he would just come up with another smart-ass retort.

Even though it was probably more than he’d ever told anyone, it still left her feeling on the outside of him. She wondered what it would take to breach his defenses, to make him trust again.

But then, trusting her would probably be the worst thing he could ever do.

“Now that I’ve dumped my sordid past on you, I want you to answer a question.”

She lifted her brows. “Okay.”

“How did the daughter of a fifth rate smuggler end up as a trained seax? I thought seax’s followed a strict bloodline.”

“They do. My uncle on my mother’s side was a seax and he marked me for training when I was just a toddler.”

“Why not Caillen?”

She stopped just short of confiding a secret not even Caillen knew about his birth. Even though Syn had told her so much about himself, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him that Caillen was a foundling they’d adopted. Her brother had no memory of it and to their family it had never mattered that he wasn’t theirs by blood.

Except for the matter of seax training.

So she told him that alternate truth. “He didn’t think Caillen had a warrior’s spirit.”

He laughed. “No, I guess he doesn’t. He is a bit of a fly-by-the-crotch kind of pilot.”

She joined his laughter. “He is indeed. I swear I should have gelded him when he hit puberty. Gah, he’s been unbearable since the moment he discovered girls were good for something other than throwing rocks at.”

“Darling’s pet name for him is manwhore.”

“So is ours.”

He started to reach out for her again, but something made him pull his hand back. “So what made you decide to be a tracer?”

Shahara thought back to her childhood and sighed. “I think I did it in part to spite my father. He always hated tracers. Said they were too full of themselves for his tastes. And too, out of all the occupations open for me at the time of his death, it not only allowed me to uphold my oath as a seax, but also paid the best. And it gave me a loose schedule that allowed me to be home when Tessa and Kasen needed me.”

He nodded. “I used to envy the way the four of you pulled together to survive. But the last few years of Tessa’s gambling debts have made me realize how lucky I was that I never had anyone else to look out for.”

It bothered her that he knew so much about her family already. It put her at a terrible disadvantage. “I must admit that there were a couple of times when I seriously thought about running away from them. I was too young to have so much responsibility dumped on me, but I knew if I surrendered us to the government we’d be separated and I couldn’t stand the thought of them being abused the way I’d been. Not to mention, I couldn’t survive without them and while Caillen would have managed all right without us, I don’t think Kasen or Tessa would have survived on their own.”

“No, they can’t even survive now on their own.”

That was very true. “I think the hardest thing for me was watching Caillen drop out of school to help out. He was so smart and made such good grades I know he could have gone on to university and done something great with his life. Instead he’s now a low-rate smuggler like our father.”

“He’s not low rate. He’s one of the best pilots I have.”

She smiled. “Thanks.”

He inclined his head to her. “Personally, I think you should have made Kasen get off her lazy ass and work.”

“That’s harsh,” she snapped with a frown. “You know she really likes you.”

“Yeah, well, considering I’m one of the extremely few people she can stand for more than three seconds, that’s not saying much.”

Her frown deepened. “She’s had a hard time with it all, especially with her asthma and diabetes. There’s so much she can’t do and she has to be so careful not to overexert herself. Who can blame her for being a little difficult?”

“Difficult?” he choked. “She took Caillen’s last paycheck and blew it on a new dress and shoes.”

Shahara gaped. “Tell me she didn’t.”

“Yes, she did. I thought Caillen was going to kill her and I almost helped.”

Shahara rubbed her eyes as a dull pain started in her temples. Kasen would never grow up. And neither would Tessa. “I suppose it’s my fault. Tessa was only ten and Kasen eight when our father died. I was so afraid they’d be pushed to grow up too soon like I did that I overcompensated and allowed them to never take any responsibility at all.” She let out a tired breath.

He took her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. “You should never apologize for loving someone too much.”

“No, but I fear I may have ruined their lives.”

“You shouldn’t take responsibility for their shortcomings. Those are their problems, not yours.”

Shahara offered him a timid smile, thinking about what he said. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was time she stopped covering for them all the time and allowed them to fall once in awhile.

For several seconds, they sat quietly.

Until Vik raised up and took flight. He buzzed past them. “There are footsteps approaching and they’re headed straight for us.”

CHAPTER 11

“Footsteps?” Shahara repeated, grabbing his weapon from the ground and rising to her feet. “I thought you said no one ever came down here.”

Syn stood by her side as he took the weapon from her hand. “They don’t. Not without a good reason.”

“Like they’re chasing after two imbeciles who were dumb enough to stay put while they searched?” she whispered angrily.

“Sounds like a good reason to me.” His nonchalance was seriously pissing her off. “So I misjudged our safety. It’s not the first time I’ve made that mistake.”

“Now you tell me?”

“Shh,” he said, holding up his hand.

Out of the silence, a voice called out, “Syn, where are you? I have someone here who wants to speak with you.”

“Run, Sheridan!” Mother Anne screamed.

A myriad of emotions danced across his face, replacing his usual stoicism—concern, stunned disbelief, and finally he settled on rage. Shahara took a step back. Never in her life had she seen anyone so terrifying. This was the man her sheets had warned her about.

Deadly. Evil. Cold.

“Vik—” his tone was lethal. “Total dark. Now.”

Vik cut his light off.

“I can’t see,” she whispered.

“I can.”

She realized he’d left her. Holding her arms out in front of her, she felt her way along the walls, wishing her eyes would adjust to the darkness. It was like it engulfed her. Oppressed her.

The total sensory dep was disturbing as she strained to feel or experience something.

She couldn’t even hear Syn’s footsteps.

Suddenly she heard the man who’d spoken moving closer. His feet, along with the Mother’s, echoed off the marble walls so it sounded like an army was trampling through.

A light came closer.

Shahara dodged into an intersecting hallway and watched in awe as the number of the group grew . . .

And grew.

This wasn’t just a single pursuer. There were twelve of them. And Mother Anne wasn’t alone. Another priestess had been taken as well.

“Where the hell is he?” one of the men growled.

“Shh,” the one who’d spoken originally barked. “I don’t want him to know our numbers. Let him think I’m alone.”

“You’re not alone,” Syn said out of the darkness. “But you will be.”

Instantly, one man went down, his neck twisting.

“Where is he?” the first man cried.

Four more fell.

“He’s everywhere!” another shouted.

Seeing her chance to join the fray, Shahara ran at the two holding the priestesses. She caught one in the windpipe a second before she kicked the other’s knee out.

“Run,” she told the priestesses. They quickly disappeared into the darkness while she swung around to deal with the next man near her.