Born of Fire (The League #2)(51)
Author: Sherrilyn Kenyon

Once they cleared orbit, she spoke. “Do you think they’ll hurt Tess?”

“You want me to lie?”

Her gut tightened at his question. “You just answered it.”

He reached out and took her hand in his. “Have faith, baby. I won’t let them hurt her. I promise. We’ll get that chip and I’ll make them pay for what they’ve done.”

For the first time in her adult life, she didn’t cringe at the use of that particular endearment. It actually warmed her. “I do trust you. It’s Merjack I want to rip into pieces.”

“We find that chip and you’ll have the power to bring him down.”

“I hope so.”

She stared out at the matte blackness that stretched into infinity. She’d never found space travel particularly comforting. Mostly because she knew the dangers. Yet with Syn . . . while she was worried, she wasn’t as brittle as she’d be if she was alone. She knew he’d move mountains to keep Tess safe. She felt like she could actually depend on someone else.

It was a completely different feeling from what she had with her brother. While she knew Caillen would move mountains for her, there was still a part of her that wanted to wipe his chin and cut up his food. A part of her that couldn’t allow him to see that she wasn’t the big sister who had to take care of him and watch out for him.

With Syn . . .

She could let down her guard and allow him to take care of her. While she could lead, she didn’t have to be in charge and stronger than titanium at all times. It was such a nice change to be able to show her insecurities with someone.

With Syn, she felt like a partner.

Vik got up and moved to sit more in her lap.

“What are you doing, Vik?”

He flicked into his bot form and draped over her leg. “I’m getting bored.”

“You can’t get bored.”

“Yes, I can.” He stretched out. “How much further?”

She laughed at his tone that sounded like a five-year-old. “My God, he’s like having a child.”

Syn snorted. “Yeah. You even have to change his diaper at times.”

“Nah. Just my batteries.”

Syn arched a brow. “And your attitude.”

“Bitch, bitch, bitch. Now leave me alone while I nap.”

Shahara didn’t know what to make of him as he shut down his power and went into a sleep mode. “You know, Vik really is an impressive invention. You could have easily had a career in robotics and programming.”

“You think I didn’t try?”

“What happened?”

“Couldn’t pass the security checks. They not only investigate you, but your immediate family. While Nykyrian and I were able to fabricate my important files, coming up with records for parents and every known address I would have lived at while growing up, with living references who could give sworn testimony that I went to certain schools and lived in certain places, was something we couldn’t do. May the gods bless and hold the computer and robotic companies. They are seriously paranoid bastards.”

She touched his necklace that she still wore as her heart broke for him. What a waste of so much talent. “I’m sorry, Syn.”

He shrugged. “It’s all right. Besides, it took away any guilt I had when I stole info and intel from them. If they’d hired me, I’d have had a vested interest in protecting them.”

Well, there was that. Leaning back in her chair, she watched as he worked on the terminal, pulling up info for their coming adventure.

He’d pulled his hair back into a ponytail. His whiskers were dark against his tawny skin and made him look even more dangerous. It pained her to know how much tragedy he’d faced in his life.

Alone.

“Do you ever think about getting married again?”

Syn froze at her unexpected question. He glanced down as his mind flashed on the wedding ring he had in his pocket that he’d bought for her. Against his best efforts, he imagined what it would be like to live his life with her.

But that was stupid and he knew it.

“No,” he lied.

Shahara felt her heart break at his answer. So he did still love Mara. She should have known. And who could blame him? His wife had been beautiful, well-schooled and well-bred. All the things she wasn’t.

You’re defective. No matter how hard she tried to feel otherwise, she always came back to that one single truth. Life had broken her early and she’d never recovered.

What do you care? You don’t need anyone in your life. You’re stronger alone. Better. Part of that was true, but she was still human, and being human was about making connections. About feeling a part of something.

You’re a part of your family.

Stop whining. You’re alive and you have a good life. Granted, it’s in poverty, but it could be worse. You don’t have to visit your siblings in a tomb.

Like Syn.

That snapped her out of her melancholy. She had no right to complain about anything, and the most important thing for her to focus on was getting Tessa back.

It was midafternoon when they arrived at the gallery. Shahara was starting to feel battered by the constant time zone changes—another serious drawback to space travel. Her body had a hard time making the switch and she no longer remembered what time it was back at her home base.

But Syn didn’t look any worse for the wear.

As they approached the posh and hoity gallery that was housed in an all-glass building, the doors, which were flanked by two steel male bodies four stories tall, opened automatically. Suspended from the ceiling was a huge green human eye that focused on them and followed their path in a large circle as they approached the receptionist’s desk. The foyer was stark white and as antiseptic as a hospital. If not for the huge red sign over the receptionist’s head designating it as Berringer’s, she would have gone back outside and rechecked the address.

People bustled all around the lobby. Most of them were buyers holding computer ledgers while the rest were workers trying to make deals and set appointments.

Shahara turned to ask Syn how he thought this would work when a sultry voice laughed, cutting her off.

“Wicked, wicked Syn.” The woman’s voice cooed at him in a way that made Shahara see red. “Whatever brings you to my little art gallery? I thought you preferred private showings?”

How could one woman make such an innocuous word sound so dirty?

Syn flashed her a dazzling grin that highlighted his dimple to perfection. “I was looking for you.”

Oh yeah, that didn’t help at all. Now Shahara wanted to slap both of them. It might have helped her jealousy if the woman wasn’t quite so gorgeous, or voluptuous.

So incredibly perfect . . .

It was obvious from her meticulous manicure and soft, unblistered hands that this woman had never held a blaster. Never had to lift an eyebrow to do anything other than snap her fingers to have someone else wait on her.

And the more Shahara looked at her, the more she despised the long-legged brunette who stared at Syn as if he were a tasty morsel she was just dying to gobble up. She didn’t know why, but an image of the woman licking her fingers while trying to seduce him with her gaze went through her mind.

Keep that up, woman, and you’re going home bald . . .

“And just what do you want with me?” she purred suggestively, draping a long, shapely arm over his shoulder. She pulled him close, her br**sts pressing against his side. Gah, the nerve of her open flirting. Didn’t that kind of display get someone fired? “The same as last time, I hope?”

Syn wanted to shove Donya away, but she could be a major bitch, and, if she felt slighted in any way, she’d storm out and he’d never get a chance to look over the catalogs he needed to see. So the best thing was to play along. “If I only had more time, I’d gladly oblige. But I’m afraid I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

Her hungry look made him cringe. Yet worse than that was the way she trailed her finger down the low-cut front of her shirt, opening it up until he had a perfect view of her bare br**sts and ni**les.

“Come now. I can’t think of anything I’d rather be than completely filled with Syn. If we try hard enough, I’ll bet we could get it down to fifteen minutes.”

Shahara arched a brow at that and he immediately noticed the raw anger smoldering in her golden eyes. I’m in deep shit. If he didn’t stop this real soon, Shahara would probably shoot them both. He gave her an apologetic look that he hoped she didn’t misinterpret.

Suddenly, she raked Donya with a lust-filled stare, then licked her lips in a sexual invitation that left him instantly hard. “I don’t think we could really do that with a threesome, now, could we?” She twirled her hand in her hair with an innocent and yet seductive look that both amazed and aroused him. “Of course, Syn might prefer it if we left him out of it completely. What do you think?”

Syn coughed to cover his laugh. She had spunk. No doubt about it.

Her face horrified, Donya scowled at him. “Syn? Who is this person?”

He wanted to say it was his wife. If for no other reason than to get Donya off him. But he didn’t dare alienate her. “She’s a friend.”

Donya dismissed her immediately. “So what is it I can do for you, gorgeous?”

“First, you can treat my friend with respect—especially given the amount of money I spend here. After that, I need to see the company’s archived catalogs.”

She pressed her lips into a seductive pout as she ignored the first part of his words. “Wanting to add to your collection?”

“Something like that.”

Donya huffed irritably as she finally peeled herself off him. “Well, then, follow me.” She paused to rake Shahara with a condemning glare. “You stay behind us.”

Shahara sucked her breath in sharply as if she was getting an absolute thrill from the mere thought of it. “Oh, baby, I can’t wait. I love nothing more than a woman with back, and honey, you got a great big one. By all means, lead the way and let me enjoy the sight. I’ll have to call all my girls later and let them know exactly how sexy that big ass of yours is.” She purred like a prowling feline.

It was all he could do not to laugh out loud. “You are so bad.”

She shrugged prettily as she continued to make overt and over-the-top lustful expressions at Donya. “I just know what I like.”

And he never wanted to be on the receiving end of her venom—she knew exactly what buttons to push and she was working that into a frenzy.

Donya made a squeak of protest as she covered her butt with her ledger and then proceeded to lead them to her office.

Syn shook his head at Shahara. Behave, he mouthed to her over his shoulder.

She pointed angrily at Donya, then made a gesture as if she were choking her.

Donya turned around and Shahara, without missing a single beat, smiled at her and turned her gesture into one that said she was pretending to squeeze Donya’s ass while licking her lips as if she could taste her.

Donya shot forward like she’d hit hyperdrive and left them to try and keep up.

Shahara gave a low, evil laugh.

Syn wanted to be horrified by her actions, but in truth, he found them hysterical. Especially since Donya deserved it, given her rudeness toward Shahara.

What better vengeance without stooping to her level . . .

Once inside Donya’s office, she activated the catalog kiosk that stood in the corner.

Shahara stopped by his side and draped her arm possessively over his left shoulder in the same manner Donya had used in the lobby. She folded her hands and rested her chin on top of them as she smiled prettily at Donya, who tried even harder to ignore her.

“How far back do you want to go, Syn?”

“About twenty years.”

Donya arched her brows. “Really? It must be some piece. Another Chinergov?”

“No. I don’t know the artist. It’s an ancient Derridian sculpture that was put on sale by a man named Merrin Lyche.”

“Hmm . . .” She punched in the data. “Is this it?”

He froze as he saw it, and that one crystal moment of his childhood slammed into him full force and teleported him back in time. Again, he was fourteen, standing in Lyche’s office as he heard them coming for him. And in that panicked chaos of his ragged, terrified panting while sweat trickled down his back with itchy fingers, he’d had one moment of total clarity.

They’re going to kill me.

Hide the chip. If they can’t find it, they’ll torture you for it. So long as you don’t break and tell them where it is, you’ll live.

Determined to outwit them and survive, he’d looked around until he saw the piece on a bookcase. About thirty inches tall, it was garishly hideous. The skin was so green, the twisted facial expression so ugly, it was hard to even look at it.

Which meant no one would search it for the chip.

His body quaking from fear, he’d run to it and grabbed it so that he could hide the chip in the base. He’d barely returned it to the shelf and stepped toward the windows before the door crashed open. They’d seized him instantly and it’d taken all of his willpower not to look at the statue to make sure it went undetected. But even as a child he’d known better than that.