Born of Night (The League #1)(25)
Author: Sherrilyn Kenyon

Yes, he had other friends, such as Caillen Dagan, who made him laugh and were good drinking buddies. Caillen, who would be with him, locked up in jail, laughing over whatever antics had landed them there. But Nykyrian was the one who’d get them out and make sure no one touched them for the deed.

More to the point, Nykyrian was the only one who knew about his entire past and didn’t condemn him for it.

And Syn had damn near gotten him killed. He ground his teeth as he cleaned the blood from his hands and clothes.

With short, angry strides, he walked down the hall to Kiara’s room. He pounded on the door, using the wood as a good scapegoat for his mood.

“Come in.”

Syn heard the pain in her voice and hesitated, all the anger instantly draining out of him. He’d always been a fool for an upset woman. It reminded him too much of his sister and the courage she used to show.

You have to learn to smile through your pain, little brother. Sometimes it’s all we got.

But what cut him deepest was the day when his sister had refused to smile another smile through her pain . . .

Clenching his teeth and violently pushing that thought away, he opened the door.

Curled up into a small ball on the bed, Kiara looked about as pitiful as anything he’d ever seen, and given the daily misery he’d experienced growing up on the streets, that said something. “I need to get some blankets or a sleeping bag or something.”

She drew a ragged breath before she spoke. “Are you staying over tonight?”

He nodded.

She went to a closet across the room from him. Despite his normal code to enter no one’s threshold without an invitation, Syn joined her.

Kiara handed him a pile of blankets and two pillows. “Nykyrian never asked for any.”

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t ask for much and he probably hasn’t slept since he’s been here anyway.”

She looked shocked by that disclosure. “That’s not possible.”

“Oh yes it is. He can go up to a full week without really sleeping.”

“And not have a psychotic episode?”

Syn shrugged. “With him? Who could tell?”

Her expression less than amused, she turned back toward her bed.

Syn cursed under his breath as he felt his stomach twist. He really couldn’t stand to see a woman suffer. It ate at him like acid. “Don’t look at me with those doleful eyes. Geez, you remind me of a condemned man headed for execution. I can’t stand that look.”

A single tear fled down her cheek which shredded the last of his resistance. He groaned and dropped the blankets. “C’mon.” He led her to her bed. “Tell me what happened before I got here.”

She gave him a startled, hurt look.

Syn felt like a louse as he sat down on the mattress. Hell, he hadn’t done anything wrong, why should he feel awful? “Nykyrian wanted me to tell you he was sorry for whatever he said. Knowing him, it was probably brutal, but don’t take it to your soul. When he’s wounded, he blurts out all sorts of stupidity. He really doesn’t mean it. It’s just his way of communicating. Sucks to be on the receiving end of it when it happens, but, really, pay no attention to it.”

She wiped away her tear. “I hate to cry.” Her voice was laced with venom, but he could tell it was directed at herself and not him. She looked up and met his gaze. “What happened tonight? How did he get hurt?”

His anger built as he remembered their mission. “We went to meet with an informant. Unfortunately, some of Bredeh’s dogs beat us to him. By the time we got there, the informant was dead and the bastards had taken the guy’s kid as a hostage. Since I was with Nykyrian, one of us had to get wounded before we could legally take the buggers out.”

She gaped. “He let them shoot him?”

“Yeah, so that I could get the kid to safety while he took care of the others. I shouldn’t have gone with him—it’s not like we don’t know the risks when I’m around, but I thought we were just going to talk to the informant and come back. And when it comes to questioning people, I have a lot more finesse than High King Let’s Beat The Shit Out Of Them Until They Answer Us. The nonviolent art of interrogating someone is totally lost on Kip.”

Her expression lightened only a tad. “Will he be all right?”

“Definitely. I’ve seen him through a lot worse than this.”

She tilted her head to look at him with a probing stare. “You two been friends that long?”

“A few decades.”

This time, he saw her brain working on that. “How did you meet?”

His anger returned. He wasn’t about to give her anything she could use against Nykyrian. How they met was none of her damned business. “I’m not that drunk, woman. I don’t answer personal questions about my friends.” He got up and moved to the door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Kiara sat on the bed, stunned by Syn’s quick departure. She had no idea why her question had upset him. All she’d wanted was to understand the two of them.

But obviously they liked hiding in the shadows and tonight she was too tired to pursue them.

Nykyrian woke first to find Syn asleep on the floor, right next to the couch where he’d slept. On his side, facing the door, Syn had one hand resting on his unholstered blaster and the other on his flask, which he cuddled like a baby under his chin. It saddened him what had become of the man who’d once been so full of life and hope.

In one heartbeat and because of one ass**le, Syn’s entire life had been stripped from him. For that alone, Nykyrian gave him latitudes he would never allow someone else.

Tempted to snatch the flask, he knew Syn would most likely shoot him if he tried.

Next time, buddy, that shit gets tossed.

Silently so that he wouldn’t wake him, Nykyrian stepped over Syn’s sleeping body. The pain in his side had ebbed to a dull ache.

Damn, next time he’d let them shoot Syn.

But he knew better. He’d never let one of his men get hurt in his stead.

As he reached the bathroom door, Kiara’s bedroom door opened. Before he could think to avert his eyes, she saw them.

Shit . . .

Kiara’s mouth dropped as she finally saw what Nykyrian really looked like.

Holy crippin’ flips.

With his white hair down and flowing around his broad shoulders, he was gorgeous. The eyes staring at her were nothing like she’d imagined. They were clear and the lightest, prettiest shade of green she’d ever seen, with just a hint of a brown band around the outer edge of the iris.

His eyes were human and they were beautiful.

Her throat tightened in happiness. Those eyes gave her the first true glimpse of his soul. In them, she saw all the mistrust, anger, and bitterness.

It was like seeing him nak*d.

Biting her lip, she shifted her gaze to take in his entire face. There, she had no surprise. He was every bit as handsome as she’d suspected.

He blinked and looked away, seemingly embarrassed. “I’m sorry about what I said last night,” he whispered, meeting her gaze for a moment to show her his sincerity before he looked away again.

She bit her lip at the sudden thrill that skittered up her spine. This was the one person she was sure didn’t utter an apology often. “Syn told me last night. I’m sorry, too for what I said. I didn’t mean to be so harsh.”

“Don’t worry about it. It didn’t even register on my pain scale.” He entered the bathroom and shut the door.

Kiara stood there, staring at the closed door as she trembled in her newfound knowledge. Without his shades, he wasn’t a fearsome, half-known phantom who haunted her dreams.

He was a man.

Gorgeous and real, with eyes unlike any she’d ever seen before. What a tragedy to keep them hidden from the world. Eyes like his needed to be savored.

But he would never allow anyone to behold him like that. And that was the greatest tragedy of all.

Nykyrian’s hands shook as he dragged them over his face. He cursed himself for having allowed her to see his eyes.

I’m such a f**king idiot.

Now it would begin. The initial pity would be first—poor, deformed halfling—then the worst part, the eventual hatred of his mixed blood, of the fact that he bore too many characteristics of both races.

People had never seen anything more in him than the manifestation of their own fears, not realizing or caring that he could be hurt by their scorn. The humans saw him as a predatorial animal with no soul. Brutal and lacking all feelings. The Andarions saw him as a weak, pathetic insect who wasn’t fit to breathe their air.

Over and over, images of the past tore through him. The mockery and insults.

Even though he was now the fiercest assassin ever trained, there was still that part of him he couldn’t destroy that was the same small, frightened child who’d been brutalized by others. The child who’d wanted only to be held and told that he wasn’t so bad. That he didn’t deserve what life had handed him.

Freak. Animal. Despicable. Worm. Deformed.

Why couldn’t he silence those voices?

But it was useless. Even after all this time, the scars were still there, biting and tearing, and they refused to heal.

Clenching his teeth, he ripped the bandage from his side, taking a small amount of satisfaction from the throbbing protest of his now raw skin. Physical pain was easy to deal with and it took his mind off other things such as his brothers, both genetic and adoptive, and their “kindness” toward him.

Disrobing, he stepped into the shower.

The water burned as it slid against his wound. Despite the pain, an image of Kiara’s welcoming smile the night before tormented him. No one had ever given him so great a present.

She’d actually been glad to see him.

For the first time, he understood what had possessed Syn when he’d asked Mara to marry him. And he wanted Kiara to look at him like that forever.

But it was a stupid dream.

He was garbage and she deserved a man to love her, not some half-formed animal wanted by every known government.

She was only a client. That was all she’d ever be.

He would make sure of it.

Kiara smiled at Nykyrian as he joined her in the kitchen, but to her chagrin, his dark shades were back in place. His long white hair was still wet and brushed back from his handsome face. She handed him a plate. “I’ve seen your eyes, you know. You can dispense with the shades now.”

He didn’t comment.

She filled a plate for herself and sat across from him. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been shot,” he replied drily.

“Gee, I wonder why?”

He glanced up at her, then quickly looked back at his food. “I’m surprised you’re speaking to me after what I said to you last night. I really am sorry for insulting you. You didn’t deserve it.”

Kiara was still stung by the words, but she wasn’t willing to hold them against him when he’d been hurt. “My father tutored me well on amnesia. He always said it was a necessary ingredient for any friendship.”

Nykyrian sipped his juice. “Your father’s very wise.” “Good day,” Syn yawned, stretching as he entered the kitchen. “What smells so good?”

“Frisanian tarts.” Kiara returned his smile.

Syn walked over to the warmer and pulled a couple off. After tasting one, he turned around and winked wickedly. “If you want a man in your life, love, call me anytime. Ah, man, these are good.”

Kiara laughed, amazed at how handsome he was without the eyeliner ringing his eyes, or hoops in his ears or nose. He really could stop traffic, but even so, he paled in comparison to Nykyrian’s angelic features.

“Don’t you have a hangover?” Nykyrian asked.

Syn licked his fingers. “Like a motherfucker. But I’m used to the brain damage. I’ll eventually drink enough to make it go away.”

Nykyrian shook his head.

Kiara decided to change the subject. “Will I be blessed with both of you today?”

Syn sat next to her. “Cursed would be more apropos. In which case, I reply affirmatively.” He pulled his flask out and poured a large amount of alcohol into his juice. “Kip will no doubt, and you can see proof by the look on his face, object to my hanging around.”

“I don’t need a nursemaid.”

“Well, in my case it’s a nurseman. So don’t bother with your usual bluster, I’m committed.”

“You should be.”

Kiara burst into laughter at Nykyrian’s dry, even-toned response.

Syn sputtered. “Kiara, please. Don’t encourage him to abuse me, he does enough damage on his own.”

Nykyrian set his fork down and eyed Syn with a dark frown. “You know, I always wondered what it would feel like to strangle a Ritadarion.”

Kiara glanced to Syn, not sure if Nykyrian was joking.

Syn continued to smile. “You missed your chance three years ago on Tondara.”

“And never got over it.”