Born of the Night (5 page)

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?"

Looking over the side of his fighter, he noted the large gathering of her father's troops.

He shook his head. "They look nervous," he said dryly.

Kiara handed him the helmet. "I can never thank you enough for what you've done."

"My pleasure. I live to transport beautiful women."

Kiara thought he was teasing, but his voice never changed. "You are a mystery," she

whispered, entranced by him. "Why don't you come to my opening performance tonight?

I'll leave you a couple of passes."

He sighed. "No, thank you. You should refrain from performing until the people trying to

kill you are found and terminated."

She disregarded his advice. She was home now and everything would be fine.

Impulsively, she leaned forward and kissed the side of his helmet. "Thanks again," she said, then dropped over the side of his ship.

Once her feet touched the ground, she ran to her father's outstretched arms. Her heart was

light now that she was safe and returned.

Tiarun had dark, drawn circles under his eyes and he regarded her face with a deep,

forbidding frown, tracing the outline of her swollen cheek. Kiara gave him a tight hug. "It doesn't hurt," she assured him.

"The OMG told me they killed the ones responsible."

Kiara trembled at the reminder. "They did."

Tiarun squeezed her to the point she feared her ribs would crack. "You shall have an

armed guard in the future. I don't know what possessed the OMG to return you

unharmed. But I thank God you're safe."

Safe. Kiara gave a nervous laugh. She found it difficult to believe she had been inside the

fabled OMG Center, seen Nemesis, and none of the mercenaries had even threatened her

life. Just the same, she wouldn't tell her father about them, about what little she had seen.

She owed them that much and more.

Turning around, she watched as Nykyrian secured his hatch. She didn't know anything

about him really, but for some reason, she wanted desperately to see him again.

Nykyrian saw Kiara watching him. With a final look at her, he prepared the launch. An

ache spread through him as he regretted the necessity of solitude in his life.

He clenched his teeth and launched.

As the tiny planet faded, remorse consumed him. Maybe someday he would be free to

pursue a relationship with someone, but he doubted it.

Just once, he would like to know what it felt like to be loved, to be held on the nights

when he was confused and hurt.

His eyes narrowed. Not even his real or adoptive families had ever shown him kindness,

why would he expect it from anyone else?

What did he need with love and kindness anyway? Those things only made a soldier

weak, vulnerable. He shrugged off the melancholy thoughts, turned his ship about and

made his way to his own isolated home.

It didn't take long to reach the orange and yellow planet. He docked in the small hangar

next to his house.

He pressed the button on his control panel that closed the portal behind his ship, waiting

for the artificial air to replace the deadly, natural one, and thought about the trim dancer

who invaded his dreams. He sighed, wanting the two things his money and influence

couldn't buy him— Kiara's love and acceptance.

When the light came on notifying him it was safe to leave, he exited his fighter.

As soon as he entered his house, his four pets assailed him with happy leaps and licks that

banished some of his melancholia.

The lorinas were feline creatures many assumed could never be domesticated. It had

taken Nykyrian a long time to make them docile, but as with most beings, once they

learned he could be trusted not to hurt or neglect them, they settled into an easy

camaraderie.

They were the only balm against loneliness he would allow himself. Rubbing the soft fur

of their heads, Nykyrian dropped his helmet by the door. He was grateful it was still night

on his planet. With any luck he might be able to get some sleep.

The stars twinkled brightly through the clear ceiling while his home floated placidly above the gaseous world below. It was a peaceful, soothing place that never failed to ease

the tension in his muscles or relax his troubled thoughts.

He had purchased the planet several years earlier after deciding he was tired of living in

the cramped flats inside noisy, crime-ridden cities. No one but Rachol knew of the

house's existence. Here there was no dancer to tempt him. Here he had the solitude he

needed.

Wearily, Nykyrian made his way up the stairs to his left. His large, soft bed welcomed

him. He pulled the tie from his braid, shook his hair loose, then fell on top of the black

fur covers.

He rolled onto his back and lay for hours watching the sky above him. Despite the

tranquility of the heavens, there was none for his mind. The lorinas were draped across

him, offering him what solace they could. Stroking their fur, he thought of bouncing, dark

brown curls as the trim dancer ran to her father.

He swallowed, feeling lonelier than he ever had before.

As the sky began to lighten, he saw a ship zoom overhead. He didn't move while he

waited for Rachol to dock and enter.

The lorinas heard the loud crackle of Rachol's engines and jumped from the bed, anxious

to greet their other friend. Nykyrian grunted as they used his stomach for a launching

pad.

"Kip!" Rachol yelled below, bombarded by the lorinas. "When are you going to chain these mongrels up?"

Running his hand through his unbound hair, Nykyrian sat up. The lorinas ran up the

stairs, followed by Rachol.

Nykyrian stacked his pillows up along the wall and reclined against them. "Well?" he asked as Rachol sprawled across the foot of his bed.

"I told Biardi we were booked. The dude offered us a chunk of money though. I was

almost tempted to take it and guard her myself. The girl seemed disappointed we

refused." He shrugged.

Nykyrian shook his head. As always, Rachol's brief was efficient, short, and comical.

He drew his leg up and draped his arm over his knee. "What are the Probekeins up to?"

"They want the Gourans to relinquish all rights to Miremba IV to them. You were right about it pertaining to the weapon. Seems the Probekeins have need of the resources on

that outpost to complete the explosive."

Nykyrian frowned. "I wasn't aware there was any surata on Miremba." His mind ran

through all the chemicals the weapon needed, surata was the only one the Probekeins

didn't have in their own territories.

Rachol didn't comment. He rolled over and propped himself up on his elbows, staring at

the rose and amber streaked sky. "This is really a great view. You should try looking at it when you're really flagged."

Nykyrian scowled. "You should try it sober."

"That hurt." Rachol laughed. "I'm sober now and I must say it's not nearly as interesting."

He shifted his gaze to Nykyrian. "I haven't had a drink in three days. I've been doing

well."

"You could do better."

Rachol snorted. "I'll quit
my
drinking on
your
wedding day."

Nykyrian stood, unamused. "I need to eat," he commented absently before heading to the stairs.

"Wait," Rachol called, stopping him. "I thought you might want to know. Pitala and Aksel Bredeh have taken over the contract on Kiara's life. When either one's going to

strike, I'm clueless."

Nykyrian went cold. Pitala and Bredeh made Nemesis look meek. "When did you find

that out?"

"On my way over here."

Thoughts tumbled through Nykyrian's mind. He couldn't allow Kiara to die. But dear

God, how could he protect her, be near her day after day and not go mad with his body's

needs?

An image of Kiara lying dead tormented him. He had spent the first half of his life killing

and he knew only too well what an assassin, especially Pitala or Bredeh, would do to

Kiara before he ended her life. Part of an assassin's job was to make the kill as gruesome

as possible to intimidate the victim's relatives and allies.

Nykyrian was now an avenger, not a murderer. When he left the League, he had sworn he

would protect the innocent victims chosen by the League and other assassins. He couldn't

let her die.

He remembered Rachol reminding him once, a long time ago, that since he left the

League he was no longer the law. No, now he was retribution and justice. Retribution

usually came too late and justice would not allow Kiara to die over something that didn't

even concern her.

Nykyrian stared at Rachol in indecision. It wasn't his job or his responsibility to guard

Kiara. He had done his sentence in Hell when he belonged to the League. To be alone