Authors: Sherrilyn Kenyon
"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 business 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!"
Aksel stood up. "Just because you're his psycho whatever doesn't mean you can tell me
what to do."
"Besides," Arast whined, shoving his plate away from him, the food spilling over the edges. "He's a freak. Why don't you take him back to wherever they found him."
The nurse tried to calm them down, but they wouldn't listen. Before she could stop them,
Aksel pushed Nykyrian from the chair and Arast kicked him in the ribs. Nykyrian fought
against them without tears or words. The nurse disappeared.
Kiara clenched her teeth at the fierce blows Aksel and Arast delivered, amazed Nykyrian didn't cry or whimper. He stood his ground, but the two of them were too much for him
to defend himself against.
After a moment, the nurse returned with Commander Quiakides by her side.
"Boys!" he said, clapping his hands as he moved to stand in front of the nurse. Instantly, they released Nykyrian.
"What's going on here?" the Commander demanded, his sharp glare piercing the group.
"He's been in my stuff again, Dad," Aksel said defensively. "I'm getting tired of it, too."
The nurse blustered behind the Commander. "That has nothing to do with— "
"Enough," the Commander said, interrupting her. "I will not have conflict in my house.
Leave me with Nykyrian."
Kiara's gaze fell to where Nykyrian sat quietly studying the pattern on the porcelain floor.
He hadn't bothered to stand. The room cleared and the Commander snatched Nykyrian
off the floor by his arm with a grip and force that made Kiara cringe in reflex.
"Have you been in their rooms again?"
Nykyrian remained silent.
"Answer me," the Commander snarled, shaking him.
Nykyrian looked at him with a cold hatred that chilled Kiara. The Commander's response
was much more active, he backhanded him. Nykyrian didn't flinch or cry out. That
knowledge hurt Kiara more than the brutal action.
"You are a hybrid animal," the Commander snarled. "Not even your own parents wanted you! You're lucky anyone would have you at all! You will either respect this home and
my rules or find yourself back in the work home, chained to the wall!"
The words burned through Kiara, she couldn't watch it anymore. She switched the disk.
The next disk was Nykyrian a few years older at about fifteen. He practiced in an
exercise room with his brothers. Kiara's heart was heavy as she watched the brutal way
they trained. If Nykyrian missed a single defense, he caught a severe blow from one of
them.
His gorgeous blond hair was cropped close to his head and a long, pink scar ran down the
back of his neck, along his spine.
The Commander entered and Kiara thought she glimpsed a glimmer of pride in his eyes as he watched his sons.
Suddenly, without reason, Nykyrian dropped his weapon and fell to his knees. His
breathing labored, he clutched at his head as if some intolerable pain tore through his
skull.
Seeing the Commander, Aksel dropped his weapon, laughed, then clapped Arast on his
back and the two of them left the room.
Huwin moved to stand before Nykyrian, legs braced wide apart. He tapped his silver-
handled cane on the floor in a short staccato rhythm. Nykyrian dropped his hands from
his head and lifted his face to stare a bitter hatred at his father.
"Does your injury still pain you?" Huwin asked in an almost caring voice. Nykyrian
remained silent.
Huwin tapped the cane nearer to Nykyrian. The sound stopped. He grabbed Nykyrian's
hair and pulled him to his feet. Nykyrian didn't even grimace. "I have received some
distressing information about you," Huwin said, his grip tightening its hold. "Something about you and Ambassador Krila's daughter." Nykyrian just stared at him.
Huwin lifted his cane and angled the sharp handle toward Nykyrian's eyes. "Is it true?"
"No," Nykyrian spat.
Huwin released him. "Good. Your blood is tainted. The only thing you're fit for is killing.