Rachol snorted. "I'll quit my drinking on your wedding day."
Nykyrian stood, unamused. "I need to eat," he comm ented 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 m y 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 torm ented 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 with her and not touch her would be an even worse torture for him than the missions he had been forced to execute against his will.
He saw Kiara's soft, trusting eyes, felt her body molded against his.
Nykyrian made his decision.
"Call Biardi."
Three
Kiara stretched her tense joints. She hoped she could give a decent performance tonight, but she doubted it. Four nights had passed since she last experienced untroubled sleep.
Every time she tried to rest, she was plagued by thoughts of someone coming after her with a knife, and that, someone inevitably turned into Nykyrian.
With a weary sigh, she went to stare at her reflection, checking her costume for any tell-tale flaws. The tight, red sequined bodysuit clung to her figure, making her regret the large amount of sweets she had eaten that afternoon.
Well, at least her bruises were alm ost gone. She was a bit surprised the media hadn't questioned her about her battered face. Shrugging her shoulders, she attributed it to the heavy amount of red and gold makeup her costume required. They probably hadn't even noticed.
Kiara made a face at herself and returned to her pacing.
Loneliness filled her as she surveyed the tiny, empty room. Her father thought his absence comforted her. Everyone seemed to think she preferred solitude before a performance, but the truth was very different. She needed company most in the minutes prior to a dance. Just the sound of another voice would alleviate some of the nervousness tearing at her.
She thought of Nykyrian. Would he leave her alone?
Kiara shook her head, wondering what her thoughts were up to. Why did her dreams torment her with him as her stalker and why did her conscious mind see him as her savior?
No answer came.
Nervously, she continued to pace the room. As she neared the door, she heard the muffled voices of her father's guards.
"I tell you, I didn't enlist for this kind of mission. Hell, I almost wish someone would try to kill her just to get rid of the boredom!"
The other guard laughed. "I can think of a better way to end my boredom."
"What do you m ean?"
"Imagine having night duty at her place. I envy Yanas and Briqs."
"Yeah, I'd like to show the little dumpling my night stick!"
Aghast at their bantering, Kiara crossed the room and rifled through her bag on the table.
Pulling out the small blaster, she made sure it contained a full charge.
At the moment, she didn't know whom she trusted less, the Probekeins or her father's soldiers. She wasn't taking any more chances with her safety.
After she replaced the weapon, she heard a sharp snap outside her door. Kiara turned about to investigate the noise.
A tall shadow fell across her as she neared the door. She laughed nervously.
It couldn't be. She was just imagining the fact that the shadow looked like a giant man.
She didn't want to turn around, but she did anyway, then wished she had listened to herself.
If she had thought her last two assassins were ugly, they were nothing compared to this one. Cold, black eyes stared at her from a scarred, hum an face. A maniacal smile twisted his lips.
Fear paralyzed her. Sweat formed on her body as she waited for him to do something other than stare at her like a rabid lorina.