She swallowed the clump of assorted emotions churning inside her. "I don't know, I just do."
He took a deep breath and turned around. "Do you practice in here?"
Kiara frowned at the unexpected question, wondering what had prompted it. "Yes."
He walked over to the mirrors and touched the barre. "Do you enjoy what you do?"
The question caught her off guard. She frowned again, thinking about the answer. "I never really thought about it," she said. "Dancing was all I ever wanted to do, so I guess I must enjoy it."
His grip tightened on the barre. "Or do you just do it because someone expected you to?"
A chill crept up her back. "What makes you think that?"
Nykyrian turned around and faced her. "The pictures you have in the main room. Most of them are of you as a child, dressed for dance recitals. You don't look old enough in any of them to make a life-shaping decision. I would say you dance because you were told it was what you should do with your talents."
The truth in his words cut through her consciousness. How could he see something about her that she had never even noticed? "Are you always this acute?"
He shrugged. "In my business, it pays to know and understand people. It keeps me alive."
Kiara ran his words through her mind. And in that moment she had her first insight into him. "Is that why you do what you? Because someone told you, you should be an assassin?"
Silence answered her.
"You still owe me six answers."
"Four answers," he corrected acidly, folding his arms over his chest. "And I've answered enough questions for tonight."
He walked past her and Kiara knew the subject was closed as firmly as if it were held in trust by League Protectors. With a weary sigh, she realized she didn't know much more about him now than she had in the beginning.
Frustrated, she returned to the main room where he was once again occupied with his terminal.
"Will it disturb you if I turn on the viewer?"
"No," he answered curtly, his fingers not even hesitating in their rapid beat.
Returning to her chair, Kiara picked up the control and began flipping through the channels. She listened more to Nykyrian The Tough than to her programs. Even though he appeared oblivious to her, she sensed the rigid wall of defenses he had closed around himself. Somewhere, there had to be a chink.
But did she really want to find it?
Kiara swallowed in trepidation as she considered what it would mean to her life if he were to open himself up to her. He was a wanted criminal to most governments. If people associated her with Nykyrian on a social level, she would be barred from the theatre. She had spent too many years carving her career to just toss it to the wind for some handsome man. Even one as delectable as her guard.
No, she couldn't allow all the time and energy she had spent building herself up to just lose it all now. She would allow Nykyrian to remain aloof and distanced, as much for her sake as his.
She switched off the viewer. "I'm going to bed."
Nykyrian stopped his typing and listened to her walking down the hallway to her room.
He closed the terminal to ease some of the ache from his eyes and allowed the rigidness to leave his body as he relaxed back against the couch.
The sounds of Kiara preparing for bed formed a strange comfort to his soul. He removed his glasses, balanced them on his knee, then rubbed his burning eyes until they adjusted to the light. His soul didn't need comfort, it needed solitude.
His job— to protect, not seduce.
Contrary to his thoughts and noble code, an image of Kiara holding him flashed across his mind. Enough! he roared at his treacherous thoughts and instantly the image vanished.
Nykyrian placed his glasses on the low table and stretched out on the couch, listening to the soothing, empty silence surrounding him. He drew strength from it and swore to keep his thoughts on the men tracking Kiara, not on his seducing her.
*
Kiara woke from troubled sleep. Once more her dreams had tormented her with the sight of Nykyrian killing her. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she pulled her robe on and went to the kitchen to get her ritual glass of spara juice. At the entrance to the kitchen, she paused in shock. On the kitchen table placed before her chair sat a warmer with a full breakfast and a glass of spara juice. Amazed at the fare, she looked over to Nykyrian who sat on a bar stool reading a stack of papers. He was, as usual, completely oblivious to her.
"Impressive," she said, retrieving a piece of toast from the warm er. Her tastebuds reeled at the strange, sharp spices he had added to the bread. "Very impressive."
He ignored her compliments. "What do you have to do today?" he asked in a gruff voice that set her teeth at odds.
Kiara swallowed a sip of juice. "I have rehearsal this afternoon, then my performance—
"
"No," he interrupted. "No performances or rehearsals."
She sat the juice down on the table and stared agape at him. "You're insane if you think you can keep me from dancing."