"That was rude," she chastised.
Instead of the sharp, angry barb she expected, he brushed his hand through his long, unbraided hair. "Don't ask Rachol what half his vocabulary means. Most of it's acronyms that you're better off not knowing the meaning to."
She laughed, grateful some of his usual tenseness was missing. "Tee-tawa?"
He pressed the button for the lift. "That one I don't even know the m eaning to, but my guess is it's not fitting for mixed company."
The doors opened with a soft whir. "So what's your favorite Racholism?" she asked, stepping into the lift.
A corner of his mouth twitched. For a moment, Kiara thought he might actually smile, but he just tucked his hands inside the pockets of his long, black coat and the doors closed with a ping. "Duwad," he said at last.
She sm iled. "Which means?"
"Dude with a death wish."
Kiara thought about that for a m oment and why Rachol would have come up with it.
"Conceived for you?"
"Kip was conceived for me."
She wondered how he could keep his voice so flat when he spoke. She doubted she could do it so well even with years of practice. "And what does Kip mean?"
"Keyaya imporus petana."
She listened to the strange language roll from his lips like warm liquid on a cold day, the sound soothing her like a lullaby. "Am I supposed to know what that means?" she asked, stepping out of the lift, into the lobby.
"The answer is another of your allotted questions about me, mu Tara. " He walked outside and hailed a transport.
Kiara walked up to him deliberately invading his personal space. To her surprise, he didn't back away. "I still would like to know."
A transport pulled up to the curb, its brakes squealing. He opened the door for her. "It's Ritadarion for brother in spirit."
She sat in the seat. "And are you?" she asked, typing her destination into the transport's system before inserting her debit card.
"In many ways."
She felt the wall seal shut around him. True to her inquisitive nature, she couldn't help probing the boundaries of the wall. "How are you brothers in spirit?"
He turned away from her and studied the blurred scenery whirling past the car. At first she didn't think he would answer, then finally he sighed. "Like most beings of a similar past, we bonded to each other, understand each other."
She probed the wall a little further. "Most beings can understand others if things are explained to them."
He snorted. "Were that true, war wouldn't exist."
Kiara considered that for a moment and decided it was true enough. "How can you assess situations so easily?" She paused barely a heartbeat before answering for him .
"Let me guess, more survival skills."
He remained awkwardly quiet. If not for his rubbing his biceps, she would have thought him a statue. Kiara sighed, wishing she knew how to deduce his feelings and past the way he did hers. Sitting back in the seat, she tried to enjoy the rest of the ride.
Nykyrian smelled her exotic perfume and yearned to bury his lips in the sweet, scented flesh of her neck. He found it difficult to breathe with her so close. It would be so easy to share his past with her, lose him self in her charm and wit. His body throbbed with desire and for a moment, he wanted to pull her into his arms and take what he needed most.
Steeling himself, he dared a glance at her. His breath caught in his throat. Her arms were crossed over her chest in annoyance as she stared out the window, and displayed to his casual glance was the top swell of her breasts covered by the black lace of her undergarment.
His hand ached to touch her, his loins tightened. Nykyrian shifted in the seat and drew a trembling breath. He had to get away from her. He didn't need her for anything. He didn't need anyone, period.
Finally, the car stopped in front of the shopping complex.
Kiara slid out of the car behind him. She studied the already thronging crowd over his shoulder. "Looks like they got an early start as well."
His answer was a grunt.
Well at least she was making some improvement, it wasn't his usual growl. Without thinking, Kiara took his hand to lead him to a nearby shop. He snatched his hand away from her as if she had stuck it inside a blazing fire.
"Don't ever touch me," he said in the most growling, intimidating voice she had ever heard.
She swallowed the fear choking her. "Sorry," she apologized weakly. "I didn't think."
He tucked his hands into the pockets of his coat without saying anything more.
Shrugging off his distemper, she started toward her favorite store. Nykyrian stayed a step behind and eyed the crowd like a mother gimfry guarding her young.