"Don't stop," he said with an odd note she couldn't quite place.
Kiara let the next song begin. She walked up to him on her toes. Intending to awe him with her pirouette, she gasped as her foot gave way under her weight.
Nykyrian caught her before she fell. The sudden impact of strong muscles surrounding her, stole her breath.
"Are you okay?"
She smiled at the warm concern in his voice. "It's my foot. I think I might have hurt it."
He eased her to the floor. Kiara wished she could think of some way to keep his arms around her, but his warmth vacated her and left her longing.
With deft movements, he unlaced her shoe and pulled it free. A hiss escaped his lips.
Her eyes widened at the em otional display. "My God, what happened to your foot?"
Kiara wiggled her toes and looked down at the member expecting to see it broken or swollen. Instead, it looked quite normal to her. "There's nothing wrong with it."
He brushed his fingers over the ball of her foot as if he held a holy relic. Chills crept up her legs despite the burning sensation she felt where his hands touched her,
"You've got more blisters on your foot than I've got scars ..." his voice trailed off.
Kiara gave a half laugh. "It's a hazard of my business," she answered. "I'm used to them.
They only hurt when they bleed."
His grip tightened. "You shouldn't do this to yourself. I'm sure it hurts like Hell."
She studied his face which was bent away from her while he examined her foot. "Why would you care how anything m akes me feel?" she asked, deciding she liked using his words against him.
He looked up at her. "I don't know, I just do."
Warmth flooded her body. She leaned over to kiss him . For a moment, she thought she'd succeed, then he pulled away and released her foot.
"You should take a few days and let those blisters heal. At the rate you're going, you'll end up crippled by the time you're thirty."
Disgruntled, Kiara unlaced her other shoe. "Why is it I have a feeling someone has said that to you?" she asked, snatching the shoe off.
"In my case, it wasn't crippled, it was dead.” he said and was gone.
Dread gnawed at her stomach as she stared after him. The blasé delivery chilled her. It had sounded almost as if he wanted to die.
Why do you care? her mind screamed at her. You are a dancer, he is a killer, the two are not compatible. But then, why did she feel so much attraction for him? Sighing for lack of an answer, she got up and went to shower.
Nykyrian heard the shower come on. He walked to the door and leaned his head against the panel, wanting, aching for the courage to enter the room, to feel her arms wrapped around him.
No, his mind screamed. You don't need this. What kind of life could he offer her? A bullet in the back one day because some asshole wanted vengeance on him? He had no choice but to remain alone. There was no room in his life for anyone.
He wanted . . .
Nykyrian sighed. He refused to think about what he wanted. His wants were unimportant. He had a job to do and that's exactly what he was going to do. Protect her, nothing more.
He pushed himself away from the door and returned to the main room.
After a few minutes, Kiara came out and bid him goodnight. Once again, he heard her move about in her room as she prepared for bed. He trembled with desire.
With a curse, he snatched his boots off. In morbid retaliation to remind himself of what he was, he checked the retractable blades hidden in his boots. The cold steel shot out, glinting in the light. He fingered the blades, feeling the razor-sharp edge scrape against his skin. He was a killer, that was the only destiny he had.
Satisfied that he had himself controlled where Kiara was concerned, he pushed the blades back into their hidden compartment and set the boots on the floor next to the couch. With a sigh, he tossed the glasses to the table. His eyes watered from the light as he rubbed the pain.
He heard Kiara's bed squeak under her weight. A lump of longing closed his throat. He clenched his teeth in frustration. Doffing his shirt, he settled down on the couch to sleep.
She moved again. His body continued to throb in a sweet ache for Kiara, despite all the arguments he constantly gave to himself why-he shouldn't want her near him.
After lying there for several minutes unable to get comfortable, he finally yielded to his parched throat. At least it was one need he could quench. He headed to the kitchen.
Grabbing the spara juice from the cooling unit, he poured himself a glass.
Kiara's door opened.
Nykyrian froze. He glanced to the low table in the main room and realized too late he was too far from his glasses to get them on before she saw him. Having no choice but to wait, Nykyrian gripped the glass tightly.
Kiara yawned as she plodded down the hallway, belting her robe closed. She stopped as she reached the opening to the kitchen, her eyes riveted to Nykyrian's bare back.