Exasperated, she glared at him. "You don't have to bark at m e. I was just— "
"Look," Nykyrian interrupted her, making her jump in surprise at the sharp tone. "I'm in no mood to be sociable. Why can't you leave me in peace!"
Sputtering in indignation, Kiara came to her feet. She rounded the table to stand next to his chair. "You know, I'm getting really sick of this abuse. If we have to be together constantly, the least you could do is be civil."
Nykyrian came to his feet with a loud scraping of chair leg against her porcelain floor.
His lips snarled at her, his breathing labored. "Why do you continue to pursue me when you know I have no interest in you as a woman? Are you incapable of having a m an in your home without having him in your bed?"
She had never had words cut her so deeply in her life. Before she could think, she slapped him as hard across the face as she could.
He didn't even flinch. He just stood there, motionless. She couldn't even detect the rise and fall of his chest. Kiara was horrified by her actions. Her palm stung from the blow.
She had never in her life struck anyone for anything.
"Forgive me," she gasped, cupping his face in her hands.
He pushed her hands away. "Don't touch me," he growled in a low, fierce voice.
She opened her mouth to speak, but a sharp knock on the door silenced her. Nykyrian went to open it.
Kiara stood in the kitchen, gripping the counter as a multitude of emotions tore through her. What had made her do such a thing? His insult rang in her ears, reminding her the action was justified. Wasn't it?
A lump in her throat, she moved towards the front room to see who was here and what was going on. She hovered in the hallway, watching Rachol unbutton and peel Nykyrian's shirt back.
Her brow knitted at the way his hands tenderly moved over Nykyrian's body. Nykyrian didn't protest in the least. Instead of snapping at Rachol, he just looked down at him.
Rachol cursed before moving away. Kiara went cold as she realized Rachol's hands were covered in blood.
"How'd you reopen the damn thing?" he barked at Nykyrian.
Kiara walked forward, wanting to help, her stomach twisting over the wound.
At her movement, Nykyrian faced her. "Go away," he snarled, baring his teeth to her.
Swallowing her fear at his reaction, she ran down the hallway to her room, tears streaming down her face.
*
"That wasn't necessary," Rachol said, pushing Nykyrian toward the couch. Nykyrian didn't say anything. It took all his concentration just to remain conscious from the throbbing, heated agony splitting his side. Breathing was getting harder by the heartbeat.
He tensed as Rachol struck a nerve, but said nothing. He thought about what he'd said to Kiara and wished he could take it back. But then, there were many things he regretted.
He could use the pain as an excuse, but that was all it would be— an excuse. Nykyrian clenched his teeth at his stupidity. What did it matter?
"I'm going to give you some Synethol," Rachol said, straightening up. "I know you hate it, but it'll help you heal a lot faster and this is one time I can't afford for you to be nursing a wound."
Nykyrian nodded, knowing Rachol was right.
Wearily, he watched Rachol wipe the blood from his hands and rummage through his pack until he found the injector.
Rachol rolled back the sleeve of his shirt. Exposing the crook of Nykyrian's elbow, he positioned the injector over the skin. "I'll stay over tonight. I just hope Kiara has a sleeping bag." He pressed the trigger.
The needle bit into Nykyrian's arm and the thick syrup moved into his skin with painful slowness. He pulled his glasses off and handed them to Rachol. "Tell her I'm sorry for what I said" he whispered, the drug making his vision cloudy.
Rachol frowned at Nykyrian. It was the first time he had ever known Kip to apologize to anyone, for anything. What had he interrupted?
Tossing the injector back into his pack, he rechecked Nykyrian's bandage. A red stain was already creeping back through the white cloth. He cursed. The little dancer had almost cost Nykyrian his life and he would like to tear her into pieces for it.
Kip was the only family he had in this life and by God, he wasn't just going to lie back and watch the only friend/family he had ever known die because of some harita.
In an angry stride, Rachol walked down the hall to Kiara's room. He pounded on the door, using the wood as a good scapegoat for his mood.
"Come in."
Rachol heard the tears in her voice and hesitated, all the anger draining out of him . He'd always been a fool for a crying woman. Clenching his teeth, he opened the door.
Curled up into a small ball on the bed, she looked about as pitiful as anything he had ever seen, and he had seen a lot of misery growing up on the streets. He cleared his throat of the strange emotions gathered there to choke him. "I need to get som e blankets or a sleeping bag or som ething."
With a sniff, she wiped the tears from her face. "Are you staying over tonight?"