Nykyrian woke first. Quietly, he stepped over Rachol's sleeping body, his glasses forgotten. The pain in his side had ebbed to a dull ache, a sad reminder of the life lost last night by a moment of carelessness. He clenched his teeth thinking of the informant, blaming himself for the whole affair.
As he reached the bathroom door, Kiara's door opened. Before he could think to avert his eyes, she saw them.
Kiara's mouth dropped. The eyes staring at her were nothing like she had imagined.
They were clear and the lightest, prettiest shade of green with just a hint of a brown band around the edge of the iris.
His eyes were hum an and beautiful.
Her throat tightened in happiness. Those eyes gave her the first true glimpse of his soul.
In them, she saw all the mistrust, anger and bitterness. She felt as if she were seeing him naked. Kiara ached to take him into her arms and soothe away all the pain swirling in those magnificent eyes.
Biting her lip, she shifted her gaze to take in his entire face. There, she had no surprise.
He was every bit as handsome as she'd suspected.
He blinked and looked away, seemingly embarrassed. "I'm sorry about what I said last night," he whispered, meeting her gaze for a moment to show her his sincerity before he looked away again.
She cleared her throat of the sudden thrill that choked her from his apology. "Rachol told me. I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have hit you, it was wrong."
He shrugged and moved into the bathroom.
Kiara trembled in her newfound knowledge. Without his glasses, he wasn't a fearsome phantom to haunt her dreams. He was a mortal man who could be wounded and loved.
She gasped at her thoughts. Love? That's not what she wanted from him. Was it?
No longer feeling satisfied, she started breakfast.
*
Nykyrian's hands shook as he dragged them over his face. Well, at least he wouldn't have anymore eye strain. She had finally seen him. Now it would begin. The initial pity would be first — poor deformed half-ling, then the worst part, the eventual hatred of his mixed blood, of the fact that he bore too many characteristics of both races.
People had never seen anything more in him than the antithesis of their own traits, not realizing or caring he could be hurt by their scorn.
Clenching his teeth, he ripped the bandage from his side, taking a small amount of satisfaction from the throbbing protest of his skin. Physical pain was easy to deal with and it took his mind off other things.
Disrobing, he stepped into the shower.
The water burned as it slid against his wound. Despite the pain, an image of Kiara tormented him. "No!" he hissed, hitting the wall with his palm.
She didn't deserve him. She needed someone free to love her entirely, not a man who had divided loyalties, wanted by authorities and criminals. He saw all the lonely nights she would spend while he pursued his missions, tormented by fears of his being killed.
Kiara would be better off with someone else. He couldn't allow himself to love her.
Ever.
*
Kiara smiled at Nykyrian despite her warnings to herself to remain aloof. "I'm just going to have to get used to you all over again," she said, handing him a plate.
He didn't comment.
She filled a plate for herself and sat across from him. His wet, white hair was combed off his face. His eyes, with their long, dark lashes, absolutely fascinated her. "How do you feel?" she asked.
"Like I've been shot," he replied dryly.
She sm iled. "Gee, I wonder why?"
He glanced up at her, then quickly looked back at his food. "I'm surprised you're speaking to me after what I said to you last night."
She shrugged. "My father tutored me well on amnesia. He always claimed it was a necessary ingredient for friendship." She cleared her throat and said in deep voice,
"Kiara, my angel, no m atter how long you live or how good a friend you've got, someone's always going to say or do something they didn't mean to do. And if they're truly your friend, you'd better forgive and forget."
Nykyrian sipped his juice. "Your father's wise."
"Good day!" Rachol yawned, stretching as he entered the kitchen. "What smells so good?"
" Frisanian tarts," Kiara said, returning his smile.
He walked over to the warmer and pulled a couple off. Rachol turned around and smiled.
"If you want a man in your life, call me anytime."
Kiara laughed, amazed at how handsome he was without the eyeliner ringing his eyes, or hoops in his ears. But then, he wasn't nearly as gorgeous as Nykyrian.
"Will I be blessed with both of you today?" Kiara bit into her fruit.
Rachol sat next to her. "Cursed would be a more concise description. In which case, I reply affirmatively." He smiled at Nykyrian. "Kip will no doubt, and you can see proof by the look on his face, object to my hanging around."
"I don't need a nursemaid," Nykyrian said quietly. "Well, in my case it's a nurseman. So don't bother with your usual bluster, I'm committed."
"You should be."
Kiara burst into laughter at Nykyrian's even-toned response.
Rachol sputtered. "Kiara, please. Don't encourage him to abuse me, he does enough damage on his own."