"I need you." His ragged whisper thrilled her.
She looked up at his passion-darkened eyes and saw the depth of his love for her. "Let me love you, Nykyrian," she pleaded.
His arms tightened around her and he picked her up from the floor and headed for the stairs.
"Your wound," she gasped, afraid he would hurt himself again.
"I'm fine," he said. And then the most wondrous thing happened, he smiled.
Kiara stared agape. "You've got dimples!"
Instantly, the smile vanished. "I know."
"They're beautiful!" Kiara laughed. "Show them to me again." She fingered his cheek, trying to get another smile from him.
He tossed her on the bed, then stretched out on top of her, pinning her to the mattress in a way that excited her. He stared into her eyes and smiled again.
"It feels weird," Nykyrian said after a minute. "I'm sure it looks stupid."
Kiara laughed at him. "It looks wonderful. Rachol was right, you should smile more often."
He picked her hand up and kissed the palm. His warm breath sent a chill up her arm.
"What's your middle name?" she asked suddenly.
He released her hand and stared at her as if she had turned purple. "What?"
"Your middle nam e?"
He frowned. "Why?"
She toyed with a strand of his blond hair, delighting in the softness of it. "I want to know everything about you and that seemed like a good starting place."
He shook his head at her, his blond hair cupping his face. "Caesare."
She smiled, running her fingertip along his the curves of his mouth. "Nykyrian Caesare Quiakides. It has a noble ring to it."
A brief moment of pain flashed over his features. It crossed his face so quickly, she wondered if she had imagined it.
Then he looked back at her with those wonderful, green eyes. "Do you want me to darken the room?" he asked.
Heat crept over her cheeks. "Please."
He rolled away from her and reached for a control on the table next to his bed.
The lights went out and the ceiling above her head faded to transparency. A thousand stars twinkled brightly, their light bathing the room in a soft, white glow. "It looks like a dream," she whispered, awed by the beauty. "No wonder you like it here."
He pulled his boots off. "They're not half as beautiful as you are."
His voice was so low, Kiara wondered if he said it, or she imagined it. She sat up and leaned against his back. His sharp intake of breath brought a smile to her face. She ran her hands down his arms, delighting in the sensation of his muscles tensing under her hands.
All four lorinas hit the bed at once. The biggest one butted at Kiara, trying to separate her from Nykyrian.
Nykyrian mumbled a curse. "Pixley, down!" he ordered the big one.
"I didn't know they had names," Kiara said, stroking the smallest one behind the ears.
Nykyrian nodded. "The one your petting is Cintara, Pixley is the biggest, Ulf is the one with the white patch and the other is Ilyse," he said, pushing Pixley down the stairs.
Once he cleared them from he room, he locked the door.
"How long have you had them?"
"Eight years," he said, pulling his shirt off over his head.
Shyness overcame Kiara as she watched the play of well-defined m uscles. Her mouth dried at the tanned flesh she wanted to run her hands across. She saw the dragon and dagger tattoo under his left collarbone, the mark of a League Assassin. Somehow, his career no longer bothered her.
The bed dipped under his weight. He stretched out beside her, his head propped on his hand as he studied her with an intensity she found unsettling.
Kiara mimicked the gesture. She lay there watching him, afraid to touch him for fear he would change his mind and leave. After several seconds, he reached his hand out and touched her hair, spreading it out along the black fur covers.
Kiara smiled warmly, her heartbeat quickening. In spite of all the scars crossing his chest, she thought Nykyrian had the most handsome body she had ever seen. She touched the worst-looking scar that ran along his collarbone, just above the tattoo. It looked as if something had dug a huge claw into his neck. Sadness welled up in her throat, choking her breath as she thought of all the pain he had suffered in his life.
Nykyrian pulled his hand away from her hair. "You've changed your mind."
The despondency in his voice wrenched a sob from her. "No," she whispered.
He frowned, smoothing a curl from her cheek, stroking her cheekbone with his thumb.
"You look so sad."
She held his hand to her cheek, reveling in the feel of his callused palm against her skin.
She moved his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. "I wish I could take away your pain," she whispered. "I wish I could go back to when you were born and take you somewhere safe. Far away from all the people who hurt you."