Born Of The Night (The League Series Book 1)

Anger clouded Rachol's face and for a moment, Kiara feared they might begin fighting.

 

"God dammit Kip, don't do this. You're all I've got. She's not worth your life, don't you understand? We need you. I need you."

 

More tears fell down Kiara's cheeks as she watched Nykyrian release Rachol.

 

Nykyrian stood there, watching him, his face unreadable. After several seconds, he sighed. "I've had so many people dictate my life for me. I'm tired of doing what's expected. I thought you of all people would understand what it's like to want something and then once you get it, not let go."

 

Rachol shook his head, his lips in a tight line. "C'mon, you know better than this. Since when are wom en reliable? They leave the first time anything gets difficult."

 

Nykyrian snorted. "That's not true."

 

Rachol's eyebrows lifted. "Isn't it? She'll never leave the theatre to be with you. And you can't live out in the open. If you try, you know how long it'll take before a League Assassin cuts your throat."

 

Nykyrian slammed his hand into the side of the ship. The hollow sound echoed in the bay, through Kiara's m ind. "I've spent m y entire life listening to people tell me why I can't be loved." The bitterness in his voice tore through Kiara. "I always told myself that I didn't care, or need anyone to love me."

 

Nykyrian raked his hand through his hair and leveled his gaze on Rachol. "It was a lie, you know. I do care and I want Kiara. If it costs me my life to be with her, it doesn't matter. I've already lived past my prime anyway. I wake every morning with more pain in my joints than the day before. If I have to die, I'd rather die knowing someone loved me, just once."

 

Kiara barely heard the end of his words. Sobs raked her body as she sank to the floor.

 

Burying her head in her hands, she cried. He loved her.

 

 

 

She didn't know how she was going to reach him, but she promised herself that someday soon, she would, she had to. Her happiness hinged on her ability to claim him fully, to make him admit to her just how m uch he did care.

 

 

 

 

 

Ten

 

 

Nykyrian stepped out of the shower and dried himself off. Maybe Rachol was right, maybe Kiara would be his death. But then death had been something he had craved most of his life anyway. With a tired sigh, he wrapped the towel around his hips and opened the door. He froze.

 

Kiara lay on the bed in a filmy black negligee, her hair combed out around her. His blood raced at the sight. He steeled himself. "I thought you were downstairs," he said, trying to remain distant, knowing it was futile.

 

He reached to retrieve his clothes from the bed. Her silken hand covered his. Nykyrian's flesh burned at the gentle touch, he wanted her surrounding him more than he had ever wanted anything. His gaze traveled from her hand, up her perfect arm, to the beauty of her face. Her soft, amber eyes sparkled in the dim light of the room.

 

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier today," she whispered. "For all I know, Jullien deserved everything you said and more. I tend to say things when I'm angry, things I seldom mean."

 

Nykyrian was tempted to apologize as well, but he couldn't bring the words past his lips.

 

He dropped the towel and pulled his clothes from the bed. Kiara's face turned bright red before she averted her eyes from his body.

 

Pulling on his clothes, he studied her profile. True he had been with women who were more beautiful than she, but none of them had ever made him feel so much at ease, or soothed the ache inside him.

 

There was so much he wanted to tell her and so much he feared telling her. He took a deep breath. Either way, there were things she had to know, he owed her that much.

 

Kiara looked back at Nykyrian when the bed dipped under his weight. He was dressed and staring at her with a strange look. She sat up, wondering if he would bother telling her what had him upset now.

 

He reached his hand out and toyed with several of the curls laying on her shoulder. "You have the most beautiful hair," he said in a ragged voice that set her blood on fire.

 

 

 

She smiled, taking his hand in hers. Kiara opened her mouth to speak, but he placed a finger on her lips. "I have some things to tell you and I need you to listen."

 

She swallowed, curious about his grave tone. He stared at her for the longest time as if he wanted to memorize her face. "I'm not what you think. No," he said, cupping her cheek as she started to protest. "Listen. I've done a lot of things in my life that I regret."

 

He looked away from her and his hand fell away. Emptiness consumed her, Kiara wanted desperately to bring his warm touch back to her skin. To tell him she didn't care about his past, that he could never do anything to drive her away.

 

Nykyrian sighed, his gaze still focused on the wall. "I used to tell myself what I did was right, that the killings I performed protected governments and innocent lives." The angry twitch beat a determined rhythm in his cheek. "Then I learned the truth."

 

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