Born of Fire

He was pretending to be one of the Cruels? Was he nuts? Impersonating royalty was . . .

Shahara, the man is a wanted criminal. Not like one more warrant for his arrest would matter one way or another.

The clerk held out a scanner. “I’ll just need your imprint, my lord.”

Syn placed his hand over the white screen. Shahara held her breath, waiting for the alarm to blare and security to come running for them.

Instead, the white beam scanned his palm, then a small green light beeped.

The clerk’s face brightened even more. “We have our king’s suite available, my lord. Would that suit your needs?”

He let out an irritated sigh. “I hate to slum so, but if that’s the best you have . . . I suppose we can make do for one night.” He lifted Shahara’s hand and kissed her fingers. “Forgive me, my lady, for not doing better by you, but you know how these plebeian establishments are. Dreadful, really. But tomorrow night I’ll have you at my palace and shall make amends for tonight’s misery.”

Shahara pressed her lips together to keep from laughing at his perfect regal drawl. His acting abilities were impressive. “Well,” she said in a bored tone as she joined his mimicry, “I suppose they have beds here, surely. We shall make due and be rewarded by the gods for our suffrage.”

His dimples flashed as he winked at her.

“We’ll make sure and comp your dinner, my lord. Believe me, it’s an honor to have you here and we want you to have nothing but the best experience.” The clerk looked past them and motioned for a VIP valet. “Please, show Lord Cruel and his guest to his suite.”

Syn handed the valet their packs.

He took them without flinching. “Please follow me, my lord.”

“It’s all right,” Syn whispered in her ear as he drew alongside her. “Trust me.”

He took her hand. Squeezing it tightly, she let out a shaky breath as they passed by a security guard. There was a part of her terrified that they’d be recognized and stopped at any moment.

What they did was extremely dangerous. But Syn seemed oblivious to it as he kept pace with the valet and ignored the rest.

While they waited for the lift, she swept her gaze around the lobby. There were several stores located just beside the lift bay and she watched as people came and went.

Glancing at the various boutiques, her gaze fell to a gorgeous greenish-blue dress displayed in a nearby window. She’d never seen a color so pretty, nor material more delicate. It looked even softer than silk. Maybe a foreign material . . . What was so unusual was that the finely woven strands interlocked around the neck and sleeves to form a spider-web effect. The dress itself was a plain sheath that hugged the mannequin’s body.

What she wouldn’t give for a single moment of peace to try it on just to see what it’d be like to wear something that wasn’t secondhand.

It would be incredible, surely.

But then, what would be the use? She probably couldn’t afford the thread used to hem it.

Still, it’s beautiful . . .

Syn watched Shahara’s face as she stared longingly at the dress in the window not far from them. She would be breathtaking in it. Come to think of it, he’d never seen her in anything other than work clothes.

She deserved so much better than that. All her life she’d worked and struggled for the sake of her family. And what did she have to show for it?

Tessa was always in trouble and Kasen was down right nasty.

And Caillen . . .

Syn winced. He didn’t want to think about Caillen because thinking about Caillen made him all too aware of why he could never again try and settle down.

His past was something that would haunt him forever. Hell, some asshole would probably put it on his tomb—Here Lies the Last Remains of Idirian Wade’s Son. We Forgot His Name, but Hey, Who Cares? He Was a Worthless Filch.

Yeah, that’d be about right.

The lift pinged open. Tugging gently at her hand, Syn pulled her into it. Still she stared at the dress until the doors closed.

Syn looked away. He’d worn that same hungry look all his life, and all too well he knew what it was like to want something he couldn’t have.

Peace. Family.

And most of all, someone to love.

Those three things didn’t belong to anyone who bore the Wade surname.

It is what it is . . .

Shahara glanced at the valet, who quickly directed his gaze from her breasts to the wall. Any other time she’d have made him pay for such ogling, but she was still feeling somewhat overwhelmed and intimidated by her posh surroundings.

The doors opened on their floor.

The valet led them out and down the wide yellow corridor to the room at the end of the hall. Syn stepped around her and placed his hand against the door lock that the clerk had programmed to respond to his touch alone. The large wooden doors swung open with a flourish.