Born of Fire

In answer, the door to her bathroom opened. In all his naked glory, Syn leaned heavily against the door-frame. Even weakened, he filled the room with an aura of raw, masculine power.

As he moved toward the bed, every muscle in his body rippled like a symphony for the eyes. Never in her life had she seen a man with a better body and if things were different . . .

Yeah, right. You wouldn’t do anything.

His cheeks were grizzled with the beginnings of a beard and the cuts on his cheeks and lips made a mockery of the handsomeness she knew he possessed.

Her gaze swept over him and she couldn’t suppress the chill that spread through her. He made an imposing figure and she had to agree with Kasen. Even beaten and bedraggled he was gorgeous.

From the expression on his face, she could tell how much pain he was in.

She went to offer her help, but he greeted her with a fierce snarl.

She took a step back, realizing he was lucid and angry.

“What am I doing here?” he growled.

She disregarded his question. “You need to get back in bed and rest.”

Though his eyes were still swollen, she could see the hard glare he pinned on her. “Why? So you can heal me, then turn me back over to the Rits?”

Her throat tightened, then she fell into the lie she’d created. “I’m sorry about that. It was a mistake. But as you can see, I fixed it.”

“You have my undying gratitude.” The sarcasm in his voice cut her deep.

She deserved that. After all, how would she feel if she were in his place?

At least he wasn’t rushing for her throat. That was an improvement.

“Can I get you anything?” She moved toward the kitchen. “Something to drink. Eat?”

He let out a sound she assumed was an aggravated snort before he pulled a blanket off her bed and limped toward her sofa. “Yeah, I need a drink of something so potent it’ll inebriate me in one shot and a painkiller chaser.” Draping the blanket around him, he took a seat, then rubbed his hands over the whiskers on his face.

Syn cursed as he accidentally bumped his swollen lips with his hand. Damn Merjack. He was going to kill him for this.

And with that thought, he glanced to Shahara who eyed him nervously.

Yeah, you ought to be nervous, babe.

He should kill her too. But at the moment it took all his strength just to move. He’d forgotten how much a beating hurt.

He took a deep breath. Severe pain sliced across his chest. You know better than to breathe like that, you idiot! How in the hell had he ever forgotten that pain?

Shahara watched him warily, still not sure if she was out of danger. Once again he turned that dark, probing stare to her while he raked his fingers through his thick, black hair to comb it out. Oddly, her own fingers ached with the memory of how soft his hair had been.

“Why did you free me?” he asked at last.

“You helped my sister. Thank you, by the way.”

Good, he seemed to accept her explanation. After a long minute, he looked up at her. “How’d you do it?”

Transfixed by the play of steely muscles, it took a moment for his question to register. She paused. “Do what?”

“Get me out.”

She fetched her hairbrush for his hair. As she handed it to him, his fingertips brushed hers, sending a strange tickle to her stomach.

Attributing it to the fact that she’d never before conversed with a naked man in her flat, she stepped back and cleared her throat. “I forged transfer papers for you.”

The look on his face made her insides shrivel. “What name did you use on the release?”

“Mine.”

The curse he snarled caused her cheeks flame. He immediately rose, then quickly sat back down with a groan.

She put a safer distance between them.

“How long have we been here?” he asked between clenched teeth.

“How many questions are you going to ask?”

Even from her distance, she could feel the heat from his stare. “If you used your real name on the papers, how long do you think it’ll be before the Rits come knocking on your door to question you about my whereabouts? Merjack isn’t going to just blithely let me go.”

“Oh my God,” she breathed. She hadn’t even thought about that. What an oversight. If she wasn’t careful, she’d tip her hand and be caught for sure.

Syn rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Jeez, woman, couldn’t you at least think it through?”

“Well, excuse me. I don’t normally pull people out of jail. I’m the one who puts them there.”

With a grimace, Syn pushed himself off her sofa. “We’ve got to get out of here before they find us.”

“And go where?”

“Wherever.”

Crossing the room, she was aghast at his suggestion. “I don’t want to leave my home. I have things to take care of. People to take care of.”