Born of Fire

He returned a few minutes later with his wine. “Want some?”


She took the glass and drank a quick sip while he rejoined her. The sweet, dry flavor rolled across her tongue and she enjoyed the luxury. Normally she didn’t imbibe.

One, she didn’t want her senses numbed in case she needed to go to work unexpectedly and two, she couldn’t afford it.

But this . . . this was really good.

Syn stacked up pillows behind him, then laid back. Handing him the wine, Shahara leaned her cheek against his chest so that she could hear the beating of his heart while he gently stroked her hair. She toyed with his bandage. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

He laughed at her question. “Definitely no. But now that we’re finished . . . I remember why I got drunk.”

“Do you need any pain meds?”

He shook his head. “I’ve had too much alcohol for that.”

She was baffled by his choice. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to take meds than get drunk?”

“Yes, but I function better on the bottle. Meds mess with reflexes and make my ass drag. I’m so used to being drunk that all it does is numb the pain.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “You’re so full of shit.”

He looked offended. “I know it defies logic, but I promise you, alcohol has no effect on my response time. It didn’t effect my father either. Some weird genetic defect.”

Yes it was weird. Unwilling to think about that, she laid her head on his shoulder. “Thank you, by the way.”

“I’m the one who should do the thanking.”

She nipped the flesh of his arm before looking up. “Yes, you should, now that I think about it.”

He smiled and the happiness in his eyes brought a sudden wave of guilt and pain to her chest.

What would he do when he found out about her mission?

Kill you dead.

Her throat suddenly dry, she pushed that thought away. What she was doing to him was wrong, but she couldn’t begin to pull out now. It would mean her life and those of her siblings if she did.

Yet as she lay here, she was beginning to believe that anything could happen and maybe, just maybe, she could get through all this without hurting him anymore.

Maybe I can help him . . .

After all, he was innocent and, as a seax, she owed it to him to help set him free. You make that sound so easy. She knew it wouldn’t be. But she had to find some way to help him. He deserved it.

She didn’t know how. Yet. But someway, somehow, she would figure it out.

She hoped.

He frowned at her. “What are you thinking?”

“What do you mean?” she answered evasively.

“You just looked so serious all of a sudden. I was wondering why.”

“Oh.” She laid her head back on his shoulder while she prepared the lie she needed. “I was just thinking about my brother and sisters. I’ve never gone this long without talking to them before.” Well, it was only a partial lie. She really was worried about them.

He finished off the wine before he spoke again. “It must be nice.”

“What? Worrying about my lunatic siblings and the trouble they might get into without me?” She’d never thought of that as being particularly pleasant.

He set the empty glass on the bedside table. “Having someone worry about you when you’re gone. Knowing that if something happened to you, they’d actually grieve and not be waiting on the will to be read.”

A lump settled in her throat as she thought about the loneliness that made up his life. Then again, she was usually lonely even with her family crowded around because they didn’t see the real her. They only saw their older sister.

To them she was above being a person. Her only role was to help them when they needed it—to comfort their tears and encourage them when life kicked them in the backside. It never dawned on her sisters that she might need help. That she didn’t like being alone and responsible all the time. And while Caillen was better about that than they were, he still leaned on her like a son.

That made her wonder which kind of loneliness was worse. Or maybe the answer was neither one. Both came with their own sets of problems and aches.

Syn rolled over and reached to the nightstand. He picked up a hand remote to turn out the lights. “Thank you for a great night, Shahara,” he whispered, stroking her hair. “Now I have to get some sleep or I’ll be even more worthless tomorrow.”

“You’re not worthless, Syn,” she said, but he was already sound asleep.

She lay in the shelter of his arms and listened to his slow, even breathing. As she closed her eyes, she let her thoughts drift to the past and to all the times she’d dreamed of having a moment like this. A man she could trust who would hold her without causing her pain. Never in her wildest imaginings had she dreamed the man who finally held her would be a wanted convict with a past so violent that it made a mockery of any horror story she’d ever heard.

Yet here they were and to her complete amazement, she’d never felt safer.