Born of Fire (39 page)

Her eyes misting, she touched his newest wound on his shoulder. A wound he’d taken for her . . .

He was all she’d ever wanted, wrapped up in a package that should offend her to the core of her being.

But that was Syn. Ever full of surprises. Ever full of strength and integrity.

Most of all, loyalty.

Reaching up, she pulled his lips back to hers.

Syn trembled at the wave of emotions her simple kiss evoked. Gods, how he wanted to believe in her, but how could he? He’d been wounded so many times by those he trusted.

Would she be any different?

I don’t have another fresh start in me.
He’d had to start over one time too many. He was tired now. Soul-weary.

But as he looked into those eyes that seared him, his heart wouldn’t listen. It wanted to believe in her and it wasn’t listening to reason.

“Hold me,” he breathed in her ear. She wrapped her arms around him and he closed his eyes to savor the feeling.

One perfect moment.

Lying naked on the floor with her breath tickling his neck, with her arms holding him against her body. This was heaven.

If only it could last.

She cupped his cheek in her hand and smiled at him. “I won’t hurt you, Syn. I’m not like the others. I will stand by you. Forever.”

Sure you will
. But he bit back his sarcasm. It was a defense mechanism and he didn’t want to hurt her. In this one instant, she meant what she said.

Whether or not she meant it in the future remained to be seen. For now, he would take it and be grateful that she at least felt it today.

Kissing her lips, he separated her thighs with his knees and slid slowly inside her warmth.

Shahara threw her head back and groaned as the sweetest pleasure assailed her. Never in her life had she experienced anything so wonderful. The weight of his body bearing down on hers, the feel of him moving against her. His body filling hers.

She wanted to scream out her love, but fear of his reaction kept the words inside her. It was too soon to tell him something he would only reject.

No, she would keep her secret for the time being, but soon she would tell him.

Syn buried his face against her neck and inhaled the sweet feminine scent of her body. With her arms and
legs wrapped around him, he knew what true peace was. Gone were his demons and doubts, and in their place were emotions he couldn’t even begin to define.

She moaned with each thrust of his body, fanning the flames inside him even higher.

Suddenly, her grip tightened and she screamed out in pleasure. Syn gave a deep throaty laugh at her reaction as he joined her in paradise.

His body satisfied, Syn didn’t want to move. He wanted to stay within her for the rest of eternity.

If only he could.

“Syn? You’re crushing me.”

Pouting, he looked down at her. “I don’t want to move.”

A smile spread across her face. “And I kind of like you where you are. But you weigh about a ton and a half and this floor is really hard.”

He snorted. “Excuse me, I take great exception to that. I only weigh a ton.” He rolled to his side and pulled her on top of him where he could see the sparkle of her eyes as she watched him.

Shahara marveled at his handsomeness. And once again she wondered how his wife could have possibly left a man like him. What had the woman been thinking?

With that came another terrifying thought. How much had his wife meant to him?

Had he loved her as much as her father had loved her mother? Even after her mother’s death, her father had never looked at another woman. He’d once told her that the gods had only made one real woman and he’d been the only man lucky enough to find her.

“Did you love your wife?” she blurted out before she could stop herself.

“No.”

She frowned at his lack of hesitation and the certainty in his voice. “Then why did you marry her?”

“I was in love with the
idea
of her.”

“I don’t understand.”

Sighing, he lifted up a handful of her hair and twisted it between his fingers. “I’d just completed my residency when she entered the emergency room with a friend of hers who’d been injured at work.”

“What kind of work?”

“Does it matter?”

“I’d like to know.”

He brushed her hair against his lips before he answered. “She worked in an art gallery and her friend had been injured moving some paintings around. She’d cut herself so badly she needed surgery.”

“Is that why you’re so interested in art? Because of your wife?”

“Not because of her. She merely exposed me to it and taught me about it. Since I’d never been around anything beautiful in my life, I liked spending time in galleries. After she left, it was the only thing I kept. Again, not because of her, but because I wouldn’t let her take that from me, too. Everything I’d ever enjoyed had been spoiled by some selfish asshole. The bitch robbed me of enough. I refused to let her sully the one thing I found comfort in.”

Shahara respected that. It took a strong person to keep others from ruining things that gave them pleasure.

And it made her wonder about the day they’d met. Syn must have met a lot of women as a doctor. “What made you ask her out?”

His eyes turned strangely dreamy. “She looked so pure and frail. Completely feminine and soft. I’d never known anyone like that before. All the women I’d been around were tough and sarcastic. The kind who’d slap a man before she kissed him.”

Just like me.

Shahara’s insides shrank at his words.

“But not her,” he continued. “She was so sheltered and unjaded. I knew in an instant that she’d never had a moment of fear or hunger. No demons haunted her. She had a past that I envied. And I thought that maybe, if I spent some time with her, maybe I could pretend I’d had a different past, too.”

“And she loved you.” Shahara’s voice caught on the last words.

“No. She wanted the prestige of being married to a doctor. For some reason I never understood, she was embarrassed by her parents and their
lowly
pleb status. Her father was a salesman and her mother a computer tech.” He laughed bitterly. “Ironic, huh? I would have killed to have parents like hers and she wanted nothing more than to forget they existed because she wanted better.”

Though his voice was flat, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he still cared for his ex-wife. His eyes had belied his indifference while he described her.

“How long were you married?”

“Six
long
years.”

Nonplussed, she lifted herself up on one elbow to look down at him. “If they were so miserable, why did you stay?”

“Because she was respectable. Our life together was respectable and that was all
I’d
ever wanted. So what if
she was the most pretentious woman alive? At least she was a lady. In public, she was the most gracious, enchanting woman you could imagine. She knew every tiny piece of etiquette. Hell, she even knew which piece of cutlery went with what dish.”

Unlike me
. Shahara’s heart broke with the knowledge. Whether he admitted it or not, Syn still craved that life. She could see it in his eyes. Hear it in his voice.

She would never be that type of woman. They both knew that.

He could never be happy with her.

She wanted to die. How could she have been so foolish not to see it before?

He frowned at her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She cleared her throat and changed the subject. “Do you ever wish you could go back?”

“No. Not to her. I wish I could be a legitimate doctor again. And I would sell my soul to have my son’s love back. But the rest . . . What the hell, I guess. I’ve sold myself for a lot less over the years.”

Shahara raised up to look down at him. “Mara was a fool, Syn. If she couldn’t see all the wonderful things you are, she definitely doesn’t deserve you and I’m glad you’re rid of her.”

Syn’s breath caught at the conviction he heard in her voice. For a minute, he could almost believe her.

And when she lowered her lips to his, he could almost believe in miracles again.

Don’t be stupid.

Dreams were for fools, and honest, decent women like her didn’t involve themselves with trash like him. Not for long, anyway.

Unwilling to lie to himself anymore, he pulled back and sighed. “We need to get cleaned up. It won’t be long before we reach Ritadaria.”

“You think we’re going to find that chip?”

“No. I personally think we’re going to die.”

Syn hissed as Shahara nipped his chin with her teeth. Hard. “That. Hurt.”

“Be grateful I showed restraint after that last comment, buddy.” But there was fear in her eyes as she looked at him. “Just out of curiosity, where did you leave the chip when you hid it all those years ago?”

He rubbed his hand over his chin in an effort to dispel some of the pain she’d given him. “In an office down the hallway from Merjack’s.”

She gaped at him. “You what?”

He shrugged. “I told you, I was a scared kid. I only had a few seconds to stash it before they took me. I figured it was the safest place.”

Shahara was flabbergasted by the news. What an act of supreme stupidity. “You don’t honestly think the chip’s still there?”

“Don’t know. It’s been a couple of decades since I dumped it. Let’s hope for a miracle.”

A miracle? A flippin’, farkin’ miracle?

Was he insane?

“You’re on drugs, aren’t you? Go ahead and admit it.”

He snorted. “I haven’t done drugs since I was in my teens and Nykyrian threatened my life if I ever used
again. Bad thing about having an assassin as a friend. When he makes a threat against your life, you know it’s not one. He means it.”

She didn’t find his dry humor amusing in the least. Not when their lives were hinging on a miracle. “And where in the office did you dump it?”

“I secured it to a piece of statuary.”

Oh, it just got better and better. Her stomach hit the floor as she stared at him in contemptuous disbelief. They were so wasting their time. The odds of that person still being there . . .

Of the statue still being there . . .

She might as well shoot herself now and save the Rits the cost of the blaster charge. “Do you at least know whose office?”

“No. That’s why I made the map.”

She ground her teeth. “I’m going to kill you. Why are we even bothering? Do you know what the odds are that it’s still there?”

“I don’t play the odds, love. Never have.”

She rolled her eyes and wanted to beat him until he bled . . . more. “And if the statue’s gone?”

“We’re screwed.”

She let out a long, irritated breath. “That’s what I like about you, convict. You always keep things interesting.” Meeting his gaze again, she frowned. “How did you get the map, anyway?”

“I drew it once I escaped jail.”

“Then I was right—you did intend to one day clear your name.”

A strange look crossed his face an instant before he rolled over and got up.

“Why did you wait, Syn?”

He growled as if aggravated by her interrogation. “Things came up. I didn’t have the time nor the inclination.”

Her frown deepened. That didn’t make any sense. The Syn she’d grown to know wouldn’t have been so lackadaisical about his freedom. “Like what?”

Syn sighed as he remembered all the reasons he’d made for not exposing Merjack. In the end, it came down to one thing—who would ever believe the son of Idirian Wade accusing the man who was credited with bringing down his father? Sheridan Wade was filthy trash, and if his stints in prison had ever taught him anything, it was that people like him got screwed while people like Merjack screwed everyone else and got away with it.

Had he even tried to clear his name, he would have probably been executed for it. The way the media skewed things, they’d have called it a vendetta accusation and crucified him over it. The only reason he was trying to set the record straight now was that Shahara’s sterling reputation as a seax might negate the stigma.

Maybe.

But he didn’t want to share that with her. She would dismiss it and call him paranoid—because in her world, honesty prevailed. In his world, it got people killed.

“Forget it.”

Shahara wanted to curse. His tone told her that it’d be wise to heed him. This time, anyway.

Still, the mystery tantalized her.

How she wanted to understand his reasoning. What would have caused him to continue running when all he had to do was turn the chip over to the authorities?
That had to be simpler than living with all the people who’d been sent to track him down over the years.

Maybe she didn’t know him so well after all.

Once they were showered and dressed, they joined Vik and Nero on the bridge. Nero didn’t say a word, but Shahara had a feeling he knew exactly what they’d done.

“We’re coming up on Ritadaria,” he told Syn. “Bet you never thought you’d be back here.”

“Not alive, anyway. What about you?”

“As a tracer and tracker, I bill them, but it doesn’t mean I like it here any more than you do. I try to avoid coming to the planet as much as I can.”

Shahara frowned. “Aren’t you afraid they’ll arrest you?”

Nero snorted. “I wasn’t a convict, Dagan. I was an illegally purchased slave. My
owner
”—he sneered the term—“has no legal claim on me. And I’m no longer a kid learning my powers. I’m a full-grown man with an ax I want to bury in the forehead of anyone dumb enough to come at me. I defy the bastards to try something now.”

A chill went down her spine as she realized he was every bit the predator Syn was. And she never wanted to be on the bad side of either man.

Syn took the copilot chair to help guide them in. “Any of the people you work for know what you are?”

“Nope. I kill anyone who learns.”

“Good.”

Yeah, but not for the ones they killed
. Shahara made her way to her seat. Vik, back in his bird form, came over to sit by her.

“What are you doing?” she asked him.

“I’m hanging with you ’cause you seem to be a little more sane.”