Born of the Night (6 page)

with her and not touch her would be an even worse torture for him than the missions he

had been forced to execute against his will.

He saw Kiara's soft, trusting eyes, felt her body molded against his.

Nykyrian made his decision.

"Call Biardi."

Three

Kiara stretched her tense joints. She hoped she could give a decent performance tonight,

but she doubted it. Four nights had passed since she last experienced untroubled sleep.

Every time she tried to rest, she was plagued by thoughts of someone coming after her

with a knife, and that, someone inevitably turned into Nykyrian.

With a weary sigh, she went to stare at her reflection, checking her costume for any tell-

tale flaws. The tight, red sequined bodysuit clung to her figure, making her regret the

large amount of sweets she had eaten that afternoon.

Well, at least her bruises were almost gone. She was a bit surprised the media hadn't

questioned her about her battered face. Shrugging her shoulders, she attributed it to the

heavy amount of red and gold makeup her costume required. They probably hadn't even

noticed.

Kiara made a face at herself and returned to her pacing.

Loneliness filled her as she surveyed the tiny, empty room. Her father thought his

absence comforted her. Everyone seemed to think she preferred solitude before a

performance, but the truth was very different. She needed company most in the minutes

prior to a dance. Just the sound of another voice would alleviate some of the nervousness

tearing at her.

She thought of Nykyrian. Would he leave her alone?

Kiara shook her head, wondering what her thoughts were up to. Why did her dreams torment her with him as her stalker and why did her conscious mind see him as her

savior?

No answer came.

Nervously, she continued to pace the room. As she neared the door, she heard the muffled

voices of her father's guards.

"I tell you, I didn't enlist for this kind of mission. Hell, I almost wish someone would try to kill her just to get rid of the boredom!"

The other guard laughed. "I can think of a better way to end my boredom."

"What do you mean?"

"Imagine having night duty at her place. I envy Yanas and Briqs."

"Yeah, I'd like to show the little dumpling my night stick!"

Aghast at their bantering, Kiara crossed the room and rifled through her bag on the table.

Pulling out the small blaster, she made sure it contained a full charge.

At the moment, she didn't know whom she trusted less, the Probekeins or her father's

soldiers. She wasn't taking any more chances with her safety.

After she replaced the weapon, she heard a sharp snap outside her door. Kiara turned

about to investigate the noise.

A tall shadow fell across her as she neared the door. She laughed nervously.

It couldn't be. She was just imagining the fact that the shadow looked like a giant man.

She didn't want to turn around, but she did anyway, then wished she had listened to

herself.

If she had thought her last two assassins were ugly, they were nothing compared to this

one. Cold, black eyes stared at her from a scarred, human face. A maniacal smile twisted

his lips.

Fear paralyzed her. Sweat formed on her body as she waited for him to do something

other than stare at her like a rabid lorina.

She looked to her bag on the table he leaned against. Could she get to her blaster?

As if he could read her thoughts, he glanced to the bag. With a swipe of his arm, he knocked it to the floor. Kiara took a step, then froze as her blaster landed at his feet with

a heavy, soul-wrenching thud.

He laughed cruelly and retrieved it in his large paw of a hand.

"Help!" she screamed, knowing the guards outside would come to her rescue.

Clucking his tongue, the assassin shook his head. "They can't hear you. They're dead."

All thoughts left Kiara's mind in a wake of helpless terror. He moved toward her.

Her breathing became labored and rapid. Kiara wished herself out of the room, but her

legs wouldn't cooperate. She was dead, she knew it.

Suddenly, her mind and body began working as one. The door! She had to get out and

find help. She tossed a chair at the assassin and ran.

Her hand touched the icy knob. She grasped it like a lifeline, but before she could twist it

open, a blow struck her across the back, knocking her away.

Dazed, she hit the floor.

Desperately, she wanted to scream again, but her lungs were incapable of anything save

the cold rasping breaths rattling in her chest. She pushed herself along the floor in an

effort to put more distance between them. Terror twined through her, blinding her eyes.

The assassin grabbed her by the throat, pulled her from the floor and shoved her across

the table. Her bottles of perfume and makeup rattled, biting into her back, tearing at her

flesh while he tightened his grip. Tears fell uncontrollably as she stared into the assassin's unfeeling face.

Kiara knew she would never leave this room alive.

The assassin held his blaster to her cheek. His twisted laughter was filling her ears as she

waited for the final explosive sound that would end her life. She closed her eyes and

prayed.

The door burst open with a resounding crash.

"Drop it, Pitala."

Kiara went cold in relief at the deep accent. It was him! Opening her eyes, she turned her

head to see her tall, blond savior.

Nykyrian stood calmly in the doorway, his arms braced on either side of the frame.

"I'll kill her, hybrid," Pitala answered in a raspy serpentine voice.

"Then I'll kill you. Release her and you can walk away alive."

Kiara's blood drained from her face. She trembled, wishing they weren't so nonchalant

about her life.

Pitala glared at her in indecision.

His blaster moved away from her cheek. She took a shaky breath, offering a prayer of

thanks. "Do you think I fear you, half-ling?" Pitala sneered, refusing to release his grip on her throat.

Nykyrian shifted to one side of the door frame. "You really are pathetic. Do you honestly think I intend to stand here waiting for your partner to come up behind me?" He snapped

his fingers.

An unconscious man was shoved through the door. Pitala cursed.

"I really hate taking out the trash," Rachol said, joining Nykyrian.

Pitala released her. Kiara rubbed her bruised throat and slid from the table. She jumped in

reflex as Pitala moved his weapon toward the pair standing in the doorway.

Before he could aim it at either man, two blasters came out of nowhere to balance their

sights at his heart.

"Think," Nykyrian said ominously, clicking back the release of his blaster with his

thumb.

Pitala gave a nervous laugh, and held up his hands. "I wouldn't actually try to shoot you. I just wanted to see if you were as good as they say."

"Better," Rachol said, pulling Pitala's blaster from his hand.

Nykyrian holstered his weapon. "Apologize to
Tara
Biardi and you can leave."

Angry, black eyes focused on Kiara with an unspoken promise he would be back. A wave

of terror consumed her. "My apologies," he rasped.

Cold sweat beaded on her body as Pitala bent and slapped his partner awake. Within

seconds, the pair of assassins were gone.

Her relief at their departure quickly ebbed. "What are
you
doing here?" she asked, not quite certain of Nykyrian and Rachol's intent.

"Saving you," Nykyrian said absently, looking down the corridor.

The words only calmed her to a slight degree. Kiara wasn't sure the danger had passed.

The OMG had turned down the contract to protect her. Maybe they had only saved her

from Pitala so they could collect the bounty on her life.

Rachol stared at her. "She's not quite in shock, but I bet she faints before you get her

home."'

Kiara opened her mouth to remind him she didn't faint, but was silenced by Nykyrian

returning into the room.

"Did they go out the back?" Rachol asked.

"Yes. Fifty
dorcas
they're setting up an ambush near my ship."

Rachol laughed. "No bet. I know they are. They're too stupid not be obvious and

predictable."

Nykyrian nodded. "You know what to do. I'll meet you at rendezvous point and time."

Rachol returned his nod and gave Kiara a cheerful smile.

"Roll and burn,'" he said to Nykyrian on his way out the door.

Nykyrian turned his attention to Kiara. He wanted desperately to comfort her, but was

afraid what he might do if he touched her. Her tears still glistened on her cheeks where

they had washed away streaks of her makeup.

His hand tightened around the grip of his blaster. He should have killed Pitala for the

grief he caused her. Pushing his emotions back into restraint, Nykyrian retrieved her

cloak from a peg inside the door. "Here," he said, handing the cloak to her. "We need to go."

Kiara swallowed the lump in her throat. For a moment, she was unable to understand the

words through the fog clouding her mind. "You mean leave?" she asked.

"Yes."

"I have a show to perform." Her voice sounded hollow even to herself. She had to dance.

People had paid too much money to be disappointed. Her promoters would never forgive

her if she disappointed the audience.

Nykyrian grabbed her arm as she tried to walk past him. Her lucidity worried him. Had she suffered a breakdown from the attack? She was definitely too calm. "You have to

leave the theatre."

"I cannot."

Her voice, haunting in its emptiness, scared him. Nykyrian wanted to shake her. Her

amber eyes were glassy, devoid of any emotion. Rachol was right, she was in shock.

"Listen," he said, trying to break through the mild sedation her mind had provided for her. "Pitala and his kind will do anything to accomplish their mission. That includes

bombing this building. They don't care how many lives they take as long as yours is one

of them. We must leave."

Kiara laughed, not really understanding his words. Pulling away from his grip, she

walked into the hallway. Her toe struck something solid. She looked down.

Her numbness left her in a wake of consuming terror. On the floor were the bodies of her

guards. Their eyes opened and glazed, red blood seeped through their uniforms.

Her scream echoed through the hallway.

Wincing at the sound, Nykyrian drew her into his arms and cradled her head against his

chest. "Don't look," he whispered, his chest tightening into a painful knot of suppressed emotion.

He held her quietly while she sobbed. He had long ceased being horrified by bodies. The

only emotion the grisly sight evoked in him was anger over the waste.

Her hot tears soaked through his shirt, forming chills on his skin. The soft scent of

flowers drifted from her hair. Her slender arms clutched at him in desperation. He

tightened his arms around her shoulders, wishing he could have something she would

never give to the likes of him, wishing for things he could never give her— things like

safety, and a better world.

"Everything will be fine," he said soothingly.

"No, it won't," Kiara sobbed. Her feelings crashed through her in waves of resounding grief and agony. She could still feel Pitala's blaster at her cheek, see his menacing black

eyes.

Oh God, she had almost died!

Kiara cried against Nykyrian's shoulder, clutching him. She needed the safety he offered,

the protection. She found a strange comfort in his arms. His heart beat a steady, soothing

rhythm under her cheek. A faint smell of leather and musk came from his skin.

Clinging to him, she needed his warmth.

Nykyrian clenched his teeth at her embrace. Never in his life had anyone held him in

such a manner. He knew only her emotional state prompted her to touch him at all. If she

ever knew who and what he was, she would hate him. just as everyone did.

Swallowing the lump of pain burning in his throat, he pulled away. "We must leave."

Kiara took her cloak from his hand and wrapped it around her. She shielded her eyes

from the bodies. For now, she had no choice but to trust this stranger to get her past

Pitala. Nykyrian had saved her life, obviously he knew what he was doing.

"Is there another exit besides the back?" he asked.

"The caterers have a separate entrance," she whispered.

"Where?"

"This way." Kiara led him down the corridor, past the reception room.

Entering the kitchen. Kiara became self-conscious. The caterers paused their movements,

staring at them with keen interest. Her stomach churned at the smell of baking sweets.

For a moment, she feared she'd be sick.

Without breaking stride, Nykyrian led her to the back door and out into the street.

He hailed a transport.

Kiara stepped inside the car, pushing herself as far over in the seat as she could. She just

wanted to fade into obscurity and never be bothered or hunted again.

Nykyrian gave her address to the computer.

She went cold with dread. "How do you know where I live?"

"At the moment, all mercenaries know. The Probekeins have been listing your name and

address for the last week on their bounty sheets."

Her hands trembled. All this time, she had deluded herself into thinking she was safe.

Could her life truly be that precarious?

Her stomach knotted even more as she thought about the dead soldiers. She had killed

them. Had it not been for her, they would still be alive.