kitchen.
Grabbing the spara juice from the cooling unit, he poured himself a glass.
Kiara's door opened.
Nykyrian froze. He glanced to the low table in the main room and realized too late he was
too far from his glasses to get them on before she saw him. Having no choice but to wait,
Nykyrian gripped the glass tightly.
Kiara yawned as she plodded down the hallway, belting her robe closed. She stopped as
she reached the opening to the kitchen, her eyes riveted to Nykyrian's bare back.
More deep, white scars crisscrossed his tanned well-muscled flesh than she could count.
Her heart twisted at the sight. How much pain had he suffered? Were all of them war
wounds?
She crossed the room, aching to touch him, to soothe the skin puckered by the welts. Her
hand reached out, but she stopped it before she touched him. He wouldn't like that and he
was too old for her to coddle.
"I was thirsty," she whispered in an awkward apology.
Without facing her or a single comment, Nykyrian pulled a glass down and handed it to
her over his shoulder.
As she poured her juice, Kiara realized he was missing his glasses. She was so surprised by that fact, she forgot what she was doing. Juice spilled over the rim of her glass,
soaking the sleeve of her robe and splashing up against her feet and legs. Gasping, she
plopped the glass and juice down on the cabinet and reached for a towel.
"I'll clean it up," he growled.
Kiara's hand trembled as she tossed the towel back to the counter. She tried to see his
face, but he turned away.
She took the hint. Despite the overwhelming curiosity, she grabbed her juice and left.
Kiara raced to her room where she shook with emotions she couldn't quite name and
wasn't even sure if she wanted to know what they were or what they signified.
Nykyrian wiped up the sticky juice, his thoughts and emotions churning. He wished for
the strength it would take to trust Kiara. But experience had taught him that no one could
be trusted.
He would have her assassins tracked down soon and hand them over to her father. With
Bredeh and Pitala out of action, no one else would dare accept a contract on her life
knowing the OMG protected her. Then he would be free to return to his life. Alone.
An ache twisted through him worse than any physical pain he had ever experienced.
Clenching his teeth, he vowed to himself to see Bredeh and Pitala caught soon.
Five
Kiara paced the floor of her bedroom, completely stir-crazy and it wasn't even noon yet!
What was she supposed to do? Spend the next however many days, weeks, months it took
before the Probekeins recalled their dogs wearing a trail in her carpet?
"I mean face it," she said aloud. "This is asking too much of a person!"
There was nothing on the viewer worth watching, her friends were either working or
busy, she was tired of her disks, Nykyrian ignored her, yet what else was there for her to
do?
Even prisoners were treated better! At least they were assigned jobs to make the day go
faster. This kind of restriction was what had forced her from her father's home. And
frankly, she just couldn't stand not having anything to do.
In a huff, she went to find Nykyrian and vent some of her frustration. Just as she
expected, he sat there on her couch, hammering at the keys of his terminal in perfect
harmony with his isolation. She wanted to throw something at him.
"I've had it!"
He stopped typing and looked up from the screen, his face impassive.
If he weren't wearing his glasses, she bet he'd be cocking his eyebrow at her. "I told you yesterday, I can't just stay here without something to do. I'm bored."
He looked back at his screen. "While you're standing there hands on hips, why don't you
stomp your foot and pout like a good little spoiled girl."
Kiara narrowed her eyes and dropped her arms to her sides. His words infuriated her. "I
don't pout!"
The snort that answered her really made her want to bounce something off his
Grabbing the spara juice from the cooling unit, he poured himself a glass.
Kiara's door opened.
Nykyrian froze. He glanced to the low table in the main room and realized too late he was
too far from his glasses to get them on before she saw him. Having no choice but to wait,
Nykyrian gripped the glass tightly.
Kiara yawned as she plodded down the hallway, belting her robe closed. She stopped as
she reached the opening to the kitchen, her eyes riveted to Nykyrian's bare back.
More deep, white scars crisscrossed his tanned well-muscled flesh than she could count.
Her heart twisted at the sight. How much pain had he suffered? Were all of them war
wounds?
She crossed the room, aching to touch him, to soothe the skin puckered by the welts. Her
hand reached out, but she stopped it before she touched him. He wouldn't like that and he
was too old for her to coddle.
"I was thirsty," she whispered in an awkward apology.
Without facing her or a single comment, Nykyrian pulled a glass down and handed it to
her over his shoulder.
As she poured her juice, Kiara realized he was missing his glasses. She was so surprised by that fact, she forgot what she was doing. Juice spilled over the rim of her glass,
soaking the sleeve of her robe and splashing up against her feet and legs. Gasping, she
plopped the glass and juice down on the cabinet and reached for a towel.
"I'll clean it up," he growled.
Kiara's hand trembled as she tossed the towel back to the counter. She tried to see his
face, but he turned away.
She took the hint. Despite the overwhelming curiosity, she grabbed her juice and left.
Kiara raced to her room where she shook with emotions she couldn't quite name and
wasn't even sure if she wanted to know what they were or what they signified.
Nykyrian wiped up the sticky juice, his thoughts and emotions churning. He wished for
the strength it would take to trust Kiara. But experience had taught him that no one could
be trusted.
He would have her assassins tracked down soon and hand them over to her father. With
Bredeh and Pitala out of action, no one else would dare accept a contract on her life
knowing the OMG protected her. Then he would be free to return to his life. Alone.
An ache twisted through him worse than any physical pain he had ever experienced.
Clenching his teeth, he vowed to himself to see Bredeh and Pitala caught soon.
Five
Kiara paced the floor of her bedroom, completely stir-crazy and it wasn't even noon yet!
What was she supposed to do? Spend the next however many days, weeks, months it took
before the Probekeins recalled their dogs wearing a trail in her carpet?
"I mean face it," she said aloud. "This is asking too much of a person!"
There was nothing on the viewer worth watching, her friends were either working or
busy, she was tired of her disks, Nykyrian ignored her, yet what else was there for her to
do?
Even prisoners were treated better! At least they were assigned jobs to make the day go
faster. This kind of restriction was what had forced her from her father's home. And
frankly, she just couldn't stand not having anything to do.
In a huff, she went to find Nykyrian and vent some of her frustration. Just as she
expected, he sat there on her couch, hammering at the keys of his terminal in perfect
harmony with his isolation. She wanted to throw something at him.
"I've had it!"
He stopped typing and looked up from the screen, his face impassive.
If he weren't wearing his glasses, she bet he'd be cocking his eyebrow at her. "I told you yesterday, I can't just stay here without something to do. I'm bored."
He looked back at his screen. "While you're standing there hands on hips, why don't you
stomp your foot and pout like a good little spoiled girl."
Kiara narrowed her eyes and dropped her arms to her sides. His words infuriated her. "I
don't pout!"
The snort that answered her really made her want to bounce something off his
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