Infinity by Sherrilyn Kenyon Page A

worried if she knew about it but I know she hasn't heard anything. We don't have TV or anything. Heck, we don't even have a phone. You have to call Menyara and she takes messages to us."
    The shock on Kyrian's face set his temper on fire.
    "We don't need your pity," Nick growled. "We get along just fine without it and them other things too. You don't need electronic crap to live. You know, people lived for thousands of years without it. There's a big difference between stuff you want and stuff you need."
    Kyrian held his hands up in surrender. "Settle down, Nick. I don't feel sorry for you. I didn't have any of that when I was a kid either and believe me, I know how people used to live."
    Nick looked around the expensive furnishings that belied those words. It was hard to imagine Kyrian having ever done without anything. "You've come a long way, huh?"
    "In some ways ..."
    "And in others?"
    Kyrian shrugged. "Let me put it to you this way... money doesn't solve your problems. It just brings new ones to your door."
    "Meaning what?"
    "Meaning I hope you never know the betrayals I've had. My father once told me that no friend would ever be loyal to me because of what I had and who I was."
    Nick's dad had told him basically the same thing. Trust no one at his back, 'cause all people did was betray. And that they usually laughed while they did it.
    But he didn't want to be so jaded. "Was he right?"
    "Absolutely not. There was one friend I had who was loyal. But when he died, it left me with others who more than proved my father a wise man. I know it's hard to listen at your age. The gods know I never did, but--"
    "The gods?"
    Kyrian chuckled, again without showing his teeth. "You'll have to forgive me. I'm a little eccentric sometimes." "Is that why all the windows are closed?"
    Kyrian arched a brow. "You're observant. Impressive. Most people don't catch that."
    "Yeah, well, few things escape me. I tend to watch silently from the shadows. You learn a lot more that way."
    "I'll keep that in mind then." Kyrian stepped from around his desk and handed him the phone. "Go ahead and send a message to your mom. In the event she's heard about your school, I don't want her to worry."
    Nick screwed his face up. "Boy, with that kind of uberconsideration, your parents must really love you." Mr. Goody Two-shoes.
    Kyrian hesitated before he responded. "My parents died a long time ago. And you know the sad thing? I still miss them everyday. I spent my entire youth fighting with my dad over every little thing and damned if I wouldn't sell my soul to see him one more time and tell him I was sorry for the last words I said to him. Words I can never take back that should have never been said. So call your mom. No matter what kind of relationship you have with your parents, I swear to you, you'll miss them when they're gone."
    Nick wasn't so sure about that. He barely knew his dad. His mom was another subject though--he would never intentionally hurt her. Dialing Aunt Mennie's number, he put the phone to his ear.
    "Hello?" Mennie's Creole accent was thicker than normal.
    "Hey, Aunt Men, it's Nick. Can you--"
    "Boy? Where you been? Your poor mama done sick with worry over you. She's sitting right here, right now, all tore up and crying. She ain't slept or had a minute's peace since this morning when she heard about your school. Shame on you for worrying her like this. We went to the school and everything looking for you and couldn't find a trace of you anywhere. No one would tell her anything and there you sit all nice and fine. Shame on you, boy! Shame on you."
    Nick felt like the lowest form of dog spittle as his mom took the phone. It wasn't like Menyara to fuss at him for anything. She usually left it to his mom to do. That more than anything told him how worried his mom was.
    "Baby Boo?" Those words wrung his gut. It was his childhood nickname that she seldom used anymore. "You all right?"
    "Yeah, Mom. I'm good. I'm really sorry I didn't call. I--I