"You said you would answer my questions," she said softly, wishing she could see inside him for a minute and find out why he was so distant.

He dropped his hand. "I didn't expect you to ask that one."

She rubbed the chills from her arms. "Why not?"

Nykyrian crossed the room to stand before her. His nearness intoxicated her more than a thousand cups of larna could ever do. For a moment, she thought he might actually touch her, but he remained less than a foot from her-just close enough to warm her with his body heat, with an intangible wall so thick around him, she didn't dare reach out and touch him the way her heart cried for her to.

"Why would you care how anything makes me feel?" His soft voice seemed somehow humble, searching.

She swallowed the clump of assorted emotions churning inside her. "I don't know, I just do."

He took a deep breath and turned around. "Do you practice in here?"

Kiara frowned at the unexpected question, wondering what had prompted it. "Yes."

He walked over to the mirrors and touched the barre. "Do you enjoy what you do?"

The question caught her off guard. She frowned again, thinking about the answer. "I never really thought about it," she said. "Dancing was all I ever wanted to do, so I guess I must enjoy it."His grip tightened on the barre. "Or do you just do it because someone expected you to?"

A chill crept up her back. "What makes you think that?"

Nykyrian turned around and faced her. "The pictures you have in the main room. Most of them are of you as a child, dressed for dance recitals. You don't look old enough in any of them to make a life-shaping decision. I would say you dance because you were told it was what you should do with your talents."

The truth in his words cut through her consciousness. How could he see something about her that she had never even noticed? "Are you always this acute?"

He shrugged. "In my business, it pays to know and understand people. It keeps me alive."

Kiara ran his words through her mind. And in that moment she had her first insight into him. "Is that why you do what you? Because someone told you, you should be an assassin?"

Silence answered her.

"You still owe me six answers."

"Four answers," he corrected acidly, folding his arms over his chest. "And I've answered enough questions for tonight."

He walked past her and Kiara knew the subject was closed as firmly as if it were held in trust by League Protectors. With a weary sigh, she realized she didn't know much more about him now than she had in the beginning.

Frustrated, she returned to the main room where he was once again occupied with his terminal.

"Will it disturb you if I turn on the viewer?"

"No," he answered curtly, his fingers not even hesitating in their rapid beat.

Returning to her chair, Kiara picked up the control and began flipping through the channels. She listened more to Nykyrian The Tough than to her programs. Even though he appeared oblivious to her, she sensed the rigid wall of defenses he had closed around himself. Somewhere, there had to be a chink.But did she really want to find it?

Kiara swallowed in trepidation as she considered what it would mean to her life if he were to open himself up to her. He was a wanted criminal to most governments. If people associated her with Nykyrian on a social level, she would be barred from the theatre. She had spent too many years carving her career to just toss it to the wind for some handsome man. Even one as delectable as her guard.

No, she couldn't allow all the time and energy she had spent building herself up to just lose it all now. She would allow Nykyrian to remain aloof and distanced, as much for her sake as his.

She switched off the viewer. "I'm going to bed."

Nykyrian stopped his typing and listened to her walking down the hallway to her room.

He closed the terminal to ease some of the ache from his eyes and allowed the rigidness to leave his body as he relaxed back against the couch.

The sounds of Kiara preparing for bed formed a strange comfort to his soul. He removed his glasses, balanced them on his knee, then rubbed his burning eyes until they adjusted to the light. His soul didn't need comfort, it needed solitude.

His job- to protect, not seduce.

Contrary to his thoughts and noble code, an image of Kiara holding him flashed across his mind. Enough! he roared at his treacherous thoughts and instantly the image vanished.

Nykyrian placed his glasses on the low table and stretched out on the couch, listening to the soothing, empty silence surrounding him. He drew strength from it and swore to keep his thoughts on the men tracking Kiara, not on his seducing her.

Kiara woke from troubled sleep. Once more her dreams had tormented her with the sight of Nykyrian killing her. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she pulled her robe on and went to the kitchen to get her ritual glass of spara juice.

At the entrance to the kitchen, she paused in shock. On the kitchen table placed before her chair sat a warmer with a full breakfast and a glass of spara juice. Amazed at thefare, she looked over to Nykyrian who sat on a bar stool reading a stack of papers. He was, as usual, completely oblivious to her.

"Impressive," she said, retrieving a piece of toast from the warmer. Her tastebuds reeled at the strange, sharp spices he had added to the bread. "Very impressive."

He ignored her compliments. "What do you have to do today?" he asked in a gruff voice that set her teeth at odds.

Kiara swallowed a sip of juice. "I have rehearsal this afternoon, then my performance- ".

"No," he interrupted. "No performances or rehearsals."

She sat the juice down on the table and stared agape at him. "You're insane if you think you can keep me from dancing."

He put the papers on the counter and stood. "Next time, they'll bomb the building to get you."

She smirked. "How do you know?"

"I would."

His deadpan voice frightened her more than anything else he could have said. Kiara swallowed the lump burning in her throat. "This is my career you're talking about. A missed performance could end it."

"Death would be a much more permanent end to it."

Well she couldn't argue with that logic. "What am I supposed to do? Stay imprisoned here, waiting for the next assassin to come in and kill me? Why not just bomb this building and have done with it?"

Nykyrian didn't so much as twitch a muscle as he responded in his low, unwavering voice, "League rules."

Kiara stiffened in confusion. "What?"

"The League forbids a free-assassin to detonate a bomb in a housing building."She laughed at the absurdity of the idea of paid killers following a code of honor. "You mean assassins actually have rules to follow? Why should someone who kills for a living give a damn about some League ordinance?"

Still no visible reaction from Nykyrian The Tough. "If you had ever disobeyed the League, you wouldn't ask that question."

She moved closer to him and leaned against the bar. "What's that supposed to mean? Are you speaking from your own experience?"

He moved away from her. "Very few free-assassins have the ability to outwit League Assassins. Despite the corruption inherent in their own system, the League does try to keep some type of law over the free-assassins to make sure they don't become more powerful than the fat bureaucrats."

Kiara pursed her lips. That didn't answer her second question at all.

She studied Nykyrian, finding it amusing that he allowed someone to govern his behavior. She cocked a disbelieving eyebrow at him. "And you abide by these laws?"

"When it suits me to."

Kiara clutched her robe closed. The underlining threat of his words was not lost on her.

She had been right, he respected no man's rules, except his own.

She cleared her throat and quickly changed the subject. "Can I at least go shopping? I have a birthday present to buy for a friend of mine."

He went perfectly still and she wondered why her question bothered him. "If we must,"

he said at last. "I suppose you want to go today."

Kiara narrowed her eyes at him. "Well, with my pressing schedule, I don't know. I think I might be able to schedule it between my luncheon and party."

He didn't even bother to smirk at her sarcasm. "Go get dressed. It'll be better to go before the afternoon crowds start swarming."

With a sigh, Kiara retrieved her juice and a slice of grasdin then headed to her bedroom.

It didn't take her long to shower and dress, but before she finished, she heard Rachol talking with Nykyrian in the main room. They spoke a strange language she couldn'tunderstand even though she listened very carefully for her name or any other word she might recognize.

Well at least Nykyrian's harshness seemed to fade a tad around Rachol. She would like to see some reaction from her bodyguard other than shrugs and clipped retorts.

A wicked smile curved her lips. Before her common sense could rear its ugly presence, she changed clothes. If there was one thing she had learned in her adulthood, it was that men loved her lean, muscular body. Maybe a little sight of it just might wring some form of reaction out of Nykyrian.

She pulled on a pair of tight black slacks and the low-cut matching blazer that hugged her curves in just the right way. Kiara tucked a white scarf into the deep decollete to disguise the fact she didn't wear a blouse.

This was the outfit that had gotten her noticed by some of the most desirable men in the universe. She couldn't wait to see how Nykyrian would fare against it! Slipping her feet into a pair of low-heeled boots, she went to join him and Rachol.

As she entered the main room, Nykyrian looked up from his conversation and didn't so much as prolong a word, let alone trail off in the startled appreciation she usually received from men when she dressed this way.

Rachol turned around in his chair and almost fell out of it. He cleared his throat.

"Whoa," he said, looking back at Nykyrian.

"Thank you," she said with a disappointed sigh.

Nykyrian came to his feet, still refusing to acknowledge her dress. "Are you ready?"

Grinding her teeth together in disappointed frustration, she nodded. She thought Nykyrian would at least take her arm to keep her near him, but all he did was open the door and scan the corridor before waving her out of the apartment.

"Is Rachol staying here?" she asked, noting he didn't move from his chair.

Rachol's laugh answered her. "Yeah, Kip gets to guard you and I get to house-sit. Life bites the big tee-tawa."

She frowned. "The big what?""We won't be gone long," Nykyrian cut in before Rachol could answer. He shut and locked her door.

"That was rude," she chastised.

Instead of the sharp, angry barb she expected, he brushed his hand through his long, unbraided hair. "Don't ask Rachol what half his vocabulary means. Most of it's acronyms that you're better off not knowing the meaning to."

She laughed, grateful some of his usual tenseness was missing. "Tee-tawa?"

He pressed the button for the lift. "That one I don't even know the meaning to, but my guess is it's not fitting for mixed company."

The doors opened with a soft whir. "So what's your favorite Racholism?" she asked, stepping into the lift.

A corner of his mouth twitched. For a moment, Kiara thought he might actually smile, but he just tucked his hands inside the pockets of his long, black coat and the doors closed with a ping. "Duwad," he said at last.

She smiled. "Which means?"

"Dude with a death wish."

Kiara thought about that for a moment and why Rachol would have come up with it.

"Conceived for you?"

"Kip was conceived for me."

She wondered how he could keep his voice so flat when he spoke. She doubted she could do it so well even with years of practice. "And what does Kip mean?"

"Keyaya imporus petana."

She listened to the strange language roll from his lips like warm liquid on a cold day, the sound soothing her like a lullaby. "Am I supposed to know what that means?" she asked, stepping out of the lift, into the lobby.

"The answer is another of your allotted questions about me, mu Tara. " He walked outside and hailed a transport.Kiara walked up to him deliberately invading his personal space. To her surprise, he didn't back away. "I still would like to know."

A transport pulled up to the curb, its brakes squealing. He opened the door for her. "It's Ritadarion for brother in spirit."

She sat in the seat. "And are you?" she asked, typing her destination into the transport's system before inserting her debit card.

"In many ways."

She felt the wall seal shut around him. True to her inquisitive nature, she couldn't help probing the boundaries of the wall. "How are you brothers in spirit?"

He turned away from her and studied the blurred scenery whirling past the car. At first she didn't think he would answer, then finally he sighed. "Like most beings of a similar past, we bonded to each other, understand each other."

She probed the wall a little further. "Most beings can understand others if things are explained to them."

He snorted. "Were that true, war wouldn't exist."

Kiara considered that for a moment and decided it was true enough. "How can you assess situations so easily?" She paused barely a heartbeat before answering for him.