The League 1: Born Of The Night Read online

  BORN OF THE NIGHT

  BY

  SHERRILYN KENYON

  Born Of The Night

  The League Series Book 1

  Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Pinnacle Books

  ISBN: 0-7860-0222-0

  1996

  BORN OF FIRE

  Awakening from a drugged sleep in a cold cell, the princess Kiara finds herself a prisoner of the merciless marauders who threaten her father's planetary kingdom. Miraculously, a rescuer appears, but behind his fearsome mask is the handsome face of a dark avenger whose outlaw touch sets her very soul aflame.

  BORN OF DESIRE

  They call him Nemesis. Once a renegade assassin, now a warrior-soldier sworn to protect the innocent from the ruthless mercenaries throughout the galaxies, he has many enemies. Besieged on every side, he knows he is a danger to the beauty he saves from certain death. But the lovely Kiara stirs a hungry longing in his battle-hardened heart, spurring him into a struggle that could restore hid honor and heal the wounds of a beleaguered empire—or tear Kiara from his arms forever....

  BORN OF THE NIGHT

  THERE WAS A PRICE ON HER HEAD, AND FEAR IN HER HEART . . .

  Nykyrian grabbed her arm. She was too calm. "You have to leave."

  "I can't."

  "Pitala and his kind will do anything to accomplish their mission. That includes bombing this theatre and everyone in it. They don't care how many lives they take as long as yours is one of them."

  Kiara pulled away from him and walked into the hallway. Her toe struck something solid. She looked down. On the floor were the bodies of her dead guards.

  Her screams echoed through the hallway.

  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 while she sobbed. Her hot tears soaked through his shirt, forming chills on his skin. The soft scent of flowers drifted from her hair. He tightened his arms around her, wishing he could have something he could never have, wishing for things he could never give her— like peace, safety, and a better world.

  "Everything will be fine," he said soothingly.

  "No, it won't," Kiara sobbed.

  She had almost died . . .

  . . . AND ONLY ONE MAN COULD SAVE HER!

  Prologue

  "How dare you!" Commander Tiarun Biardi glowered at the Ambassador, his anger barely under his rigid control. In all the years he had ruled the Gouran Empire and sat as President of the Gourish Consulate, he had never felt as weak and helpless as he did now, facing the Probekein Ambassador before him.

  Never had he yielded to threats and he had no in­tention of beginning what could only be a destructive habit.

  Tiarun stood, glaring at the source of his agitation. "You can tell your emperor that we refuse to allow him access to Miremba IV!"

  Calmly, slowly, the ambassador came to his feet, the silk of his robes rustling around the bulk of his form. "We shall have the rights to that outpost, or every member of this Council will feel the bite of Probekein justice." He stared alternately at the eight councilors seated at the round table before him.

  From the dim light cast by the overhead lamps, Tiarun saw the color fade from the faces of his peers. His own heart pounded in trepidation.

  Each of them knew the ferocity of the Probekeins — a warring race, they lived at the expense of weaker peo­ples. Even the design of the ambassador's gaudy, blood-colored robes reminded him of a wrongfully conquered planet.

  The two men stood staring at each other from op­posite ends of the table, neither would look away or blink. Tiarun sensed the Councilors' fear as they thought over the threat. His own fear thundered in his veins like a disease, threatening to rob him of his strength, his will.

  Stiffening his spine, Tiarun knew he couldn't allow himself or his government to be subjected to the whims of the ambassador's race, no matter the conse­quences. It was his duty, along with every member there, to ensure the peaceful existence of all inhabi­tants of his world. If they gave in now, the Probekeins would think them weak and powerless.

  "You may kill me," Tiarun said bravely. "I would rather die than allow you the weapon you intend to build!"

  The ambassador gave an evil, lopsided smile. "As a soldier, you have proven your life means little com­pared to the greater good of your people. But," he paused in his true Probekein melodramatic role, gaug­ing their reactions before he continued, "are you so free with the life of your daughter?"

  Tiarun clenched the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white. It took all his self-restraint not to leap across it and strangle the ambassador. "My daughter is an acknowledged performer of the arts and is pro­tected by the Code. You cannot touch her!"

  The ambassador scoffed. "No? What of the other members of this Council? Their children are not so protected. But then, neither is yours, Commander. I know of many who care very little for the Code and its dictates. You will allow us to mine the surata mineral, or your children will die."

  Tiarun wasn't sure what frightened him more — the ambassador's chilling voice or his icy cold glare. He knew he would not find mercy at the Probekein's hands.

  "You cannot threaten us!" Councilor Serela spoke, wiping perspiration from her brow with a lace hand­kerchief.

  A wave of respect rushed through Tiarun. He was grateful the Council continued to support his decision.

  The ambassador raked Serela with his glare, then narrowed his eyes at Tiarun. "Do you still oppose our proposal?"

  "Most emphatically!"

  "Then guard your children well." The ambassador turned with a whirl of his silken robes. His two-man guard fell in beside him like silent specters beside a demon lord.

  The door slammed closed behind them.

  Tiarun breathed a sigh of relief at the dramatic exit.

  "Dear God, protect us," Serela whispered from her chair next to him, a tear sliding down her pallid cheek. "I have only one son."

  Tiarun placed a comforting hand on her shoulder while thinking of his own daughter, Kiara. "I move we adjourn this meeting. We should all return to our homes and secure the safety of our children until the Probekeins have found another source for the surata they need."

  The Council clearly agreed. The meeting broke up in a state of controlled panic. Tiarun drew a ragged breath. He closed the file before him, watching his friends hurry from the room. He had to find his daughter and protect her. She was the only family he had left. He couldn't stand for Kiara to be killed be­cause of him— as her mother had been.

  Fear constricted his throat, making it difficult for him to breathe. His country or his daughter—dear Heaven, what a choice! It made him dizzy.

  Determined to keep his precious daughter safe no matter the cost, he left the room.

  Chapter 1

  She had been kidnapped!

  Kiara Biardi came awake with a scream lodged in her throat as she recalled the events in her darkened hotel room. Someone had come into her room during the late hours and drugged her. Trembling in fear, she could still feel the cold, rough grip moving over her skin, feel the bite of the injector as the drug seeped into her bloodstream. She never had the chance to see who it was, or to even call for help.

  Now, her head ached terribly as the last remnants of the drug slowly wore off. An acrid stench filled her senses, choking her with its pungency.

  Kiara tried not to breathe deeply and opened her eyes to confront who or whatever held her prisoner.

  To her relief, she was alone, lying face down on a rotting mattress. With a grimace of distaste, she pushed herself up and nearly fell as a wave of dizziness buzzed through her head. She caught h
erself against the wall next to her, a roughened spot of rust scraping the palm of her hand.

  "Great," she mumbled. "No equilibrium. What am I supposed to do now, wait patiently until they come back?"

  Even as she spoke the words, Kiara knew she wouldn't— couldn't— do that. Her father hadn't reared a stupid daughter, and she had learned many tricks over the years, including the ability to pick a lock.

  A smile curved her lips as she headed toward the door on unsteady feet. True, it had been years since she'd picked the locks on her house to sneak outside and meet her friends after curfew, but Kiara was sure she would remember how. She had to.

  Kiara ran her hand over the smooth keypad. The lock appeared to be standard military issue— not too different from her father's. In fact . . .

  She stopped, a chill rushing over her. A military lock. A lump of dread burned in her throat as she realized she wasn't kidnapped for money. She was a political prisoner!

  "Oh, Papa," she whispered, wondering what he had gotten them involved in.

  This had always been their worst fear, for her to be taken by one of his enemies. Kiara had never given proper credence to her overprotective father's warn­ings. Now, she wished she had.

  "Stop it," she commanded herself. If her conclu­sion was correct, then she must free herself and return home before her father jeopardized their government for her.

  "This lock will be easy enough," she assured herself with confidence.

  Popping her knuckles, she entered a code. The keys beeped melodically as she pressed them in. A light flashed across the top of the pad, displaying her cho­sen code.

  Nothing happened. Kiara tried again.

  After almost half an hour of trying, she was ready to give up. "Come on, Kiara," she said aloud. "All you've got is time. There's nothing else for you to do, except sit around and feel sorry for yourself!"

  With a sigh, she glanced about the room, noting the inordinate amount of garbage strewn across the floor. Kiara wrinkled her nose in distaste. The thick, steel walls were covered by huge spots of rust and corrosion. She wondered how this craft ever passed space inspec­tion. Surely it wasn't fit enough to carry socks, let alone human occupants.

  She turned back to the lock and began pressing more buttons. As the light hummed on again, she heard footsteps approaching in the corridor outside. Kiara bit her lip in indecision. She cast her gaze around searching for a weapon. Only the wilted gar­bage met her sight. Kiara sighed. The only help the garbage offered was the possibility her kidnappers might faint from the stench.

  Clenching her teeth in determination, she tried an­other code.

  * * * * *

  "I think we ought to get some pleasure out of this," a man said, his voice slowly drawing near her room. "Did you see her?"

  Kiara swallowed the sudden lump of fear in her throat and backed toward the far wall, her heart pounding while her mind raced to think of some­thing, anything to do.

  "I don't know, Chenz," another man spoke. "I think we oughta wait till we get further out. I keep thinking about Poll's message that Nemesis is out to get us. I just think we oughta kill her like we was paid to and forget about her."

  Her stomach knotted. They might kill her, but she intended to take a large piece of them with her!

  Chenz's laugh echoed in the hallway. The bitter sound sent a shiver down her spine. "Nemesis ain't nothing to fear. We done been paid, I say we ought to enjoy this."

  The gears hummed in the door as it slowly slid up­ward.

  Please, God, Kiara begged silently, let them kill me before they rape me.

  Two of the nastiest beings she had ever seen walked inside. If she thought the room stank before, that odor couldn't compare to the stench that clung to them. Kiara wondered if they had ever taken a bath in their lives.

  She conceded they were human, though neither did honor to their race.

  "Looky." Kiara recognized the voice as belonging to Chenz. "The beauty's awake."

  She curled her lip at the fat, grimy man. "What do you want of me?" she asked, already knowing the an­swer, but hoping to gain some time until she could think of a way to escape them.

  His lecherous smile answered her.

  Kiara stared at him, wondering how he could stand to look at his ugly, warted face long enough to shave. But then, by the amount of stubble on his pudgy jowls, she could tell he didn't look too often.

  The man at his side was only a few inches taller. His long, sharp angular features reminded her of one of the beasties her nurse used to frighten her with when she was a child.

  Their eyes mirrored a coldness in their souls that chilled her own.

  She grasped onto the bedpost, her knuckles pro­truding. Kiara assessed them, and the distance and time it would take her to get between them and through the door. She was quick and strong, but not enough to break through their hulking forms. At that moment, she wished she were a magician or soldier instead of a scrawny dancer.

  "My father will give you any amount you ask if you return me unharmed."

  Chenz took a step toward her. "We don't intend to return you at all."

  Panic, cold and demanding, welled up inside her, temporarily dimming her eyesight.

  Before she could move, Chenz had her by the arm. Fiercely, Kiara clawed at his face. By God, she would have his eyes for this!

  He drew his fist back and struck her hard across the face. Kiara reeled backward, falling against the wall. She slid to the floor, stunned. Never in her life had she been struck and the pain throbbing across her cheek and eye was unlike anything she had ever felt.

  Only the sound of her nightgown ripping brought her back to the present and her mind away from the pain. With a curse born of desperation, Kiara sent her fist into Chenz's flabby belly. Releasing her, he dou­bled over in pain.

  She kicked at the other man, catching him in the center of his chest. Her nightgown tore more as she scrambled from them. She couldn't allow herself to be raped. She would rather die trying to escape than to docilely submit to them.

  Kiara ignored the gaping front of her gown and ran for the door. Someone grabbed her foot. She hit the floor with enough force to knock her breath from her.

  Oh God, she had to get away! Kiara clawed at the garbage as they pulled her back toward them.

  "You'll pay for that, bitch!" Chenz snapped, wrap­ping his belt around her throat.

  Kiara gasped for air, but the belt bit into the flesh of her neck, choking it from her. Desperately, she tried to pry the leather free from her throat. She kicked her feet and tried to scream. Not even a whisper left her bruised lips.

  She was dead, she knew it.

  "Kill her, Chenz!" the taller man said, rubbing his chest where she had kicked him.

  The belt tightened. Kiara's sight dimmed. She clawed at the belt. Her tongue seemed swollen, almost too large for her mouth. Just as she thought Chenz would finish her, the belt loosened.

  Kiara gulped the air into her burning lungs and throat. She rubbed her neck, feeling the welts left by the rough leather.

  Chenz wrapped his hands in her long, dark brown hair and reeled her to him. "Your life's nothing to us, girly. But how you treat us in the next few minutes will decide if we kill you quick or make it real painful."

  She choked at the stench of his breath falling against her cheek. Before she could think of a retort, his wet, scarred lips covered hers. Kiara gagged.

  "Why you . . ." He drew back to hit her again.

  A sharp lurch in the ship sent them tumbling. A warning buzzer pierced the air. The sharp pulses of sound were punctuated by flashing lights.

  "We're being attacked!" the tall man shouted before running out of the room.

  Kiara lay on the floor numb from physical pain and fear. Chenz grabbed her by the arm, jerked her to her feet, and pushed her back against the wall. She stared bravely into his eyes, wondering if he would kill her before he left. She was amazed to find her eyes dry.

  "I'll finish with you when this is ove
r," he promised, his fingers biting fiercely into her face as he twisted her mouth with his hand. Giving her a lecherous sneer, he released her and ran to join his partner.

  The door slammed down, jarring the room. Kiara slid slowly to the floor, her mind too overwrought to think about much of anything except the fate that awaited her when the battle ended.

  She was aboard some sort of aircraft with two assas­sins, in who knew what sector or galaxy, and all of them were now under attack by something probably more cruel than her current hosts.

  For the briefest moment, she thought it might be her father with a rescue party. But she knew better. He was still at the consulate meeting and thought her safely guarded in the dance company's hotel rooms.

  Tears flooded down her cheeks as she realized the hopelessness of her situation. She would die out here in space, raped and tortured. The only hope she had was that whoever was attacking them, would destroy them.

  "Please," she begged in a ragged voice. "Let me die during the fight!"

  Her throat tightened as she listened to the sounds of battle. The old walls of the shuttle creaked omi­nously. Blasts struck the craft and kept it rocking be­neath her.

  Kiara stared at the lock, tempted to try and pick it again.

  But what good would it do? She could hear the pop­ping of damaged electrical circuits in the hallway. By now, all the power to the doors had been drained and transferred to the ship's weapons and shields.

  The lights went out.

  Kiara sat in total darkness, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "Be brave," she whispered, her voice lost among the hissing sounds outside. She was a com­mander's child, and she would meet death calmly, with dignity.

  After an eternity of wrecked and tormented nerves, the craft was still. The odor of burning wires and smoke filtered into her room. Kiara coughed from the smoke until her throat burned. She was still alive, though to what purpose or fate, she could only guess.

  Hearing the sound of approaching feet, she tensed, but they quickly ran past her room. The tightness of her throat loosened a tiny degree.