Kyler's Justice (Assassins of Gravas Book 3) - N.J. Walters Page 0,24

but she didn’t bother even trying to reach for it. Her intruder had easily overpowered her the other night. No, Ky had overpowered her. He’d also kissed her.

That seemed like the ultimate betrayal.

Anger burned away some of the hopelessness. Her eyes snapped open and she glared at him. “Why did you kiss me? And stop hiding behind that hood.” It infuriated her that she couldn’t see his face, even though it was probably easier if she didn’t. He was too handsome by far.

The irony wasn’t lost on her. She’d had no trouble resisting men her entire life until he’d walked into her life. And, oh, by the way, he’d likely be her executioner. That was so messed up.

Just like the rest of her life.

He flung back the hood, his face an impassive mask. That didn’t detract from, but added to, the aura of danger that surrounded him. His face appeared austere, his dark eyes and high cheekbones adding to the image. Devils were supposed to be ugly and hideous, not handsome. Or maybe they were. How better to lure their victims.

“Why?” she demanded again.

A muscle in his jaw worked. “Because I had to.”

That took her aback. Had their attraction shaken him as much as it had her? She wasn’t buying it.

“Try again.” This man, this assassin could have any woman he wanted. Handsome and mysterious, they’d flock to him if he crooked his finger. “I’m ordinary. Oh, I’m fine with my looks, but I’m not gorgeous. And I’m your target.”

And that hurt. She pressed her hand against her stomach as utter humiliation filled her. She’d kissed him back. “How you must have laughed.” And that was the worst. While she’d been weaving fantasies about him, even going so far as to consider sleeping with him, he’d been doing his job. Getting close to her, whatever it took.

“Never,” the vehemence in that single word startled her.

He plucked her out of her chair, dragging her over the table and onto his lap so she was facing him, her knees on either side. For a big man, he was fast and so very strong. He framed her face in those large hands, the calloused edges rough against her skin. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

His face remained expressionless, but his eyes reflected a lifetime of pain. Her injured soul recognized his. He was telling the truth.

“Kissing you was wrong.” He was breathing heavily, his body rigid. “A dereliction of duty. A stain on my honor.”

It would almost be funny if it wasn’t so tragic. “All that?” Like him, she was stiff, unable to relax. It would be so easy to see him as a hero, as someone she could trust, but they each had an agenda.

His hands slid down from her face and circled her neck. “Yes.”

“Are you going to choke me unconscious again?” It was a testament to his control that he’d done so without really hurting her.

He gave a low growl and leaned forward until their foreheads were touching. “Tell me to stop.”

Getting more deeply involved with him was stupid, but fate couldn’t be denied. Their paths had crossed, all the actions of their lives bringing them to this moment.

“I can’t.”

His groan was that of a man in mortal pain. She expected a hard, desperate kiss. Was prepared for it.

What she got was the gentlest of caresses, as though he was afraid to believe her. His fingers slid away from her neck and down her arms until he reached her hands. He raised them to his chest, placing them there. His heart was a heavy thud against her palm. The muscles hard and inflexible beneath her palms.

“Nothing we do will make a difference. It can’t.” She swallowed against the pain his words brought. But he was right. They were on opposite sides of this.

“I know.” She should make a lunge for her knife. Or at the very least, push out of his arms.

He’s as much a prisoner of circumstance as I am.

And that made them kindred spirits of a sort.

“You’re duty bound to your king and I’m bound by love to my sisters.” While she respected and admired his dedication, to blindly follow a code of honor without question wasn’t something she could do. Love trumped all else.

“I am the king’s blade.”

That didn’t sound like a position anyone would covet. Not to her. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“I answer only to the king.”

“You’re the king’s personal executioner.” How horrible. “Who does that to a man?” It put so