Kyler's Justice (Assassins of Gravas Book 3) - N.J. Walters Page 0,32

he yelled again and again. The rage inside him threatening to eat him alive.

All he could see was Etta’s smile, the trust in her eyes, as he took her for the first, and possibly only, time. Then Maggs with her teary smile and Sera with her resigned acceptance.

His lungs expanded until they hurt, pressing against the walls of his battlesuit.

No one had ever needed him before. He was valuable to his king, but only as a weapon to be pointed and aimed. It was a life he’d accepted and lived with pride.

But was that all he was?

The silence that fell around him was charged. Exhaustion threatened to drown him.

“Am I not a man?” Family was everything to his people. All of them belonged to him, were in his keeping. That was his job. But it was cold comfort. He stayed out here alone so they could live among their families.

Head lowering, his breath came in huge puffs. His fingers wrapped around the arms of his chair. Every muscle quivered, straining for release.

Crack!

The arm broke off on one side. He lifted the piece of metal and dropped it.

For the first time in his life, control eluded him. After springing from his chair, he stalked to the cargo bay and began a series of complex exercises designed to toughen both body and mind. They were meditative, a way to center himself.

They had always worked before.

He executed them flawlessly, but the peace that usually accompanied them eluded him. Ignoring the sweat dripping down his face and the burning in his muscles, he kept at it.

What was Etta doing? Did she have regrets?

“I should have stayed.” Bent over, he pressed his hands to his thighs and gulped in air. It had been cowardly to flee. And that was a bitter pill to swallow. But if he’d stayed, taken her in his arms and loved her again, he might never have left.

Once the king knew of her actions, he’d order her death. All he’d done was delay the inevitable.

He fell to his knees and hung his head. What was he going to do?

His stomach growled. It had been far too long since he’d eaten. And even longer since he’d been in a gel cleansing unit.

He lifted his arm, ignoring the unpleasant smell of sweat. Underneath it was a hint of cinnamon, of Etta.

Everything in him relaxed. She was still alive. That was what mattered.

Could he do his duty by executing her father and brother and any others involved and then turn his back on his home and honor to protect her?

Even if he did, they wouldn’t live long. Assassins would be sent for them. He was good enough to evade them alone. But with a woman and two children in tow, it wasn’t likely.

What were his options?

His record stood for him. It was flawless. He would not taint it. Maybe he’d die. Maybe she would, too. But both of them accepted that. He’d seen it in her eyes.

At least you can be together for the time you have.

Maybe that would be enough. “I have to save the girls.” His own death didn’t bother him. If anyone killed Etta while he still lived, he’d become a thing of nightmares, killing all in his path.

They’d made him what he was. Created the perfect killing machine. One without an off button or a failsafe.

Etta was his trigger.

She’d awoken emotions that had always eluded him—compassion, caring … love. Did he love her? He must if he was willing to throw everything away for her. Maybe it was too soon to know for sure, but there was no denying the overwhelming desire he had to protect and care for her.

The internal battle between intellect and instinct silently raged. Finally, he took what seemed like his first real breath since he’d left her. “I love her.” There was no other explanation.

Fighting himself and his feelings would hinder, not help. He pushed himself to his feet, staggering slightly. “Food, shower, sleep.” He needed to recharge and think. Then he’d go see Etta.

Would she even speak to him after his abrupt departure?

He went to his room, stripped off his clothes, and stepped into the gel cleansing unit. He’d make her talk to him. If it came to it, he’d sneak into her room again. Naked and refreshed, he went to the small galley and pulled out several prepackaged, nutrient-dense meals, heating and devouring them while standing up. It was bland, but filling and replenishing.

He wanted to taste something Etta made. Right now, she’d