"What are you working on?" she finally asked.

He growled a low warning in his throat that made her a bit uneasy. "I have a lot of work that needs to be finished. I'm not here to be sociable. I'm here only to protect you."

Kiara folded her arms around her leg and rested her chin on her knees. She watched his flying fingers, the keys of the terminal clicking beneath them.

"But since you're here ...."

His fingers stopped. The sudden silence echoed around her, increasing her discomfort.

"I just thought you might as well tell me something about yourself. We could end up spending days together, weeks, and I for--"

"Fine," he snapped, cutting her off.

Kiara hid her triumphant smile behind her knee, but she was sure her eyes glowed in mischief.

Nykyrian sat back and defensively crossed his arms over his chest. "If it will solace your mind, I will allow you to ask me eight questions about me. After that, you'll never again ask me another thing about my past, or my friends, and you'll remain quiet and let me finish what I'm doing."

The sharp, clipped words irked her. She stared at him, trying to think of things that would give her some advantage over him.

"Okay," she said as she thought of the first one. "What's your surname?"

"One, Quiakides."

Surprise widened her eyes. "As in the universally famed and acclaimed Commander Huwin Quiakides of the Intergalactic League of Peacekeepers?"

He sighed. "Two, yes."

"Was he your father?"

She thought she noticed his teeth clench before he answered, "Three, yes."

Kiara gave an unladylike snort. "That doesn't count. You should have said that when I asked the second question."

He shrugged in an aggravating manner of disinterest. "Be specific. Anything counts."

This time, she definitely saw the angry tick in his jaw as his features hardened. "How did you know I was in the League?"

Kiara gulped at the harsh, deadly tone.

At that moment, she could easily imagine him tearing someone into pieces and she had no desire for that someone to be either her or Mira. "I just heard it somewhere. It is true, isn't it? You were a League Assassin?"

"Four, yes."

Kiara was getting tired of him numbering his answers. "You know, you could try and be a little friendlier."

"I'm not paid to be nice. I'm paid to kill."

A lump of dread closed her throat at the thought. "Do you like to kill?" she asked.

Kiara witnessed the first truly visible, emotional response from him--he winced as if she had struck him.

His breathing became labored in anger and he slammed the terminal closed with a sharp snap before he tossed it aside. Without a word, he left the room.

Kiara sat in her chair for several minutes, wondering about his reaction. Since he brought the subject of his killings up so often, why would her question bother him?

She went to find out.

He stood in front of the blast shields in her studio. She watched him from the doorway as he slid his hand over the plastic panels as if looking for a hole. He appeared calm.

"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 lama 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 and why he would even ask it. "Yes."

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

"I never truly thought about it," she said honestly. "Dancing was all I ever wanted to do, so I guess I must enjoy it."

His grip tightened on the bar. "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."