Born of Fire Read Online Free Page A

love me . . . even a little?
    How could anyone love something like you? You’re a liar, a thief and a convict. All I wanted was your money. If only I’d known the truth about you . . . you disgust me. Get out!
    Yeah, there was no such thing as love. It was a myth made up by assholes who only wanted to sell stories and rings people couldn’t afford to gullible fools.
    He didn’t understand love in any fashion. The godsknew, he’d never seen it in his life. It was as elusive to him as sleep.
    His fury dying at the last thought, he grabbed his son’s frame, the stuffed toy, and his bottle, and skirted around the edge of his two facing sofas.
    Stifling a yawn, he headed to his bedroom in back.
    Later, he’d beat sense into Nykyrian. Right now, all he wanted was a good eight solid hours of oblivious rest.
    You know it’s not safe here.
    Yeah, his apartment had been seriously compromised, but damn it, he wasn’t going to be run out of his home for anything. If they came for him here, they’d learn . . .
    And if they killed him, really, who would care?
    Without disrobing or removing his blaster, he threw himself face down on the light, feather mattress that heaved under his weight. He clutched his soft, feathered pillow under his head, and sighed in deep contentment before he rolled over onto his back. A few hours of this and he’d be as good as new.
    He leaned up to shove Paden’s frame and toy into his nightstand, then took a deep swig of whisky straight from the bottle and set it aside.
    Lying back on his bed, he closed his eyes.
    Gah, nothing felt better than this
. . .
    Just as he started to doze, he heard a sharp click from the main room that sounded like someone had deactivated his alarm system and opened his front door.
    Senses alert, he tensed, forcing himself to lie still and listen. When he heard nothing more, he wondered if he’d imagined the sound. Hell, it was probably nothing more than a hallucination brought on by sleep dep—or overworked nerves—that heard assassins coming at him from every shadow.
    Of course the alcohol didn’t help, either.
    The muffled, padded sound of boots against his hardwood floor barely reached his ears. Nothing imaginary about that. Someone was definitely sneaking through his flat.
    Damn . . . Would he ever get another full night’s sleep?
    Clenching his teeth, Syn slid his blaster out of its leather holster. Only one thing made him really furious—unknown people in his home. He didn’t barge into other people’s homes and, dammit, he expected the same courtesy.
    Well, whoever they were, they were about to receive a memorable lesson in manners.
    Syn rose from the bed and crept to his door, his blaster gripped tightly in his hand. He flattened himself against the wall and pushed the control to slide the door open.
    Nothing.
    Frowning in confusion, he looked around the main room from the safety of his partially concealed position behind the wall. There wasn’t so much as a shadow in the dim light of his apartment.
    Syn scoffed at his paranoia.
    Definitely sleep deprivation.
    What would he imagine next? Little hairy beasties tap-dancing on his sofa, or other fey creatures sneaking up on him in the shower?
    Clicking the release of his blaster back into safety, he lowered his weapon and reached to close the door.
    Light flashed against the silver barrel of a blaster pointed straight at his chest from the concealment of the opposite wall.

CHAPTER 2
    “Don’t move,” a smooth, lilting feminine voice ordered.
    Syn arched one brow. It wasn’t every day someone got the drop on him, especially a woman who had a voice that lent itself to seduction.
    “Or what?” He wished he could catch a glimpse of whomever had outsmarted him. She had to be something, because this
never
happened to him.
    She clicked off the safety release of her blaster.
    Syn wasn’t prone to panic, and having people level a weapon at him was pretty commonplace, but he didn’t usually face unseen