Celt. (Den of Mercenaries #2)(68)

* * *



“Is Kyrnon okay?” Amber asked when she got to his place and was greeted by Niklaus.

Unlike his twin brother’s tussled hair, Niklaus kept his tamer, though strands in the front were a little more manageable. When Kyrnon had left her phone with her, promising to call the first chance he got, she had accepted his word and believed that he would, but as the hours ticked by, she grew more nervous.

“Don’t worry for him, he can take care of himself.”

She didn’t doubt that, but she worried regardless. “Then why are you here?”

“Kyrnon,” he said this with a sardonic smile, as though he found the name amusing, “wanted me to babysit until he got here. He won’t be long.”

That had also been something Niklaus mentioned on the phone when he told her she would be coming here. While Kyrnon hadn’t minded her staying in the penthouse with Lauren and Mishca, he had preferred having her stay at his place since his was further off grid than theirs was.

“He was the one who trained me,” he said when she still didn’t look convinced. “Taught me everything I needed to know. Wouldn’t be here without him. Don’t tell him that though.”

On a whim, she asked, “How bad is this? He told you about everything, right?”

“I won’t lie to you and say shit is good because it’s not. When going up against unknown enemies, that makes the job more difficult, too many f*cking variables that get in the way. But trust me when I say he’ll see this done for you.”

Niklaus dropped down on the couch, laying his head back against a pillow. “It’s what I would do. It’s what anyone f*cking does when the person they love is in danger.”

“I don’t think …”

“You know his name,” Niklaus said suddenly. “That should tell you everything. I’ve known him for over seven years and I know f*ck all about him besides his country of birth. It doesn’t matter who you meet, should someone ask for a name, you give them the one you were given the day they put those brands on our flesh.”

“Do your names really mean that much?” She couldn’t fathom the idea of that.

It wasn’t like she didn’t know Niklaus’ name, and Kyrnon had never hesitated in offering his to not just her, but her family as well.

But love, Niklaus had said, it would be different if what he said were true.

“I’ll tell you one thing I know for sure,” Niklaus said looking over at her. “I’ve never met a more paranoid bastard than Kyrnon. He doesn’t let anyone in this place. It may look unassuming, but any motherf*cker that tries to get in won’t like the traps he has set in here. Trust me, should you need it, his War Room will convince you. You’re safe here.”

The elevator started going, not long before Kyrnon appeared, his gaze immediately seeking her out.

“We’ll take care of it,” Niklaus said standing, laying a hand on her shoulder. “No worries.”

She could only hope that was true.

Once he was out the door after a whispered conversation with Kyrnon, Amber remained where she stood. He didn’t hesitate in coming to her the moment he was able, helping her forget her worries.

At least for a while.



* * *



Maybe it was the streaks of lightning, or the thunder that felt like it shook the very foundation of the building woke Kyrnon, his tired gaze sweeping the other side of his bed where Amber was supposed to be, where she had been for hours tucked into his side without complaint, but she was absent, making him sit up.

He didn’t sleep for long bouts of time as it were, and even then, the slightest noise could wake him, but he hadn’t stirred.

Brows knitting in confusion, he slipped out of bed, his gaze sweeping his loft for any sign of her. She couldn’t have left, the minute they arrived, he had set the alarm, and the glowing red light near the lift told him it hadn’t been disarmed.

With that knowledge, his gaze shifted to the ceiling, as though he might have been able to see where she would be once he took the stairs up. The wonder in her eyes and the way they lit up the first time she had seen it, made him smile. Though his place was open to some, he never let them up there, it meant too much.

It was like a piece of himself that could only be understood if he explained the significance behind it. And from the beginning, he hadn’t hesitated in sharing himself with her, details that most, even those that had known him for years, didn’t know.

He didn’t mind showing her the bits of himself that he had closed off.

He wanted her to see him.

When he reached the top of the staircase, he could just see her profile under the warm glow of the moon. Dressed in what looked like nothing more than his flannel, she was consumed in the sketch she was making, her fingers already stained from the coals she was using.

She had to know she was no longer alone from the way she paused in a stroke of her wrist, but she didn’t look to him, not until he was at her side and she was finished.

There was so much reflected in those brown eyes of hers. Every thought. Every feeling. What all she hadn’t transcribed on paper was shown in her face, free for him to see.

He didn’t like being the worry that was in her eyes.

“It’s late,” he said when he was close enough to be heard over the pouring rain.