Nix. (Den of Mercenaries Book 3)(45)

In rapid succession, he launched three of them across the room, and she was too frozen in fear to move even a millimeter as they sunk into the paper around her—very close, but not a single one hitting her.

Yeah, Kit was very good.

“Since you were a teenager?” Luna asked.

His frown, that turned down the corners of his lips and drew his brows together, made an appearance as he regarded her. “Yes. A bit younger than you in fact.”

She tried to do some quick math in her head. “So that would make you twenty-seven?”

He nodded. “A year older in April.”

So he had just celebrated a birthday, though he hadn’t mentioned a word about it. Come to think of it, he had been gone most of that month—was it because he didn’t want to celebrate?

“You’re younger than I thought,” Luna muttered, realizing belatedly that she had voiced that thought aloud.

His deep chuckle made her blush. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was meant as one,” she whispered with a slight shake of her head.

“When is yours?”

It only dawned on her then just how close her birthday was.

June 1st.

Tomorrow.

There hadn’t been many reasons to celebrate her life over the last three years, but now … now she was looking forward to it a little. It wouldn’t be a full year since she was free of Lawrence, but it was close enough.

And that was reason enough to celebrate.

“How close is it?”

“Well … tomorrow, actually.”

One dark brow shot up. “Were you going to tell me? Birthdays are important.”

“Not really—it’s just another day. Besides, there’s nothing I want more than what you’ve already given me.”

She didn’t have to explain what she meant—he knew.

Seeming at a loss for words, Kit cleared his throat. “You said you thought I was younger than I am? What else have you thought of me?”

His head was canted to the side, as though whatever answer she gave him would be fascinating—she was glad for the distraction. “I’d only be assuming …”

“Then tell me of your assumptions.”

Shifting in her seat, crossing one leg beneath her, she said, “Well you’re smart, obviously.”

“Not an assumption—I’ve told you of my schooling.”

That was true enough. “You speak at least five languages.”

“Why five?”

“Well …” Luna thought on how best to answer that. “English, for one.”

“Does that really count?”

“It should,” Luna said with a laugh, remembering how hard she had found it to learn the language. “Welsh, obviously. There was that man that came to see you a couple of weeks ago—I think he was Italian? Spanish, for another, and French.”

His smile said he was impressed. “Your observation skills are serving you well. All true, but I also speak Swedish, Russian, and Gaelic, though only when I’m in the mood.”

“How did you learn all of them?” she asked.

He regaled her with stories, one where he spent weeks in a Mexican jungle, hunting down an arms dealer that had thought to escape into the forest—it hadn’t ended well for the dealer. Another where he was in Spain setting up contracts with people known only as The Family.

She didn’t think she could ever get tired of hearing him speak, the smooth, lulling cadence, or the way the tales were embellished with details that she hadn’t asked for, but liked to hear all the same.

She liked him.

“Pyotr was one of my first assignments in the Lotus Society, and despite finishing the job mostly unscathed, I still had to remain in the country for another two months before I could be extracted. A local man had been all too willing to teach me the language should I pay him to keep his mouth shut.”

“How many did you do before you retired? Assignments, I mean.”

“One-hundred and thirty-six.”

Luna blinked. “That’s … wow.”

He shrugged. “It’s merely a number. Others have done far more.”

“Was it hard in the beginning?”

“No,” he said without hesitation. “Does that surprise you?”

“A little.”

Kit seemed genuinely curious now. “Why?”

“You’re taking someone’s life. I can’t imagine that was easy for someone as young as you were.”

“When you’ve already experienced trauma, it no longer matters. Many often find freedom in vindication. This is not me saying that it’s easy, or that everything will be the same once you take a life, but the payoff was worth it—at least to me. It was like being reborn.”

She thought of the wings on his back. “Did you choose your name, or was it given to you?”

“It was given.”

“Fang and the Wild Bunch too?”

“Yes.”

“And the Kingmaker?”

Kit lost his smile. “Believe me, no one would call him that if they had a choice—his was self-appointed.”

“Will I get a name?”

“In due time.”

“How does that work exactly?”