Nix. (Den of Mercenaries Book 3) Read online

  Once they finally slowed to a stop, the door to the car was opened, a hand popping in to assist her out. Uilleam wasn’t far behind.

  She followed the man in front of her across the drive, and up the sandstone staircase toward heavy oak doors that made up the front entrance. Uilleam pushed both open as he entered, sunlight spilling into the foyer where a chandelier that was twice the size of any one she had ever seen glittered with the reflecting light.

  It was amazing, but so had Lawrence’s home—though that place did pale in comparison to this one.

  Uilleam didn’t allow her a chance to properly take it all in, rather showing her down a seemingly never ending hallway to a room with a blue door.

  Once inside, he said, “Bathroom is through there,”—he pointed to another closed door on the other end of the room—“I’ll ensure you have everything you need before I leave, but should you require anything else, ask for Kit.”

  Wait … “You’re leaving?” she asked, not quite understanding.

  “I can never stay too long here,” he said by way of explanation, as though that answer explained everything.

  If anything, it only raised more questions.

  One of the guards she’d seen outside appeared in the doorway, words that she didn’t understand flying out of his mouth. With only a nod in her direction, Uilleam followed after him, closing the door behind them.

  What the hell was going on?

  She thought she understood what was happening here, but it was clear she didn’t.

  Taking the time to look around while she still could, the room didn’t disappoint.

  There was a large four-poster bed in the center of the room, the sheer drapes surrounding it tumbling down onto the floor, hooked behind small handles to give a proper view of the bed.

  Everything about the space felt light, airy, thanks to the light shades of gray coupled with the white. Even the floors, a polished concrete, added to the beauty of it all.

  It was obvious that someone had taken time to restore some of the original architecture, and while the space wasn’t completely modern, it didn’t have the heavy feel of a room from earlier centuries.

  Luna explored every inch of it, even venturing out onto the vine covered balcony. She wasn’t far from the ground, and with some careful maneuvering, she could have easily reached the ground, but the slight weight of the tracker Uilleam had strapped to her leg banished the thought for the time being.

  When there was nothing more to see, she looked back toward the door Uilleam had walked out of mere minutes before. He had said she was free to walk around, to do as she pleased really, but only to an extent.

  It may have ben pretty, the room he’d given her but it was still a prison.

  Quietly stepping out of the bedroom, her eyes scanned the lengthy hallway, taking everything in. She could hear voices coming from her right, too high to be the Kingmaker’s low timbre.

  She started down the opposite direction instead.

  There was so much to see that she hadn’t noticed the first time she’d walked these halls when Uilleam brought her in.

  Paintings in gilded frames lined the walls, portraits of sharply dressed men and women in elegant gowns depicted within their paint.

  As she neared the end of the hall where it opened into the grand foyer, she noticed that there was a portrait missing from the wall—a void from where it should have been outlining its former position. It had to have been moved recently due to the variance in the color of the wall.

  The one beside it, however, caught her attention as well. The individual depicted was decades younger than the others hanging alongside him.

  And he also looked … kinder.

  “Hello.”

  Luna nearly jumped a foot in the air as she spun to face the owner of that accented voice who was suddenly standing at her back. He moved nearly as quietly as Dominic.

  The man—boy just seemed inadequate though he didn’t seem much older than her—was tall, taller than she was expecting, and once she settled on his face, she realized she was staring at the subject of the painting to her right.

  Messy brown hair that fell nearly to his ears was shoved back out of his face, as though he ran his fingers through it incessantly. There was also enough hair covering his jaw to tell her he hadn’t shaved in weeks, if not a month or more. Blessed with strong, aristocratic features, and a slight cleft in his chin, he was by far one of the most attractive people—outside of Uilleam—she had ever seen in her life, not that she gazed upon people like them everyday.

  Eyes the palest shade of blue they were almost gray, watched her unblinking. They were cold, unforgiving, but the way dark brows arched over them, almost making him look perpetually curious, softened them.

  Whoever he was, while he radiated a dangerous aura, he didn’t appear threatening.

  Muscular arms folded across his chest as he leaned a shoulder against the wall, the expensive fabric of his shirt pulling taut.

  “Who are you?” he asked, though not unkindly. “You’re not one of his projects. You’re too … young.”

  And that fact seemed to trouble him.

  “Luna,” she said, not really sure why she was answering him. “My name is Luna.”

  Maybe because she wanted to be seen as a person, for however long that lasted before Uilleam told him exactly who and what she was.

  Men … their faces always changed. Where there had once been indifference at the sight of her, it was replaced quickly with a disgusting lust—as though the thought of getting their hands on a girl they thought couldn’t say, ‘no’ was all the more appealing.

  She just wanted to be human for a little while longer.

  To her surprise, he uncrossed his arms, extending a hand between them. He held it there wordlessly, never looking away from her. Realizing he was waiting for her, she hesitantly extended her own, her skin coming alive as his much larger one closed around hers.

  His hand was rough, not like the pudgy, sweaty fingers of men that Lawrence used to have around—there was strength in his hold.

  “Kit Runehart,” he answered in return, sweeping his thumb over the back of her hand, and when he did, she yanked her hand free, tucking it close to her side.

  She was almost embarrassed by the knee-jerk reaction, not liking the idea of him seeing weakness in her.

  He wasn’t offended by what she did, quite the opposite it seemed as he said, “Apologies.”

  Luna felt the stupid urge that she should apologize to him, as though she had done something wrong, but she tamped down that urge as deep as she could.

  Her brain was only just now catching up to him being the one that Uilleam had meant for her to find should she need anything.

  Now seeing him, she almost wished that Uilleam had meant one of the guards, or an assistant or something.

  Kit made her nervous and she hadn’t the slightest idea why.

  Realizing that she hadn’t really answered his question, she added, “He brought me here.”

  “He did?”

  “The Kingmaker?”

  She formed her answer as a question, not sure what name he knew the other man by. Though Uilleam had given her his name, no one else seemed to use it.

  She wasn’t sure if that was by request, or whether they just didn’t know it.

  An emotion flashed in Kit’s eyes. “That’s what they call him anyway. I understand he brought you to my home, yes, but I’m not sure as to the reason why.”

  Luna wasn’t even sure of that answer herself. He spoke of her doing something for him, but he had also mentioned that it wouldn’t be this day that she performed the task—truthfully, he hadn’t even said when, exactly, he would need her to do it.

  “I bought her,” Uilleam said, his voice carrying from down the hall as he approached, a glass in hand.

  If she thought Kit would look unsettled by this, he didn’t. The expression on his face made her think this wasn’t a rare occurrence. “For what purpose?”

&nbs
p; “I didn’t purchase her for my own benefit, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  Kit’s eyes flickered to her a moment before he said, “Very little doesn’t benefit you in some way.”

  As Uilleam came closer, and they stood nearly side by side, she could see it.

  The cut of their jaws …

  The impressive heights …

  And though their eye colors differed, there was a similarity to their eye shape and the dark lashes that lined them both.

  Brothers, she realized. They were brothers.

  A muscle worked in Kit’s jaw as he asked, “She’s a little young for what you need, isn’t she?”

  There was a dark sort of humor to Uilleam’s expression. “Should I be asking that of you?”

  He said something else, something she didn’t understand since he spoke in a different language. Kit answered back in the same, his tone gruff.

  Whatever exchange they were having finished as Kit sliced his hand through the air, silencing whatever Uilleam thought to say next. While Lawrence had seemed to quake at the thought of upsetting Uilleam, Kit didn’t seem to feel such fear.

  “Excuse us, Luna,” he said, looking from his brother to her, the colorful accent that marked his words drawing the syllables of her name out. “Continue as you were.”

  The pair walked off without another word, leaving her standing there looking after them. Once they were out of sight, however, she quickly turned back the way she came and closed herself into her room, thinking it was probably best to stay out of sight.

  And because she was still tired from the journey and her lack of sleep, Luna made sure each of the doors to the room was locked before she climbed up onto the bed and willed herself to sleep.

  It wasn’t until hours later that Luna came awake with a start, sitting bolt upright as her eyes scanned the room. In her delirium, it all came rushing back.

  The auction.

  Her life being sold to a man that seemed a conundrum.

  And Kit.

  There was also Kit.

  A minute at most she had spent in his presence and she still felt … affected by him. But her interest in him, and even his brother, was not sexual. She could admit that they were both handsome, more so than most men she had ever seen in her short life, but she didn’t feel any desire toward them.

  She didn’t think she could feel desire at all, not after everything she had been through.

  Mostly, she was curious.

  Curious how a man as young as Uilleam could spark subservience in men like Lawrence. He was just so young, only old enough to be her older brother, yet he seemed fearless, content in the knowledge that he would get his way.

  And then there was Kit.

  What did it say about the man who wasn’t afraid of the one everyone seemed to fear?

  Did that mean he was worse?

  But she couldn’t possibly answer that question, not when she wasn’t even sure what Uilleam was made of.

  Not entirely.

  Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Luna wasn’t sure how much time had passed since she had watched the pair of brothers walk away, but she guessed several hours since the room was dark, and the sunlight that had shone through the French doors was now absent as the moon hung heavy in the night sky.

  Her stomach rumbling from the lack of food, she made a stop in the bathroom, washing her face free of the remaining traces of makeup she had worn. Looking at her reflection now, she still looked haggard, her eyes a little too sunken, her skin a touch too pale, but beneath that layer, she saw a glimmer of hope.

  Even if foolish, she clung to it.

  After her last encounter with him, she wasn’t sure she wanted to run into Kit again. He had seemed rather … agitated, and even if it were aimed more at Uilleam than her, she thought it best to avoid him entirely.

  Maybe one of the guards could find her Uilleam instead.

  Venturing back out, this time she didn’t linger in the hall to look over the portraits, moving on well past them, though her gaze, unbidden, had flitted to Kit’s before she hit the foyer.

  It was quiet here, barren. And despite all the men she had seen earlier walking the grounds, either they were very good at what they did, or this place was bigger than she had originally suspected.

  The marble flooring was cold beneath her feet as she came into what looked like a formal dining room, with a table that stretched nearly wall to wall, a place setting in from of each of the eighteen chairs. But there was only one setting at the head of the table that had a set of glasses accompanying it, as well as forks and knives.

  And the closer she walked toward it, the better she could smell whatever was cooking in the kitchen. The aroma made her mouth water, her stomach tightening with hunger. Besides the nibbles of the sandwich she’d eaten on the plane, she hadn’t had much else over the last twenty-four hours or so.

  She would need to ask permission first before she touched anything. Back at the estate, Luna had never been able to eat freely—offered only two meals a day, and only if she performed good enough to deserve them.

  In the beginning, Luna had gone days without eating.

  “Luna, is it?” A voice called from behind her.

  A woman with flowing light blonde hair stood across the room, eyes trained on Luna as she dropped the hand she held her phone in to her side.

  She wasn’t what Luna was expecting.

  Just the sight of her made Luna feel inadequate. Her hair shone in the dim light of the room, makeup was expertly applied, and there was nothing cheap about the skirt and blouse set she wore. She could have been early to late twenties for all Luna could tell—there wasn’t an imperfection on her.

  “I—yes, I was looking for Uil—the Kingmaker,” she quickly corrected herself, wishing she hadn’t stammered through that entire sentence.

  The woman’s smile was patient. “He’s stepped out at the moment, but I’m sure I can assist you with whatever you need. I’m Aidra.”

  He had told her he was leaving, but she hadn’t believed it would be this soon— then again, she didn’t know what time it was, nor how long she’d been asleep.

  “I’m sorry, I was just going back—” Luna pointed in the direction she meant. It wasn’t fear that had her wanting to get back to her room, but anxiousness of what was coming next.

  Uilleam had seemed rather open, at least—or rather open about his intentions. Kit, and now Aidra … she couldn’t glean a thing.

  “Please, have a seat. Nix should be along shortly,” Aidra offered as she gestured to one of the many seats available.

  “Nix?”

  “Kit,” she explained, though her mouth twisted when she said his name, as though she weren’t accustomed to using it.

  “Is that a nickname?” Luna asked, wondering why it seemed as though everyone she was meeting went by something other than their real name.

  “A moniker, if you will. It helps to conceal your identity,” Aidra explained further, also answering the question she hadn’t asked.

  “And do you have one?” It only seemed right that she would.

  “I’ve never had need of one.”

  Luna waited, thinking she would elaborate, but Aidra didn’t. It took her a moment to realize that her response hadn’t actually answered her question.

  Maybe she just didn’t want to share it with Luna.

  Was she Kit’s wife? Was this their home that Uilleam had dumped her in and she wasn’t pleased?

  Yet she was being cordial, nice even, without a hint of malice in her tone at all.

  Strange. It was all very strange.

  Glancing down at her own attire—the same short dress from before—then around the dining room once more, Luna felt self-conscious. “I probably shouldn’t. I’m not really dressed—”

  “Don’t worry. Uilleam called ahead to let us know you were coming. I’ve had a few things ordered that should arrive tomorrow. For now, don’t concern yourself with that.”

  While
there was no sympathy in the woman’s eyes, there was also no pity—Luna couldn’t say she minded.

  “Are you Kit’s wife?” Luna asked.

  Aidra’s careful mask of indifference slipped as she looked quite shocked at the question. “Assistant would be a better term.”

  Speaking of him, Kit came around the corner, his gaze immediately falling on Luna. Gone was his black on black ensemble, replaced with gray trousers and a white shirt that was neatly tucked inside them, the top button near the collar left undone.

  There was something different about the way he looked at her now. Curiosity was still present, sure, but there was something else there—something that told her he knew about where she’d come from.

  Uilleam had told him, as she thought he would.

  Would he treat her differently now?

  “Good evening, Luna.”

  Kit didn’t have a voice like any other she had ever heard. It was rich, a decadent sound that was pleasing to the ear. Even his cadence, something she had never really paid attention to was nice.

  A part of her had hoped that Uilleam would be walking in behind him, her gaze skirting past him to the dark hallway.

  “Looking for someone?” he asked.

  “Is the Kingmaker coming back?”

  His expression turned thoughtful. “Most aren’t keen on remaining in Uilleam’s company. Is there something you need?”

  It wasn’t that she needed anything in particular, but rather that she was a bit nervous about being alone with him though she had no reason to be.

  She would have asked if she could just skip whatever dinner he was having and retreat back to her room, but her stomach chose that moment to growl louder than she had ever heard it before.

  “Come,” he said with his arm outstretched, but just before his fingers could come in contact with her skin, he looked down at her and asked, “May I?”

  She hadn’t forgotten the way she jerked away from him earlier in the hallway, or his apology after.

  And now he was asking permission to touch her again …

  Such an innocent thing, but it meant more to her than she could ever put into words.

  Giving the slightest of nods, she waited for the moment she felt his touch, just the slightest pressure on her back before she started toward the table and away from the spot she’d been standing in for the longest time.