Soul of the Night

by Barbara Sheridan

  Kiyoshi stared down at the man in his arms, in too much shock to say more than an endless repetition of denial. “No, no, no.” His voice quivered. He held Ryuhei tighter. “You won’t die. No.”

  Tears flowed down his cheeks as he tore open Ryuhei’s yukata. Where the blood hadn’t spread, the skin was very pale. Lighter than even Kiyoshi’s own, more ashen, closer to the color of death. The bullet wound was small—the size of a coin—yet so much blood rushed out of it. Kiyoshi leaned over, dragging his tongue over and around the wound.

  The flow of blood to the outside stopped as Kiyoshi’s saliva healed the opening, but that in itself meant nothing. The bullet hadn’t pierced through Ryuhei—the wicked little thing remained lodged inside the body after ricocheting on bone and tearing through so many of the soft, delicate organs. Ryuhei continued bleeding internally, his suffering just as pronounced on his face as ever.

  Kiyoshi sobbed. “I’m sorry.” He clutched Ryuhei to his breast and sucked in a hoarse cry when he felt his lover’s heart stop.

  Let him die.

  Kiyoshi dropped Ryuhei to the rain-soaked ground. He covered his mouth with both hands and stared in horror and grief at Ryuhei’s still body, wet tangles of his loose, disheveled hair framing his colorless face.

  This madness with the Dragon’s blood—only Ryuhei’s mortal love had given Kiyoshi the strength to overcome it.

  This existence was not a real life at all some times…

  Let Ryuhei die? Let the dearest love you’ve ever known slip away into nothingness because you’re afraid?

  Ryuhei could only have thought the worst of Kiyoshi during these past few days, and still he came. He hadn’t been afraid. And now he was paying for it with his life.

  Kiyoshi screamed and bit down into his own wrist. He gashed open the vein and bent low over Ryuhei. Pressing the bleeding wound to Ryuhei’s lips, he tilted Ryuhei’s head back with his free hand and prayed as much of the fluid would go down as possible.

  The blood could heal the damage done—it had to.

  The gash on Kiyoshi’s wrist healed itself and he tore into it again to try and work more blood into the man.

  “Please,” he sobbed. “Ryu-san…”

  So many minutes passed…and nothing. Kiyoshi dropped his wrist away, numb.

  With a cry that rattled Kiyoshi’s very bones, Ryuhei suddenly jerked into a sitting position. He clutched at the front of his yukata and pressed his other hand to his belly.

  “Kiyoshi!” His scream died in his throat as he stared around him, his eyes wide.

  Kiyoshi grabbed Ryuhei’s shoulders, pulling him into an embrace. “Ryu-san,” he gasped and pressed his ear to Ryuhei’s chest, a relieved sob escaping him when he heard the erratic, but at least present, beating within.

  “I was shot,” Ryuhei whispered hoarsely. He looked down at his waist, felt the healed bullet wound and stared at his bloodstained hands. “This is such an ugly thing.”

  “I had to do it.” Kiyoshi’s voice broke. “You were dying.”

  “I did die.” Ryuhei finally met Kiyoshi’s gaze, his face drawn and eyes still wide with shock or revulsion. Kiyoshi couldn’t tell. “You, you made me as you are?”

  “Please don’t hate me,” Kiyoshi whimpered.

  Ryuhei turned away and stared into the rainy alley where the oil still burned beside the corpse of the man.

  Kiyoshi lowered his head. “I had to do this. I couldn’t let you die even if you do hate me. You’re alive and well and that’s all that matters.”

  Ryuhei’s thoughts raced through a murky cloud in his mind. He felt so strange, the pain replaced by a detached tingling sensation in his limbs and at his waist. His mouth was full of the taste of blood—his own blood—Kiyoshi’s words ringing in his ears. He looked down at his waist again, blinking away the rainwater that clouded his vision.

  The scars from the gunshot…the wound had bled terribly. But it had healed, leaving the skin pink as newborn flesh. Everything had been real. Ryuhei had been dying and Kiyoshi was here now.

  “Say something, Ryu-san,” Kiyoshi whispered.

  Ryuhei sat on his knees, his lips parted but no words formed. All of this felt so strange, his heart racing one moment, then slowing the next. He was disoriented, troubled and confused as he tried to sort the memories of everything that had just happened.

  When Ryuhei didn’t—couldn’t—say anything, Kiyoshi assumed the worst. He rose to leave.

  “Kiyo-kun,” Ryuhei cried out, finding his voice at last. “Don’t leave me again.”

  “Never again, Ryuhei.” Kiyoshi dropped to his knees in front of him. He wrapped his arms around Ryu and held him so tight both men could hardly breathe. “Never again.”

  “Let’s go away from here,” Ryuhei whispered. “Together.”

  Epilogue

  “How does it all look?” Ryuhei smoothed out the front of his vest and stared critically at his reflection in the narrow mirror nailed into place on the cabin wall. The bed creaked softly over his shoulder.

  “Very European. And lovely, of course.” Kiyoshi came from behind, slipping his bare arms around Ryuhei’s trim waist. His skin gleamed in the moonlight filtering through the curtains in the round window, all but white against the deep crimson velvet. “Not that you could look anything less.”

  Ryuhei smiled, his eyes bright and skin free of the lines of age or sorrow. He was eternally youthful and beautiful now, but more happily so, eternally loved.

  “One day you might get tired of saying those flattering things to me,” he teased, resting his hands over Kiyoshi’s. “Not that I’ll tire of hearing them.”

  “We have a long time to find out.” Kiyoshi’s lips brushed against the back of Ryuhei’s neck where his deep black hair had been cut short in a western style. “A very long time.”

  Ryuhei turned, gathering Kiyoshi in his arms. He eased his naked lover back and onto the unmade bed, mindful of the gentle rocking of the boat in the ocean water, the faint sounds of foghorns rolling from the English shoreline still miles away but close enough for his keen ears to pick up. Mindful of the way his heart beat evenly in time with Kiyoshi’s, of the way their scents mingled and blurred from the weeks spent in this small cabin and enjoying each other’s bodies.

  Closing his eyes, Ryuhei delicately pushed out with his thoughts as Kiyoshi had been teaching him to. “I love you.” He was rewarded with the silky warmth of Kiyoshi’s lips on his. Smiling, Ryuhei leaned away once the kiss ended and cupped his dear one’s cheek.

  “Are you as happy as I am?” he asked aloud, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it anyway.

  Kiyoshi pulled Ryuhei down completely on top of him and held him close.

  “Ah! You’ll crease the suit,” Ryuhei teased playfully as he showered Kiyoshi’s neck and cheeks in kisses.

  Kiyoshi laughed and caressed both sides of Ryuhei’s face. “Oh, Ryu-san.” He shook his head and smiled contentedly. “I’m more happy than I could ever say.” Looking off to the side, his eyes shimmered in the early evening light. “After so many years of wandering I’m not alone anymore. I’ll never be alone again.”

  “Neither will I,” Ryuhei whispered.

  About the Authors

  Barbara Sheridan and Anne Cain started writing yaoi, a subgenre of m/m fiction, together in Fall of 2005. They have been having a blast ever since. Both authors have a soft spot for vampire lore, and their stories almost always have a supernatural or paranormal twist. Barb and Anne are also fascinated with Asian culture and mythology, from Chinese legends about chiang shih to samurai movies, anime and Japanese pop culture. They love their stories and are always thrilled to know others enjoy them as well.

  To learn more about Barb and Anne, please visit www.dragonsdisciple.com. Send an email to Barb and Anne at poisoneddragon@dragonsdisciple.com or join their Yahoo! group to join in the fun with other readers as well as Barb and Anne! http://groups.yahoo.com/group/dragonsdisciple/

  Look for these titles by Barbar
a Sheridan and Anne Cain

  Now Available:

  Blood Brothers

  Soul of the Night

  Coming Soon:

  Dragon’s Disciple

  Forbidden love and repressed desires of the past and present linger in the atmosphere of San Francisco’s Chinatown.

  Dragon’s Disciple

  © 2006 Barbara Sheridan and Anne Cain

  Available May 8, 2007 at Samhain Publishing

  Dao Kan Shu, a chiang-shih, a vampire, hunts under the cover of darkness, his lust for blood and the craving of a once mortal heart awakened by an art student, Ken Ohara.

  Drawn to a hot new nightspot, Ken discovers that his own hidden past is bound to that of the club’s owner known throughout the Chinese underworld as The Poisoned Dragon. Fascinated by Shu’s dark world, Ken is soon caught in a dangerous web of triad societies, blood lust and a strange relationship he can barely begin to understand.

  Fine Arts professor Leigh Gachelsing, tormented since childhood with visions and spirits, discovers a link from the mysterious club owner to Chinatown’s violent past where two assassins feared as demons once hunted the streets. He joins Ken’s advisor, Magda Silivasi, who is determined to save her student before he is lost to the echoes of a past life and the deadly embrace of a vampire.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Dragon’s Disciple:

  San Francisco, Present Day

  It was like a dream. Ken felt as if he were a spectator watching Shu take his hand and lead him across the wide room into another—the bedroom. The older man’s voice was like the alcohol, dulling his senses, slowing—no, wiping away his reaction time so that all he could do was follow Shu’s lead.

  He sat on the soft bed, engulfed by the weird feeling of having done this, here, with Shu before. He was transfixed by the older man’s gaze. Those eyes so full of an inner fire he knew he’d never be able to capture properly on canvas. There was danger there, boredom…and was that a hint of sadness?

  Shu closed his eyes. “Who are you looking for?”

  “You?” Ken heard himself whisper.

  Shu opened his eyes and frowned. He brushed his fingers along Ken’s cheek. “There can be no doubts,” he hissed softly.

  “I…” Ken swallowed, struggling to find something to say.

  Shu pushed Ken back on to the mattress. He sank into the layers of black silk sheets. Shu leaned over him, still stroking his face.

  “Tell me again, Kenichi…who?” Shu whispered.

  That odd sense of familiarity, of having been here before with Shu, filled Ken again. He swallowed hard, though his mouth was becoming bone dry. He felt strange—happy and full of both longing and fear while a voice that was and yet wasn’t his own said, He won’t hurt you. He’ll never hurt you.

  “I…” Ken closed his eyes and that freaky dream from before ran in shadows through his mind. His blood raced through his veins, pooled in his cock and jerked his balls with a burning ache. His fingers tangled in the silk sheets. His breathing became ragged. He hardly recognized his own voice. “I’ve been looking for you, Dao Kan.”

  That voice…how he missed it…Shu’s breath caught in his throat as the memory assailed him.

  “Toshiro.”

  Shu cradled his lover’s head in his hands. He ran his fingers through the gray-streaked hair and stared into a face where the handsome lines of age were creased with pain.

  Toshiro struggled for breath. Shu could hear the blood pooling in his lungs, drowning him. “I’ll find you again.”

  “I’ll be waiting,” Shu whispered.

  And after so many long, empty years of waiting, he’d been found at last…

  Shu’s hands trembled and he grabbed Ken’s chin, facing him forward. He traced the young man’s lips with his thumb, brushed the tousled hair out of those achingly familiar eyes. “My Toshiro,” he said softly.

  With a smile full of longing, Shu leaned in close. He took Kenichi’s—Toshiro’s—lips in his own. Gentle at first, the warmth of the touch flooded his senses. He pressed into him, hungrily, desperately, and with enough force to bruise the young man’s full lower lip.

  Ken was lost to the sensations coursing through him. He gripped Shu’s shoulders, kissing him back with the same hunger he was shown. He arched up, bringing their groins in contact enough to send a jolt through his rock-hard cock.

  The need, the want, the sense of having felt this way with this man before, consumed him.

  But it also frightened him as he felt the oddest shift in perspective. No longer was he watching from without, he was living it from within himself again. And now the truth hit him like a dead weight. He was kissing another man. He was turned-on like never before by another man. And he wanted this man to fuck him senseless now and forever. He broke from the kiss, his breathing ragged, his face covered in beads of cold sweat. “I-I-I’m, I’m not gay. I’m not. I can’t do this. Please. Let me go.”

  Let him go? After all this time? Impossible! Shu gripped Ken’s chin and forced him back down onto the mattress. Fear clouded the young man’s eyes where only moments ago a passionate fire had consumed them.

  “I’ve waited several lifetimes for this moment and you want to run away?” he said softly, his voice a dangerous whisper. “Don’t be stupid.” Shu leaned close. Ken’s breath blew against his cheek with each ragged gasp. It had the sharp odor of panic, and through it Shu felt that damned uncertainty again. He hissed and dug his thumbnail into Ken’s chin.

  “You’re afraid…” Shu said. He leaned back, pulling his hand away from Kenichi’s face. He licked at the droplet of blood caught under his nail and his frown vanished. He laughed softly. “But this also…excites you. I can taste it in your blood.” Shu ran his hand down Ken’s chest, his fingers brushing down the hardness pushing at the front of Ken’s pants. “I can feel it in your body. I won’t let you go. Not again.”

  Oh, God, it did excite him. It excited him more than he could believe. Ken felt that inexplicable shift in perception again but it was just for a second. And this time it was him thinking that he’d done this before, that he wanted to do this again and it was definitely his own voice echoing in his ears.

  “I don’t want to leave.” He reached out, touching Shu’s face, peered deeply into those hypnotic and dangerous eyes. He tangled his fingers tightly in the thick black hair, pulling Shu’s face towards his own.

  Shu leaned down into the kiss. He took hungry mouthfuls of Ken’s lips, greedily satiating a desire that had ached inside him for so long. This was who he wanted—who he’d waited endlessly for in boredom and loneliness.

  He touched the sides of his face with gentle caresses, and pulled slightly away. Shu’s tongue slid across and past Ken’s lips until he found the small cut by his chin. He lapped at it tenderly, the intoxicating taste of the young man’s blood calling to him.

  Shu kissed the wound and smiled at him. His hands moved down to the front of Ken’s shirt, slowly unfastening the buttons until the bare skin was revealed.

  Ken groaned. Part of him still couldn’t believe he was here doing this but he wanted to, needed to. Shu’s touch was gentle but firm and so unlike the caresses of the girls he’d been with. He shivered when the cool air of the room touched the flushed skin of his newly bared chest. He raised himself up, tugged the shirt off then reached between them and fumbled with the button of his jeans. He tugged at the zipper, groaning again as lust swept though him fast and hard. “Touch me,” he pleaded. “Touch me everywhere.”

  Shu bent his head and ran his tongue across Ken’s small hard nipples, bringing another groan from Ken’s lips. He writhed from Shu’s expertise like someone out of one of Lok’s porn movies, but he didn’t care. “Touch me,” he pleaded again, jerking at the constricting fabric of his jeans.

  “I’ll do more than touch you, Kenichi.” Shu’s tongue trailed up along Ken’s throat and over his cheek. “I’ll flood your senses…consume your very thoughts,” he breathed into his ear. Shu’s tongue flicked across t
he tender flesh of the earlobe, his hands brushed along Ken’s arms and chest in fleeting strokes. “I’ll devour you body and soul…because you’re mine.”

  The time has come for Kir to use his powers to destroy the agency and bring Josh back to safety.

  Minder

  © 2007 Joely Skye

  Available February 27, 2007 at Samhain Publishing

  Third book of the Minders series.

  Josh goes to ground after being given the compulsion to kill his lover. But the agency ensures Josh is not the only threat to Kir’s life.

  Last summer, Kir arrived home to blood and death. Josh was gone. All Kir has left is his belief Josh is still alive. Until the agency entraps Kir and suddenly Josh is back in his life. But Josh is not the same man who disappeared almost a year ago…

  Josh knows how to kill. Kir, a Minder, can bend people to his will. They will each have to act to keep the other safe, no matter the cost.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Minder:

  Early morning, before the sun rose, Josh woke disoriented. No longer in his one-man tent, he’d somehow ended up naked in a luxurious bed. He felt safe, if confused. Then his heart stuttered awake to see why. He’d slept with Kir, his beloved. Josh had named him thus last winter, though he couldn’t yet say it aloud.

  When they’d fallen asleep, Kir had been relaxed, but now there was tension in his back and he was curled up on the other side of the bed. With a pang, Josh wondered when Kir had slept with someone he wanted to be with. Apart from Josh that one time.

  Josh rolled out of bed and explored the washroom. Yes, Trey had supplies. Josh opened the box of condoms and while there wasn’t lube, there was oil.