by Jackie Ivie
No. Never. Takeshi Asourah of the Aka-sourah Clan sobbing? Never.
The shiver worsened. He blinked rapidly and viciously, and started sucking for little bits of air. As he watched, a tear slid from beneath the lashes of one of her eyes. That’s when he knew for certain what the urge to weep felt like. He shuddered through each small breath, in tandem with her. Takeshi nearly joined her in crying. He conquered it with sheer willpower. Called on every bit of strength. And sent his mind back to his earliest years of training.
Takeshi Asourah was a ninja. A shadow warrior. A death dealer. The entire Aka-sourah clan had been. They’d been raised with violence and punishment. The ability to feel anything had been beaten out of them. Emotion was driven out of existence. The goal was self-control. And Takeshi had excelled. But then he’d met Christine, been reanimated, and these lessons were lost. Forgotten. The ability to feel emotion had returned with a vengeance. Well. He was halting it.
An Aka-sourah clan member never cried. They’d die first.
His eyes cleared. His sinuses followed. The shivering ceased next. His mate was an exact match. She must have a wealth of inner strength to draw from. He watched her tear trail start to dry. Heard and felt her sniff. And then she moved her gaze back to his. The look she gave him hadn’t a hint of sorrow to it. It didn’t have emotion to it, at all. Her eyes resembled glass.
It was just like looking into his jade headboard.
“You need to let me up,” she said.
“Oh. Hai.”
His answer was in the exact same calm, level tone she used only his was an octave deeper. But granting her request was much more difficult that it sounded. Even his skin tried to cling to hers. Takeshi sat, the move separating them. The elastic band of his trousers started inching up from where it hugged his thighs. The black silk tented around his head. The sprinklers may have shut off. There was a sense of dampness in this makeshift enclosure with her, but it was dry. Tomb dark. If he hadn’t vampiric senses, he wouldn’t have seen how she covered her breasts with one arm.
Like a shield.
Against him.
He looked aside, and worked at ignoring the flush that crept beneath his skin, warming and tinting him. Even with his newly restored physiological reactions, he’d never dealt with this so many times. Since meeting her, he’d had several incidents where he’d blushed. Gotten embarrassed. Showed anxiety. Clumsiness. He didn’t know how to control any of it. And thus far, his ninja training was useless. He was probably in luck that she couldn’t see much.
Her yakuta lay in a heap beside him. Takeshi lifted the robe, shook it slightly, and held it out to her. He’d been off on her ability to see. She took it without hesitation with her free hand and unerringly donned it, hiding her nakedness. And then he remembered. They’d shared blood. Her vision might be the match to his.
He hooked a thumb in the waist of his pants and hitched them up. The elastic had been stretched. They wouldn’t stay up easily. But he was covered. He didn’t know what to say. Do. Try. He’d never felt so awkward. And he felt the flush from that realization clear to his lower belly.
“Well. That’s...one thing down. Ready for the next objective?”
“Next objective?” Did making love have such things?
“We need to get up. Dressed. Find a place. Someplace...dry.”
“Ah. Yes. Dry.”
The robe clung to her body, outlining everything. She’d worked the silk into place beneath the obi sash about her waist. She had the most amazing body. Hand-sized breasts. Small, dart-like nipples. The tiniest waist. And – oh – her scent! She had the most tantalizing scent. A blend of fire-smoke and spice-filled marketplace. He blended his own incense. He couldn’t place what he’d need for her. And then he factored in her eyes. The impact of being near her was beyond extraordinary. He could barely think, let alone form words.
“You do have someplace like that?”
“Like what?”
“Look. Takeshi. Um. We really need to talk. I need to get the air cleared. And...I can’t do it with my hormones on overdrive. Okay?”
“Hormones on overdrive?” What did that mean?
“Okay. You want it plain? You got it. I’m the manager of commercial development for a really large company. I handle global interests. I’ve got my own staff, a windowed office in Manhattan, a really nice income. I have all that because I’m worth it. I’m known for hard-nosed dealings, tough negotiation, and straight talk. Got it?”
He shook his head. She was becoming more animated the longer she talked. Her hands moved. Her eyes sparked green daggers up at him. He much preferred that to the glassy-look. He’d almost smiled during her speech. Twice.
“Really? I usually don’t have any trouble communicating. With anyone. I have to admit, however, that I am having a bit of trouble, um. Around you. There’s something...I just can’t figure out. Why don’t we just call it sexual attraction? Okay? And it’s pretty severe. Maybe you should find a shirt.”
Everything in his world went bright. Clear. Sparks bubbled through his veins, nearly causing a chortle. He held the jubilation close. Clasped his hands together at the base of his abdomen and tightened them into knots. Breathed as calmly and deeply as possible. He had to. He didn’t know how she’d react otherwise.
“So. Takeshi. You want to get us to a dry place? Or—! What the hell? How do you move so fast?”
Takeshi had grabbed her to him and jumped, clearing the tunnel entrance to his honden. He didn’t answer. Anything he tried to say might contain his elation. He shot down a hallway. Turned corners. Passed several options. The black silk that had canopied his bed fluttered about them like a cape. She had her arms wrapped about his waist. Her head tucked beneath his chin. Surely she didn’t expect him to moderate movement when his soul was soaring?
“Takeshi?”
Her heart was the match to his. Beating rapidly. His was from complete and total joy. Hers might be fright. That slowed him. His feet dropped to the carpeted floor with only a slight bump. He’d decided. He was taking her to where they’d be alone. Completely.
His Himalayan hideaway.
They reached the hangar. His newest jet. It felt right. The décor even welcomed them back. It was in his favorite. Black leather covered seating, dark mahogany wood, soft lighting. The door whispered shut behind them. The silk material settled against his back. He’d moved so quickly, it was almost dry. He could hear the engines starting up. Christine was breathing rapidly, taking his breath along. He smacked at an intercom button, swallowing against the breathlessness. As if racing hallways with his mate in his arms was strenuous.
“Okay. This kidnapping stuff is getting old,” Christine said.
“One moment, watashi no ai.”
He touched her lip with his forefinger as the intercom beeped. Her eyes went wide. Her heart stopped. He knew, because his did the exact same thing. And then his knees wobbled. All amazingly enjoyable.
“Morning, Boss. Where to?”
He’d hired Vaughn for the season. The man had worked for the Vampire Assassin League for years. He was the best pilot they had. He was also arrogant. Cocky. His services weren’t usually available, but Takeshi had an edge. His hydrogen company experimented with aircraft. Technology. Speed. And Vaughn had been bored.
“Nepal.”
“Make that New York,” Christine interrupted.
“Why would I wish to go there?” he asked her.
“Because I live there.”
“It’s too small.”
“Small? There are millions of people there. Small?”
“I’m Japanese,” he replied. “Have you seen Tokyo?”
“So...what’s it gonna be, Boss?”
Vaughn’s voice boomed through the cabin. Christine had a set look to her mouth. Her eyes weren’t lush and open, either. They looked about as hard as the jade wall again. Takeshi sighed.
“New York,” he announced to the space about him.
“Fair enough. I’ll get flig
ht plans and fuel stops in place. Have a seat. Fasten some seat belts, and—. I don’t know why I say it. You guys have zero idea of air security. Do whatever you want back there.”
The intercom went silent. A hum started up. The structure about them shuddered then moved. Christine gasped. He matched it. He really wished she’d stop doing that. It unbalanced him.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Taking me home.”
“Oh. Gratitude is not necessary, but appreciated. You wish to talk now?”
“Um...let me rain-check that. Okay?”
“Rain-check?” She used another unfamiliar term. He frowned slightly.
“Exactly. Look. I’m traveling to one of the busiest cities on earth and I’m a mess.”
“You look beautiful.”
“You need to put me down. Okay?”
It didn’t sound like an option. So Takeshi set her on her feet and removed his arms. Reluctantly. He then took a step backward. He instantly felt as if a Himalayan wind had brushed across him. Chilling. Solitary.
“All right. Good. Next item of business - I’m going to go make use of your fantastic shower. I hope you have something presentable I can change into afterward. Other than silk pajamas, that is.”
“I have everything you need.”
“You have women’s clothing?”
“Yes.”
“In my size?” Her eyebrows lifted.
“Yes. Size four. American.”
“Close enough. I suppose you have my shoe size, too?”
“Hai. Size five. Also American.”
“I suppose you have American styles, too?”
“Uh.”
That one he couldn’t answer with any certainty. Not for this plane. He’d bought women’s clothing over the centuries, when something caught his eye. He’d told himself it was for the same reason he bought anything. Collecting. Asset maturing. Selling. His acquisitions had come first from markets, then shopping centers, and then he’d purchased items over the internet. He hadn’t known he’d been preparing for his mate. He should have.
“I’ll just look in the closet for myself. Okay? I sure hope you have something...a little formal. I don’t want to show up at the airport looking like an Asian concubine.”
“You do not look like one now.”
“Right. Hold that thought. I’ll be back.”
“You will return?”
He probably deserved the look she gave him. She didn’t answer, either. She simply walked to the door. And he let her.
CHAPTER NINE
She really liked this shower.
Actually, she could grow fond of the entire bathroom...except the mirror had clouded over or something. She couldn’t seem to get a clear reflection. She’d thought it was the lighting, but no matter where she aimed the fixture she couldn’t quite see herself. It wasn’t a real problem. She didn’t wear cosmetics, and she could do her hair blind-folded. He didn’t have any hairpins, however, so she settled for weaving a long braid down her back, finished off with a dental floss bow.
Stay in reality, Christine. Keep everything on the physical plane.
Right.
Reality.
Takeshi really liked things dim. The bedroom suite had the same dawn-like glow as the main cabin. He really favored black, too. The carpet was black. Furnishings. The linens. And when she opened the dual closet, it wasn’t difficult to figure out which side was his. There wasn’t any shade in there except black.
The other side contained a stunning array of paradise hues. All kinds of fabrics. All sorts of fashion. Why...if she wasn’t mistaken, he even had what looked like a fringed and beaded flapper gown from the roaring twenties or thereabouts. Lots of floor-length gowns that looked appropriate for black-tie events. Ceremonial kimonos as well as another yukata. She selected a light-blue, brocade sheath. Plain yet sophisticated. The dress skimmed her figure as if it had been tailor-made.
That was disconcerting.
The shoes adorning a wall of shelves were even more disquieting. She actually wore a size five, narrow. Very hard to find. She usually had to special order them. And yet, here was an entire selection. In exactly that size. Everything was dreamscape perfect. Orderly. She might have to reconsider her sanity level here. That was scary. She decided to rain-check any sanity check-up until after her talk with Takeshi.
Ah. Takeshi.
Christine sighed, even as she told herself it was stupid. This wasn’t a dream. Dreams didn’t leave painful places on her neck if she touched them. Little bruises on her hips where he’d held her. A bout of shivering from just the memory of their lovemaking.
Oh...baby!
Takeshi was one sexy man. And then some. He was beyond dream-worthy. That body of his...naked... Holy hell. Her legs were turning into mush at the mere thought. She needed to pull herself together. Stop thinking of him and that lovemaking session. No matter how wondrous it had been. But it had been so awesome. She’d never been so out-of-this-world pleasured. This entire experience had gone beyond her wildest imagination. As if every fantasy she’d ever had had come to life, received a perfect form and function, and then got doubled.
Oh my.
Takeshi was the entire package. Too bad he was psychotic. Or something worse.
Well, Christine. It was time. She’d wasted as much of it as she could. The only thing she could think to delay further was to do her nails. But Takeshi had slipped as a host in that arena. The only manicure item he stocked was a nail file. Christine slid it along her nails as she left the bathroom, advanced across the bedroom floor, stopped for a moment at the door. Took a deep breath. Watched her hand on the door handle. She turned it. And walked out.
Oh, good night.
She’d forgotten his attire. Or lack, thereof. He was pacing. In those low-slung pants? On that physique? Hell’s bells. The man needed a warning label on him. Or a ton of security. And he had the ability to move faster than the eye could track. He’d been at the wall leading presumably to the pilot when he saw her. The next moment he was standing in front of her. She looked up. Her jaw dropped. So did the nail file.
“Watashi no ai. You took forever. And you are so beautiful. So. Very. Beautiful.”
She couldn’t think of one reply. Not one.
“I do not deserve such beauty.”
“Uh. Takeshi?”
“Hai?”
He stepped closer, violating any idea of personal space. Christine said the first thing that came into her mind.
“You...have a lot of scars.”
He glanced down as if verifying. Looked back. Snagged her gaze with his. She might as well just melt in place. That’s what it felt like. She only hoped it didn’t look it.
“We used real weapons in the dojo.”
“Real. Weapons.” They weren’t questions. It was all she could manage.
“I was not always as proficient as I am now. We all had scars from failures. They...bother you?”
She shook her head. “They’re like desecrations to a work of art.”
He smiled. Her heart gave a flutter that almost pained. She told herself he was an assassin. A killing machine. That should be enough to halt any desire for contact with him. But. Oh! She could so very easily fall for him.
Hard.
And far.
“Come. Sit. It is time to tell you everything.” He held out his hand.
“Must you?”
She didn’t think she’d verbalized it, but his sharp glance indicated otherwise. Christine took his hand and snapped back with the same motion he used. An electrical charge, or something as powerful, had zapped them both. His shocked look probably mirrored hers.
Oh. This was going downhill. Fast.
She might need a stiff drink. And she never drank.
“Perhaps we should not touch...just yet,” he offered.
Christine nodded. She felt so odd. She was even starting to tremble. It was three steps to the reclining chairs. It looked like four times tha
t. She dropped into the closest one. Leather surrounded her, warming from contact with her body. Takeshi took the one beside her. Swiveled it to face her.
Damn. He really was gorgeous. A knot formed in her throat. It was going to be hard to swallow around it. But then he opened his mouth and gave her some Neo-Confucianism bullshit that cancelled out some of the sensual allure he wielded.
“There are several stages to existence,” he said.
Christine lifted her brows. Swallowed. She’d been right. The knot hurt with the motion. “I’d like to know about the here and now. Okay?”
“It is a...tangled story. I am trying to find a good starting place.”
She closed her eyes. Took a deep breath. Counted to five. Clichés raced through her mind. It was time for the shit to hit the fan. Pay the piper. The devil was about to get his due. No more beating about the bush. It was all so stupid. She opened her eyes. Looked right into his. And somehow got her mouth to work.
“You had fangs, Takeshi.”
“Did I?”
“I saw them. You bit me. I have puncture marks. In more than one place.” She rubbed at her neck.
“That was...uh. You must forgive me. I lost control.”
He flushed. Damn everything. The guy was the epitome of masculine beauty. It was already difficult to talk with him. He had to go and make it harder? Christine pulled her glaze from his to a spot behind his head. That was better.
“I don’t like games,” she told him.
“I have never played them.”
“You’re playing one now.”
“Do you seek to anger me? Is that it? You wish to alter emotion to something else? It is a good ploy. And you are very good. But I do not think it will work. You are too beautiful. Much too precious. You are my mate. And I am yours. Do you understand? My heart beats with yours. Every breath you take is mine. And vice versa.”
“Takeshi. Please? I’m trying to reach the facts here.”
“I love you. I adore you. And I worship you. Those are facts.”
She moved her gaze back to him. She didn’t dare connect with his eyes again, but just looking at his chin might suffice. It didn’t. She couldn’t help seeing his entire torso. He had the black silk at his back. Black leather behind that. The darkness framed him. She swallowed again. The knot in her throat shifted. Damned thing.