by Aja James
“Thank you, I really appreciate it.” There. A relatively polite sentence.
“I’ll be in the other room if you need anything.”
She nodded and somehow managed to keep silent, because in her head she was thinking, yeah, I do need something. I need your body over me, under me, and always inside of me. All night long. Don’t even think about sleeping.
But that was just the sake talking, because Ava might have a volcanic libido, but she’d never had one-night-stands with near strangers. The horizontal encounters in the few past relationships she’d had didn’t set any beds on fire either. If she met an attractive man, she never did anything about it, and before now, she hadn’t ever felt the compulsion to.
“Good night,” she murmured, raising her eyes level with his chest.
“Sleep well,” he answered, and closed the partition behind him.
Ryu leaned against the wall beside the fusuma and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
He willed his body to calm. He tried to focus on the mission, tried to separate in his mind the woman from the target. Tried not to see her. A passionate, too-trusting, quirky, off-the-charts genius of a female who made him feel.
Too much.
But when he tried to form the image of a depersonalized target, all he could see was Ava’s face.
Not five seconds later, the partition slid open again.
“I do need something,” Ava said, sounding somewhat short of breath, but her words were clear enough.
Ryu stepped away from the wall, holding himself utterly still.
“Yes?” he prompted, turning his head to the side, showing only his profile, his back facing her.
She took a step toward him, and when she didn’t speak, he angled his head further and looked directly into her eyes.
“I am very, very attracted to you,” she said in a rush, as if otherwise she wouldn’t be able to get the words out, “and while I’m really dizzy from the sake right now, I’m in full possession of my faculties. But I probably won’t remember this in the morning. Which I’m sure I’ll be thankful for. While I’m still coherent though, would you mind if I kissed you? I might regret it forever if I didn’t at least ask.”
Ryu turned fully to face her, speechless. Not so much because of her lengthy speech, but rather that she was asking his permission.
No one had ever asked him for permission before.
Perhaps he was still too long, for she lowered her eyes and said, “Maybe it’s a bad idea. I’m sorry—”
But then strong arms surrounded her, pulling her into a hard, deep chest, and his mouth descended upon hers.
Long-fingered hands held her face steady as soft yet commanding lips moved over hers, lapping, sucking, nuzzling. Ava stepped fully into his embrace and wrapped her arms around his back, her hands clawing into the loose cotton of his shirt.
Yes, yes, yes! Her body chanted as she kissed him back for all she was worth. She opened her mouth to invite his tongue inside, but he kept nibbling at her lips, the tease.
She took matters literally into her own hands by shifting her grasp down and under the waistband of his loose trousers to his well-muscled buttocks and pulled him forward and into her, until his freed erection was pushed up against her naked stomach, laid bare by her gaping robe.
Stallion indeed.
They both groaned deeply at the same time at the sensation of satin-encased steel sliding against smooth, soft silk. And finally, finally, he plunged his hot tongue into her awaiting mouth, mimicking the penetration she wished was happening elsewhere too.
Deeply, thoroughly, he plundered her depths, his hands still cradling her face. There was a reverence in his touch, almost as if he were worshipping her mouth. The hands that enfolded her shook ever so slightly as if he were holding himself in check, trying to contain something wild and powerful and raw.
She plundered too with equal measure, alternately sucking his tongue deep and thrusting her own into his mouth to explore and revel in his intoxicating taste.
Dark chocolate fudge, come to mama.
Ava’s core was already weeping, throbbing, needing him hot and hard inside her. She let go of his priceless ass to take hold of his erection with both hands.
And a split second later, he pushed her back to arm’s length, forcing her to let him go.
For long moments, they stared at each other in silence, broken only by the gusts of their breaths as their lungs fought to keep up with the accelerated tempo of their hearts.
“Go back to bed,” he ordered her in a guttural growl through tight lips, “Now.”
Gone was any semblance of politeness. Everything in his tight, closed expression said that he was now totally off limits to her.
Given that, Ava didn’t think it was the appropriate time to say “thank you,” for the most explosive kiss she’d ever had. This time, she knew not to push her luck.
She turned and fled into the adjacent room and hastily slid the partition closed.
“Good night,” her muffled voice called out.
And all was silent.
Ryu turned off the overhead lantern and sat down on the tatami against the wall beside the partition.
His lips peeled back involuntarily to reveal the long, sharp fangs that had punched through his gums, dripping with saliva. His penis was still hard and throbbing, still naked and hurting above the waistband of his trousers where she’d pulled him into the open.
He savagely ignored both needs and squeezed his eyes shut, letting his head fall back against the wall with a thud.
Fuck.
Chapter Four
The pain was particularly virulent today, washing every cell of the prisoner’s body in gnawing acid.
He huddled in on himself, pulling the long, almost fleshless bones of his limbs close to his body and clenched his jaw against the onslaught.
It even hurt to breathe.
But he wouldn’t stop. Not now, when he’d already endured thousands of years in this living hell. As long as he was alive, there was hope that someone would find him, that he would somehow figure out a way to escape.
And besides, she would never let him die. Not until she no longer had use of him.
In the beginning she had been endlessly fascinated with him, as if she couldn’t figure out why he didn’t buckle under the vast variety of inventive tortures she wrecked upon him. She’d tried everything to bend him to her will: seduction, persuasion, coercion, force.
Nothing worked.
He was a puzzle she just couldn’t solve. Aside from whatever of her schemes he took unwilling and unknown part in, she kept him alive for that very reason. Though her passions and urgency had ebbed over the millennia, she still wanted to break him.
The irony was that he didn’t give a shit about her.
They were not locked in an eternal struggle of mutual hate and morbid obsession. He didn’t live to thwart her crusade to best him. He lived for his own reasons alone. He didn’t even hate her for being the orchestrator of his Tartarus on earth, for she had never, and would never, touch his heart, his mind, his soul.
No. Those belonged to another. From their first encounter, his doom had been sealed.
The prisoner raised his head slightly as a swift breeze filtered through the opening high above. The air had turned cold from a recent storm, but it did not bring the chill of night, though he could feel no light from the sun to be sure.
Something flapped and fluttered on the ledge of the opening, followed by a small, clear chirp.
The prisoner bestirred himself to swallow and exercise his throat, rasping out, “Go away, little one. There is nothing for you here.”
Some more shuffling and a series of chirps.
“Go back to your mother or your mate,” he pleaded in a barely audible voice, rough from lack of use. “Go back to safety.”
A gust of wind threw itself against the tower and the bird’s chirp became a strident shriek. A frantic flapping of wings later, the prisoner heard it la
nd awkwardly on the cold stone floor of his cell. Its shrieks became hoarse and desperate as the flapping continued.
The prisoner put aside his own pain for the moment and crawled slowly toward the likely injured creature with outstretched hands. A few seconds later, he felt a sharp beak peck his palm, breaking the paper-thin skin.
Despite the wound, he held his hand steady, palm open, fingers relaxed. He felt another peck, this time less forceful than the last, as if the bird either didn’t have the strength or felt that it wasn’t threatened enough to truly attack. It had stopped flapping by now.
The prisoner crept closer.
He held both hands out to form a bowl with his palms and waited.
Nothing. No movement or sound for a long time.
Then there was a rustle as soft feathers covering a warm little body nudged against his hands.
He still waited, motionless and patient.
The bird pecked him lightly on the pad of his index finger as if testing him, decided that he was safe enough and hefted itself fully into the cradle of his palms.
Chirp, chirp, chirp, it cried to him as the prisoner held it closely to his naked chest, slowly lowering his head to rest his cheek gently against soft, sleek feathers.
“What am I going to do with you, little one?” he murmured to his unfortunate cellmate.
He stroked its small head and beak with infinite care, and felt around its wings and legs.
Chirp! The bird protested when he touched its right leg, pulling its talon in to protect it.
“It is not a bad break,” the prisoner told his companion as if the bird could understand him. “I just need to bind it tightly so it will heal the right way.”
But he had nothing to bind it with, no rags for washing, blankets to sleep under, not even clothes on his body.
Except his hair. Long, straight and pale silver, reaching down his back past his rump. It was his only protection against the elements.
It had stopped growing some time ago because his body had to reserve nutrients for more important functions like keeping his heart beating and his lungs pumping. It used to be a pale gold, almost blinding under the glint of the sun, thick and lustrous. Now it faded to a dull, brittle sheen, though he could not see it for himself.
He would use it to weave a binding for his little friend. The leg should be able to heal sufficiently in a couple of weeks. And he was due to get a meal soon, maybe today, maybe tomorrow. He could share it and save it for his patient.
Getting out of the tower, however, was another story.
“Looks like we’re stuck together for the duration,” he told the bird, the only living creature he’d come in contact with in the last few hundred years who didn’t threaten or hurt him—the frightened pecks in the beginning he could empathize with.
He felt around the bird’s body carefully as he stroked its feathers and decided that it must be a kite, or Tombi in Japanese. A small one, probably on its virgin flight from its nest. How unfortunate that this should be its first tumble.
He huffed in a brief burst of dark humor. “Did you know, little kite, that in ancient Egyptian mythology, the goddess Isis would take your form to fly over her domain and resurrect the dead? Are you here now to bring me back to life?”
Chirp, said his long-awaited visitor, before nuzzling its face against his collar bone.
Whether to seek comfort or to provide it, the prisoner did not know.
*** *** *** ***
A loud alarm rang incessantly beside Ava’s ear, and even when she flopped to her stomach and covered her head with her pillow, the shrill sound would not be drowned out.
“Aarrggghh!” she groaned, frustrated and groggy. It couldn’t be morning already. She felt like she’d just fallen asleep.
Ring, ring, ring, the alarm kept going. Ava felt around for something to smack or throw or pull out of the wall, but the alarm wouldn’t stop.
Finally she sat up and pushed the hair out of her eyes, surveying her surroundings.
A rumpled bed on which she sat, sheets and comforter strewn every which way. Closed, blackout drapes that allowed only a sliver of sunlight through its seam. The smell of stale smoke seeped into the gray carpet on the floor. A small night stand on each side of her with matching lamps. On the side she was closest to, the source of her troubles kept ringing.
Oh. The phone. She picked up the receiver and said a hoarse hello.
“Good morning, Dr. Monroe. This is your wake up call,” a cheerful voice said on the other line. “It is now nine-o’clock. Breakfast in the lounge closes at ten.”
Ava said a rote thank you and hung up the phone. She stayed still for a few moments longer before turning on the TV with the remote and making herself get up and go through her morning ablutions.
Her mind was a blank slate as she washed her face and brushed her teeth. She still wasn’t fully awake by the time she finished brushing and securing her wayward hair in a tight ponytail. She gazed drowsily into the mirror and her reflection with its bloodshot eyes, pasty skin and slack mouth stared accusingly back at her.
Oh lord. What did she have last night?
A headache the size of a freight train was charging through her skull and squashing the veins at her temples beneath its screeching wheels. Her mouth felt filled with nasty cotton even though she just used mouth wash, floss and brushed for three whole minutes with her ultrasonic Oral-B electric toothbrush.
She dropped her too heavy head in her hands and slouched in front of the vanity with her elbows on the sink counter.
Think, Ava, think. What did she do last night?
Dark-chocolate-fudge-Arabian-stallion.
The collection of words flashed like a neon sign in the dark recesses of her brain.
Ava groaned and didn’t change position.
Oh. That. Or rather, him.
Had she really propositioned her gallant savior in his own home? If it was indeed his home?
Had she really thrust her tongue into his mouth and held onto his ass like there was no tomorrow?
Oh, and let’s not forget how she pulled his very well-hung erection from his trousers with the intention of putting it inside of her while she wrapped herself around his body like a spider monkey.
Ava whimpered in mortification and reawakened lust.
And she didn’t even know anything about him beyond his name! She was such a slut! Damn it, but her mama had taught her better.
Speaking of whom, Ava needed to call her mom or she’d be worried. They agreed to video call every night Ava’s time, morning New York time. But her phone battery had run out last night and, well, she’d been a little preoccupied.
Ava raised her head and looked at herself in the mirror again. She was still wearing his bathrobe.
She knew because it was many sizes too big for her, and a lot fluffier than the hotel bathrobe. He must have brought her, unconscious wanton glutton that she must have been, back to her hotel sometime in the early morning. She had no memory of the journey, but she seemed to recall him pulling the robe more securely around her when he tucked her into bed.
The robe contained remnants of his scent, very faint, but the traces that lingered were still enough to heat her blood.
Ava buried her face into the lapels and inhaled deeply, as if trying to vacuum all of his fragrance from the fleece of the robe into her nostrils to lock away in her olfactory bulbs.
Well, at least she had something of his as a reminder of their brief, accidental acquaintance. She didn’t think she could get lucky for a third time (or unlucky, depending on how she viewed the situation) to see him again.
But if she did… well, she’d try to remember to ask him more about himself before she begged for sexual favors.
Snorting at herself in disgust, Ava pulled the robe more tightly around her, as if she were wrapping a certain someone’s arms around her body, and trudged back to the bed. She sat down on it and attempted to focus on what was happening on the Tokyo news, reading the English translat
ion at the bottom of the TV screen.
“Another body was found in the Akihabara club district at 4am this morning,” the translation read while the anchor woman spoke. “Similar to the one a few weeks ago, it was mutilated and left in pieces amongst the trash, drained of blood. Police suspect gang violence and ceremonial retribution, but as of yet have no concrete leads. The victim was a male in his early twenties and did not have the markings of any known gang. But authorities have yet to recover all of the missing body parts…”
Ava grimaced.
What an unpleasant way to wake up in the morning, greeted by this sort of violence and mayhem.
Back in New York there had been similar news, but the frequency had decreased over the past few weeks. She thought Tokyo would be a safer city by comparison. None of what she was seeing now had ever made the global news scene before. But maybe a country’s broadcasting networks tried to keep the bad news as much to themselves as possible. Didn’t want to air their dirty laundry, so to speak.
Though the news had nothing to do with her, no impact on her daily life, Ava still felt the disappointment and sadness from a pointless loss of life. And to such gory violence! She was just there yesterday, exploring the electronic shops for which the area was famous, and having coffee and dessert in the cafes.
She didn’t believe in the existence of monsters and demons, but what sort of creature could or would have done such a thing?
Ava was in the business of saving lives, however remotely. She was not a surgeon holding a scalpel in the operating room, but her life was dedicated to research that could cure millions of debilitating diseases, as well as preventing them from ever taking root. She could not comprehend why anyone would want to take lives, not for power, greed or revenge.
Life was more precious than anything in the world.
Ava turned off the TV, reluctantly and gingerly shrugged out of the borrowed robe, folding it lovingly and tucking it into her suitcase, and got dressed for work.
She was looking forward to setting her brain back on the right track. A different kind of excitement fired her up as she headed out the door.