Read Online Eternal Samurai by B. D. Heywood - Free Book Online Page A

alley, he felt no urge to sleep. He had no doubt the soul of Nowaki lived in the body of this beautiful youth. Yet, the utter improbability of it stunned Arisada. But why not? He’d lived hundreds of years, seen thousands of boys. Almost given up. His need for fukushū , for vengeance for Mii-dera, was the core of his life. Until now.
    He lay awake considering how to confront the emerald-eyed boy—for the vampire could only think of him as a boy. What words to use to convince him of his reincarnation as Koji Nowaki, the traitor of Mii-dera. And as a traitor, he must die.
    But the satisfaction of realizing his long-awaited revenge mocked Arisada. A torrent of conflicting emotions besieged him. The vampire recalled every exquisite detail of the boy from the alley. Every nuance of movement, every glimpse of flesh and expression, sooty lashes lowering over jade eyes, the tiny huff of sound as breath entered and left the youth’s delectable mouth.
    And oh, the taste of those beautiful lips! They were tender and sweet and heartbreakingly familiar.
    A visceral honesty, more ingrained than revenge ever could be, showed him the truth. While he always planned to kill Nowaki in his new form, Arisada had never dreamed that he would fall in love—instantly and insanely—with that form.
    Arisada ached to claim this pretty, no beautiful, green-eyed youth. Just once, drive his cock between those tight buttocks and into that pulsing heat before death closed those peridot eyes. He looked down the planes of his thin body—the pale skin stretched over the stark arch of ribs, the angles of the hollows below his sharp hips, his large cock that was responsible for as much pain as his fangs. His fingers, described by some as long and elegant, by others as cruel and talonned, tugged on his desire-hardened nipples before sliding down to curl around his hot, demanding flesh. The fantasy took him as he pulled on himself with harsh, unforgiving strokes.
    His fantasy took his mind. He tasted every secret place on the youth’s honey-colored skin, suckled on tender nipples—were they dusky pink or nut brown? Lave over the ridges and cuts of muscles down to that cock, pulsing hard and hot. Take that turgid, begging member deep into his mouth, until the boy bucked beneath him.
    So vivid his fantasy, that Arisada felt long legs settle their warm weight on his shoulders. Smelled the rich musk of arousal pouring from sex-flushed skin. Heard deep visceral moans of raw need as he plundered that heated core. Felt the wet, intense pressure of a hot channel clamped around his cock. The slap, slap, slap of skin on skin. The raw noises of rut—panting, rasping breath, harsh groans, ecstatic mewls and entreaties for more.
    Arisada stroked himself faster, a punishing drag over satin-covered iron. He rubbed his thumb over the weeping crown with rough, desperate impatience, jacking the taut skin over the steel of his dick. The other hand rolled over his balls, forefinger breaching the resistance of his clenched hole. Curling against his wet walls.
    He envisioned the boy in the alley, those emerald eyes blazing with an incandescence of pleasure, the orgasm blossoming across a straining young face. Imagined that pure leaping cry, the hot wet spurt as the boy surrendered his seed.
    The image of those beautiful jade eyes drove that wild heat down Arisada’s spine. His balls ached, his anus pulsed. Pain stabbed him as his fangs tore through his gums. Then that blinding moment as his spunk ribboned from between his clenched fist. His harsh shout of ecstasy ended in a deep sob of sorrow.
    On a tangle of sweat-soaked sheets, Arisada lay spent but unfulfilled. Anguish crushed his heart. He was honor-bound to slay the jade-eyed boy. Yet, Arisada’s soul ached at the thought of destroying one so young and so unaware of the sins of the soul now possessing his body. He would never be able to take the boy’s life in combat. One glance from those emerald eyes would still