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Authors: B. D. Heywood
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Arisada’s sword and shatter his heart.
Arisada needed to find a different way to take the youth’s life. A way to seduce him gently toward death. Hai, hai . Seduction—the very instrument of Nowaki’s betrayal. The idea held a certain sense of justice. If he enticed the unknown young man to his bed he could kill him. For in rut, Arisada lost all rationale, all reason, all morals. As he climaxed, he killed.
He would take the boy’s delectable body at the same moment he took his revenge. Over the centuries, the virus corrupting Arisada’s blood had mutated into an irrevocable death sentence for any human being. The virus would steal the youth’s life while he wandered in a mindless fever.
The death of this one innocent boy was just; needed to free Koji Nowaki’s tamashii of all spiritual debt.
But as Saito Arisada drifted into sleep, crimson tears seeped from beneath his slanted lids. His heart had already given itself to that beautiful green-eyed hunter who fought with the skill and grace of a Sword Saint.
One word slipped from Arisada’s lips. Koibito . Beloved.
.
Five
“T wo days since my kyūketsuki were cut down like dogs, and you have not found the human scum responsible?” “T Ukita Sadomori hurled his crystal wine glass against the wall. Rivulets of burgundy streamed down the Willem Kalf still life.
Anger twisted the vampire Master’s aristocratic features into a terrifying mask. His eyes turned scarlet obliterating the golden iris. His thick lips wrinkled back from a large mouth. His hooked nose and high cheekbones added to the ferocity of his broad face. Over the centuries, the melanin of his skin had faded until it was almost translucent. His waist-length hair and mustache were white. All vampires feared him, secretly called him The Ghost and whispered that his power came from arcane blood rites.
“I believe they were hunters, both had guns.” Arisada spoke with care, fearing one misplaced word or gesture would reveal his lie. “We have yet to find them. You know how well hunters hide.” He looked with sadness at the ruined three-hundred-year-old Dutch masterpiece. It reminded him of hundreds of lives as carelessly destroyed by Sadomori.
“Hunters are mere humans. Why didn’t you kill them?”
“Daimyō, gomen nasai . I apologize. I arrived too late. Before I could act, they went inside the bar. I dare not kill them in front of so many witnesses.”
“You will find and kill these hunters, this human filth.” Suspicion glittered deep within his red eyes. “How is it you happened to be there?”
“I was—”
“ Baka . Idiot, You were looking for that boy.” Sadomori interrupted with a sneer. “So many cities, so many bishounen , so many souls. It’s pathetic, this obsession with finding the reincarnation of a dead lover.” Sadomori’s anger flashed. “You are a fool. But don’t forget, you are my fool, bound to me by your oath and my blood.” Sadomori allowed Arisada the freedom to pursue his delusion, knowing that pathetic hope had ensured his Primary’s obedience over the centuries.
Arisada stilled his expression. He prayed Sadomori ignored the slight increase of his heartbeat, and not realize Arisada had found his Nowaki. Sadomori would slaughter the young hunter out of pure jealousy.
To divert the subject, Arisada overstepped their long-established bounds, “Please my Seisakusha , order the Clan to feed only from the indentured. To allow anything else will lead to our annihilation.”
“How dare you question me? I do nothing except for my own pleasure.” In the time taken by a single heartbeat, Sadomori moved across the room. He grabbed Arisada by his throat, and slammed him against the wall. He leaned up into the younger vampire’s face. His forefinger traced the spider-web scar marring Arisada’s left cheek. “Never forget you belong to me.”
As always when this close to his Primary, Sadomori’s mood shifted into lust. “There my sweet, my anger’s
Arisada needed to find a different way to take the youth’s life. A way to seduce him gently toward death. Hai, hai . Seduction—the very instrument of Nowaki’s betrayal. The idea held a certain sense of justice. If he enticed the unknown young man to his bed he could kill him. For in rut, Arisada lost all rationale, all reason, all morals. As he climaxed, he killed.
He would take the boy’s delectable body at the same moment he took his revenge. Over the centuries, the virus corrupting Arisada’s blood had mutated into an irrevocable death sentence for any human being. The virus would steal the youth’s life while he wandered in a mindless fever.
The death of this one innocent boy was just; needed to free Koji Nowaki’s tamashii of all spiritual debt.
But as Saito Arisada drifted into sleep, crimson tears seeped from beneath his slanted lids. His heart had already given itself to that beautiful green-eyed hunter who fought with the skill and grace of a Sword Saint.
One word slipped from Arisada’s lips. Koibito . Beloved.
.
Five
“T wo days since my kyūketsuki were cut down like dogs, and you have not found the human scum responsible?” “T Ukita Sadomori hurled his crystal wine glass against the wall. Rivulets of burgundy streamed down the Willem Kalf still life.
Anger twisted the vampire Master’s aristocratic features into a terrifying mask. His eyes turned scarlet obliterating the golden iris. His thick lips wrinkled back from a large mouth. His hooked nose and high cheekbones added to the ferocity of his broad face. Over the centuries, the melanin of his skin had faded until it was almost translucent. His waist-length hair and mustache were white. All vampires feared him, secretly called him The Ghost and whispered that his power came from arcane blood rites.
“I believe they were hunters, both had guns.” Arisada spoke with care, fearing one misplaced word or gesture would reveal his lie. “We have yet to find them. You know how well hunters hide.” He looked with sadness at the ruined three-hundred-year-old Dutch masterpiece. It reminded him of hundreds of lives as carelessly destroyed by Sadomori.
“Hunters are mere humans. Why didn’t you kill them?”
“Daimyō, gomen nasai . I apologize. I arrived too late. Before I could act, they went inside the bar. I dare not kill them in front of so many witnesses.”
“You will find and kill these hunters, this human filth.” Suspicion glittered deep within his red eyes. “How is it you happened to be there?”
“I was—”
“ Baka . Idiot, You were looking for that boy.” Sadomori interrupted with a sneer. “So many cities, so many bishounen , so many souls. It’s pathetic, this obsession with finding the reincarnation of a dead lover.” Sadomori’s anger flashed. “You are a fool. But don’t forget, you are my fool, bound to me by your oath and my blood.” Sadomori allowed Arisada the freedom to pursue his delusion, knowing that pathetic hope had ensured his Primary’s obedience over the centuries.
Arisada stilled his expression. He prayed Sadomori ignored the slight increase of his heartbeat, and not realize Arisada had found his Nowaki. Sadomori would slaughter the young hunter out of pure jealousy.
To divert the subject, Arisada overstepped their long-established bounds, “Please my Seisakusha , order the Clan to feed only from the indentured. To allow anything else will lead to our annihilation.”
“How dare you question me? I do nothing except for my own pleasure.” In the time taken by a single heartbeat, Sadomori moved across the room. He grabbed Arisada by his throat, and slammed him against the wall. He leaned up into the younger vampire’s face. His forefinger traced the spider-web scar marring Arisada’s left cheek. “Never forget you belong to me.”
As always when this close to his Primary, Sadomori’s mood shifted into lust. “There my sweet, my anger’s
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