Eternal Samurai (21 page)

“You have been hoping I’d return.” Arisada didn’t wait for a reply but selected an
iaito
then stepped before the mat and bowed. “You are a superb fighter. Would you agree to
tachiuchi
.” The challenge glittered in his golden eyes.

Tatsu gritted his teeth at the arrogance of the vampire’s statement and at its truth. All consideration of his information-getting plan submerged beneath that ineffable sense of connection filled Tatsu. Perhaps because Saito Arisada was a Master swordsman, perhaps a Sword Saint. Face the vampire, defeat him, demand answers. Then maybe kill him. Hell, the opportunity was too much to refuse.

“We fight with real swords?” Tatsu knew the vampire was talking about live steel, the blades only allowed to kiss the opponent yet still offer the threat of a cut. The control and skill of both fighters would be a supreme test for both of them. Tatsu also knew Arisada would not temper his strikes out of any foolish regard that Tatsu was simply human.

“You may use two swords if you prefer, Cobb-san.” Arisada’s mouth twitched in a ghost of a smile. His breath caught at the excitement in those stunning emerald eyes, the surprising dusting of pink across the tops of the youth’s cheeks.

“
Iie
, one will suffice.” Tatsu bobbed his head. He took his
katana
and moved onto the mat.

“Perhaps, we should place a wager on the outcome. If I lose, I will answer your questions. If I win, I claim only an honorable favor,
neh
Cobb-san?” Arisada suggested.

“
Watashi wa anata no chōsen o ukeireru
” Tatsu accepted the challenge. This was what he wanted, a strategy to force the truth from the vampire. “Be prepared to lose.” Tatsu had no doubt honor would dictate that the vampire answer Tatsu’s questions with complete honesty.

“Your confidence is delightful, Cobb-san. Perhaps my curiosity about your request will slow my hand. Make me careless.”

The seductive note in that warm baritone sent shivers rippling down Tatsu’s spine. Shivers that had nothing to do with vengeance and everything to do with a deep throb in his prick. “Perhaps I will surprise you with what I want.” He heard the playful tone in his reply.
Kuso
, was he flirting with the vampire now? Embarrassed, he coughed to cover up the thought. He caught Arisada’s slight smile. A smile that said the vampire was enjoying his effect on Tatsu’s libido.

“First to draw blood, Saito-sensei.”

“
Wakatta,
of course.”

They crouched on the mat for a moment. A flicker of understanding rippled between them before they signaled their readiness by loosening their
katanas
an inch from the scabbard. As one, they sprang to their feet and drew their swords. Tatsu raised his above his head in the
jodan
position. The vampire mirrored his pose. Air whistled. Their swords descended and met with a loud ring.

Tatsu fought as if his life depended on the outcome of this match. As perhaps it did. His body hummed with exhilaration as he met every move of Arisada’s blade. Sweat formed a fine sheen over his skin and plastered his hair to his face. But the longer they sparred, the more his uncertainty grew. Why the hell was he observing the rules of
shinkendo
? Why did he not simply kill this creature? Yet, he knew why. He wanted to feel that beautiful seductive dance of the swords between them again.

Arisada never allowed it. The vampire pressed hard and long, gave no quarter even as he admired Tatsu’s instinctive mastery of the sword.

But the seductive note in that warm baritone sent shivers rippling down Tatsu’s spine. Shivers that had nothing to do with vengeance and everything to do with a deep throb in his prick.

Step, strike, balance, defend, spin, attack. Every muscle ached. His breath came in shorter and shorter gasps. The
katana
’s weight increased with each cut. Knowing his human body could not outlast the endurance of a vampire, Tatsu delved deep within his determination, drew upon every last measure of strength. He lost track of time.

Arisada did not. He sensed dawn was minutes away. His concentration wavered for a split second. Tatsu saw it and drove into the offense in one last desperate effort. He shifted his weight forward and caught the vampire’s
katana
just front of its square
tsuba.
With an unorthodox twist, Tatsu flipped the sword from Arisada’s fingers and sent it spinning into the air.

Faster than any human, Arisada leaped up, grabbed the blade and slashed it diagonally downward toward the floor. Tatsu jerked his exposed foot away and faded to the side. He swept his sword in a counter cut. The
katana
met with a ring, slid together in a whispered glide, parted. Arisada’s continued its descent as Tatsu dropped to one knee and whipped his sword into
jodansuki,
an uppercut toward Arisada’s exposed arm. The tip caressed the cloth of the
keiko-gi
, cutting the garment and revealing the skin beneath, smooth and untouched. Tatsu savored a flash of triumph.

Arisada stepped back, moved his sword in a salute, signaling the end of the fight. “I believe I have won.” He pointed his blade tip toward the mat. “Look at your foot.”

Tatsu stared down in disbelief at the minute drop of crimson on his bare ankle. He had not felt the cut. “What happened to not taking unfair advantage?” Admiration coupled with a surge of disappointment caught him by surprise.

“My sweet boy, your lesson for tonight is who needed to win the most. I couldn’t resist. I want my prize more than you.” Arisada snapped his
katana
into its saya. A second later, he stood before Tatsu, so close they were chest to chest.

Tatsu breathed in the heady scent of the
kyūketsuki
’s body—the rich male tang, musky, a faint copper note.
Shimatta,
he had to be crazy. Arisada smelled so good. That scent sent a surge of arousal throughout his body, boiling his blood with need. Some instinct—or maybe it was his own need—told him what the vampire offered.

Fakku
. He needed to kiss this gorgeous creature and all else be damned. Tatsu lowered his head a fraction and was met with the sweet press of Arisada’s closed mouth, a kiss all the more arousing for its tender restraint. His hand found that thick braid, silky soft, flowing beneath his fingertips as if it had life of its own. He stroked down its satiny, knotted length, his hand gripping it like a cock. Heard a moan escape Arisada. Then, the delicious touch of those lips left Tatsu. A slight breeze and the vampire was gone.

“Hey, boyo, get your fekkin’ head outa your ass.” Bana’s yell reverberated through the cab of the Humvee. Tires squealed as Tatsu wrenched the truck’s steering wheel but was unable to miss sideswiping a rusted car parked in the narrow street. The screech of metal against metal drowned Bana’s next string of profanity.

Jigoku
, why the hell had he insisted on driving back to the Leper Colony after the operation tonight? Maybe because Bana drove with such recklessness, Tatsu often thought they would survive any combat assignment only to die in a tangled wreck of metal and engine parts.

This time, it was Tatsu in a godawful hurry. Before they left, the Major had announced the erratic DataStream was once again operable. At last, Tatsu could search worldwide for information on Seattle’s vampire clan. He told himself he needed every scrap of intel for his quest. In reality, he knew he wanted to know everything about Saito Arisada. Because … well … he couldn’t get his mind off the beautiful
kyūketsuki.

The creature’s golden, almond-shaped eyes were so full of an undefined promise. Visions of that sensual smile played constantly at the edges of Cobb’s mind. His brain would not shut out the feel of the vampire’s soft, kissable mouth.

These thoughts about the flame-haired vampire were driving Tatsu
kuruu
. And being crazy put his team at risk. While on assignment two nights ago, a small pack of vampires jumped them. If not for Passebon’s incredible reflexes and that crossbow of his, Tatsu would be dead.

Bana grumbled at him some more back at the Colony as they wrote their reports. “Dunno what’s got inta yer head, boyo, but you’d better get back in the game before you get us both killed.” The Irishman flung the warning at Tatsu before he stomped out the door.

Dammit, Bana was right, yet Tatsu dismissed his partner’s words the instant he punched the keyboard of the Colony’s computer. Even knowing the DataStream was a mishmash of corrupt information, Tatsu hunted through the so-called global service with a ruthless obsession. It took several hours to scroll through hundreds of pages that amounted to a Vampire 101 course. long lists of the names of those killed during Japan’s
KyūKetsuki
Pogroms. Tatsu knew the records could not be complete. More than any other nationality, Japanese vampires were masters of subterfuge, able to remain hidden much like ancient Ninjas.

He dug out any bit of information—fact, fiction, rumor, myth, he didn’t care—on Saito Arisada. Many powerful vampires were open about their histories since the virus outed them. Not Arisada. The sparse data described the crimson-haired vampire as Japanese—Tatsu knew that—of an ancient noble family from the Echigo Province—that was a surprise. Now, second-in-command of the Tendai Clan. Knew that too. Flagged him as extremely dangerous—no shit! Nothing more.

You’re a secretive kono yarou,
Tatsu sneered.
Secretive but fucking hot
, the horny part of his brain fired back.

Research on Ukita Sadomori yielded two pages in kanji from a Japanese history book about the Ukita family line annihilated a thousand years ago. A dozen hysterical newspaper articles the year Sadomori took over Seattle’s vampires. Headline news about the decapitation of the three government negotiators. Several graphic photos of the bodies. A long psychoanalysis treatise from some professor in Rostock University that postulated Ukita Sadomori was no ordinary vampire. As if there was such a thing as an “ordinary” vampire. The article stated Ukita had an antisocial personality, was definitely a sadist, a torturer and mass murderer. It concluded with the hypothesis that some of the more despotic rulers throughout history were really Ukita.

No mention of a Koji Nowaki.

Tatsu shut off the computer, leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette. Considered his strategy. His instinct cried out that the killer was among this city’s vampire population. And Sadomori and Arisada topped the list of probables.

Fucking
kyūketsuki
. Why didn’t he kill Saito Arisada the minute he revealed his nature? Was it Arisada’s quiet demeanor, his calm, sincere voice, those serene golden eyes? Or his stunning beauty that could not hide the spirit of a samurai that dwelled within.

Perhaps, this idea to force information from Arisada was foolish. At times, Tatsu felt
baka,
stupid, for even thinking of it. If Saito Arisada was not the killer, the fucking red-haired vampire must know who was. Next time Arisada showed his face, Tatsu would show no mercy. He’d bleed the answers out of him. He’d enjoy seeing those freakish gold eyes fill with fear when the vampire realized he was about to die.

But the pulse of heat in Tatsu’s groin said he craved something else. Against all reason, against all sanity, against all honor, Tatsu’s body wanted that beautiful creature pressing hot and hard and shuddering with desire against him.

He re-created every detail of that moment the vampire kissed him. Warmth coiled through his balls and his cock. He rubbed the bulge crowding his pants, was tempted to jack off right there.

Then shame engulfed him. How could he think of Arisada with anything less than loathing? He told himself he was angry for losing the fight, at being kissed against his will by his enemy. He knew he was lying. True, Arisada
had
kissed him. But he’d had wanted it.

Two weeks after that kiss, Tatsu’s flagging patience was rewarded. The moment Arisada entered the dojo, Tatsu fired a salvo of angry questions. “Why do you keep coming here? Who the fuck is this Koji Nowaki? What’s he got to do with me?”

“I’ll answer all your questions on one condition.” Arisada’s eyes glittered, the pupils large.

“What condition?” Tatsu noted the vampire did not place his
katana
near the door. Instead, it rested on Arisada’s left hip, the combat side.

“
Tachiuchi?
Our own weapons. Again, whoever draws first blood wins. If I lose, I will do as you wish. If I win, I want something from you,
neh
Cobb-san?” Arisada intended to make Tatsu promise to leave the city immediately, to give up his quest for
fukushū
.

They sprang into the fight. Tatsu took the offensive pressing forward across the mat. A fierce joy filled him. The vampire met him strike for strike, giving no mercy as they fought. At the end of this match, one of them would bleed.

At first, Tatsu believed he knew all of Arisada’s techniques. Still, as the match wore on, he realized knowledge and skill were not enough. He had to be cunning. Tatsu stepped back into defensive mode trying to lure the
kyūketsuki
into a mistake. The vampire followed. In an inhumanly fast move, Tatsu drove his sword past his opponent’s defenses, forcing Arisada’s strike to glance aside. Tatsu reversed his sword and caught the center of Arisada’s blade. So fierce was his cut, it sent Arisada’s
katana
spinning into the dark. Tatsu’s shout of victory ended in a bark of laughter.

The vampire dropped to one knee and pressed his forehead to the mat in surrender. The moment froze in Tatsu’s mind. One swift cut against that vulnerable nape and Arisada would be dead. A heartbeat later, Tatsu knew he could not kill this stunning beauty.

A second passed before Arisada slapped one hand on the mat and stood. “You have won my young samurai. Ask your question. I promise to tell the truth.”

Tatsu picked up the vampire’s
katana
with his left hand. Suddenly, he realized he did not care about Koji Nowaki or why Arisada sparred with him or even why Arisada had kissed him. There was only one question to ask.

“Nagasaki, fourteen years ago, four people slaughtered by
kyūketsuki
—my parents, brother and sister. Your word of honor. Was it you?” Tatsu’s voice grated with suppressed grief.