Eternal Samurai (8 page)

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 not for you. A few dead are not worth fighting over,” he purred as he pressed his body against Arisada. Sadomori stretched up to bite the younger vampire’s lower lip. The Daimyō’s breath reeked from his recent feeding.

Sadomori combed his fingers through Arisada’s silky hair that rippled like molten fire over his shoulders. “This radiance of your hair; I know not if I like it more now that it has the brilliance of flame or when it was midnight black.”

Arisada refrained from wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He hid his revulsion at the feel of his
Seisakusha
, his creator’s hand crawling beneath his shirt, the possessive slide across his chest, the sharp twist of each nipple. Felt the Daimyō’s flaccid sex grind with impotent demand against his thigh. In spite of his own revulsion, Arisada’s loins responded. Oh, how he despised that almost automatic need to submit to this bestial domination. He snatched that exploring hand from his body and stepped away.

The Daimyō hissed a warning but allowed the rejection. With his hands clasped behind his back, he walked across the wide room to the picture window. The view across the Bay was the sole reason he had appropriated this mansion above Alki Point. He fastened his avaricious gaze on the dark silhouette of the Space Needle. He regarded the monument as a symbol of human arrogance. The day he ruled this city, he would destroy that symbol.

“Several humans have violated their indenture and left the Alki compound. We give them shelter, food and protection and still they break their contracts. I will not tolerate this rebellion. Order Nakamura-san retrieve them and behead them as examples to the rest,” he ordered in a terrifying flat voice.

“They are not cattle. I will not—” Arisada cried out.

Sadomori’s fangs distorted his face. “
Shizukani shite kudasai
! Silence. How dare you question me, monk?” Sadomori stared at Arisada through a long minute of silence. “Perhaps you are right. Have them flogged instead. And you need a lesson in obedience. My chamber at sunset tomorrow.” He turned his back in dismissal.

“
Hai
, Ukita-san.” Arisada gave a curt bow. After all these centuries, Sadomori still demanded Arisada come to his bed. Arisada could have refused. To his shame, his own craving for his Master’s domination made him acquiesce.

How often had it been like this, Arisada agonized as he hunched over his swollen organ, pulling and twisting, muscles trembling and knotting with exertion? His panting increased with the effort to bring himself to another orgasm. Sadomori allowed no lubricant, and Arisada’s cock was sore from hours of stroking. His mind willed his orgasm but the release could not be forced.

Twice Arisada had brought himself to a shuddering climax, but his
Seisakusha
demanded more. Arisada stroked the throbbing length of his member, squeezing the swollen length, pinching the foreskin. He rolled his thumb over the hot, purple head, teased precum from the slit, jacked himself faster, frantic to force that sweet creamy juice, pulse, glistening and hot, from his body. And when he did, when the sight of his jizm stirred Sadomori’s own member, the torture would escalate.

The Daimyō lay naked at the foot of the huge bed. He propped his head on one hand and fondled himself. His predatory gaze devoured the sight of the masturbating vampire, the exquisite creature he had created. Sadomori’s body burned for that beautiful face with golden eyes framed by upturned lids. Coveted those nipples now peaked with desire, that heavy prick jutting from narrow hips, those large balls within their sac tucked up hard and tight above Arisada’s dark hole.

Arisada groaned, leaned forward, abdominal muscles clenched into ridges with effort. His sweat-drenched hair tumbled over his torso like a waterfall of flame, obscuring the view of his pumping hand.

“Do not hide from me,” the older vampire hissed. Arisada flung his head back like a startled horse. His hair flared in a fiery arc over his back.

Sadomori licked his lips, his tongue rasping over his fang tips as he gazed greedily on the red tip of that engorged cock as it disappeared then reappeared within the clutch of slender fingers. He inhaled the heady pungency of male sex. Still his member remained flaccid.

“Use your fingers. Fuck yourself.”

At the command, Arisada drove three fingers up to the last knuckle into his core. He massaged his walls, seeking that spongy gland. Brushed it, sent sparks straight up his spine. His scrotum tightened with a twisting ache. Close, so close. Yet not enough to tumble over the edge. Then the vision of that beautiful boy fighting in that filthy alley rose behind Arisada’s closed eyelids. The pretty youth with his eyes the color of jade, and a sweet, delectable mouth that tasted of cigarettes and human heat.

Arisada’s orgasm scorched along every nerve and blasted out his cock. His back arched, heels gouging against the mattress as gobbets of milk-white cum spurted over his hand and up his chest. He bit his tongue to stifle his cry of pleasure. A pleasure made terrible by the secret that drove it.

The older vampire inhaled the salty perfume of that spurting cum. His alabaster skin darkened as his blood reacted to the rich, heady musk pouring off the masturbating vampire.

“Arms above your head,” Sadomori hissed.

Orgasmic shudders still wracked Arisada as he raised his arms to the set of nano-steel shackles imbedded in the wall above the bed. Another pair of cuffs hung at the end of a four-foot chain secured just below the first. Sadomori snapped the shorter cuffs around Arisada’s wrists. He shoved Arisada’s legs back against his shoulders, snapped the second set just below the knee. The chains forced Arisada’s legs so wide, the tendons of his groin strained. His sex bulged outward in obscene prominence.

Fingers stroked down Arisada’s prick, over his sac, teased at the sensitive skin behind, swirled around his rim. A thin cord brushed over the bulge of his balls. A shiver of fear mixed with a wild anticipation rocked throughout his body. He pushed his haunches partially off the bed, thrusting out his vulnerable genitals in a move of pure submission. “
Kudesai
, Master,” he whispered.

A flicker of amusement crossed Sadomori’s face as he grunted acknowledgement of the gesture. Then with swift, sure movements he encased Arisada’s cock in an intricate knotted pattern. When finished, Arisada’s erection jutted from his groin. The barely visible head pulsed, glistening and taut, above its constricting prison of red silk.

With a slow pulling motion, Sadomori stretched Arisada’s sac, coaxing the rubbery skin to lengthen away from the groin. He rolled each orb in one palm before knotting the rest of the cord around the base of the scrotum.

“
Subarishi
, exquisite,” Sadomori breathed as he sat back on his heels and admired the perfection of his mastery of
kinbaku
, Japanese rope binding. Those intricate twists of cord trapped the blood in Arisada’s prick within a prison of silk and pulled the balls so tight that their skin stretched as taut and shiny as a balloon. Sadomori sensed the fear within Arisada that each time in this bondage might be his last as a sexual being.

Sadomori opened a glass vial, poured a drop over each of his talonned fingernails then spread the remainder over his tongue. The liquid burned in his mouth. Centuries ago, he had concocted the aphrodisiac to stimulate his own failing member. It failed. But the potion drove Arisada’s sexual arousal to uncontrollable heights.

Arisada quivered for that first, almost feather-light slice from those talons. Felt it across both nipples, so delicate, so deadly. The drug entered his body swiftly, scorching along every nerve with white-hot intensity of pain and pleasure.

Never on any battlefield was Arisada as close to death as when his
Seisakusha
began this deadly play. Sadomori would cut, watch Arisada’s agonized response, then cut again. Blood welled around both hard nipples, down over the taut abdomen. A single talon left a scalpel-thin line of blood from the naval into the fine curls bunched around the base of his cock. Arisada trembled as he waited for the violation of his most intimate parts.

This excruciating torment would not cease until the Daimyō’s member came to life. Yet Arisada knew the time might be when Sadomori’s loins would refuse to respond. On that day, Sadomori would tear out his throat.

Arisada panted as he forged a bond with the pain. He reached for it, embraced it and turned it to waves of pleasure. Only in this way could he survive. Only when Sadomori released the binding and the circulation pulsed back into Arisada’s cock would he be permitted to scream as his body convulsed in an unimaginable orgasm.

Sadomori slid his fingernail over the hot, angry head, and inserted it into the slit. His tongue followed, teasing the single drop of precum until it blended with the blood into a delicate pink essence. Greedily, the older vampire licked it up. He lapped up each trail of blood on that straining body to Arisada’s neck. Took a deep suck at the pulsing throat not quite breaking the skin. Moved his thick lips against Arisada’s mouth.

“I still crave your taste, my beautiful monk. You are as delicious as that first time I took you.” His demanding tongue pushed between the younger vampire’s clenched lips.

Arisada yielded with a defiant rush of breath. As that thick, wet organ drove deep into his open mouth. He choked off a whimper. Moans and inarticulate sighings, the sounds of sex that drive pleasure to new heights, stilled the older vampire’s erection. This impotence triggered a murderous rage in Sadomori who would inflict pain until Arisada lay exhausted and all hope of climaxing drowned beneath the dark waters of exhaustion.

The Daimyō delivered a punishing slice across the tips of each peaked nipple. The nubs welled crimson. He sucked on them, hard pulls on the peaks, bites that broke flesh. Then he lapped the blood from each cut defacing Arisada’s creamy abdomen. He mouthed over the slick, throbbing cockhead, nipped the balloon-taut skin of each ball, lapped the musky sweat pooled between Arisada’s spread buttocks.

He felt the heat boil off Arisada’s skin, a sign of the younger vampire’s overwhelming need to climax. His fangs sank into the tender flesh of Arisada’s thigh. The bite a warning as much as a sign of possession. Blood welled. Sadomori slurped it up.