Eternal Samurai (25 page)

Tatsu shuddered at the clinical way the vampire told his story. “Who was your creator?” A cold dead crawled into his gut. Why did he already know the answer?

“Saito Arisada.” Fornax saw the momentary flash of anger in Tatsu’s eyes.

The intense jealousy took Tatsu by surprise. Fornax was bound to Arisada! Had the two been lovers? Were they lovers now? The thought was unbearable. He hid the roiling emotion behind a wince of pain yet knew he had not deceived Fornax. “Why are you with the Leper Colony now Fukashima-san?”

“I prefer the name Fornax. My reasons for joining the Colony are none of your concern. Just know that we fight on the same side. Even though I am Saito-san’s Primary, I do not answer to the Daimyō.”

“Tell me, Fukashima-san,” Tatsu deliberately reiterated Fornax’s Japanese name. “Do you know if Ukita Sadomori has scars across his back?”

Fornax recognized Tatsu’s ploy in reminding him of the honor of a man of Japan. “Ukita is covered by tattoos, almost head to foot. If there are any scars on his body, I do not know of them.” He exited the room, cutting off any further questions.

“Mr. Cobb for the next week, you are on medical restriction. Until Dr. Wyckes clears you, you will assist Mr. Cooperhayes. Your motorcycle will remain locked in the motor pool. Under no circumstances are you to look for Mr. Murtagh. That is a direct order. Are we clear?” the Major said.

“
Wakatta.
” Tatsu gave the Englishman a shaky nod. He knew the Major was right. What if Bana attacked him? No matter. He felt certain if he reasoned with the man—the vampire—he could talk Bana back to their side. Maybe if he could find Arisada, the vampire would help.
If
he could find him.

.

Fourteen

T
atsu flexed his wrist, marveling how in only eight days it had healed enough for him to ride his bike. His ribs still hurt but no sign of a scar. Being a Leper had its benefits, he mused as he wheeled the Drifter into the street.

Movement on the edge of his vision caught his eye. Moonlit clouds created eerie shadows around the figure lounging against a silver car. Tatsu dropped the bike onto its kickstand, and reached over his shoulder. Before his hand touched his
katana
, Arisada stood before him.

“
Konbawa,
Cobb-san.
Watashitachi hanaseru
? May I speak with you?”

“
Konbawa
, Saito-san.” Tatsu fell into the formal speech, curbing his impatience. He could count the number of days since he last saw the flame-haired vampire. Eight. Almost the same number of days he’d jacked off while fantasizing about Arisada’s lips, his mouth, his tongue.

Inadvertently, Tatsu licked his lips in a primal gesture as his gaze swept Arisada’s body. Tatsu’s heart thundered its way up his throat. His body warmed all over, balls, ass, cock, nipples, armpits. All over.

“I have been trying to reach you. Where have you been?” Tatsu flushed at the rudeness of his question.

The corners of Arisada’s mouth quirked up. “You’ve missed me?” He countered to evade Tatsu’s question. He had fought his desire to see the boy, fought it and lost. Arisada was as trapped by his own needs as much as any human caught within a vampire’s thrall. Now standing next to the one he adored, his blood boiled, filling him with a throbbing want.

“
Iie
, no, I haven’t
missed
you. I need your help.” Tatsu snapped. Followed immediately by a bob of an apologetic bow. “
Sumimasen
, I’m sorry. Forgive my lack of manners.”

Arisada repressed a smile. Tatsu’s rude speech then apologetic nod was so endearingly like Nowaki. But Arisada needed to feed. It had been five days, and he was ravenous. “Perhaps we can meet later?”

Tatsu knew he heard more in that simple invitation. A powerful rush flooded his body. He hardened with a speed he never experienced. Mounted the bike to hide his erection. “Tell me where and when,” he stuttered.

The sight of the boy’s tight, muscled buttocks—deliciously outlined by leather chaps—settle on the motorcycle seat seriously threatened Arisada’s restraint. He wanted to take him right then, right there.

The vampire moved to the Drifter’s handlebars and dropped his slim fingers over those on the clutch lever. Excitement raced through him at the slight tremor in those fingers beneath his.

“Are you familiar with Kuboto Garden?”

At the that touch, Tatsu’s heart revved insanely up into the red zone. He knew Arisada heard it. Sexual energy crackled between them, wild and undeniable. One glance down at the prominent bulge in the vampire’s crotch confirmed it.

“Haven’t exactly had time for sightseeing,” Tatsu muttered trying to mask the heat thrumming along every nerve.

“
Dozo
, give me your cell.” Arisada held out his slim hand.

Unthinking, Tatsu, handed over the instrument.

The vampire tapped the keys. “This is my number.”

“What, vampires have cell phones?” Tatsu blurted, fascinated by the graceful movements of those fingers.

“Phones, computers, cars, everything except a dental plan,” Arisada smiled at the incredulous look on the youth’s face. “Please, call me after you finish work. I will give you directions.” He handed the instrument back with a bow, pulled on a pair of leather driving gloves and turned back to his car. In the act of opening the door, Arisada looked back at Tatsu. A sliver of moonlight cut through the clouds. It limned Arisada’s loose mane, turning it into living flame.

Tatsu forgot to breath at Arisada’s sheer beauty. Driven by unaccustomed impulse, he lifted his cell and snapped a photo. He figured the Colony should have it for its files. Ah, who was he kidding? He wanted the image of the vampire for himself.

He stared at the sleek car pulling into the street. “The bloodsucker drives an Audi, go figure,” he muttered as he fired up the bike.

Tatsu’s discipline was pretty ragged by the end of the night. Many times he had to force his attention back to the dull duty of guarding a warehouse. He could not keep his mind off the movement of Arisada’s elegant fingers, picturing them touching his body, caressing his nipples, wrapped around his prick.

Tatsu turned down the usual post-work breakfast invitation. He flipped off Phoenix who had made a pathetic Bana-style joke about “Ninja Boy going for a piece of ass.” As Tatsu roared out of the motorpool, he wondered if that
was
what he was doing—going for a piece of vampire ass.

A mile from the Leper Colony, Tatsu halted the bike.
Kuso,
he must be crazy even to think of fucking Arisada. His traitorous dick, pressing hard against the zipper of his pants, said he wasn’t crazy enough. With quick, no-turning-back-now jabs, he dialed Arisada’s number, then almost ended the call halfway through the first ring. The vampire answered at that moment.

The Audi sat alone near the entrance to the Garden, Tatsu parked his bike a couple of feet from the silver car, and sat for a while surveilling the area. The only movement was the wind stirring the leaves of the surrounding trees. Sensing no threat, he lit a cigarette, leaned his ass against the bike, and tried to figure out why the fuck he was here. Sure, he hoped Arisada would reveal the identity of the scarred vampire. But that was part bullshit.

He looked down at his new leather pants. They were tight in all the right places, outlining the bulge at his crotch, molding the hard lines of his thigh muscle, hugging his ass. Left no doubt he was cruising for the vampire.

“Dammit, I’m totally
baka
,” he murmured. He ground the cigarette beneath a hard twist of his boot. Against all reason, he trusted Arisada. Trusted him and wanted him. Still, with a soft hiss, he drew the
katana
. There was trust and there was stupidity.

Slipping from shadow to shadow, Tatsu moved under the wooden archways of the entrance that resembled the Shitennoji Temple in Nagasaki. The Garden reminded Tatsu of the popular Tsukiyama or hill-garden landscaping so popular in his hometown. Its small hills and circular paths meandered among massive trees and groomed foliage.

He moved into the deep stillness, treading avoiding the gravel path, using the damp grass to muffle the crunch of his footfalls. Tranquility stole over him. His naked blade seemed an affront to the peace of the tiny park.

Tatsu lingered at a Shinto shrine, brushed his fingers over the cold stone, felt a moment’s guilt that he had nothing to offer. The sound of running water guided him to the spot where Arisada said to meet. He paused several feet from the wooden Japanese bridge arching across the stream.

He sensed the vampire seconds before the figure materialized from the mist. The vampire had discarded his trench coat. His black sweater and tight pants molded his compact, hard body, accentuated his narrow waist and the lines of slim, athletic legs. Part of his hair was knotted samurai-style on the crown of his head. The rest flowed in burnished lengths over his shoulders.

Breath blasted from between Tatsu’s parted lips.
Shimatta, nothing should look that sexy.
His fingers tingled with the urge to comb through that silken mass.

“
Domo arigatō,
Cobb-san. I am honored you chose to meet me here.” Arisada bowed. Such formality when he really wanted to blurt out every expression of a love he’d suppressed for eons.

He gave Tatsu a slow heated look, drawing his eyes up those long legs encased by supple, black leather. He made a point to linger on that prominent bulge of sex at the groin. Let Tatsu know he liked what he saw.

“Why here?” Thrown by the desire vibrating between them, Tatsu abandoned any show of politeness.

“I find tranquility and peace here. The Garden exists only because of the monumental effort of the Asian people living nearby. Although this place is a mere echo of home, an echo is all most of us have.”

The vampire’s nostrils flared. “The sakura are blooming but not for much longer. Their blossoms are so delicate, their beauty so fleeting.” He plucked a handful of pale petals then cast them free, watching them drift from his fingers. Without another word, he walked to the center of the arched bridge and stared down at the tumbling water. Tatsu moved beside him.

“People say this bridge represents the difficulty of living an honorable life; hard to walk up and hard to walk down. Do you believe that?” Arisada murmured almost to himself as he stroked the worn, red wood of the railing. Without waiting for Tatsu’s reply, the vampire crossed to the other side of the bridge. He turned north deeper into the garden.

“Where are we going?” Tatsu demanded before realizing he was ogling the play of muscles of the vampire’s ass. “
Jigoku
, I’m nuts,” he muttered. Still, he could not tear his gaze from those rounded, compact glutes as they bunched under the linen of the immaculately tailored trousers.

The vampire smiled as he heard Tatsu’s self-admonition. He knew exactly where the youth was looking. Within a few strides, they were walking side-by-side. Arisada felt the emotional conflict radiating from Tatsu’s body, the almost imperceptible catch in the boy’s breathing. Tatsu’s lust was at war with his hate. Arisada wondered which would win.

The burbling of the stream faded as they entered a copse of Cyprus trees. The mist left shimmering droplets on the leaves. Large stones stood in stark relief to the lushness of the verdant landscape. Just then, the fog thickened, enveloping them in an ethereal cloak. The real world melted away.

Arisada caressed the side of a large rock almost as tall as a man. “Do you know these stones were left in this area more than twelve-thousand years ago by the last glacier?” His voice became hushed, moved by the immensity of time before him. “This park is an enduring monument to the perseverance of your kind. Even in the midst of this chaos, even as their lives are consumed by pain and despair, they toil to keep beauty alive. It is for this reason, I love humanity.”

“This place reminds me of Nagasaki, my birthplace.” Yearning gripped Tatsu, disturbing in its intensity.

“Like our ancestors, our roots are always with us,” Arisada plucked a winter-dried lavender bloom from its slender stalk. “Pity our memories can’t wither like this flower.”

Tatsu shrugged off the mesmerizing promise of the peaceful garden. He grabbed Arisada by the shoulder and pulled him around face-to-face. “What do you want to tell me?” he asked with a forced anger. Oh shit, the fluid feel of Arisada’s taut muscle moving under his fingers was sending all thoughts straight into his prick.

“Perhaps there is something you want to tell me first,” Arisada evaded. “When we first met, you wanted to kill me. Now, your enmity is all but gone. Why is that?”

Tatsu dropped his hand as if burned. “You’re mistaken. I despise your kind.” But even to his ears, his voice lacked conviction.

“But not me, right?”

“
Wakatta
, makes no sense, but I do not hate you,” Tatsu murmured. “I am asking you, Saito-san, as one warrior to another for your help.”

“What do you want from me?” Oh how he longed to hear Tatsu say, “Your love.”

“Help me find Bana Murtagh.”

“Why?”

“He’s my friend.”

“You can do nothing for your friend. He is
kyūketsuki
and no longer feels any loyalty to humankind. Leave him alone.”

“
Wakatta
.” Tatsu’s nod was unconvincing. “My family’s murderer. He’s here somewhere. I’ve seen you kill rogues in your Clan. them. Some honorable goal motivates you.
Dozo
, please, extend that same honor to my quest for
fukushū
. Do you know anything about the monster I hunt?”

The vampire’s eyes flickered red with suppressed anger. Anger at Tatsu’s obstinacy. Anger at himself for being forced to lie to the boy. He heard the unforgiving harshness in his reply.

“I cannot help you.”

“Cannot or will not?”

Arisada shrugged off the question. “Stay out of Tendai. Some of my kind would like nothing better than to drain the blood of a hunter.”

“Were you following me?”

“No. But others saw you. You were lucky. Not all of my Clan is your enemy.”

“I can take care of myself,” Tatsu’s sea-green eyes glared ice at the vampire.