Geisha (Shinobi Saga) (2 page)

Then the reality of the situation hit, and the shadow wolf sunk sharp teeth into the lips currently pressed against his. Yoshi shoved his guard away, smirking with satisfaction when blood poured from his torn lip. “I said no.”

“And I said I don't care,” Zenshiro snarled. He wound his hands in icy strands and yanked the unwilling shinobi back into the kiss. “I think it's time for your first lesson in submission.” Strong hands wrapped around Yoshi's neck, thumbs tenderly caressing the pulse at the hollow, then sliding to clutch his shoulders in an iron grip.

The shadow wolf tried to pull away, but Zenshiro was taller, heavier, and had surprise on his side. The taste of copper flooded Yoshi's mouth as bleeding lips latched onto his. The guard pressed his advantage, pinning the shinobi and trapping him under the surface of the water. Strong hands kept him submerged when the kiss broke, hard eyes watching the panicked thrashing slow before diving back in for another kiss accompanied by a blissful sip of air.

The shadow wolf's fight gradually turned to an arousing pliancy, and the slow-burning desire that had been kindling in Zenshiro since the day began banked to a hot flame. Yoshi clung to him as they stood, taking a few deep, shaky breaths before his mouth was reclaimed.

Zenshiro wasted no time, spreading the now submissive ninja out on their futon, rocking into the cradle of his hips. “I think it's time we moved this along. Don't you agree?” He didn't wait for an answer, roughly sheathing himself in the shadow wolf's heat.

The pain snapped Yoshi back into awareness. He twisted his head to the side, breaking the kiss to stare vacantly at the wall. His guard refused to allow him that escape, capturing the shadow wolf's mouth yet again while his hips snapped out a harshly demanding pace.

Pale lips tightened, but Yoshi knew too well the futility of resistance. Instead, he retreated into his memories, visualizing the koi pond behind his childhood home, concentrating on the infinite palette revealed when light refracted through water on glistening scales.

“See, it's not so bad.” The husky voice in his ear pulled Yoshi from his reverie and he twisted awkwardly, trying to throw off the heavier body currently pressing him into the futon. “Stop squirming,” Zenshiro chided. “It doesn't have to be like this. Just relax and enjoy it.”

“I will never enjoy being touched by you,” the shadow wolf spat back. “Learn to sleep with your eyes open. I will pay you back for your 'lessons' when you least expect it.”

“Tough words, Ama-chan.” The teasing tone only fueled Yoshi's struggles. “You aren't in any position to be plotting revenge. Killing your master's favorite would only make things harder on you. Accept your situation and, perhaps, you'll gain your freedom one day.”

“I am but a tool to be used as my shuudan desires.” The shadow wolf locked eyes with Zenshiro, voice darkening as he continued. “My hope is that one day soon this tool will be ordered to end your miserable life.”

“Why continue to stay loyal to the ones who sold you?” Zenshiro was truly puzzled. In the same situation he would have happily gone rogue. The thought of putting duty ahead of his own life never occurred to him.
Well, that's not exactly true,
he realized.
I am more than willing to die in battle as a warrior should. Still, that's a far cry from whoring myself out. “
Don't you have any pride?”

“I'm proud to be of service to my clan,” Yoshi retorted. “Loyalty means I accept whatever assignment I am given. Speaking of which, are we done with this so-called lesson?”

“Not yet, pretty one.” Zenshiro picked up the pace of his thrusts, wrapping a rough hand around the shadow wolf's cock and squeezing. He smirked when it gave a half-hearted twitch. “That's what I'm looking for.”

Yoshi shut his eyes, searching for anything even mildly arousing in hopes of ending his ordeal a bit sooner. If nothing else, the last few years had taught him men were less cruel when they got what they wanted. He was about to abandon it as hopeless, he'd yet to meet a man who inspired any sort of lustful thoughts. A memory of the bathhouse after an assassination and droplets of water glinting on bronze, heavily scarred skin made him reconsider. Feared psych specialist he might be, but Sasaki Makoto had always intrigued Yoshi, and he felt himself hardening.

“That's my girl,” Zenshiro chuckled. “I told you it could be fun.” He pumped the shadow wolf's erection, swiping his thumb across the sensitive slit to gather beads of pearly liquid and lifting it to his mouth to taste. “So, so, sweet, my Ama-chan. I'm going to make you come so hard.”

Not you. Never you,
the shadow wolf swore. Instead he pictured the young interrogator. The knowledge that the other shinobi valued privacy as much as Yoshi did added a forbidden air to his musings that only heightened his arousal. At the time he'd turned away to give the other man his privacy, but in his mind's eye he watched with unashamed fascination as Makoto pleasured himself, his world narrowing down to the slide of a scarred hand on slick flesh.

His guard smiled triumphantly when resistance turned to participation, recapturing pale lips and devouring Yoshi's broken groans. Memory bled into fantasy, and the shadow wolf's gaze was met by inscrutable onyx. The heat he imagined in the young psych specialist's eyes sent him tumbling over the edge and he came with a strangled sigh, pulling Zenshiro with him.

As he scrubbed the evidence of his failed self-control from his skin, Yoshi spared a moment to send a mental apology to the unwilling subject of his fantasy. Makoto was a comrade and an honorable man, he deserved better than to be used in such a way.

By the time the maid arrived the next morning to help with his hair the shadow wolf's emotions were once more tightly locked away. He suffered her ministrations in silence, accepting the painful tugging as a small penance for his uncharacteristically wanton behavior. Behavior he swore would never be repeated.

***

Yoshi's shinobi training proved surprisingly handy. He'd been taught the rudiments of the tea ceremony, and the language of flowers was standard for sending coded messages. He breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that three of the four key subjects, ikebana, the tea ceremony, and dance, would pose no great challenge. Although dancing was hardly the purview of assassins, his physical training allowed him to copy the movements with an alluringly languid grace.

Music, on the other hand, was certain to be his downfall. His soft, smoky voice was ill-suited to the traditional ballads and the shamisen strings drew blood from even calloused fingers. The music mistress was undeterred, suffering through his tuneless fumblings with unending patience. He had no more talent at the biwa or koto, and after several painful sessions she finally agreed he had no affinity for any of the stringed instruments.

The other maiko were more than happy to watch Yoshi's struggles. They had lived and trained together for years and there was no room in their circle for a newcomer, especially one as striking and talented as the shadow wolf was turning out to be. “I don't know why you took her on.” Tsubaki's question was echoed by the other girls.

“You don't need to worry about Ama-chan,” the okasan assured them. “She already has a very wealthy patron. She isn't going to be any competition for you. She'll be leaving once her training is complete.”

“That's what I mean. She has a powerful man arranging all this for her, a fancy apartment outside the hana-machi…”

“And a handsome bodyguard,” Ayame added. “We aren't even allowed to talk to men. Why does she get to do whatever she wants? You know people will think she's sleeping with that guard of hers.”

“Enough. Her patron wishes her trained and I do not want to lose his business.” The okasan refused to argue. Inside the okiya her word was law. “It would behoove you to worry about your own futures. I've gotten nothing but sterling reports from Ama's teachers. Obviously she's working very hard. I can't say the same for all of you.”

“You can't have heard from the music mistress.” Tsubaki's face twisted into a grimace. “It sounds like she's torturing rabbits.”

Yoshi bit his lip hard enough to bleed in an attempt to stifle the outraged retort bubbling up in his chest. It would not help his situation to be caught eavesdropping.
They hate me,
he concluded miserably. The shadow wolf's contact with both women and children was minimal and long past. The petty jealousies of teenaged girls were a convoluted labyrinth he lacked the social skills to navigate. The fact that their teachers obviously adored the willowy white-haired newcomer only made the gossip more vicious.

The girlish giggles continued unabated as the maiko continued to list Yoshi's failures. After a few minutes he steeled himself and slid the door open, mollified slightly by the guilty looks on their faces as they turned to see who had come in. “I'll be leaving now, Okasan.”

“Has your man come to escort you?”

“He's not my man,” the shadow wolf insisted, flushing beet red at the knowing smirks. “He's just a guard.”

“We've seen the way he looks at you, Ama,” Tsubaki was quick to point out. “You don't have to keep secrets from your sisters, you know. Tell us the truth. Is he as lusty as he looks?”

“I'm sure he thinks he is.” Yoshi's answer set off another chorus of giggles and wiped the smug grin off Zenshiro's face. He nearly revealed his hiding place, then decided it would be better not to give the shadow wolf a reason to suspect he'd overheard. Punishment was so much sweeter when it was unexpected.

The look in Yoshi's eyes made him reconsider. It was clear the catty comments had thrown him off-balance, and uncertainty gave his face a soft, approachable quality that sparked protective instincts in his guard. “Ama-chan, are you ready?”

The maiko broke into a fresh round of giggles. “I'm sure she's always ready for you,” Ayame tittered behind her fan. “I know I would be.”

“I'm flattered,” Zenshiro said with a smile. “But Ama is the bound consort of my Lord. My duty is to protect her, even from myself.”

“I'm sure Ayame meant no insult.” The okasan was livid. Gossiping was one thing, but geisha made their fortune by being discrete. A girl who couldn't be circumspect would never find a patron. “Please forgive her loose tongue.”

“No apology is necessary,” Zenshiro assured her. “Ama-chan may feel differently, however. It was her virtue you called into question.”

“Can we just go home, please?” Yoshi didn't need any more animosity from the other girls. He was already constantly on edge, living in fear his secret would be discovered.

The maiko whispered behind their fans. “You should stay here at the okiya tonight, Ama. How can we be sisters if we don't know each other?”

Zenshiro recognized the trapped expression. Yoshi was very close to blowing his cover. That would end this little experiment far too soon for his tastes. “I'm afraid that is impossible. I cannot leave Ama alone at night. I'm sure none of you want to sully your reputation by having a man stay at the okiya.”

“Are you alright, my dear?” The okasan peered into the shadow wolf's pallid face. “You look even paler than usual.”

“My hair is very tight,” he mumbled. “It's giving me a terrible headache. I'd really like to get home and lay down.”

By the time he stumbled through the door and started pulling the pins from his hair Yoshi no longer cared how he looked or who was watching. He only noticed his guard when strong fingers began massaging his aching scalp. “I don't know how you manage it,” Zenshiro muttered. “No one should look this good when they're in pain. No wonder the old man is so crazy about you.”

The pale neck grew rigid, and the shadow wolf sighed. “At least give me a few minutes to start feeling like myself before you molest me.” He shrugged off the hands still petting his hair, walking into the kitchen and fumbling through the cupboards. “Don't we have anything for a headache?”

“Here.” Yoshi opened his eyes, a couple tablets and a glass of water were on the counter. His guard, however, was nowhere to be seen. He was not about to argue with the one bit of good luck he'd had all day, deciding to take advantage of the rare moment of privacy and soak away his tension in the furo.

After an hour in the heated water the shadow wolf's muscles felt like putty and he reluctantly dragged himself out, pulling on a yukata for the walk to the bedroom. He half expected Zenshiro to be laying on the futon waiting for him, but the room was empty. Yoshi lit some incense, fanning the sticks to extinguish the flame before settling down to meditate. The prolonged subterfuge was straining both his body and mind, this was the perfect chance to calm his raw nerves and replenish his ki.

Gradually the world around him faded and the shadow wolf began to draw in energy, concentrating on opening himself to the influx, relaxing further when the bright sparks of ki flashed off along hidden pathways to replenish his depleted reserves. Only then did he turn to the trickier task of anchoring himself mentally. After years of practice it was simple for him to slip even deeper into his mind, easily conjuring up his touchstone, symbol of the clan he was sworn to, before letting the image fade to the dusty street outside his home. Yoshi watched as his comrades went about their daily business, drawing strength from the knowledge he was helping to keep them safe.

The usual ritual began to swerve off course with the appearance of Sasaki Makoto. Guilt and arousal warred in the shadow wolf at the thought of the heavily scarred psych expert. He'd never forgiven himself for the resentment he'd harbored after being used to retrieve Makoto from Iwagashi's torture chambers. Somewhere along the way, though, his feelings had shifted. Yoshi admired the dedication it took to not only accept, but embrace, the same profession that had caused the young interrogator so much pain. He wondered what it would be like to have such a man as a friend, but knew he was far too soiled by his duties to ever be able to forge such a bond. An honorable man would never want to be associated with a whore.