Page 27 of Emperor of Lust

“Leave me the fuck alone,” I hiss, starting to turn away from him.

“I don’t think we should start this engagement on a foundation of lies, do you?”

I stiffen, icy fingers walking down my spine before I force myself to turn slowly and look at him.

“Meaning?”

His violet eyes flash as he shoves a hand through his silver hair.

“MeaningI could lie and tell you I’ll leave you alone. But we both know that isn’t happening.”

He suddenly closes the distance between us and his mouth dips to my ear, his lips barely brushing the lobe and sending a heated throb flickering traitorously through my core.

“You’re mine now, Kitsune.I’d get used to that if I were you.”

9

DAMIAN

One of thethings I enjoy about Hana is that I can’t ever quite tell if I’ve scandalized her, turned her the fuck on, or both.

I’d like to think it’s both.

That’s precisely the question I have after I whisper “You’re mine now, Kitsune” into her ear. Her cheeks flush, her eyes widen, and her mouth with those oh-so-fuckable lips makes an O-shape.

Her body stiffens, and when she pulls sharply away, there it is: the look that might either be disgusted shockorthat of a woman whose panties have just grown much, much wetter.

That’s where my head’s at after she whirls and marches indignantly away. The party continues, but my thoughts are firmly elsewhere.

Busily contemplating the dampness level of Hana Mori’s panties.

They’re notsolelyfocused on that. I mean, seventy percent, easy. The balance is focused on the rest of the woman whose sharp tongue and defiance have left an irritating mark.

Plain and simple, Hana Mori is an uptight, stubborn witch. Yet I can’t shake the images of her from that night: bound, vulnerable, with fire in her eyes.

Her mouthsowillingly wrapping around my dick with a soft little moan.

She’s both a challenge and a frustration, and no matter how much I should dismiss her as a nuisance, she’s gotten under my skin. And she infuriatingly seems to be firmly staying there. Which is a problem.

Two men approach with scowls on their faces, and I glare at them as they make the world’s shittiest attempt at “bumping into me”, like we’re a bunch of fucking Cold War spies.

“Mr. Nikolayev,” Hinata Turo grunts under his breath. “You’ve been avoiding our calls.”

It’s not a lie. Ihavebeen avoiding his calls. Mostly because I don’t give a shit about him or his organization, and I’m not even the littlest bit intimidated by him. But also, I’ve had other things on my mind lately.

Like how Hana’s tongue felt against the underside of my cock as I emptied my balls down her throat.

But I digress.

Hinata—I have no idea who his little friend is—is a high-rankingwaka gashirafor the Shoichi-kai Yakuza, a mid-level Kyoto organization that mostly just picks up the scraps that the Mori-kai leave them.

But what can I say, I’m a businessman. When my uncle allied us with the Mori-kai, and I started coming to Kyoto more often, it became clear that there was opportunity here. Money laundering is a small side hustle I run in New York. Here in Japan, though, the demand was much, much higher.

Or itwas, until she started fucking undercutting me as The Kitsune.

Hinata and his boss, though, are customers that stuck with me instead of jumping ship to The Kitsune—whether out of some sort of loyalty, or maybe an anti-woman thing against The Kitsune, or just plain laziness, I don’t know.

But Idoknow what he wants to talk to me about tonight. Because while I’ve not been bothering to respond to his ridiculous number of text messages, I’ve read at least some of them. So I know that the Shoichi-kai are…less than pleased with the returns on their washed, dried, and neatly folded money recently.

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