Page 47 of Emperor of Lust

I nod, then my brow furrows when my gaze moves from the bandage on his shoulder to the bruising on his neck.

“The fuck happened there?”

Isaak frowns, his hand coming up to his neck momentarily. Something flickers in his eyes but he quickly shrugs.

“Took a hit, I guess.”

I nod. “Well, be sure to thank your hero later.”

“Hmm?”

“Kai,” I clarify. “That motherfucker sure came to your aid pretty fast. That was lucky.”

A weird expression clouds Isaak’s face, then he looks away.

“Yes, very lucky he was there.”

I stand. “I’m going to head up to the suite. You good?”

“Da,all good…malen’kiy prints.”

I roll my eyes and flip him off. “You know I fucking hate when you call me that.”

Little prince. It’s what he used to call me when I was a boy, even though Isaak is all of like seven years older than me.

“Da, I do know.”

I snort. “Hope your cut itches like fuck under the bandage, jackass.”

I leave his room and make my way up to Hana’s and my suite. Various Nikolayev and Mori-kai men are watching over this entire hotel, even more so after what happened tonight.

But it’s Kai himself that I find standing guard outside our door, his posture keenly alert. He turns when he hears me approach, stiffening slightly.

Our exchanges have always been…well…short-tempered. But tonight, he nods at me.

“Thank you,” he grunts. “For protecting her.” He bows stiffly. “You fought well, Damian-san.”

I nod. “Well, so did you. I think you were Isaak’s knight in shining armor tonight.”

An odd expression crosses Kai’s face, and he shifts uncomfortably before he nods again.

“It’s my job,” he says curtly. He glances to the hotel suite door. “You’ll watch her tonight?”

I nod.

“Good.Arigato gosaimatsu, Damian-san.”

I watch Hana’s oddly quiet, reserved security guard stalk back toward the elevators before I step into the suite.

Inside, the whole place is cloaked in darkness save for a thin beam of light spilling from the bathroom. Humid warmth fills the air, and steam swirls lazily from the partly closed door. Ifrown, walking toward the muted sound of running water and pushing the door open.

Shit.

Hana is still in her gown, pacing back and forth under the scalding spray, her hands scrubbing at her skin frantically. Her movements are restless, her eyes wide and unfocused. The adrenaline and trauma are still coursing through her.

She’s in shock.

Without hesitation, I step into the shower fully clothed. The water drenches me immediately, but I barely notice. My focus is solely on Hana. She’s still scrubbing, as if trying to erase every trace of blood and violence. Her hands shake as they glide over her arms, her breath shallow and ragged.

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