Page 566 of Rage

Startled, I touch the place over my heart he made gallop with his popping up like a weirdo super villain out of nowhere to attack me with a pregnancy test.

Fuck.

“Stop and take the test, Krie,” he bites out.

Obeying his demand, I try — I really do, but now that I think of it on the plane I drank a lot of water and wine.

Heart racing, I finally manage to Kegel enough to stop the flow.

My hand trembles as I take the stick he’s holding out like an indictment.

Dropping his arm, he steps back and watches very much like the vipers he tattooed on his body.

His gaze is lasered between my legs as I let the stream flow. Just as I finish, he steps forward, grabbing a tissue.

“Open,” he grounds out.

Splaying my legs wider, I try to bite back the strangled squeak as he reaches between my thighs, brushing the tissue against my pussy before letting it drop.

“Give it to me.” Handing him the stick, I watch as he wraps it in another tissue before stepping out, leaving me there staring after him.

My heart is beating out of my chest.

Scrambling, I take more tissue to do a better job — because what was that little swipe going to do; and hurry after him.

He is staring at the stick when I reach his side. His breath is sawing in and out like he’s run a marathon.

It’s like slow motion when he turns his wrath-filled gaze on me. His jaw works like he’s grinding glass. His nostrils flare. He closes his eyes and shakes his head before allowing his gaze to rest on me again.

Pressing his lips closed in a hard line, he flings the test on the counter, making it clatter against the marble then stalks out of the bathroom.

My tummy is in knots like my period is starting while I stand watching after him for a few moments.

Picking up the test, I know that is an impossibility when I see the double lines.

Kiyoshi

This little motherfucker, I swear. I could ring her neck. I needed to leave before I did or said something that would furthersolidify me as the monster she likes to make me out to be.

We have been through this. She has been adamant about not having a child, especially mine, anytime soon. And now when I am in the midst of restructuring part of our organization to work with the Tatsumoto, Cruz, Love, and Savelle syndicates, she decides without any consultation to bring an innocent into the midst.

Rage pours through me like a gasoline fire. Having no place to put it. I go to my family’s dojo.

I waste no time stripping and getting work going, going through the motions to loosen my body.

Sufficiently warmed, I take my sword from its scabbard clearing my mind as I take my first kujutsu form.

Slowly building my momentum until I’m making smooth slashes and sharp, precise lunges, I lose myself to time, totally immersed in the graceful fluidity of movements drilled into me with more than three decades of training. Takedas begin training at the age of three formally, but really basic instruction starts as soon as we can stand and follow basic commands. This is all I’ve ever known, and for a long time before a certain little curvy chef came into my life, all I have ever felt comfortable with. Training, strategic thinking, and working to increase the vast holdings of the Takeda has been drilled into me from the time I was a child. The Takeda Legacy is all I have ever been taught to want — it wasn’t until my brothers’ misfortunes and later loving Krie that those dreams turned to ash. Our legacy, though storied in Japan’s history, is rife with psychotics, carnage, and despair, the bequeathment of the Takeda. I can’t allow it to continue. The devastation when Krie chose not to allow my seed to take root almost broke me, only then to discover it was helped along by my mother’s machinations. Knowing we would have no children resulting from our union gave way to relief, knowing the probability of creating a monster like my mother.

Those lines on that fucking stick — fuck. Her deception is even worse. All this bullshit about communication when she went behind my back and had her IUD removed.

Fluid movements slide into more. Ferocity holds me in its embrace as I practice one kill after another. We don’t battle our enemies like this anymore. My demons are my only adversary in the moment. I can’t allow the rage eating at me to further push Krie away. I didn’t miss her confusion and hurt at my reaction. Did she really not think I wouldn’t find out? Did she think I wanted this after everything we’ve been through?

“Do you want a real fight, cousin, or would you rather keep punching the air?” Words like ice draw my attention to Akchiro, lounging against the entrance of the dojo.

Narrowing my eyes as he moves gracefully into the room going over to the wall laden with weapons, I say nothing, only nod when he pulls a kanabo from the wall, swinging the bat-like spike mace. His eyes glint with malice as he regards me.

“Family issues?” His mouth hitches up in a cruel smirk.

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