Page 30 of The Tainted and the Tamed
With another heavy sigh, Haruki set his hands on his knees, rubbing them as he’d seen so many men do in their audiences with him. It was an act of human mimicry, like so much of his behavior as a vampire. It had been many centuries since he’d felt such an ache.
“Get to it,” Junpei said, a thick brow rising.
“If you could save the life of someone by giving a little of your blood, would you?”
Junpei’s hand went to his chin. “It would depend on the risk—and on the relationship. Who is she?”
“Who said it was a ‘she’?”
“Haruki.” Junpei huffed. “Women are your weakness—they have been ever sincesheturned you. Added to that is that you just buried a lover two days prior. Who else would you be trying to save but another woman?”
Hanging his head, Haruki shook it, his hair falling loose. “Am I so obvious?”
“The most obvious. We’re animals, Haruki. We are nothing without our patterns of behavior.”
Haruki swallowed. “I don’t want to be an animal.”
“That’s like asking a fish not to swim.” Junpei tapped the table. “If it eases your conscience to save this woman, do it.”
Shock had Haruki snapping his head up before he could control his reaction. Junpei met his surprise with amusement.
“What? I have a heart, you know.” Junpei chuckled. “I may have hidden it for a few centuries, but it does, in fact, exist.”
“Thank you, Junpei.” As Haruki sat back, his eyes drifted toward his private garden, tinted blue by the early morning light. “For the record, I didn’t mind the crusty old bastard you used to be.”
Junpei snorted. “That’s because we were always on the same side. I’m still on your side, for the record. If you wish to raise the topic of the factories, I’ll support the motion.”
Haruki’s eyes narrowed. “What has Daisuke done to you?”
Both men began to laugh—softly at first, then with gusto. Time had changed them, Haruki realized, whether or not they had noticed it.
“I like the new look, by the way,” Junpei said, stretching his hand across his own chin.
As Haruki hurried through the hallway, chasing the scent of eucalyptus and mint, he swore a shadow followed him.
Something told him it didn’t belong to Junpei or Daisuke. But the scent of the oils Murasaki used in her treatment prevented him from identifying the owner of that shadow.
On instinct, he checked the rafters. If a vampire meant to attack, it was often from above.
Whatever shadow was there receded. Or perhaps he saw and smelled nothing because therewasnothing.
He went on, careful to create a squeak or two on the nightingale flooring as he walked, always checking his speed lest someone saw him in the hall. This wing was remote enough that servants rarely went there—precisely why Tanabe had chosen it for Murasaki’s treatments.
In the event of a true vampire attack—or of some other attack—the strong smells would hobble Haruki’s senses. Was that happening now? It had been ages since the foxes or dragons dared to cross the vampires.
What if itwasanother vampire? There were three chairmen gathered here, after all.
Resolved to deliver the medicine as quickly as possible and alert Junpei and Daisuke, Haruki loosed his vampire speed. If he stayed here too long, the scents would linger in his robes and hair and affect his ability to detect a threat.
He stopped outside the door to Murasaki’s treatment room, hesitating when only a heartbeat ago he’d been set on haste. For some reason, the right words would not come to him.
Damn it. You’re too old to be this shy.
Unable to shake off his feelings of uncertainty, he set the bag containing the glass jar outside the door, then cleared his throat. “Ms. Mukai? The doctor has sent fresh herbal medicine for you. To avoid the earlier problem, he’ll—”
The door slid open, unleashing a cloud of fragrance. Averting his eyes from her, Haruki had to force himself not to cover his sensitive nose.
“—send them more frequently,” he finished, breathing through his mouth. Now he could taste as well as smell the cloying herbal scents.
