Page 49 of The Tainted and the Tamed
“A fox.” She bit into her lower lip. “In the thick of things, someone said that same thing.”
Haruki’s stomach clenched. He hadn’t given enough thought to how difficult this would all be to understand. The moment he did, he began to worry Murasaki would turn away from him.
So he did the only sensible thing he could think of. He lifted his mask and kissed her.
This was no crash of passionate mouths like the night of the festival. It was simple. Affectionate. Not quite chaste, but not without a sense of attraction behind it, either.
It was the kiss of two people whose lips had met dozens of times. It was comfortable, familiar, and warmed him to his toes.
He ducked his head, replaced his mask, and walked on, pausing for the sound of gravel crunching underfoot that said she followed.
Their conversation naturally grew sparse then, more bashful than it was uncomfortable. Every time Haruki glanced back at her, his breath caught in his throat. Bathed in the moonlight as she was, her face peering out from her wrappings, Murasaki looked flawless.
Haruki could almost swear she was an immortal already. Did he want that for her? He could not say. They had exchanged blood today, as vampire mates would. But not quite as a vampire would when turning a human.
What was she, then?Other than a marvel.
He would have to tell her. He thought this just before they paused beside a stone lantern, the flame dancing cheerfully in the deep blue cold of the night. Small, delicate flakes of snow began to drift through the circle of light, in no hurry to reach the ground.
Then he felt Murasaki’s hands grasping his arm.
He turned, and her hands slid to his chest. Her chin tilted up towards him, a question in her eyes.
Damned if he was going to let her go unkissed. He yanked off his mask and tossed it into a dormant shrub.
His arms wrapped around her layers as best they could as their lips met again, then their tongues, their rhythm passionate and slow. A fire was growing within him, deep and rapidly spreading. He cradled the back of her head to bring her even a little bit closer.
He did not urge their connection forward—not tonight. Both of them needed to heal. He retrieved his demon mask and continued on the gravel path.
He left her at the Setouchi’s doorstep a few minutes later. But as he turned to walk back to the castle, he heard her sigh heavily.
It took a great deal of strength not to look back. If he had, he would have taken her to his bed then and there.
The thought of her made rest elusive that night. When he returned to his room, his hand, almost inevitably, slid down to his hardened shaft.
I won’t let her go again,he promised himself, still too fatigued to stroke himself for long. He bit down on his pleasure, all too aware of the guests within his quarters.
This was not the release he desired. But he gripped his shaft more tightly, the memory of their tongues tangling lighting up his body as he stroked himself harder.
He wanted to be inside her. He’d burst if he could not touch her again soon.
But for tonight, all he had was his thoughts. He thought of her long neck. Of her lips reddened by the fervor of his kisses. Of the blood they’d exchanged—of her as his mate and no one else’s, for the rest of their immortal lives.
The thought excited him like no other. He left puncture marks in his hand as he muffled the sounds of his peak.
When he finally slept, he dreamt of her.
He woke to fumbling in the guest rooms down the hall—then arguing. Haruki padded down the hall, curious.
Daisuke knelt in front of a trunk, rearranging the contents while Junpei paced, clearly furious.
“What’s all this? Are you leaving?” Haruki stepped into the room without waiting for an invitation.
Immediately, Junpei threw up his hands. “He is convinced there is a right way and a wrong way to pack!”
“You couldn’t close the lid on your trunk!”
“I asked you to take a few things for me—”
