Page 52 of The Tainted and the Tamed
Before his friend could try to convince him otherwise, Haruki shut the door on Junpei’s crestfallen face. As Haruki turned the lock, he rested his forehead against the frame.
“I won’t forget my promise to you,” Haruki said through the door. “I’ll write that letter.”
If Junpei heard him, he offered no reply.
I’ve never been worthy of leading,Haruki thought, squeezing his eyes shut.One stunt does not a leader make. I should’ve resigned a long time ago.
At least now he had a chance at a life with someone. He tried to force the problems of the Diet out of his mind.
From here on out, his only thoughts would be of Murasaki.
Chapter 23
Murasaki
Her new batch of “medicine”—this time from Chairman Hayashi—had done wonders for her yet again.
Murasaki was not yet back at work, but she felt such energy that she could’ve cleaned all of Fusae Castle’s floors on her own. She even enjoyed the baths for the first time in ages. Before this, it was hard to appreciate a good soak in the steaming mineral water when she knew she’d be coughing after, or struggling to breathe through the humid air. Not to mention running off early to take her medications.
Now, she was sneaking away for an entirely different reason. One that occupied her thoughts throughout the long day, and left her burdened with a heat she could not lessen until well after dark.
She felt as though a fairytale had happened to her. During the day, nothing had changed. She remained with the Setouchis, drinking tea and being fussed over. Ms. Tanabe informed the staff that Murasaki had taken a turn for the worse again after the festival, and was under close supervision by the doctor for an infection. They claimed she was too ill to receive visitors, in order to hide the now-faint claw marks that remained on her neck.
Except that Murasaki was well now. Marvelously, miraculously well. Bored out of her mind, she began to help prepare bandages and take inventory alongside Momoko.
At night was another story.
Haruki traced the line of Murasaki’s cheek. He always took his time like this. It was maddening. She could not wait for him to disrobe her.
Tonight, she took the initiative herself, removing his clothing. Not a mark remained on his body. She covered it with kisses just to be sure.
“Does it hurt here?” she asked.
“No,” he said, amusement in his voice.
“How about here?”
He sucked in a breath, his body lighting up in pleasure as she caressed his hardening penis with her lips, then her tongue.
“Careful,” he said. “You don’t want the night to end too soon.”
“I thought you’d have learned forbearance in all your years,” she teased, knowing full well that he was nowhere near his release. She suspected he could go for days if she asked him to.
In the week of their nights together, she’d discovered that he could stay hard for as long as she wanted him. She’d tested it out, one sleepless night, her legs practically jelly by morning. Tonight, he seemed to sense what she needed. Her energy was still not as boundless as his.
But it was easy to joke about such things. Even easier to fall into bed with him.
None of it quite felt real.
Vampires existed. He was one. She was—something in between. Though no one said it to her, she knew: Her human body was not capable of making this energy, of healing so quickly, of breathing as though its lungs were unscathed by the factory smoke.
She could not understand it. So she tried to forget. And what better way than with her hand wrapped around his shaft?
Haruki sat forward, reaching behind her to undo her obi. The length of fabric uncoiled, her kimono held only by the ties and board beneath it. Another thing she missed about Western clothes.
It was so much faster to undress.
He watched her intensely as her obi unwound around her body. Every tie was an eternity. Soon, his fingers were pulling at the knots, casting aside the obi board and flinging strands of pale pink fabric away. His eagerness only deepened her desire.
