“You’ve been here for three months, right?”

“Almost four.” I clap my hands over the food in gratitude as per the local custom before picking up my chopsticks. “Itadakmasu.”

Junichi mimics the phrase and gesture, then picks up his chopsticks. “How do you like living here?”

I shrug. “It’s nice. Clean. People are friendly and there’s loads of work.”

“I’m assuming from your accent that you’re from England?”

“Yes. Born in London—East End. But I moved with my family to the outskirts of Bristol when I was thirteen. More rural.”

“Bristolian.” Junichi smiles. “South-west England is nice. I’ve traveled to Bath for work.” He maneuvers the chopsticks with his long fingers, grabbing a slice of salmon and bringing it to his mouth. I’m watching him and wondering what he does for work. He’s so tall. He could be a fashion model. Easily.

I also want to ask him, “What are you?” Which is odd because I hate that question. I’ve been asked that question my entire life. It’s always awkward. I wish people would just wait and put the clues together on their own instead of being so focused on racial identity (my current hypocrisy aside).

Literally, it’s the first question I’m asked sometimes, and I have to explain that my mother was a blonde Englishwoman and my father is South Korean: like I’m a dog at the Westminster Kennel Club offering my papers. Anyone with any subtle intuition and understanding of the world at large would realize my first name is Korean and my last name is not. It’s right there in the name. Half and half. Jae Davies.

But Junichi Takayama… that’s all Japanese. Looking at him, though…

“Have you had the opportunity to see any famous sites or cities?” Junichi asks thoughtfully. “Himeji Castle is popular. Kokoen is particularly charming in the fall.”

“No.” Shaking my head, I stifle my curiosities. He’s only here to sleep with me, bite me and leave. There’s no need for this small talk.

“What about other cities? Kyoto? Osaka or Tokyo?”

“No.” I scoop up a chunk of rice with my chopsticks. “I’ve been too busy.”

“That’s a shame. I know I’m biased, but there’s a lot to see and do here. If ever you have time in your schedule, I’m an excellent tour guide.”

Seriously? I take the last bite of salmon and stare at him. I eat quickly. It comes with being a doctor. I do everything fast—read, eat, walk, sleep. Everything in my life is truncated so that I’m as efficient as possible. I thank the stress and anxiety of medical school for that.

The wall clock reads seven thirty, so I should get to bed soon. I’ll probably shower again after we’re done so I won’t have to do it in the morning. We need to get this show on the road.

He asks more questions while he eats, slowly. I sip my beer and answer him, waiting for him to take his last bite. When he finally does, I stand. His gaze follows me.

“I know ranked vampires don’t carry STDs,” I say, “but I prefer condoms with whatever we end up doing. I have some. Hopefully that’s not a problem for you?”

Junichi blinks his dark irises and breathes a clipped laugh through his nose. He sits back and folds his arms. “Excuse me?”

I glance at the wall clock again. 7:52 p.m. “I have an early start tomorrow, so it’d be best if we did this now.”

Junichi narrows his eyes, his arms still folded. “If we did this… as in?”

“Fuck. I don’t mind if you bite me, but I’ve been told I don’t taste very good. So there’s that. Since you’re a high-leveler, I’ll probably taste even worse to you.”

Lowering his head, Junichi frowns—silent and obviously thinking about something. I’m about to speak again, but he looks up and beats me to it. “Do you think I’m some kind of monster?”

I draw back, shocked. “What? N-no—”

“I’ve only asked you to have dinner with me so that I could get to know you—as people often do in new encounters. I didn’t come here because I needed charity sex, or to force you into some rash circumstance. I came because I thought you were striking and intriguing.”

He stands up, but something inside me is indignant as I take a step forward. “‘Get to know me’? Right. What else could a ranked vampire possibly want with a human other than to play with me for a bit like a toy? There’s no long term here. I’m doing you a fucking favor and cutting to the chase, mate. I don’t need flowers and this other bullshit.”

The volume of my voice is increasing. I don’t mean to yell, but I’m irrationally caught up in the moment. He’s standing there looking eloquent and calm, like he’s completely innocent. Like sleeping together is the farthest thing from his mind, when I know it isn’t.

Junichi steps into me. He’s taller than me by at least six inches, so it’s annoying when I have to lift my gaze to keep watching him. His clean, lavender-cypress scent is wafting around me. When he grips my chin with his fingertips, the weird knot in my stomach jolts and practically sets on fire, making my eyes wide.

I swallow hard because I’ve never felt anything like this before. The sensation is so warm—pulsing and rushing down to my groin. But I don’t want to acknowledge it. I’m supposed to be indignant right now, not erratically turned on.

Junichi looks me in the face with his emotionless black eyes. It almost feels like he’s about to kiss me. If I’m honest… Shit. I suddenly want him to, and I want to lick my lips first.

But I don’t. And he doesn’t kiss me. Instead, his mouth pulls into a cynical smirk. “I don’t need any favors from you, Doctor Davies. Not a damn thing.”

Three

Jae

I overslept, so I’m running late to the hospital. Which I never do. I get that from my dad. Growing up, he was adamant about three things: being punctual, speaking Korean and teaching me to make his native food. Well, maybe he was a stickler about two things? Since the latter items are indisputably related.

My schedule today is really busy, which is excellent. What’s not excellent is that after Junichi left last night, I couldn’t sleep. My body felt overheated. I was achy all over and my prick was insanely stiff. I’ve never had a sleepless night like that. Not even with Cyrus, and I spent years pining after that idiot.

I tried having a wank, which definitely helped, but then I’d think about those onyx eyes, beautiful lips and long legs… A few minutes later and I’d be writhing around in bed again. Pathetic. I acted like I was doing Junichi a favor. Turns out, he might have done me one if I hadn’t acted like a dickhead. What a mess. It’s like when I’m sitting in a seat on the Tube and a crowd rushes in and I don’t want anyone to sit next to me. But then when no one does, I’m offended that no one wants to sit next to me.

Doesn’t matter, really. I probably won’t ever see him again.

When I step off the lift, Sora is already at the nurses’ desk and watching me move toward her. Her eyes are deep brown and appear slightly less owl-like because she wears these neat, red-rimmed glasses.

I step up to the counter, smiling sheepishly. “Good morning. I’m so sorry I’m late. I texted you?”

She folds her arms and leans against the counter. “I got your message. It’s not like you to be late. Is everything okay?” There’s concern in her voice, which is nice. Honestly, I don’t have many people in my life who express concern for my well-being. I’ve been self-sufficient for a long time now. No choice, really.

Sora had me over for dinner a couple of weeks ago. The thought of vampire children was always a little horrifying in my mind, but her twins were actually pretty cute. Funny. Like normal kids except they drink blood. Thank God I didn’t see them do it.

“I didn’t sleep well,” I admit. “Are they already here?”

“They are. I finished the blood draw and now they’re sitting in your office. I’ve already sent the bags downstairs to be shipped to Italy tonight. Separately, my kids are asking when you’re coming to dinner again. How about next weekend, Sunday night? Since tomorrow night is the hospital gala with the board of directors. Don’t forget.”

Nodding, I turn to walk down the hall toward my office. I shouldn’t keep vampire royalty waiting. “I won’t—I already had my suit cleaned. And next Sunday sounds perfect. Thanks, Sora.” Being my only day off, I usually play shōgi at the local temple with the old men on Sunday afternoons. Dinner with Sora’s family is a worthy concession.

“I expect pajeon,” she calls out. “Since you bragged about your father’s recipe.”

“Right.” I smile. I’ll need to make a shopping list and remember that. I walk through the doorway to my office, and there they sit. Haruka Hirano and Nino Bianchi. Century-old purebred vampires just hanging out and waiting to see me. No big deal.

I bow politely at the waist. “Good morning. I apologize sincerely for the delay.”

“We’re not in a rush today, don’t worry,” Nino says, blinking his honey, owly eyes at me. His irises are so bright they practically glow. His mate’s eyes are the same way, except the color is maroon—like a glass of Merlot held up to the sun.

“Sora says you’re never late. Is everything alright?” Nino asks.