It’s a two-hour trip one-way to see Ren in Hiroshima. That alone should be enough to convince me to stop this shit. When I slide the door open to the small tearoom within his estate where we always feed and meet, he’s already there. I’m shocked. Usually he makes me wait fifteen to twenty minutes, and then I have to sit through a dramatic entrance.
He’s sitting on the floor on a cushion, his legs tucked underneath him. He’s wearing a black robe with an intricate geometric wave pattern in muted gold. His long dark hair is pulled up into a hasty, careless bun at the top of his head. His arms are folded.
I made this robe for him, actually. A very long time ago. He rarely wears what I make. He says my aesthetic isn’t bold enough. Well, fuck him.
I slide the door closed and move toward the empty cushion directly in front of him. “This is a nice surprise,” I say. Maybe I can get the hell out of here faster than usual? His butterscotch eyes shift up to watch, following me as I sit across from him and match his formal position.
I would say he looks annoyed, but… he almost always looks this way. Surly. Like he’s swallowed something distasteful. Even when we were kids. It’s too bad, because he’s genuinely striking: his lean, straight features are like a work of art—ironic, because he’s also a pretty skilled painter. He even painted a portrait of me, once. But his personality renders all of this as irrelevant.
“What’s up your ass?” I ask, raising my eyebrow. There was a time when I was more formal toward Ren. More polite. Those days are long gone.
His vivid eyes are expressionless, but his gaze is penetrating. “Who is staying with you? In your home.”
“A friend.”
“Who?”
“That’s my personal business, Ren. It doesn’t have anything to do with you—”
He reaches up and grips the top of my head by my hair. Fuck me for not getting my hair cut recently and fuck him for being so damn fast. My hand is wrapped around his wrist, but when I move to pull it away, he grips me even tighter. “Shit—”
“Are you fucking and feeding from someone under my nose? In our aristocracy?”
I’m about to tell him to take his damn hands off of me, but his eyes alight and I suck in a breath. My body suddenly feels like I’m a thousand pounds—like I’m a person-sized boulder anchored to the floor. I can’t move. He’s staring at me with vivid golden light in his eyes, furious.
He’s only done this to me one other time. After my father died and I sincerely tried to cut the ties between us. I told him I wasn’t sleeping with him anymore, and that I was going to try weaning my system off of his blood. He freaked out, weighed me down and told me he needed me. That I couldn’t leave him. At the time, I hadn’t even known he was capable of doing this. He’d been keeping it a secret.
Some purebreds have powers but most don’t—usually because their ancestors haven’t done a good job in keeping their bloodline clean through the centuries. Someone fucked it up by feeding from humans too much, and their blood takes a couple generations to recover—if it ever fully does.
Ren’s bloodline is clean (which only enhances my addiction to it). When he overpowered me that first time, it scared the hell out of me. He cried afterward, telling me he was sorry—that he accepted my feelings about us not bonding—but asked if we could stay each other’s sources. We’d been together since we were kids and I was all he’d ever known. He pleaded, telling me he’d never do that to me again.
Obviously, I trusted him. But it seems he lied.
“Tell me.” He grips my curls even tighter in his fist and presses me down as he lifts to his knees, using my head as leverage. I don’t say anything. He can manipulate my body, but he can’t make me talk. I can’t believe he’s asserting his power and rank over me like this. Knowing how much I hate it. Knowing what my father was like and how I tip-toed around him every day of my youth to avoid this exact situation.
Ren lifts his hand from my head like it’s suddenly caught fire. I’m trembling even though I still can’t move of my own free will, awkwardly hunched in a bow in front of him. He takes a deep breath. “Violet, why do you make things so difficult? You and I should be bonded by now—we should have been mated years ago. We’re not supposed to be like this!”
He places his hands on the sides of my face. I can’t move on my own, but since he’s in control, he urges me upward. He’s looking into my eyes like he’s searching for something. “Why won’t your eyes alight for me anymore? They did once. It was exquisite… I’ll never forget that color.”
I close my eyes because he can’t make me look at him either. He’s delusional. He smacked me hard the first and only time my eyes alighted for him. The first and only time they alighted for anyone. But he’s recounting it now like it was a sweet memory. Like it was a good moment between us when it was not.
Ren’s voice is calm but firm. “You belong to me. Everyone knows this. Whatever the hell you think you’re doing, stop. Your father was a strict, tyrannical asshole—I get it. We all knew that. So I’ve let you play and have your freedom… I’ve been good about letting you tramp across Europe year after year. Enough is enough. We need to establish our bond. I’m done with this childish game.”
He bends down and licks my neck in a long, wet stroke before he bites down hard into my flesh. I clench my eyes shut even tighter, bracing myself for the flood of his possessive, frustrated feelings that register as love in his mind. It flows into me like black ink—like a dark stain on my entire nature, stifling me. Suffocating me. It’s usually bad, but it’s horrible today. Unbearable.
When he’s done, he pulls up, licks me again, then kisses me hard on my cheek in a loud smacking sound. He smiles, dignified. “I don’t think I’ll let you feed from me today. Let’s call this punishment for upsetting me. Letting some strange creature into your home… You’ve never once invited me into your home. It’s hurtful, Violet. I’m sensitive.”
The hold he has over my body releases, and I shove him, hard. He tumbles backward and onto his ass, laughing as I stand up. I want to hit him, but I can’t. Even with what he’s done to me, the fucking moral code that’s been drilled into me since birth won’t let me punch a purebred vampire. If I were a purebred vampire and could match his power and status—if we were equals? I would drain him dead.
My legs feel numb and I’m still shaking. My breath is short when I point down at him. “You will never fucking touch me again. We’re done.”
He sits up straight, grinning as he lifts his arms to lazily unravel his long hair from the bun atop his head. “Oh, don’t be dramatic. You’ll need to feed within a day at maximum, and then you’ll be back. Let’s consider tomorrow night a fresh start for us, yes? You can make love to me and feed from me like you used to. You’ll enjoy it, I promise. I will make certain.”
I shake my head, walking backward and away from the monster sitting on the floor. My head is swimming and I feel nauseous as I leave the room. When I’m outside the estate gates, I actually do vomit. I don’t think I’ve ever done that. What a terrifying sensation. I’ve never felt this bad after Ren’s feeding from me. The weight of his subjugation is gone, but it feels as if it’s lingering within me. My body and mind are heavy, weak.
I just need to make it home and take a hot shower. When I’m in my safe space and clean from his fingerprints and saliva, it’ll be better. It always is. I’ll sleep, and in the morning I can have spicy tofu soup with Jae and figure out what the hell I’m going to do.
That’s what gives me the strength to get through the two-hour train ride and make it all the way back home. The thought of tomorrow and breakfast with warm, sweet Jae in my home.
Thirty
Jae
“Knock it off.”
I groan and turn over to my opposite side in the soft bed. I’ve left the window cracked open a smidge and it’s perfectly crisp in my room. I love that. Winter sleeping—when I’m cozy underneath the weight of the duvet without having to kick it off in the middle of the night because I’ve gotten too hot.
“Meoooow.”
“Lulú.” I drag my body upright because this cat is giving me hell. Meowing and bumping her fuzzy little head into mine like she’s itching for a fight. I usually leave my door cracked as well, because she likes to sleep at the end of my bed some nights. Like a puppy. When she’s not there, I think she’s in Jun’s room. She’s alternating between us like we’re divorced parents. But we’re alright, Jun and me. No problems there.
“Meeeow.”
“Shit, cat. What is it?” I watch as she leaps from the bed, steadily meowing. She walks toward the door and slinks through. I think she’s leaving, but then she pokes her head back inside, meowing more. Christ. Am I supposed to follow her? When we were younger, Cyrus was obsessed with very old American TV shows. There was one he made me watch sometimes called Lassie. I’m reminded of that now, like, “What is it, girl? Has Junichi fallen in the well?”
I pull myself out of bed. I’m only wearing my sleep trousers (less probability for me to become overheated), so I grab my robe as I head out the door. Lulú is already ahead of me, down the hall and in the open living room, still whining. It’s quite obvious now that she wants me to follow her. Weird.
Eventually she’s meowing in front of Junichi’s room. When I’m standing there with her, she lifts onto her haunches and presses her front paws into the closed door, looking up at me with her bright golden eyes. I sigh. “Lulú, your father does not want me bothering him.” Do I need to explain to her that Junichi doesn’t want me in his bed because he’s afraid of bonding with me? Do I really need to tell this cat that information?
When I hesitate, Lulú comes back down on all fours, then swats at my feet. “Hey.” I step back and away from her paws. She goes to the door and stretches up against it once more, fussing.
“Alright, alright.” Later, when Jun is annoyed about me sneaking into his room in the middle of the night, how convincing will it be to say, “The cat made me do it?” I imagine not very.
I press the door handle and peek inside. It’s very dark tonight. Not much moonlight pouring in through the glass wall. Jun is a long lump on his bed, above the covers and lying on his side. I will admit… immediately, something feels off. I don’t know why, but the atmosphere is wrong.
“Meeeow.”
“Christ—alright.” I step inside and walk forward. I’ve left the door cracked in case Lulú is joining me. When I look back, though, she’s sitting in the hall, watching me. She’s quiet now and her tail is flopping around behind her.
Stepping up to the bed, I keep my voice soft so I don’t startle him. “Jun?”
He doesn’t rouse. He wasn’t home when I arrived from Haruka and Nino’s house. I get really sleepy lately (which is nice), so I went straight to bed after showering. Speaking of, Jun must have done as well, because he’s only got a towel wrapped around his waist.
It’s chilly in here. When I place my palm on his bicep, his skin is surprisingly cold. I put a little more weight behind my voice. “Jun—”
His eyes flash open and he jumps away from me, startling me as well. We blink at each other in the ambient darkness for a moment before I say, “Hey… you alright?”
