If my parents were alive, it would be their responsibility, since they originated this pact. In the end, we all thought Nino would be the best representative for me. Having Haruka here would have been like an extra slap in the face for Ren. It was a good choice, because he’s agitated enough as is.

Miyoshi-san lifts his chin, his eyes unwavering. “Yes, my young lord. My partner and I have established two conditions. One, since Junichi is a subject under your realm and jurisdiction, we feel that you should take responsibility in arranging a new feeding source for our son. If we are breaking our arrangement starting today, this matter should be treated with the utmost urgency.”

Nino takes a deep breath but nods. “Haruka and I accept those terms. And your second condition?”

Miyoshi-san looks at me, expressionless. “Compensation. We request that a fee of five million yen be paid as a small consolation. The two parties should have been bonded decades ago—our clan’s resources and finances equally distributed. However, because of Ren’s assurance, we have allowed this unorthodox arrangement to continue. Since, ultimately, our families’ assets will not be combined, recompence for the considerable loss of time and opportunity is required.”

I nod, exhaling a breath. I knew they would ask for something. I was thinking that they would ask for my family’s estate on Miyajima island. We have a large property there on the mountain, deep in the woods. No one lives there, and I haven’t been in forever to check on it. The structure is likely dilapidated, but old families usually go for property over straight cash.

“I recognize that my son is partially to blame for this failed arrangement.” Miyoshi-san looks over at Ren, his face void of emotion as he speaks about his son like he isn’t even there. “He has been blessed with outward beauty, but as our youngest, he is severely lacking in charm and grace. In that way, somehow, my partner and I have failed, and we are not ignorant to his distasteful character and poor reputation. And for that I will only require the direct cash payout.”

I briefly flick my gaze over to Ren. He’s staring down at his lap, the material of his robe clenched in his pale fists.

“Jun?”

When I whip my head to the side, Nino is looking back at me. “Do you accept these terms?” he asks.

Swallowing, I nod again. Five million yen as a direct payout for a failed relationship that’s lasted a century is insulting. To Ren. “Yes, I accept.”

“Good.” Miyoshi-san stands, which causes a ripple effect, and both Nino and I quickly stand as well. Ren doesn’t move. “Consider the arrangement terminated. Junichi, when your father proposed this marriage, I warned him of my youngest and his sour, spoiled temperament. I suppose I should thank you for tolerating him, and for preventing him from bringing us shame for as long as you did.”

“May I speak with Junichi, please? Alone.”

The three of us are staring down at Ren as he sits, his chin lifted and his eyes locked on me. I don’t want to be alone with him again. He’s treated me like shit for years—strutting in here haughtily after making me wait for him, then pouring his inky-black feelings into me week after week—and I’m so close to leaving without having been slammed into the floor or vomiting.

“It’s up to you, Jun,” Nino says. “I can stand right outside.”

Dammit. Why do I feel like I owe him this? Maybe it’s because I never see Ren interact with his family, and seeing this surprises me: how careless his father is in talking about him and insulting him, right in his face. I’ve only ever thought about the monster that I have to deal with week after week. I guess I’ve never considered the environment that might have created him.

Running my fingers against the top of my head, I exhale. “Alright.” I sit back down on the cushion, hating that I’ll have to scream for Nino to rescue me if Ren decides to pin me to the floor. When Miyoshi-san and Nino are gone and the door is closed, I roll my shoulders. I’m about to tell Ren that this is for the best, for both of us, and it’s way overdue. But he beats me to the punch. His words rush out on a breath.

“Violet, I love you.” His butterscotch eyes are dead serious. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this solemn. “I love you. Why hasn’t that ever been enough for you? What more should I have done?”

Now he’s waiting. The air in the room is so still, as if time has stopped. Everything is silent, and it only serves to emphasize this moment. The smell of the rain and tatami in this plain room that I’ve come to week after week, year after year, to sit with him. All of those toxic feedings, arguments and insults—even those hazy early days when we were so young and we would actually make love. When I sincerely tried to please him and when he doted on me. There were times like that: sunny days sporadically peppered throughout the perpetual raging storm of our relationship. The rare calm where we sat in the eye together. I can barely remember those days, but I know they exist.

Ren is waiting for me to explain why. I know he gave everything he could—everything he was capable of. I realize this. I always have.

“The way you love suffocates me. It’s painful.”

Ren sets his jaw, his eyes glassy in the overcast, shadowy light of the room. “What does that mean?”

“You’re possessive. You feed from me and every thought in your head pours into me, telling me that I belong to you. That I should love and want only you, and I can never do better. No one else can ever have me. It’s manipulative and the same kind of shit that my father would say to my mother. Maybe that’s how you love, but it’s not the kind of love I want.”

Because of Ren and my father, I didn’t even want love for the longest time. If that’s what love is, fuck it. I’m much better off without it.

But sometimes, something like a soft whisper would sneak its way through the thicket of thorns and bramble in my chest. I’d remember the sound of music and laughter, and the smell of cinnamon and fruit baking, chocolate and rainy days indoors when the estate was quiet because my father was gone. That was love, too. A different, softer brand that gave instead of took. That liberated instead of stifled.

Miraculously, I found that kind of love again. With Jae. Everything he is warms me and pulls me back to those good, quiet moments—pushing the joy, exhilaration and safety I felt to the forefront. His quirky, sparkling sense of humor and how he makes me laugh, his passion and sincerity for helping people and the way he slowly let all his walls down and trusted me completely.

But instead of holding on to that—to him—I got scared and pushed him away. And I ruined his birthday.

“So I’m giving you the wrong kind of love?” Ren scowls, the volume of his voice escalating. “I don’t know what that means? I’ve given you everything. I’ve let you tramp across Europe for decades now, sticking your cock and fangs into God only knows who and what! Playing with your silly clothes and making your business—”

“Listen to yourself. You keep saying you ‘let me’ do things, Ren. But I don’t belong to you. You don’t own me.”

“But I do, Violet.” He sits straighter, and the light behind his eyes warms, slowly shifting into bright golden. “You are mine. You were given to me when I turned sixteen, and we’ve always been together. That is the contract—”

“The contract is terminated.” I unfold my legs, because everything in me is screaming that I should get up and leave. I know my actions haven’t been perfect toward him, either. I know. But he’s not hearing me at all. There’s no use explaining.

He leans into me, his voice low but laced with menace. “Fuck the contract. You can never walk away from me, Violet. I will never let you go.”

He’s too close to my face, so I move to stand up, but it’s too late. He lifts his fingers and I inhale a breath just before my throat practically closes in on itself, as if there’s a heavy brace or shackle wrapped around my neck but on the inside.

I can’t breathe as I’m forced back down to the floor, onto my knees, and my eyes bulge and water. But a second later I hear the paper door slide open. I can’t move or see anything, only Ren in front of me. He freezes, stiff as a board, and the pressure in my throat and body dissipates.

I drop down on all fours and heave, the air of the room burning as it passes through my aching, dry throat. When I’m able to glance up, Nino is there with his eyes alighted in that pretty apricot color and his hand outstretched toward Ren. He’s holding him completely still on his knees, and only Ren’s eyes are darting around.

“Are you alright?” Nino blinks at me. “I’m so sorry, Jun—Haru was texting me and I got distracted. He rarely even touches his phone, you know? So I have to encourage that behavior.”

I’m still on all fours, but now I’m laughing and shaking my head. “I’m fine,” I breathe out. “I’m alright.” Nino’s ability gets more and more impressive every time I see it. He subjugated Ren easily, but I guess that’s the power of two bonded purebreds against one.

Nino brightens, still holding Ren in the sunset-colored grasp of his aura. “Haru had good news. Jae called him and they found a match for us—she’s one of the refugees from Socotra! It’s happening!”

I smile, genuinely happy for them, but also quietly noting that Jae has the time to call Haruka but not me. “That’s great, Nino. Congratulations.”

Before we leave the Miyoshi estate, Ren’s father pulls me aside and offers to waive the contract termination fee entirely in exchange for me staying silent about the things Ren has done to me. I told him I’ll pay the fee. I’m not going to walk around broadcasting any of this, but if someone asks me, I won’t lie, either. There’s no way in hell I’d let anyone walk into that situation blindly.

April

Forty-Two

Jae

Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes, focusing on the warmth of the sun on my face combined with the soft chirping of birdsong just beyond the small window above my head. I can smell the woods, pollen and flowers in the air. Oak and juniper, wisteria and magnolia. The residual nighttime condensation settled on tree leaves and the dampness of the grass and soil. If I concentrate, I can smell and sense all of it. It’s divine.

For a while, it bombarded me, like I was sensing too many things at once and they were attacking me. But as time goes on, I can pick each element apart—how different the atmosphere smells whether it’s been dry or rainy, or whether the air is still or the wind is wild, and I can discern new scents floating in from the neighboring village or all the way from the bigger city.

I’m a dog in human form, essentially.

When I open my eyes, I’m staring up at the exposed ceiling. The room is flooded with morning sunlight—wide rays of it, with tiny flecks of dust floating and dancing in between the brightness and shadows.

My tablet buzzes on the floor beside me. I hesitate when I see the name of the caller, but then I set it up on a box just in front of me and sit up straighter, folding my legs. I swipe my finger against the screen to answer the video call and smile. “Hey.”

Junichi leans forward into the camera so that I can only see his cheek, which is partially covered in a dark, neatly trimmed beard. “What do you think?” he asks. “Better, right?”

“What am I looking at, exactly?”

“My skin. The shade is better, don’t you think?”