“Haruka. We should at least give this a try. I can assist you with running the realm again. You’ll need the support. Please at least consider—”
“That you would have the audacity to come to my home and request anything of me is astonishing. You only seek my help because your preferred source has abandoned you. I am not something to be tossed away and picked back up again at your convenience.”
“No! That’s not how I see you.” Yuna shakes her head, her thick hair swaying from the dramatic gesture as she stands. “We—we made a vow to each other. If you’re right and your blood still flows within me, it is your responsibility—”
“Do not speak to me about ‘vows’ and ‘responsibility.’ Leave, Yuna.”
His eyes burn and glow to life from frustration, but the heat of it is low, emphasizing his malnourished state. Asao steps down into the room, his broad frame imposing as he stands beside Yuna. She bows in a short nod, but when their eyes meet again, she speaks quickly. “I’m coming to the ceremony in Himeji. Please just consider—”
Asao steps in front of her, then gestures toward the door. “Enough, Yuna.”
She drops her shoulders, acquiesced as she turns to leave. When she’s gone, Haruka crumbles back down to the couch. He lays his head back and closes his eyes, feeling physically hollow and emotionally drained.
In the distance, he hears the pristine chime of his new phone. He doesn’t move because he is miserable. There’s no use spreading discontent, so he sits in the tea room alone for a long time. Breathing.
Thirty-Four
It’s dusk when Nino arrives at the sprawling property tucked deep in the rolling hills of Mount Seppiko in Himeji, Japan. The sun is setting, casting watercolor hues of pink and deep orange across the partly cloudy sky.
The home set before him is sleek and modern in its design with heavy influences from traditional Japanese architecture. Open verandas, wooden siding and sliding paper doors. In some areas of the home, entire walls are fashioned in clear glass so that the majestic views of the surrounding forest and mountain peaks are displayed like landscape artwork.
Nino is being escorted around the side of the house and toward the back of the property. Following a manservant dressed in a formal kimono, Nino walks along a winding path of very tall bamboo stalks—vibrant green and reaching straight up toward the twilight sky. The ground is elegantly lined with glowing white lanterns, and the only sound is their footfalls hitting the stone path. Something about this trail feels supernatural, as if Nino is the brave protagonist in a whimsical Japanese folktale with yōkai and tengu.
He nervously pulls at the black satin bow tie around his neck. The tuxedo makes him feel stiff and uncomfortable. He hasn’t told Haruka that he is coming, but with their innate ability to sense other purebreds, he knows now.
Giovanni had told Nino to simply go and surprise him. He has followed his brother’s advice but still has doubts. Especially since Haruka has become somewhat unresponsive to Nino’s text messages over the past twenty-four hours. He doesn’t understand why Haruka suddenly feels distant, and his report on the meeting with Yuna was painfully vague.
Whatever the case, he is here now. No turning back.
The bamboo-lined path opens up to a wide garden. Rows of cherry blossom trees filled with dark pink buds line the perimeter, and there is a large koi pond reflecting yellow hanging lanterns like glitter against the placid surface. Several vampires occupy the beautiful area. The manservant escorting Nino bows and gestures for him to cross a small arched bridge to join the festivities.
He nods in thanks, then proceeds across the bridge. He can smell Haruka in the crowd and among the social clutter, his body innately drawn to him by some inexplicable force. Like a magnet or gravity. Vampires within the crowd step aside and bow politely, curiously watching him as they naturally make a path toward his target.
When the crowd parts to where he can finally see Haruka, the purebred is staring directly at him. Eyes unblinking. He looks like royalty in a midnight-blue kimono. The wool overcoat elegantly draped over his shoulders is of the same rich color, but the thick belt of his robes is dusky silver. The entire ensemble gives the impression that he is a celestial entity—a god of the night sky.
Nino approaches. Haruka watches him, motionless. There are two vampires flanking his sides: an older second-generation female and a younger, very tall first-gen male with smooth, brown skin the color of almond butter. The female’s white hair is elaborately pinned up and she is also wearing formal robes. The male is young, but appears slightly older than Haruka. He looks stylish in a bold, deep teal suit perfectly tailored to his frame. The ensemble is rich and fashionable against his dark, curly hair and onyx irises.
They both bow when Nino stands directly in front of them. Nino politely returns the gesture, but his gaze is fixed on Haruka.
“You… are here early,” Haruka stammers. Nino can’t read his face to discern whether or not he’s pleased by this, but he’s instantly distracted by the physical state of him. His eyes are brown instead of the brilliant wine color he’s come to know and adore, and his skin is a pale shade of gray. Nino’s face shifts into concern.
The older, white-haired vampire turns to Haruka, her face confused as she speaks in Japanese. “My lord, who is our lovely guest? Do you know him?”
“Sumimasen, nihongo ga hanasemasu.” Nino smiles in a slight bow. “Watashi no namae wa Nino Bianchi desu. Hajimemashite.”
She draws back in surprise, her expression a little brighter. “My apologies, your grace. I am Aoi Shimamoto.”
“No apology is necessary,” Nino assures her before redirecting his attention. “Haruka, may I please speak with you privately?”
“If you walk around that way…” The very tall first-gen points directly to his right. “It’s woodsy but quiet. I had to make a phone call earlier. Welcome to Japan, Nino. I’m Junichi Takayama.”
Nino nods, grateful. “It’s nice to meet you, Junichi. Thank you.” He reaches his hand out and Haruka grasps it without hesitation. He follows as Nino walks toward the area Junichi pointed out. When they’re through the thick crowd and nearing a curve around the house, Nino glances at Haruka. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”
“I—I did not expect you to be here. I have felt your presence for the past thirty minutes, but I thought perhaps I was hallucinating.”
When they turn the corner and are out of view of everyone, Nino faces him directly. The sky is dark now. The moon high. The hum of crickets and katydids echoes through the thick forest surrounding them.
“Well,” Nino says, his heart pounding in his ears, “you’re not hallucinating. Are you upset that I’m here?”
Haruka steps into him, wrapping his arms around Nino’s neck. “No. You cannot imagine how incredibly pleased I am. It feels as if I am dreaming.”
Nino wraps his arms around his waist, relaxing in the embrace. Soaking him in. Haruka feels so good in his arms and being with him feels so right. They haven’t been close like this since Haruka’s last night in Milan several weeks earlier. His nature deep within him is purring and writhing from his nearness, making his groin stiff. Nino closes his eyes as they hold each other. He slides his hands up Haruka’s back underneath his coat. “I’m just happy you’re not mad at me for crashing your party.”
Haruka lifts his head, looking into Nino’s face with his brown eyes. He runs his fingers into the back of Nino’s hair. His deep voice is quiet. “I would not be upset with you. I love you.”
Nino sucks in a breath just as Haruka presses into his mouth to kiss him. His heart in his throat, Nino parts his lips, quickly giving in to him as he holds Haruka even tighter against his body.
He loves me.
They’ve been dancing around it. Waltzing. Nino almost said it once—has said it indirectly. But here it is. Simply. Haruka licks into him deeply, the passion of his slow movement intensified by the openness of his confession. Nino is moving his mouth and matching his rhythm, but he can barely catch his breath from the warmth flooding his chest. He feels like he is dreaming—afraid of being roused and snapped back to his former, uncertain reality.
This is real. Validated by Haruka’s deep moan as he breathes against Nino’s mouth. The rosy taste of him puffs out and overwhelms his senses like a delicious, sweet liquor. Nino is nearing a euphoric state of mindlessness when he vaguely registers Haruka’s hand traveling down the length of his body and in between them.
His long fingers slide against the curve of his shaft through his tuxedo pants. Haruka gives him a firm squeeze and Nino abruptly lifts his head, breathless. Panicked.
“Haru, we—we’re in public.”
“Not technically,” Haruka says, indifferent and busily kissing his jawline. His fingers are still exploring and gripping. Digging further. Nino reaches between them and gently grabs his wrist.
