Page 28 of Brutal Unionn
She approaches the water’s edge, the robe slides lower, exposing a smooth line of skin and the faint trace of the slope of her breast, along with the outline of her curve. She kneels briefly at the edge of the spring, testing the heat with the tips of her fingers, then slides the robe off with an uncharacteristic level of confidence.
She smiles at Kenji, but almost like she was compelled to, her eyes dart in my direction and she takes a moment to make sure there is a figure standing there. The steam thickens around her as she shifts, arms gliding along the surface of the spring, causing a gentle ripple that distorts her reflection. Then, as if she'd forgotten something—or remembered exactly what she meant to—she turns her head slowly toward Kenji.
In overly formal Romaji, normally used by children to an elder, she turns to him, and pouts. “Sumimasen…,”Excuse me…,her voice barely audible over the burble of water and wind through cedar branches. “Ojisama, yuzu no ofuro ni shite moraeru kashira. Ohada ga… motto yawarakaku naru no.”Sir would you make it a yuzu bath? My skin would become much softer.
A request for an Yuzu bath, which would be a whole other part of the Onsen. Kenji smiles and replies in Romaji: “We wouldn’t want you not to be soft any longer.”
The girl giggles as Kenji kisses the crook of her neck, then rises slowly from the smoke, moving toward the reception area with sex fueled gusto. His guards fall in step behind him, one of them offering a robe he pointedly refuses. Moments later, they vanish through the curtains, leaving only the lingering scent of incense and ego.
After a beat, the girl glances in my direction. Then, with a lazy sway of her hips she makes her way toward the waterfall—nosepinched in annoyance, but her body language shows a lazy stroll, like we don’t have ten minutes before Kenji would normally summon her again, this time to aprivatespring.
“Taking my targets, are we Sho?” she questions, eyes narrowed as she emerges from steam, her naked body on display again, but I avert my gaze.
“I think we all know the Yakuza is mine to kill,” I respond, my eyes focused on the guard watching us from the door of the changing room.
“Are you averting your gaze? It’s not like this is your first time.” She mocks, fingertips running along the surface of the spring.
My eyes shift back to hers. “What type of man do you take me for Aoi?”
She crosses through the waterfall, her long black hair sticking to her body, as she clicks her tongue in a teasing way that would make me sweat if it wasn’t for the fact that my dick is permanently thinking about a certain, tied up, drooling, curvaceously murderous Russian princess.
“I take you for the animal you are.” Her fingertips run over the curve of my neck, a small smile on her lips. “The bloodthirsty killer. The sadistic lover. I know you, Sho.”
Before her fingers can interlock behind my neck, I grab her forearms. “Shame then, only the bloodthirsty killer is available, right now.”
Aoi scoffs, a girl of her considerable beauty has never been rejected before, but there is always a first time for everything. “Sho, don’t tellme--”
“It’s not official, but my girl would kill you, Aoi,” I smirk, crossing my arms over my chest.
Aoi chuckles, brushing a damp strand of hair behind her ear as the Tokyo humidity curls around us like silk. “You forget how bad I can be when someone threatens my territory.”
My smile stretches wider, a flash of teeth and memory. The first time I met Aoi, I had just put a bullet between the eyes of my first target in Osaka. I was cocky, careless—still drunk on the rush of my kill, and the pride of running back to my father with the evidence of my success, when she pinned me to the concrete like a goddamn ghost. Her knee pressed against my throat, a blade tucked against the soft skin below my jaw.
After cursing me about killing on her territory, she looked me over and said I wastoo cute to kill.
Most people, less masochistic people would’ve killed me. She didn’t. She taught me instead—taught me how to kill without blinking, how to breathe through blood and silence and guilt. She carved out the small traces of the boy my father had left in me, and replaced it with the killer my father always wanted. If I had continued in the Yakuza, there was a possibility that Aoi would have been my right hand, or if my father had his way, my wife.
“You’re only territorial when you're bored,” I mutter, leaning against the smooth rocks on the other side of the waterfall.
“And when I like what I have claimed,” Aoi counters, reaching for a silk robe draped over a nearby stone. She slips it on, the crimson fabric settling around her shoulders as she crosses her arms under her breast. I keep my eyes on hers.
I tilt my head, studying her. The wind catches her silk sleeves, the crimson fabric fluttering like blood in water. Aoi is notsomeone I can afford to have as an enemy when I am trying to take down the entire Yakuza—every inch of her is a weapon. She killed her pseudo- father after she found out he was actually an uncle who kidnapped her, for the selfish gain of his own criminal empire, and that was at the age of twelve. She wouldn’t blink an eye if she had to kill me, cute or not.
“I cannot be claimed.” I reply.
Aoi steps closer, and her smile is all teeth now. “So you say.”
I watch as she takes a step forward, humming as she trails a finger along my chest, just over the scar she gave me during training. “And now you’ve got a girl who’ll do it for me. How romantic.”
I catch her wrist before her hand can dip lower, holding her gaze. “She’s not just a girl. She ismygirl. And she’s pretty ruthless when she’s annoyed. I’d hate to see her jealous.”
I would love to see my Nadia jealous.
“You don’t want to see me jealous,” Aoi murmurs, her eyes gleaming with that same feral glint she used to get right before slicing someone’s throat open. She leans in, the air thick between us.
I chuckle low in my throat, my fingers tightening around her wrist. “You don’t want me to kill you, Aoi.”
She blinks once, lips parting like she’s about to rip my head off.
