Page 29 of Brutal Unionn
“Ore no koneko-chan!” Kenji’s voice echoes across the spring, and my lips curl at the timing.
Aoi’s face shutters into something pleasant, but I see the irritation coiled tight beneath her lashes.
“This isn’t over,” she whispers, voice like silk pulled taut over glass. Then she straightens with a sudden bright smile and chirps over her shoulder, “Hai, Kenji-sama! Ima ikimasu--”
I smirk as she walks away, heels clicking with venomous grace. She’s still the same Aoi. Still sharp, still manipulative, still dangerous.
And if she so much asthinks of breathing nearNadia—I’ll rip her heart out and leave it on Kenji’s goddamn desk. Will that expedite my plan? Sure, but will she learn her lesson? Absolutely. A final one.
I am already fishing my phone out of my pocket before the thought finishes.
I flick to the tracking app—there.
A red dot pulses gently on the map, nestled in the upscale residential district I dropped her in. Home. Safe. At least for now. The leather jacket I gave her last week was lined with more than satin—it carries a discreet little gift stitched beneath the collar.
She doesn't know yet. Or maybe she does. She’s clever like that.
I emerge from beneath the waterfall, water trailing down my skin in slow, silver ribbons. The cold bite of the mountain spring clings to me, but my veins run molten. I climb back onto the slick stone ledge, muscles coiled, breathe steady, and settle into a crouch like a predator at rest. The night hums around me—crickets, distant thunder, the ghost of a war I haven't started yet.
I drag a dripping hand through my hair, and pull my kimono tighter against my body. If Kenji is alone with Aoi, he’ll be dead by the morning, and with one man gone. I want to celebrate by seeing my girl.
8
NADIA
“I thinkyou can do better than that,Hime,” Sho chuckles, his head lolling to the side as blood cascades in slow, glistening rivulets down the ridges of his chest.
I’m in the corner of the room—half-shadow, half-devil—wiping the blood off a slender blade with slow, practiced strokes. A smile curls at my lips as another groan rolls through the space, sharp and needy, echoing off the concrete walls.
“I think you’re a glutton for punishment,” I murmur, amused, as I glance at the screen again. Even now—watching this video back, alone in my dark Manhattan townhouse—I feel the heat coil low in my stomach.
“If it’s you…” Sho moans through clenched teeth, his voice broken and breathless. The pain softens into a hungry coil of want. My nipples strain against the thin cotton of my white shirt, and I don’t even bother pretending I’m not wet.
On the screen, Sho throws his head back, jaw tight and glistening with sweat. “Come on,Hime.I knowyou.”
In the footage, I click my tongue at him, playful and cruel. The freshly cleaned knife gleams in my hand like a lover’s promise. “Give me a body part, baby.”
Before the next cut lands, my phone vibrates beside me. I reach for it blindly, unwilling to take my eyes off the screen—off the smug smile slowly spreading across his face. The look he gives me, like I’m his oxygen, sinks deep into my chest and coils there.
I press answer and tuck the phone between my shoulder and ear.
“??????,” I say softly, eyes still locked on his bleeding mouth.
“How long did it take you to get back to New York?” Sho’s voice drawls through the phone in a low murmur, and instinctively I am sitting straight up, and on edge.
“Do you want me back in Japan already,Shadow?” I purr, a smirk tugging at my lips as the blade in the video glides slowly down the sculpted ridge of his right abs. The steel kisses his skin, just enough to open a thin crimson line.
He moans on-screen, and I sigh—soft, and satisfied.
“Are you watching one of our videos, Hime?” He chuckles.
The heavy pant of his groans rolls over the speakers, and I jump to turn down the sound on my laptop. My eyes dart around the ground level of my townhouse. You never know with an assassin, he could already be in here.
My smile deepens as I recline back into the velvet cushions, eyes drifting toward the window, blinds drawn. “Are you stalking me now, Shadow?” I purr. “Peeking through the blinds like some pervert?”
“Close,” he murmurs, and I can hear the smirk behind it. “I am always slightly closer than you think. Now, answer my question, are you watching one of our videos?”
My thighs press together, involuntarily. Instant. Sho is a contradiction. I like him beneath me, writhing, broken open under my blade—just like I like most men. But Sho is different, beneath every moan, every surrender is a choice. He could flip the script at any moment. That the leash I have on him is only taut because heletsit be.
