Diary of a Submissive (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 4)

by Kailee Reese Samuels

“... I thought you didn’t stay at the palace?”

  “I didn’t,” she rebukes. “I stayed between the cold chambers and the minka, but I may as well have been locked away. I will be the first-ever Chairwoman of Lotus in hundreds of years, Sal. If you didn’t think that titular and honor came with familial obligations, then you didn’t think it through.”

  The system crashes—swept up in too much data, overclocked, and out of available storage. The hard drive burns…sizzling…frying like an egg on a desolate Texas road in the hot summer sun.

  “Say it again,” I yell, tossing the cigarette down. “Say it again and look at me.”

  Her sapphires beam with a translucence as she repeats, “I stayed in the cold chambers until I was fit to be the future Lotus Queen.”

  Tears fill my eyes as the bitter ocean winds blister my cheeks. “… How long?”

  “From the time I left Guam until two weeks before Deacon arrived.”

  “My birthday to almost yours,” I instantly say.

  “Yes, your calculations are shamelessly accurate and quite frightening, I might add,” she hastily replies. “It was a rough few months.”

  “Prison almost destroyed me.”

  “I know,” she whispers, touching my cheek. “Ninety days is a godawful amount of time to be somewhere you hate. We have done things to get to this point, made choices in our youth that I know I wouldn’t choose today.”

  “You’re right,” I agree, holding her hands. “I would have never let you get out of the truck or taken you to La Chiesa. If I were the man I am now, back then, I would’ve just kept driving.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “I’m going to suck it up and let you go speak with Atticus in the morning,” I clearly state. “We’re going to stay in the nearest hotel or motel we can find for the night, and I’m going to make sure you are fed, bathed, and cared for…”

  “I know what your version of cared for is, Lucas Salvatore.”

  “I should hope so considering,” I tease as she slips the keys into my palm. “Just know, if he disrupts your equilibrium, I will kill him.”

  “I hope so.”

  Wrapped in a thin towel, I see Iris, sitting on the bed and brushing her hair. I creep closer and sit. The cheap, well-used mattress in the dinky motel bends and bows with my weight. I tried to persuade her to continue onto Savannah so that we could stay at a posh resort hotel. She deemed the motel with the flashing marquee acceptable.

  “What do you mean until you were fit to be the Lotus Queen?”

  She hands over the hairbrush and turns her back to me. I lovingly brush through her long locks. “It wasn’t what you think. I wasn’t hurt or abused. If anything, I was schooled in a crash course in Lotus history. You must understand, my grandfather and the fathers before him were all trained samurai. They were warriors built physically and emotionally to hold the fortress with their tenacity and endurance.”

  “Do I need to worry about your skills with a katana?”

  “I wouldn’t say worry,” she whispers. “I would say I’m comfortable using the implements of my lineage. Sofu had a wooden stick in his hand by the time he was three. I missed that, and my father will pay for his disservice to the Nakamura name for the rest of his life.”

  “He should have been the successor.”

  “Yes.”

  “What about Masa?” I ask, popping my fingers and trying to understand. “Where does he figure into all of this?”

  “Masa is the lovechild of my father and my grandfather’s youngest concubine,” she timidly whispers.

  “He tried to have another child after Raiko?”

  She glances over her shoulder. “He did, but he was well into his fifties, and not all older men can shoot with the same aptitude as their younger successors. Aki was devastated by his actions.”

  “… Your grandmother?”

  “Yes, my obaasan, baba for short,” she instructs, and I learn. “After my grandfather realized that my father had no plans in ever letting me leave the states, he made amends by torturing my father and forcing him to have sex with the concubine until a son was conceived.”

  “Forced sex for The Chairman’s son?” I ask in disbelief. “That’s bizarrely hot and weird at the same time.”

  “Yes, they lived in the cold chambers until she was pregnant. My grandfather forced it, but it was my father committing the act. We must not shame the family name. And we never speak of our inhumanity.”

  I snort, knowing it all too well. “Any daughters?”

  “If I have half-sibling sisters, I do not know about them,” she replies as I kiss her shoulder. “According to the records, they were lucky on the first attempt, judging by the concubines stay in the cold chambers. She was there for eleven months total.”

  “But Raiko could have sought her out after the birth of Masa, so there could be sisters.”

  She shakes her head. “Being forced to have sex with the concubine messed up my father for a very long time. He is not your classic profile of a rapist. He had to engage in the crime, as did she. My father is very spiritual, a bookworm, a philosopher, and a mathematical genius. I don’t think sex was ever a high priority for him, and I still don’t.”

  Not wanting to offend my deadly ninja, I politely suggest, “But Masa should take over Lotus as the son…”

  “He can’t,” she whispers. “By the laws of Lotus, claim to be an heir.”

  “… So why have him?”

  “To watch over the flower and make sure she doesn’t step out of line.”

  I rapidly blink several times. “This is so fucking backward. Raiko and the whore produced a brother just to watch over you,” I grumble, finally getting it. “Sexism.”

  “You got it.”

  They doubted Iris’ ability because of her genitals. Not on her merit or skill but the vagina. It was the same reason I, alone, was expected to take over the Raniero syndicate. I had a dick and my sisters…they were to be “watched over” as to ensure they didn’t do anything rash or emotional.

  I’m going to get emotional in a hot minute.

  Iris and I exist in the world of gender-specific roles where women aren’t swift enough, and men are all ball busters. I invite the women who can swing and own it and the men who aren’t afraid to cry, but I am me.

  Mezzofinook, remember?

  But this is different now. This matters because Iris belongs to me. If her family refuses to trust her because of her gender, we’re going to have a problem.

  A serious Raniero & Cruz gone wild kind of a problem.

  “It’s no wonder Masa is so…attuned. He doesn’t have a choice, or he’ll go insane.”

  “Yes,” she says, reaching for me. “I told you it wasn’t as simple as it looks, nor as pretty. Everything of splendor exists within a veil of the umbra.”

  “What is that?”

  “Poetry is part of the lessons,” she answers. “Along with physical, spiritual, and historical, it’s not all sword and board. For the most part, the samurai are brilliant thinkers.”

  “What if Masa doesn’t agree with you?”

  “There is a ritual for that, too.”

  I don’t need any more than that. “Fuck. Do you get along with Masa?”

  With zero emotion, she says, “If you’re asking whether or not I am concerned about his willingness to decapitate me, post committing my own disembowelment, I do not think he has it in him.” She breathes. “And that would also be assuming I missed.” Her eyes flick to mine. “I have a bit of skill.”

  My future wife is sitting on a bomb with a razor-sharp skill.

  Sounds like even more reason to hitch up, right?

  I close my eyes. “And you’re already toying with things you shouldn’t be.”

  “… Like?”

  “Cristos,” I harshly state. “Stop doing what you are doing, and let me do it for you. Who was the concubine?”

  “A young woman named Murasaki Hada.”

  I grip the sheet. “Fum
io and Oki’s mother?”

  “Yes, she had Masa, and they discarded her to the streets of Tokyo because marriages amongst the different classes are strictly forbidden amongst the Lotus.”

  “That is why they drilled me.”

  “Yes,” she notes. “Because if you were not suitable, our marriage would never be allowed to happen.”

  “Someone thought highly of me.”

  “Yes, Sal, they did,” she assures, boosting my self-esteem. “Matsu Goro found out who Murasaki was, courted her with his stolen riches, and they married. Shortly after that, she had Fumio and Oki.”

  “And that is why the Goro gang is aiming for you.”

  “Exactly,” she whispers. “They believe upon my elimination that Masa Nakamura will take his rightful place as the new chairman and therefore give them a straight shot to the kingdom of Gods. The problem is my “uncles,” as you say, will never let that occur. My cousin, Yoshi Nakamura, will be next in line.”

  “Are Masa and Yoshi on your side?”

  “Masa and I are close.” Gazing at my hand, she continues, “Yoshi is older but incredibly vigilant in keeping with the ways of the tomes. If the rules are clear cut, he will not defer or allow anyone else to as he would view it as dishonorable.”

  “The old ways of yours and mine…”

  She giggles. “Totally different yet so much the same.”

  “Yes,” I reply with a nod as I drop my towel on the grungy, stained carpet and kneel before my Queen. “I understand your concerns, but I beg of you to allow me to do the honor for which I am sworn.”

  “So formal,” she says, stroking my cheek. “Impressive, Mr. Raniero.” With a heavy sigh, she concedes, “Fine. Take over my pet project, but do not get yourself killed.”

  “I got sixty-nine lives, Darlin’.”

  “And only about nine of them left,” she muses, smirking. Pulling the corner of her towel, she shows her flesh to me. Her damp skin begs for my attention as I move to sit on the bed.

  After examining the hairbrush, I wave my hand over my lap. “This’ll work.”

  “You can’t be serious…”

  “Oh, baby girl,” I gloat like one of Satan’s sons. “You have no idea.”

  She crawls onto my lap, and I rub her ass cheeks. “May I make a request?”

  “One time.” I grin as she glances up at me. I wink. “Just one.”

  “Hurt me.”

  Licking my lips, I feel my cock hungrily throb. “You want to cry?”

  “Yes,” she mumbles. “And then I want to come screaming your name. Will you do that for me?”

  “Only if I can put a quarter in the bed.”

  “Nero, I have limits.”

  “So, bruising your ass is okay, but you riding your bull on the mechanical bed is not?”

  She laughs. “One time. Just one. But you have to tell me what is in Mexico that made you groan in such pain.”

  Without hesitating, I smack the back of the wooden brush against her ass, causing her to gasp. I carefully watch her reaction, prepared for her to slip, but she doesn’t. So I do it again. And again.

  “I stand corrected,” I mutter, rubbing the reddened flesh. “Your masochist is ever-present.”

  “Yes,” she moans. “You assumed because I don’t flip a switch like you do between control and pain that diminished my desire.”

  “I was wrong,” I say, thwapping her ass again. “And I’m sorry. I misjudged.”

  “Even you are allowed to make mistakes, Sal,” she excuses, breathing heavily. “All I ask is that you own those shortcomings.”

  “There isn’t going to be any short coming,” I snicker and let her have it. Spanking her with my hand, I feel her tense beneath my touch, and I harden fast, knowing we’re caught in the spiral of ache as I stop.

  “… Sal?” I hear her, but I don’t respond. She scoots back a bit and pulls the towel from my body. Her lips whisper over the head of my cock as I buck and thrash, demanding more. Her hand pushes against my chest, and I lay back as her mouth engulfs over my dick. My girlfriend is a goddamned nympho with an infinitesimal kink.

  Throwing her leg over my body, she securely grips the base as her lips entice with lurid magic. I wrap my arms around her thighs and sink my tongue deep into her pussy. Her essence covers my face and beard as she drips with want. I spare nothing, running the tip of my tongue from her clit to her ass as she questions everything I thought I knew about sex.

  She challenges me.

  Without fear, Iris rises like a tidal wave, threatening to drown my fires, yet every time she breaks and allows the steam to heal my burns.

  In the midst of our collision, I question—will I always supply enough Dominance to meet the demand of her submission? Or are we doomed to hit a shortage? And if then, what?

  I know she’ll find another dealer if I can’t deliver on the promise.

  Iris won’t stay hungry long because even reptiles will feed a Queen. I only pray they feed me to her alive. But tonight, I’m eating this bitch’s ass like a motherfucking cupcake.

  And begging like a dog for more.

  22

  The Unsuspecting

  The Master

  “Where is he?” Iris shouts as I am on the phone. Atticus Huit is nowhere to be found.

  “Thank you, Georgia.” I stare at Iris, peering in the windows. She’s so cute, acting like a prowler. It’s twisted this turns me on, I know. “You won’t believe this,” I inform, shaking my head. “He’s outside of Tallahassee.”

  “… Why?”

  I grab her hand, and we head to the truck. “Because when we moved him, we left Randy Bianchi’s name as a contact in case he decided to start talking.”

  “And?”

  “Randy just so happened to be at the cabin fishing, and your Spider has been with him for a week.”

  “Shit…drive!” she yells as I open her door and toss her the keys. She turns the big girl on as I sprint around the truck and take off. “It’s four and a half hours. We could be there for lunch.”

  “I’ll get you there in three and a half.” I glance over to her and grin. “You’ll need a cocktail before lunch.”

  “Mexico.”

  I grab my Bollés, but she swipes them. “That’s not fair! I need those to drive.”

  She puts the shades on. “Talk, and I’ll think about it.”

  “You’re a tough cookie.”

  “Tough noodle,” she jokes, keeping her eyes on the road. “Tough sushi. Tough fucking bitch. Oh, wait…I know! Raniero’s tough wife!” She nods, proud of herself. “That’s it!”

  I grin, and she giggles. “In Texas.”

  “... Sugargrove?”

  “Yes,” I reply. “At Scarlet House. In my bedroom, there is a box from Kaci in the top of the closet. All of her scrapbooks are in there.”

  “O—kay, what does this have to do with Mexico?”

  “She was getting worse, and we were smoking a lot of pot.” I increase my grip on the wheel as the storage-retrieval hurts.

  “Medicinal purposes, ya sure, gotcha.”

  I smirk and twist my ball cap around. “We had done way too much one weekend, and she pulled out one of those books. I’m fucking blazed. I’m talking gone as she rambles on about her pictures. She turns the pages to a very peculiar one with lush fauna all around the house. I asked her where it was, and she said a vacation home in Mexico. She spent summers there.”

  “… Mexico?”

  “Ya,” I reply, loosening my grip. “And yesterday, after Vega’s gas, I remembered it.”

  “Her family was the Neves. It would make sense.”

  I toss a questioning look. “Are you serious?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  “The Neves are Hispanic, even Mexican, according to Juan, but I don’t think they’ve even ever been to Mexico,” I reply. “If you had met Regina, you would understand. She was …let’s see who can I compare Regina to…she was Ella Hemsworth mixed with a hefty dose of a rowdy Latino mother th
at loved cooking and her children. Wore all of her diamonds all of the time whether cooking, showering, and sleeping.”

  “Had?”

  “Dead,” I solemnly remark as she asks the question I hadn’t considered.

  “… How?”

  Damn, I love this girl.

  His Butterfly

  “She was always such a lovely specimen,” Atticus Huit mentions, circling like a komodo dragon. I stare at the clock. It took Sal four and a half hours because we had to stop.

  Don’t ask why.

  He’s a greedy motherfucker.

  With their arms crossed over their chests, Sal and Randy are doing that thing—protective stances and ready to pull their triggers. I’m thankful Deacon isn’t here; The Spider would already be squished.

  And I do mean squished.

  Not just dead—slaughtered.

  My eyes follow his passage as I try to assimilate how this goofy looking man did terrible things to me. I move to sit on the barstool at the kitchen island. “Tell me, Mr. Huit, exactly what kind of hardware did you stick in my head?”

  “It’s software.”

  “Whatever the fuck it is,” I snark as Sal smirks. “You need to tell me how to remove it.”

  “Removing the operating system could potentially kill you, Iris,” he says, pacing around the room. “Besides, you are a treasure. You are the only v1.0 to have the software.”

  “Why me?”

  “Angelo Gennaro paid a lot of money to have you altered.”

  I tilt my head. “Who else besides Janna, Kaci, Jaid, Gabe, Mitch, Bertie, and Henney?” Sal’s expression shifts, not realizing how much I knew. Feeling a bit perturbed, I hiss, “I mean, besides your v2.0 monsters of Diablo and Sal.”

  Atticus skitters, wavering and grabbing his forehead. “This is a lot for me.”

  “Bullshit, Atty,” I reply, calling him out. “You remember, and you don’t want to say, so how about I do it for you?”

  “Iris…”

  “Atticus,” I seethe. “Answer the question, or I will.”

  “We hoped by attempting our final eleventh implementation on a child that we would break ground in an undeveloped area at the time.”