by Young, S.
“We’re not friends,” Niamh stated emotionlessly. “We’re here to do a job. Let’s be ourselves, not coldly pushing one another away to remind ourselves what we’re not to each other. We get it. Any conversations or relayed history is given for the benefit of the mission and will not be misconstrued as some kind of connection. Let’s just agree to that so we both know where we stand.”
A feeling akin to dread filled his gut.
But she was right.
So he nodded. “Agreed.”
Niamh looked away again but seemed to deflate somewhat, as if the tension was releasing from her body. “Well,” she said, exhaling slowly, “I don’t know about you, but I could eat a bloody horse. That bento box on the plane did nothing to fill me up.”
Agitation still thrummed through him but Kiyo forced another nod. “Yeah, I could eat.”
“Where do you fancy?” She upended the contents of her backpack on the bed. “While you were talking with the guy at reception, I was reading some of their pamphlets. They have a Michelin-starred restaurant in the building. I wonder if they’re open for lunch.”
Kiyo shook his head, suddenly wanting to show her authentic Tokyo. He thought she’d like that. “Do you like sushi?”
Her brows puckered, her lips twisted in thought. “I don’t know,” she eventually answered. “I don’t think I’ve ever tried good sushi before.”
“I’ll take you to Tsukiji Market for brunch.”
“Skeeji market?”
“Tsukiji Market is Tokyo’s most well-known fish market. There are hundreds of food stalls and restaurants. There’s sushi, sashimi, hibachi-grilled fish. There’s okonomiyaki, shioyaki, imagawayaki, tomorokoshi, yakisoba, nikuman—”
“Okay, stop naming food.” She laughed. “I don’t even know what any of it means and you’re still making me hungry.”
Kiyo chuckled, the sound trailing off as Niamh blinked at him in surprise. “What?”
“You laughed.”
“So?” He frowned.
She shrugged, a blush staining her cheeks. “Nothing. I’ve just never heard you laugh before.”
That couldn’t be true.
Could it?
Is that how high his defenses were with her?
Fuck.
Kiyo moved toward the living room. “I’ll let you clean up first. Let me know when I can use the bathroom.” He needed a shower more than he needed food.
“I won’t be long,” she promised.
* * *
Niamh kept her promise, appearing in the living room fifteen minutes later having showered and changed into a pair of tight jeans and a cropped T-shirt that showed tantalizing flashes of smooth, pale skin.
“Done.” She strode past him, moving toward the window. As she did, her scent gusted over him and his body reacted with an intensity that shocked him. Feeling the tightening in his groin and heat on his skin, Kiyo gaped at her.
She’d piled her hair on top of her head in what was supposed to be a messy bun but her hair was so long, strands spilled down over her shoulders. There was something about her carefree style that made a man want to pull her hair tie out to see it all come tumbling down.
And he didn’t even want to get started on what the denim jeans did for her ass.
Niamh’s body was hard to ignore, as much as he tried. But she was fae, and from what he knew, part of their genetic makeup was their allure to other species.
“You need a jacket.”
“I’m never cold.”
“People will think it’s weird you’re not wearing a jacket in Tokyo in February.” His eyes lingered on the sliver of skin revealed by the short T-shirt.
Niamh shrugged, leaning against the window without looking at him. “I don’t care what people think.”
Aggravated, he pushed off the sofa, heading toward the bathroom with swiftness. He didn’t want her to notice his very male reaction to her.
But as he stripped and stepped into the shower, his erection raged fierce and strong. The water sluiced down his body, and he felt it course over his skin like fingers. His every nerve ending was on fire with feeling. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt like this.
He wanted Niamh.
He’d wanted her from the moment he’d touched her.
It only made sense that days (which felt like months) of repressing his response to her would finally get the better of him when his defenses were lowered by being back in Tokyo.
Still, it was typical that once she’d put herself completely out of his reach with her little speech about them not being friends, he’d start to lose control over his attraction for her. People were fucked up that way. Even werewolves.
Turning the jets up on the shower so Niamh wouldn’t hear, he closed his eyes, wrapped his hand around his dick, and went somewhere in his head he promised to forget about later.
Somewhere dark and hot and pulsing.
Somewhere deeply satisfying.
Somewhere with Niamh.
When he came, it was long and hard and he grit his teeth to swallow the loud groan of release that had swelled inside him. Kiyo sagged against the wet tiled wall and let out a huff of disbelief.
As hard as he’d just come … it wasn’t enough.
Damn her.
* * *
“Aren’t you wondering how I dried my hair so fast?” she asked with a teasing smile as they took the elevator down to the hotel’s ground floor.
Still taken aback by his uncontrolled physical response to her, Kiyo grunted in response.
“I used magic. I can use magic to clean myself too. Sometimes I do. But there’s nothing like the feeling of a hot shower.”
He shot her a suspicious look. Why was she rambling about the shower? Had she heard him in there? Was she teasing him?
Niamh stared back at him with innocent eyes. “That’s the thing about magic. I can do practically anything with it, but sometimes doing it the human way is actually more satisfying.”
Why did everything she say suddenly sound sexual?
It wasn’t her. It was him.
He cleared his throat, trying to think of something that would distract him. “No more visions?”
“You’d know if there were,” she replied dryly, following him out of the elevator and to the lobby.
He grunted again before gesturing to the valet to hail them a cab.
“I was reading the pamphlets in the room about places to visit, and I’d really love to go to Akihabara.”
She would want to go to the one place they couldn’t. “Off limits. Vamp coven territory.”
As a taxi pulled up, Niamh grumbled, “Bloody vamps always spoil everything.”
Kiyo scooted into the car behind her after tipping the valet and directed the driver to the market.
“We could still go and just be careful,” Niamh said.
“What?”
“Akihabara.”
“No. It’s not about that. There’s an agreement between them and the Iryoku.” He lowered his voice. “No wolves allowed.”
Her brow puckered. “But I’m not a wolf.”
“You’re not going anywhere in this city without me.”
“Kiyo, I was taking care of myself long before you showed up.”
“My city, my rules.” Part of him said it just because he knew it would piss her off.
Sure enough, she bristled. “I’ll go if I want.”
“Have you forgotten how you smell?” he said softly, trying to tame the burst of possessive territorialism that he knew was natural to most wolves but had never been to him. Until now.
Niamh sighed but said no more on the subject. Instead she turned her attention to the window, taking in the city with her usual wide-eyed wonder.
It didn’t take long to reach the market.
Kiyo placed his hand on Niamh’s lower back without thought to guide her, but her cropped shirt meant his palm hit silken skin. His fingers flexed as electricity tingled up his arm. Niamh stiffened and shot him a look
, as if she felt it too.
Deciding it was safer not to touch her, he nudged her forward and let his arm fall to his side. The market was comprised of narrow walkways, crowded in on either side with stalls and restaurants with overhanging awnings. The buildings were crammed together, ramshackle and higgledy-piggledy but with their own sense of history and thus order. Smoke and spice and the tangy scent of miso assaulted them, and Kiyo explained what was on offer at each stall. The brunch and early lunch crowds meant the market was packed, its soundtrack one of indistinguishable layers of conversation.
Niamh stopped to watch a young man holding what looked more like a sword than a knife cut through a chunk of sashimi tuna steak like butter. “What is he doing?”
“Maguro bocho.” Kiyo stepped up behind her, his mouth near her ear, as he pointed to the knife. “It’s very sharp. Needs very little pressure and it allows him to cut the tuna sashimi into fine slices. Do you want to try the tuna?”
She glanced up at him. “Is it good?”
“With wasabi, yes.” He turned to call out to the young man and ordered two tuna. Taking their containers and chopsticks, he and Niamh stood off to the side to eat standing up.
His lips twitched, watching Niamh stare uncertainly at the tuna. He lifted a piece of tuna with his chopsticks and said, “Itadakimasu.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s one of our many words that don’t have a literal translation. The closest is ‘bon appétit,’ but it means more than that. It’s a way of showing your gratitude to everyone responsible for producing your meal, from the fisherman all the way to the chef.”
“Say it again.”
He said it slower this time.
“Itadakimasu.” She raised her tuna to him in acknowledgment of the expression and then dipped into the bit of wasabi in the corner of the container.
Kiyo stopped eating to watch her.
She nibbled tentatively at it.
Surprise flickered over her face and she ate with more gusto.
Seconds later, two pieces were gone.
“Good?” He grinned.
Her gaze dropped to his mouth before returning to his eyes. “Surprisingly.”
Once they’d finished, he guided her to a tea stall. “Green tea?”
“Ooh, yes.”
It unnerved Kiyo how much he delighted in watching Niamh discover the market. It took the guy at the shop a little over five minutes to prepare the green tea, and Niamh studied everything he did with fascination.
“So good.” She sighed in delight after taking her first sip. She tapped the small white cup. “What’s this called?”
“Yunomi.”
“Yunomi?”
He nodded. “Hai.”
“Hai,” she repeated, beaming like a kid on Christmas. It was as if their earlier tension and conversation hadn’t happened. “I like that word: hai. Will you teach me more Japanese while we’re here?”
“If you like.”
She beamed at him, eyes bright with joy at the thought.
Kiyo had to look away, searching for somewhere else to take her. It was either that or he would kiss the hell out of her right there in the middle of the market.
As they walked, green tea in hand, he pointed out the narrow back alleyways where the food was produced and told her about pork dumplings, corn with miso, and soba noodles.
The thing that caught her attention, however, was tamagoyaki. Pan-fried rolled omelet. At her insistence, he bought her one.
“Mmm,” she moaned and nodded happily around a bite she was eating off a cocktail stick. She swallowed and asked, “What’s in it?”
“Traditionally, egg, salt, and dashi. It’s why it’s a little sweeter than the omelets you’re used to.”
From there they ate grilled fishcake on skewers while Niamh eyed a stall selling okonomayaki. Pancakes.
“I was planning to take you for some sushi. Will you be able to eat that too?”
“Hmm. Sushi first. We’ll see how I feel afterward.”
“You eat more than any woman I’ve ever known.”
“Uh, fae. I can move faster than two hundred miles per hour,” she said pretending to be defensiveness. “Can you imagine what that does to my metabolism?”
Smirking, Kiyo nodded and then led her farther through the market. A while later, he took her arm and pulled her gently into a crowded standing sushi bar.
He studied her as she watched the chefs behind their high-top counter create the sushi at tremendous speed and place it on the wooden trays in front of the waiting customers.
“They’re so fast,” she murmured. His eyes dropped to her mouth. “It does look good. So fresh. But I think I’ll still want those pancakes after. And maybe those pork dumpling things you were talking about.” She grabbed his arm, drawing his gaze up to her eyes. “Ooh, and the corn with the miso.”
Kiyo’s shoulders shook with laughter. “You’re acting like you haven’t eaten in years.”
She released him, smiling sheepishly. “I don’t know why I’m so hungry. I just … I want to try everything.” She wrinkled her nose; he found it adorable when Kiyo was sure he’d never found anything adorable in his life. “Except squid.” She scowled at the wooden tray with said cephalopod on it. “I don’t want squid.”
“Noted. I’ll eat the squid.”
Kiyo couldn’t believe how much he was enjoying this experience with her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such fun. Such human fun. Niamh wasn’t just hungry for food, she was hungry for life, for experiences, for knowledge, and in that moment with her, he didn’t feel jaded and old and trapped by the monotony of forever. Before, he’d always known what lay ahead. An eternity of wandering, doing and feeling the same things over and over. But now Kiyo felt a freedom he hadn’t felt in a long time.
The freedom of not knowing what was ahead after all.
All because of her.
She was so unbearably dangerous to him.
Part of him was beginning to not give a shit if it meant feeling like this even for a while. Her words at the hotel, about them being nothing to each other but the mission, rang false then and even more so now.
Deciding that to think about it was to ruin his mood, he threw the thought away and conversed with the chefs about what they were doing. He then relayed to Niamh what they told him. They stood, drinking warm sake out of cups while they ate at the counter. She went nuts over the yellowtail, so he gave her his portion and took the squid off her tray before she could ask.
She smiled in gratitude and dipped a sushi roll into her soy.
“You got the hang of the chopsticks fast.”
“I had a good teacher.”
They shared a warm look. Kiyo was so relaxed, so in the moment, her next words pulled him out of it with all the impact of a bucket of cold water.
“So, tell me about Sakura.”
He almost choked on his snow crab sushi roll.
Niamh chortled. “What? We’ve already decided we’re not friends and nothing said between us means anything.”
Renewed agitation thrummed through him at the reminder. “What do you want to know?”
“You two seem close for someone who doesn’t get close to anyone.”
He shrugged, finding no reason not to tell Niamh the truth. “I’d started fighting in the underground fights decades before. In the ’90s I came to Tokyo for a job. When it ended, I decided to try out one of the underground fights here. Eito, Sakura’s uncle and pack alpha, saw me fight. I stupidly agreed to fight in one of his—a more professional setup in the basement of the hotel where people bet on the fights. Eito began to think he owned me. And Sakura pursued me. Since I had no plans to stick around, I didn’t see any harm in a casual arrangement. But Sakura got attached. Then she started dropping hints in Eito’s ear about what I was to her … and he tried to groom me.”
“Groom you?”
“To take over his empire with Sakura as alpha. I’d be her mate.”
&n
bsp; “What happened?”
“They knew what I was when they got involved with me. I wasn’t going to change, and I never gave any signal that I would.” He knew he sounded defensive but everything he said was true. It wasn’t his fault that Eito and Sakura changed the rules on him. “I couldn’t stay even if I’d wanted to. No one could know that I didn’t age. But the immediate problem was that they were using me, and I felt trapped.
“On the other side of it was Daiki. Powerful alpha, an orphaned pup who Eito raised. It was assumed he and Sakura would become mates. Daiki loved her, but Sakura thought of him as a brother. Daiki was pissed, to say the least, when he discovered I was screwing his intended,” he related dryly. “He and his own little wolf pack were continually trying to fuck with me, and it wasn’t worth it.”
“She wasn’t worth it?”
“To him,” he answered. “She was worth it to him and I respected that. But she wasn’t worth it to me. So I got the hell out of Tokyo.”
“Reneging on a fight.”
He nodded. “I never promised to fight, but I never said I wouldn’t either. Which is why I’ll fight for Sakura if it’ll get her off my back.”
“I don’t think she wants off it.” Niamh shot him a saucy look. “More to the point, I think she wants you on it.”
Her words sparked an answering image but the face of the woman riding him wasn’t Sakura.
Kiyo looked away. “She can want what she wants. Doesn’t mean she’ll get it.”
A somewhat tense silence settled between them for a second or two but was abruptly broken by Niamh’s panicked words. “Oh no, not here, not now.”
Kiyo’s gaze jerked to Niamh who’d gone stiff as a post on the bar stool. “What is it?”
She cut him an exasperated look. “I sense danger.”
Kiyo let out a snarl of aggravation before gesturing to her to follow him out of the standing bar. He scanned the crowded lane, readying for fight or flight depending on the source.
And then he saw him, marching through the crowds with his men.
“Fuck.”
“What? What is it?” Niamh pressed up against his back, and the heat of her sent an overwhelming surge of protectiveness through him.
