To Honor: Vampire Assassin League #22 (3 page)

“Oh.”

“You will join me?”

He backed a step, gesturing toward the chairs while the shadow claimed him again. Christine took an exact step, following him without one conscious thought to the contrary.

“Please. Do not fear me.”

Oh. Fear was the least of her troubles. Christine’s knees gave out. She dropped. And one of the chairs caught her.

Duct tape?

What was wrong with him? That’s the best he could manage? And he didn’t want her in his thrall! He wanted clarity and openness in the jade-colored eyes that threatened to consume him. Takeshi watched her eyes, glazed over with the blank look of the mesmerized. The chair she’d dropped into swayed with the force of her arrival, while her neck was craned to continue linking gazes with him. He was acting so stupid! So...awkward. So naïve! Nothing about this resembled the athleticism and grace he was known for.

Takeshi drew a breath, striving for calm. Equanimity.
Fudoshin.
His world had been splintered apart the moment he’d first seen her. Being this near jumbled all kinds of things. She altered everything, upsetting even the balance of
yin
and
yang
that controlled his destiny.

He needed to break the hypnotic connection he’d initiated. That proved difficult. He exhaled slowly before dragging his gaze from hers. The physical result was instantaneous. He felt chilled, as if a cold wind passed through the cabin. The area vibrated as the jet moved, reaching the runway, gaining speed. The compartment slanted as they went airborne. Takeshi bent to studiously swivel the chair beside her. The leather groaned slightly as the material encased him. It didn’t mute a bit of the cold feeling.

That was another newly regenerated sensation. He was dealing with too many at once. That was before he factored in the even greater issue – he was feeling emotions. Unease. Exasperation. Embarrassment.

What demon was behind this? He’d been told of mating. But nobody had informed him of this part.

Takeshi had no experience with emotions. He’d exiled them. Every student of
ninjitsu
did. Life was fragile. Survival went to the fittest. The best fighter. The quickest blade. The strongest heart. The blackest soul. He’d been honed on battle, never-ending and bloody. Victory was the only acceptable outcome. That was the code of the ninja. He’d never questioned it. He hadn’t any reason. But then, this happened. From the first glance of his mate, things he’d stifled seemed to slam at him. Without warning. Preparation. Or justification. No wonder his wits were scrambled.

He steeled himself to look toward her again. Prepared. Gathered his wits. Fisted each hand. Tightened them. Put the same taut restriction on every muscle. She carried such power within the depths of her green eyes! The ability to weaken. Debilitate. Incapacitate. He turned thoughts of an opening sentence through his mind. They could discuss the flight. Her reason for being here. Her home. Her likes. Ancestry.

Anything but duct tape.

Takeshi turned to face her. He took his time scanning the scuffed toes of her hiking boots, along her nondescript trousers. His gaze reached her plain leather belt, then her shirt buttons. She didn’t dress for attention, but it wouldn’t have mattered. To him, she was an addiction. Her throat was exposed. A vein tapped the skin, drawing his eyes along it to her chin. She really did have perfect skin. Rose-shaded lips. A pert nose, dusted with freckles. And...

Oh.
Naraku
. Hell.

He got snagged by those perfect jade-colored eyes of hers again. Something powerful hit his gut, releasing his tautness, while a roar resembling an ocean wave went right through his skull. It made him slightly dizzy. Nervous. He swallowed. And spoke.

“It has been nice weather.”

She choked on something that sounded suspiciously like a giggle. Takeshi would have groaned, but his throat went dry. His mouth parched. She sobered. A red-tinted brow rose. It appeared that his mate was a natural
akage.
The brow was proof. It was the perfect match to her auburn-shaded hair. Neither came from a dye bottle. She smiled slightly. His heart gave the strangest flutter in response.

“What is your name?” she asked.

“Takeshi.” Was that croak of a voice the best he could manage?

“Takeshi. Seems...fitting. If I remember correctly that means militaristic. Warrior.”

“Yes. That is the meaning.”

“Do you have a last name?”

“Oh.
Hai
. Please. I am Takeshi Asourah. Only surviving member of the Aka-sourah Clan.” He nearly bit the tip of his tongue. He hadn’t meant to say the last part. It was automatic. Back when he’d lived, a man carried his antecedent’s name in all matters. To be held accountable. Judged. Respected.

“Only surviving member?”

“Oh. Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It...was a long time ago,” he replied.
Centuries of time, actually
. He didn’t say a word about that. It was very difficult to think and make words. She had the most amazing eyes. They resembled matching stones of clearest green jade. More mysterious than a lotus-strewn pool.

Dragon eyes.

“You are Japanese?” she asked next.

“
Hai.
” His voice sounded unsure. As if he lied. He’d never lied. Ever.

“And...uh. Are you really...a – this is going to sound so stupid. You’re a...ninja? A real ninja?”

He nodded. It was safer.

“Wow.”

He didn’t know what the word signified. It didn’t sound awed. It sounded frightened. This wasn’t going remotely like he’d wanted it to.

“I didn’t think ninjas were real. I guess that was mistake number one.”

“Mistake number one?” he echoed.

“Oh. I’m making quite a few of them, it seems. By the way, I’m Christine. From America.”

“Yes. I know. Christine Diachenko. From New York City.”

Kuso.
Real
shit.
His ability toward subterfuge appeared to have fled him. Both of her brows went up and her eyes widened. She had way too much power in her gaze. The ocean sound roared through his ears again as she regarded him. This was akin to walking atop hot coals. Being dangled over a volcano. Crossing an abyss on a wire. Each move needed to be carefully considered, every word was a trap. He’d be better off silencing himself with duct tape.

“How do you know that?”

He waited some time before answering. Considered his best reply. Discarded most of them.

“It was...in your paperwork.”

He couldn’t prevent the flush. He felt it creeping along his jaw line before entering his cheeks. He was stretching the truth slightly, but what Nigel had told him was probably in paperwork somewhere.

“Paperwork?”

Her brows dropped. Her expression changed. She no longer looked remotely open and friendly. She looked wary. And a little frightened. The chilled feeling came back with a rush that startled him. It radiated from somewhere in his midst. Pounding outward from there with every beat of his newly regenerated heart.

“Forgive me. I should have offered refreshment. Would you like tea?”

“Tea?”

Takeshi rose in his usual, almost-invisible slide of motion and was at the galley the next moment. The jet was still angled for the ascent. He had no trouble compensating. He’d prepared the two tea sets beforehand. One was for daily use; the other handled the tea ceremony or
chanoyu.
He picked up the tray containing his regular pot and one cup. He wasn’t prepared enough for the
chanoyu.
He was too far from calm.
Fudoshin
. He appeared back at the table, placing the tray atop the table. She hadn’t moved while he’d been gone. This was bad. Had he failed to compensate for the time needed to move? What was wrong with him? He was even shaking.

Aho.
Idiot. He focused on calming the tremor. Poured her cup. Held it out to her.

“You will accept tea?” he asked.

“You’re not drinking?” she asked.

“I do not...drink tea. Um. Not usually.”
Sugoku. Damn.
Was everything a trap waiting to spring on him?

“Really?”

She didn’t take the cup, although her gaze dropped to the cup before returning to look at him. Directly at him. Her dragon eyes sent a shiver along his spine. Damn! Every connection with her gaze sent sensation. Thrill. Excitement. He placed the cup back on the tray without even realizing he’d done so.

“You move...really fast,” she remarked.

“Oh.”

“I suppose that’s a ninja trait?”

Takeshi’s eyes darted away for the barest moment. And then he nodded.

“Who are you...really?” she asked.

“I told you my name. Takeshi. Takeshi Asourah.”

“You don’t work for my company...Mister Asourah.”

Oh. Not good. She was using his proper name.

“Please. Call me Takeshi.”

“This message is on company letterhead. Using our special code. I want you to know I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

She waved a folded sheet of paper in his direction. She might be offering it to him, but decided otherwise. He watched her fold it into a small square and secret it into a pocket sewn in her pants alongside her knee. Even with loosely-fitted trousers, he got a glimpse of leg definition. Shapely. Feminine. Unsettling.

And then something completely foreign happened. Takeshi glanced down to his groin in surprise and dismay and absolute astonishment. He was stirring with need?

Now?

“You could work for our competition. But...that’s even more far-fetched than the ninja-hood stuff from last night. I mean, this morning.”

Ninja-hood stuff?

Takeshi returned his gaze to hers, despite how difficult it was. She was downplaying his skills, keeping a steady connection as if expecting a reaction.
Ah
. She was very good at observing body language. As was he. He’d been versed in Neo Confucianism. He didn’t give her any reaction. He didn’t answer, either. He simply watched and waited, listening to his heart rate ramp up, as did hers, in a perfect match.

“And that does beg another question.”

“Yes?” he prompted.

“Who are you, really? And where are you taking me?”

Her voice had a distinct tremor. The jet had reached cruising altitude. The liquid in her cup leveled off as he watched it. Takeshi took his time regaining a seat in the chair beside her. Pulling his trouser legs up to gain needed room in the crotch area. Sitting, then shifting about, as if settling for comfort in the seat. He dusted for imaginary specs on the armrests next before placing his arms there. All the while his mind raced. Deciding. Evaluating. Discarding.

“That is two questions,” he finally answered.

“Okay. Answer them one-at-a-time, then.”

He nodded. “I will answer the portion about our destination first. You have your choice, actually. I—.”

He stopped as she yawned, hiding the gesture behind her hand. She looked very small. Enticingly young. Eternally darling. Takeshi’s heart shifted within his chest. Warmth enveloped him. And things became even more troublesome behind his trouser fly. He lifted his knees and slid forward.

“Forgive me. I haven’t had much sleep.”

“No apologies needed.”

“You were specifying a choice?”

“Ah. Yes. You have a choice of destinations. I have not given my pilot directions as of yet.”

“You mean...we’re just circling?”

Her brows rose again. The resulting buzz through his head made his voice sound even stranger.

“No. Please. Nothing so wasteful. We are on the way to my mountaintop fortress in the Himalayas. It is on the border of Nepal. We can divert to my castle in Burma, if you wish. Oh. Apologies. That country is now Myanmar. Or we can go to Katmassen Castle in my homeland. I also own a fortress in the Balkans.”

“You own all of that?”

“There is another choice as well. I have a villa near Vicenza. In Italy.”

“Oddly enough, none of that sounds like New York City to me. Or anywhere in the Western Hemisphere. My choices sound...pretty limited.”

Takeshi nodded. She was setting a trap. He wasn’t taking the bait.

“And so...you’re going to tell me who you are now?”

“It is a very long story,” he finally offered.

“Well. We appear to have some time.”

“You may not believe me.”

“Surely that’s for me to decide.”

“There are some things beyond the capability of understanding...for the human mind.”

“Wow. I want you to know that if I wasn’t exhausted, in your direct control, and going heaven-knows-where, I’d be reacting unfavorably to that statement, And trust me – it wouldn’t be very pleasant,
Mister
Asourah.”

Things had gotten worse somehow. Now, she was emphasizing his formal name? Takeshi searched for something tangible to tell her. Anything.

“Life is really simple, but we insist on making it complicated.”

“You’re going to quote Confucius to me now? You have got to be joking.”

“You know Confucius?”

“Look. I already got a good dose of what you think of females in general, Mister Asourah. It was in that oblique reference to my lack of mental capabilities.”