up.
A few cuts mar his chest, abdomen, and neck and soak the collar of his white shirt.
Ouch. That looks painful.
“Untie me,” he hisses at Akira.
My husband, who’s been watching his frantic movements while toying with the knife, releases a breath. “Know your fucking place. I’m the one who gives the orders, not the other way around.”
“Akira,” he mutters.
“Say it right.”
“Onegai…” Ren pleads under his breath, then blurts the honorific term, “Desu.”
“Good. Now say that again and mean it.”
Ren’s dark eyes snap to mine before he bows his head and murmurs, “Your wife is here.”
“Don’t mind me. Take all the time you need.” I pretend to be studying my black nails.
Ren frowns, then holds his head high, even while he begs Akira to let him go. A dark gleam covers my husband’s features as he tilts his head to the side and closely watches Ren scrambling for words.
Color me surprised. Akira is actually having fun.
He also seems to be egging Ren on just to hear him deal with being out of his element.
And the ever-collected Ren is playing right into his hands like a marionette.
I never thought I needed this scene until I witnessed it.
Akira finally cuts Ren’s ropes and the younger man closes his shirt with a hand as he storms to the door.
He stops in front of me, his chest heaving and his face still covered with blood and spit and drops of semen.
There’s shame there, embarrassment, and I revel in every negative emotion he feels, because no matter how dark they are, they can’t be as painful as what I felt when he shot Sebastian seven years ago.
Or when he continued to threaten his life, per his boss’s order.
“I…” He swallows. “I’m…”
“Save it.” I square my shoulders. “I have evidence of your preferences, Ren. Something that will get you kicked out of the Yakuza and have you killed by Kai’s sword.”
“No! He made me!” He points a finger at Akira, who’s merely watching us with a tilted head.
“He’s lying,” Akira says with a gentle shrug of his shoulder. “His mouth wanted my dick as much as his body begged for my knife.”
Red creeps up Ren’s neck. “If you show Boss evidence, Akira will be implicated, too.”
“Not if I simply crop out his face from the picture.”
Ren stares between Akira’s calm expression and my taunting one. “You’re both in on this? Did you make him do that to me just to trap me?”
“You trapped yourself the day you shot Sebastian and nearly killed him.” I point a finger at his shoulder. “Mess with him or with me again, even under my father’s orders, and you can kiss your fucking career—and life—goodbye. I heard Kai likes to torture first before cutting people to pieces.”
“Fuck. You.”
“What did I say about that language?” Akira asks in a disapproving tone.
“And you!” Ren snarls at him. “Fuck you both, you weird fuckers.”
I tap my chin. “You might want to wipe all the blood and cum off before saying that.”
Ren snarls again, and as he storms past me, Akira calls after him, “You better be prepared for your punishment, brat.”
The guard pauses, his lips pursing before he leaves, his angry steps echoing down the hall.
I stare at Akira and then at his hard cock. “That must be painful and unsatisfying.”
“It wouldn’t be if you hadn’t shown up.”
“So it’s my fault?”
“You think it’s mine?”
“I’d offer a hand, but I’d rather have it cut off.”
He points at his cock that’s losing its erection, then wraps his yukata closed. “The thought of your hand is enough to turn a sinner into a priest.”
“Screw you.”
“Again, I would’ve screwed someone if you hadn’t come in here.”
“I thought you were asexual.”
“I thought so, too. Turns out, I’m just selective.”
“And Ren of all people is the one you selected?”
He smiles, it’s rare and filled with pure sadism. “He could use some discipline. A lot, actually.”
“He’s loyal to my father.”
“If I want it, his loyalty and everything he has to offer will only belong to me.”
“That’s not how it works. He’s a high-ranking member of the Yakuza and he breathes that reckless lifestyle. If you try to force him to join you in peaceful Kyoto, he’ll probably blow your car up.”
“He would.” His lips pull in a smirk that holds so much pride. “But let me worry about him.”
“Since when are you into knife play?”
“I’ve always loved knives and flesh. Oh, and blood.”
I frown. “When we talked through the letters, you never mentioned knife play, only breath play.”
He pauses, fingering his yukata’s belt.