Chapter 10: To Feed or Not To Feed

He didn’t need a glass? Why the hell not? And why was the towel-wrapped naked dude just leaving her and walking across the room and ducking to pick up—

A sword. Seeing the foot-long length of gleaming, rippling steel, realizing he intended to use it on her, Shannon made a startled cry and stepped backwards. “Oh hell no!”

The samurai laughed. “I have more precision with this blade than a fishmonger with a salmon.”

“I don’t care,” Shannon blurted. “That thing’s like a foot long.” She started backing away from him glancing at the front door, then realized that sun was coming through the front door, and she was so screwed. She was, quite thoroughly, trapped in a house with a naked bird-dude who looked like he fully intended to stab her with a sword. For the next, oh, sixteen hours.

He was giving her a flat look. “It’s also razor-sharp, enchanted steel forged by a master. It will work much better than a paring knife.”

“Paring knives are small,” Shannon managed.

“A tantō is small,” he retorted.

“Ummm.” She glanced up the staircase, thinking that yes, maybe she could spend the rest of the day locked in her parents’ suite, clutching an elephant gun.

“Calm, wan-ko.”

“I’m calm,” Shannon lied. “I’m just having serious second thoughts.” She started inching towards the stairs.

Then he moved a foot forward and, like a dart of light, he was suddenly there, gripping her hand by the palm, his eyes glowing white-gold, like twin stars.

“Odin’s balls!” Shannon cried, jerking startledly away from him, but finding herself already caught firmly by his grip on her hand. “Ow, ow, ow!” she babbled, cringing away from the sudden, painful light emanating from his skull.

He winced and quickly turned his head to the side, the light hitting the wall instead of her face. To the wall, he said, “I forgot I’m much faster with my hikari freed. I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to run again. I’d rather not face whatever magics you have upstairs a second time. The first almost unmanned me.”

Meaning no elephant gun for Shannon-Rose.

“Okay, I can handle that,” Shannon said. “No boomstick. Got it. How about you let go of my hand, put your sword away, and you can have one half of the house and I have the other? We could be like roomies or something. Only cross paths in the kitchen.”

“If I am to be your man, then there is something I must first do, for both of our sakes,” the towel-wearing creep said. “Please don’t fight me with this.”

A little record-screech halted all momentum of her brain, and all Shannon could think was… If he was to be her man?

“I am so not interested!” she cried, yanking on her hand. “If I go for a guy, it’s gonna be a skinny geek with a high IQ who never goes anywhere without his tighty-whiteys, not some huge Asian dude who runs around naked with a couple of swords.” When he continued to hold onto her stubbornly, she pulled a foot back to kick him. Seeing that, Masaaki’s eyes narrowed, and Shannon found herself wondering what happened when a dumbass city-brat kicked a samurai. She slowly put her foot back to the floor.

“Wise choice,” he said curtly.

“I had a feeling it was,” she croaked, reddening. Yes, she decided, by the look on his face. Very wise choice.

He gave her a long, hard look. “I get the last part of what you said. But what is a geek, what is IQ, and what is tighty-whiteys? And go for him why?”

“Ummmm,” Shannon said, acutely aware of just how close his big body was to her, naked but for a towel. With the towel in place, it was actually making her heart thump harder. “Geeks aren’t very dangerous,” she managed. “They’re men who play lots of games and are smart and don’t run around with swords stabbing people and my favorite Dodge Darts.”

“Then they are not men.”

She narrowed her eyes up at him. “IQ is how they measure how smart someone is. And tighty-whiteys are what hold your junk.”

“Junk?”

“You know, your peewee.”

“Peewee?”

“I am not explaining the birds and the bees to you!” she managed. “Hell, you’ve probably got tons more experience with that crap than I do, anyway. Let go of my hand.”

“Go for geeks how?” he demanded, still holding her hand. “You want me to kill someone, daimyō?”

“No!” she cried. “You know, go for them. Get attracted to them. Want to get laid by them.”

“Laid?”

Shannon jabbed her finger into his meaty chest. “Laid. As in ‘lay down.’ What happens when two people ‘lay down,’ my naked samurai friend?”

“They sleep?”

Shannon’s mouth fell open and she was just about to kick him anyway when he grinned. “Joking.”

She muttered under her breath and glared at the wall.

“Laid, eh?” he was watching her with a grin. “You would choose a ‘geek’ as your consort, rather than a samurai?”

Seeing that smile, Shannon’s heart gave an extra couple thumps before she quickly thought of something else. “For your information, I’m so totally not interested it’s not even funny. My shrink says I’ve got all the signs of asexuality. And before you ask, that just means I’m just not interested. Naked people make me ill. Got it?”

“For your information, wan-ko, I already pledged my service. I’d be happy to share your bed, if you needed it.”

“O-kay!” she cried, “We’re done. Conversation over. I’ll find you a nice little condo in Eagle River and dress you up in a pretty kimono and man-skirt and take you out to meet girls and send you off to live a really happy life now let go of my hand.” She stomped her foot on the hardwood floor to make her point.

He didn’t let go of her hand. “You are refusing my service?” His eyes had gone dark, ominous. There was no mistaking that something Very Bad would happen if she said, ‘Yes, go take a flying fuck off a cliff, I don’t want your naked ass around me anymore.’

“Ummm.”

He leaned closer, until their noses were almost touching. “Do you know what happens to daimyō who do a samurai the dishonor of refusing his service?”

Shannon swallowed, hard. “They…kill…them?”

For some time, he merely scowled down at her, the picture of Death Incarnate. Then a slow grin spread across his face. “Well, not really. Usually the samurai will seppuku. We don’t like being without a daimyō. Very shameful.”

It took Shannon a startled minute to realize he’d been playing with her. The dirty look, the dangerous tone, the looming forward…all calculated to make her squirm. “You jerk!” she cried, shoving him away from her. She accomplished nothing more than squishing her fingers against the meat of his chest, because he was about as solid as a brick wall.

He chuckled. “Naked people make you ill, huh?”

Shannon froze. “Ummm…”

“We’ll have to fix that. After we get you walking in the sun. You’ve never seen anything so beautiful as a sunset, wan-ko.”

Shannon had seen pictures of sunsets. Her breath caught at the idea of being able to see one in person. “Um.”

“So,” the samurai said, “since I’m probably the only yatagarasu that you’re likely to meet in this lifetime, and since I’m certainly not giving you my blood before I’ve become immunized to your charms, will you please let me nick your wrist and have a taste?” He held up his gigantic knife for her inspection and cocked his head, waiting. “After all. I’ll only ask once. From then on, I’ll be the one feeding you.”

Shannon swallowed hard at the word ‘feeding.’ “You know,” she said, “I thought about it and I’m not really sure I need to—”

“Sit down, wan-ko.” This time, it wasn’t a question. He started kneeling in front of her, giving her the option of dropping to the floor with him or losing an arm. “I cannot serve you without the exchange. Too dangerous. If you were to awaken and feed…” He shook his head. “Come on. I’ll make it quick.”

“I don’t really want you to make it quick,” Shannon muttered, eyes fixed to the huge blade as she sank to her knees with him. Then, as he bent her fingers back, making the tendons stand out in her wrist, she blurted, “Why do you have to do this?”

He sighed. “Because you might awaken and feed on me before I can stop you.”

“Which would give me mind-control?” she demanded.

“From what I understand, it’s like falling in love, but obsessed, and willing to do anything you’re told. I’m not sure. I never fed a virgin queen, and I don’t intend to find out.”

Which meant…what? He’d feed her when she wasn’t a virgin queen? Nope, Shannon did not like the sound of that. “You know,” she said, “my parents just love to play cruel jokes, and I’m pretty sure they’re still alive and they’re gonna be home any minute, so you should probably get some clothes on and get out of here.”

Masaaki’s eyes narrowed. “If they come, I will kill them.”

And, Shannon realized, he was dead serious.

But then he followed that up with, “They didn’t expect to live, wan-ko. They engaged in an orgy of blood and pain before they left. They soaked up the death-energies of dozens. They knew they were going to die.” He lifted his sword and put the cold tip of the blade against the ultra-sensitive skin of her wrist. Then he hesitated. “May I, daimyō?”

Shannon was afraid to even breathe. She had seen how sharp those weapons were, when her father had decided to spend a day slicing open melons—or when a naked dude had driven his katana through her crankshaft. Looking up, she met Masaaki’s eyes, and saw the anxiety there.

“Dude,” Shannon managed, “What if the blade nicks an artery or something? Do you even know how to call 9-1-1?”

“Who is that?”

Of course he didn’t. Shannon licked her lips and looked down at the sword kissing her skin.

“I’m not going to cut deep, Shannon Meeks.”

“If I told you no, right now, would you back off?”

He grimaced, but said, “Yes.”

“Okay, back off.”

Grimacing, he dropped her hand.

Scowling at him, Shannon decided to test a theory. “Give me your arm.”

He frowned at her. “Why?”

She held out her hand impatiently. “Give.”

Reluctantly, he held out his thick, sunkissed arm.

Shannon took it, then pulled it closer and leaned down, opening her mouth and settling her teeth against the skin of his wrist. Above her, he tensed, but didn’t try to pull away. Shannon increased the pressure a little bit, seeing when he would fold.

“What are you doing?” he asked, after a minute. He was watching her with a puzzled expression, like someone trying to figure out the motivations of a deranged chipmunk.

Shannon blushed. “Uh,” she said, dropping his arm. “You wanna shove a katana through my arm. I just was seeing if you trusted me not to feed.”

His frown eased with a grin of understanding. “That’s not how you feed, wan-ko.” He lifted the knife with obvious respect. “And it’s not a katana. It’s a tantō.”

Shannon sighed. “Fine. Tantō.” Grunting, she held out her left arm. “Do it. But if you kill me, I’ll make you regret it.”

Masaaki raised a brow at her. “Oh? How?”

“It’s an eerie vampire powers thing.”

He grinned and took her arm gently. “All right. I’m going to explain this to you carefully before I do anything, so your delicate feminine nature doesn’t take hold of your senses again.”

Shannon narrowed her eyes. “What delicate feminine nature?”

But he continued with, “Inside each wrist of a vampire are their kiba, which they use to suck out the blood and life-essence of their victims, as well as any major emotional energies that the victim is feeling at the time. They’re buried rather deep. But in a queen, between the kiba and the skin of the wrist is a small black sac. It is filled with a silver substance that glows. I will be cutting open the sac and drinking of it.”

Shannon made a face. “Okay, that’s really gross.”

“Now, I’m going to give you a choice,” Masaaki continued. “I can empty and destroy both sacs, and make you rather useless to those vampires that come hunting you, or I can just nick the one and let it heal after. I only need the one. If we’re talking about your safety, however, I would suggest letting me destroy both.”

“Um,” Shannon said. “Right now, I’m still trying to get over the fact you’re about to cut open my wrist with a sword, so how about we just stick to not destroying anything, okay?”

Masaaki met her eyes, then sighed. “Fine.” Then he made a sudden twist with his sword and Shannon jumped as her skin slid open, a whole inch of it, exposing a pulsing black blob underneath.

“Oh my fuck,” Shannon gasped, knowing that the little black blob wasn’t in the Human Anatomy books she was taking for her nursing classes. …and that she probably needed to call an ambulance. Blood was already welling into the throbbing open wound, obscuring the pulsing black membrane. As she squirmed, Masaaki slid the tip of the tantō into the little black sac, making silver luminescent silver liquid seep out from the puncture when he retrieved it.

“Stay there,” the samurai said, releasing her to stare at the silver-oozing growth in her arm in horror. He quickly got up and went and retrieved the glass. Quickly returning to a kneeling position in front of her, put the glass on the floor between them.

Then Masaaki was putting his tantō down and, grabbing her fingers again, bent them backwards, exposing more of the black growth. Then he was reaching into her wrist with his fingers…

“Eww!” Shannon cried, “oh God, that is so not sterilized. Let go let go!”

“Calm, wan-ko,” he said. He said it softly, almost reverently. He touched the punctured little black blob, about the size of a shelled walnut, pushed it up with his thumb, tipped her hand sideways, and pinched it between thumb and forearm.

Silver liquid spurted into the glass, followed by a dribble of blood.

“Gross!” Shannon howled, as he released it, shriveled and deflated, back into her wrist. “Oh gross, gross.”

“Calm,” he whispered. He released her hand, and Shannon immediately slapped her hand over her wounded wrist.

She saw a couple tablespoons of glowing silver sloshing in the base of the glass as he lifted it from the floor. Meeting her eyes, he took a deep breath. Then, obviously steeling himself, he raised the glass to his lips and drained it. She saw the shimmering silver liquid hit his tongue before he closed his mouth and swallowed, lips twisted in bitterness.

Shannon was still staring after he thrust both of his fists into the floor beside his knees, grunting as he doubled over. “Hiiiiaaaaaaaa!” he screamed, pounding the floor again.

“My wrist is bleeding,” Shannon managed, looking at the blood dribbling out from under her hand. “Pretty bad.”

The man started panting, his whole body rocking with the violence of his breaths. He pounded the floor several more times, eyes shut, his face turning red, tendons standing out in his neck.

“Uh,” Shannon managed. “Are you okay?”

He continued to pant at the floor, bent over his knees, fists pressing against the walnut, big shoulders straining with the pressure he was applying.

“Masaaki?” she said tentatively. “You gonna be okay?”

He gave a slow nod of his head, though his fists were white and he was shaking all over.

“Okay, I’ll go call an ambulance.” Shannon got quickly to her feet. She winced, thinking about how she was going to explain this one to the paramedics. Oh, I was just cutting my wrists open to see what was inside. And totally don’t mind that black pouch-thingie. I was born with it…

Masaaki’s hand darted out and grabbed her leg, stopping her. “Stay,” he gasped.

“Dude, I’m bleeding!” she cried. “You cut open my wrist.”

“Sit down!” he bellowed. “I’ll feed you in a moment, wan-ko.” He yanked her forward, sprawling her back on her knees in front of him.

Feed her? “I’m not hungry, dumbass,” she snapped, angry, now. “I’m bleeding.”

He didn’t release her leg. He just continued panting, teeth gritted, a low groan coming from deep in his chest.

“I said let go.” People died from blood loss. All the time.

He ignored her. Just kept panting and whining and pounding his other fist in the floor.

“You are really starting to piss me off!” Shannon cried, beating his forearm with the fist of her wounded arm.

He looked at her, then, and his pale yellow eyes were streaked with silver. “Calm.”

Shannon shied away from the light of his gaze. “Okay, dude. Sure. Whatever. I’ll just quietly curl up into a ball here and die. Just stop blasting me with your laser-vision, okay?”

He grunted and looked back at the floor.

Stupid Japanese, Shannon thought. She was bleeding to death and he probably expected her to do something manly and hardcore, like suck it up, maybe put a Band-Aid on it, maybe rub a little dirt into it and pepper it with broken glass.

“Calm,” he growled, not even looking at her.

“How the hell do you know whether or not I’m calm?!” she demanded.

Then he glanced at her again, and she saw that the normal brown of his irises were now striated with a very light silver. Not glowing, but definitely not normal, either. “Because you’re breathing, wan-ko.”

She glared at him, getting the distinct feeling it wasn’t because she was hyperventilating, but because she was alive. “That’s not nice.”

He held out a bloody hand. “Give me your wrist.”