Dahlia

His eyes are glittering. He's just had what seems to be a tense conversation. I don't why I expected him to act out. Threaten the guy. He just watches me.

He's an animal. I don't know how I've never noticed. Or maybe I have. The way he watches, eyes narrowed ready to strike.

I try not to mind him. But his eyes burn into my body. That sick smile on his face as if I were just amusing.

I finally decide I've had enough. He leans back in his chair, as I come up to his section.

I nod at Ethan.

I stand over him, grabbing the drink in front of him. He lets me. Passive as always. Something lurks inside him though.

"Were you not enjoying yourself?" He asks me softly.

He glanced up at me with those eyes. I swallow.

He looks at my throat and then at my eyes.

"Being her something to drink," he orders gently. I look back. I didn't notice that. There's a large man behind me.

I look around. I'm surrounded. How didn't I see them? The same way I can't hear when he moves I guess.

A glass is in my hand in the next moment. I look down at it.

"Water?" I frown.

He shrugs. "You're wobbling." He extends his hand to the chair across from him, silently offering me to sit.

I don't heed it.

"I thought you would be upset." I remark instead.

He looks at me with his even expression as if to remind me he's never upset. That I've never really seen him upset. The thought is troubling.

His large hand rests on my leg, pulling my dress down a bit, his fingers lingering on my skin. A shiver zings down my spine.

His black hair slips into his eyes. The dress shirt he wears is so tight around his chest, I wonder if he can swing that sword. His chest...

I look at his eyes. He's milking at me with a small smile.

"Did you come to tell me you're read to go home, my flower?"

His flower. I scoff. I lean down, my fingers on his shoulder. My eyes dart down to his sword. I reach for it, touching it it in its sheath.

"Akira."

He leans back, seeming supposed to be spoken to. It's the man. The one from the shadows. They switch to Japanese and I'm not fluent enough to translate.

Akira's voice and face stay even though. He's firm. It's an order. What is he?

His hand rests on my lower back. He's wearing that suit. All black, dress shirt dress slants only his hands showing really.

But I know what's under it. Those tattoos.

"You know I'll cut your finger off and shove it down your throat, right," he says simply with a small smile.

I suppose it was for my benefit. He said it in English. Is it a threat? I'm not sure. I know his sword next to my fingers was a threat is why I'm still here.

I debate whether he'd actually hurt me. I want to say no.

But the answer is always yes with men.

He nods gently.

"Sit down,"

I blink. Oh. He's talking to me. I do so. I'm tired. I drank too much I think.

Akira crooks his fingers, smiling at me as someone places water between us.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" He asks. I sip the water my buzz wearing off.

I nod.

"Did you know him?"

I know he's talking about immediately. I look up at him. Is he jealous? I can't tell. He shows no expression. He never does.

Even. Calm. Still. A river. He always has been since I've known him. Since the island.

"Why?"

I wonder if I could disrupt him. Make a wave on his surface. Then again when he shows emotion it seems explosive.

I should err on the side of caution.

Akira meets my eye. His lips turn down a bit. "You two seemed close."

"I don't know him." I shrug.

Akira gives me a nod, letting the conversation die.

"Are you sober?" He asks me eventually.

I blink. Unfortunately I am. I nod.

"When I take you home tonight; I want to lay you down, spread your legs. Taste you until you cum. Then I want to feel you from the inside."

He glanced up at me with a small smile. "Is that alright with you, Dahlia?"

My throat is suddenly very dry. I shift in my seat, pressing my thighs together.

"Can I say no?"

"You can always say no," he assures me.

He picks up a shot. He's the only one with alcohol. He's silently cut me off. It's seamless. Everyone listens to him, even when he doesn't speak.

He pulled at his collar, sighing. He closed his eyes. I stand lean over, having his shot glass.

"Sit down," he orders sternly.

I'm frozen, my fingers around the glass. My stomach turns. Heh. Holy shit. Am I...afraid? Or something else?

He smiles at me. "Let go."

My hand unclamps instantly.

"Sit back."

My back presses against the chair.

"Are you hungry?"