Emperor of Lust: Chapter 11

The world outside blurs, streaks of green and silver flashing past as the Shinkansen bullet train speeds toward Tokyo.

I sit in plush luxury in a private compartment, but the velocity of the train echoes the chaos swirling inside me. The frustration, the tension, the feeling of being completely out of control—all of it crashes over me in waves.

I can’t escape Damian’s clutches. His claws have dug in deep, and every move he makes only sinks them further into me.

Across from me, Kai sits silently, his usually calm, stoic presence slightly off-kilter. I notice his fingers twitching before he switches to picking at his cuticles.

“Did you bring some gum or anything?”

“I’m fine,” he half-snaps. Instantly, his face twists with regret. “I’m sorry, Hana⁠—”

“Don’t be,” I smile as I reach across and squeeze his hand. “I get it. We’ll be there soon.”

Kai is a heavy chain smoker, and this smoke-free train ride is driving him nuts. I offer him a sympathetic look, but he simply gives me a curt nod, his jaw set.

Once we’ve settled intoTokyo, we’ll be guests at a dinner hosted by Miyamoto Katō at his estate—a massive compound in Denenchofu, in Tokyo’s Ota Ward. This is more than a visit; it’s a show of strength and alliance. The Mori-kai and the Nikolayev families are expected to present themselves as a united front, and the stakes are too high for anything less than perfection.

Miyamoto clearly understands this is all for show, but we do still need to give the show if we’re going to move forward with our plans for Tokyo. Miyamoto can’t give his blessing to that and risk his own reputation if Damian and I don’t sell the bullshit.

Which is just about the last thing I want to do. Ever.

Just as I take a deep breath, I hear a low, significant cough behind me. I turn, irritation rising as I see the devil himself standing there, a faint, smug smile playing at his lips. He looks down at me, his expression unreadable but his presence impossible to ignore.

He inclines his head toward Kai, his voice a low growl. “Leave us.”

Kai doesn’t flinch, though I see his jaw tighten. His gaze remains fixed on the world flashing by outside the window, but his fingers tap against his thigh in a steady rhythm. “I’m here to watch over Miss Mori,” he replies, his voice as rough as ever, but edged with irritation.

Damian’s jaw tightens as he regards Kai with a smoldering intensity. “Leave me alone with my fiancée,” he repeats, his voice cold, the threat unmistakable, “or I’ll throw you off this fucking train.”

Kai’s gaze flicks toward me, questioning, waiting for my signal. I let out a slow sigh, feeling caught. The last thing I need right now is a confrontation. “It’s fine, Kai. I’ll be all right,” I say, my tone resigned.

Reluctantly, Kai rises, shooting Damian a sharp, warning look before stepping away, his posture rigid with displeasure. As he moves to the other end of the car, the full weight of Damian’s gaze settles on me, dark amusement mixed with something sharper and more possessive as he sinks into the seat across from me.

We sit in silence for a moment, the discreet hum of the train filling the tension-laden air. I keep my gaze focused on the view outside as we approach Mt. Fuji, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his presence. But Damian, as always, is undeterred.

“You know,” he says quietly, “it’s customary to thank someone when they give you a gift.”

My eyes snap to his, incredulous. “Fingers?!” I hiss quietly. “Are you fucking deranged?!”

I mean what the fuck do you even do with fingers? I ended up walking to the front gate of the estate last night holding that creepy fucking box and asking one of Kenzo’s guys to take it to a crematorium I know my brother has…utilized…before.

Damian shrugs casually, making my blood boil. “Probably. At least, most shrinks I’ve seen think so. But what do they know?” He smirks at me. “I thought you’d appreciate the gesture.”

“Why?” I snap, barely keeping my voice in check.

“He tried to hurt you,” Damian continues, his growl dark and unyielding. “He laid his hands on you. So I took his fingers…” He pauses, his eyes glinting with sinister mirth. “Amongst other things.”

I swallow, a chill running through me. “Other things? Like…?”

“Like every appendage he has,” he replies, his voice almost nonchalant. “Rather, had. Plus his life.”

The bluntness of his words hits me like a slap, my mind reeling as I process the full extent of what he’s saying. And that he did it for me, in my name… It’s unsettling.

Yet deep down there’s a part of me that feels something else dark and twisted that I can’t admit, not even to myself.

“You’re a monster,” I whisper, hoping my words will mask the confusion swirling inside me.

Damian only smirks, his dark eyes never leaving mine. “You’re just going to have to get used to me,” he says, his tone at once mocking and possessive.

I feel a flare of anger, and I shift in my seat, determined to regain control. “Miyamoto knows this is all bullshit,” I tell him. “He’s not fooled by this engagement charade. He understands it’s just for show.”

Damian’s smirk fades slightly. “We both know what’s at stake here, Kitsune. So we’re going to play this completely by the book.”

I scoff, frustration building as I fight to maintain my composure. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means, Kitsune…” He leans closer, his presence overwhelming, suffocating. “That you’re going to be my fiancée, and you’re going to sell the shit out of the role.”

I roll my eyes. “In public, yeah,” I mutter, though even as I say it, I can feel my pulse quicken and my resolve falter under his intense gaze. “I’m going to play your fiancée in public.”

His lips curl into a dark smile and he reaches out to brush a finger along the edge of my chin. “And in private,” he murmurs, his voice sending a shiver through me.

A blush creeps up my cheeks and I inhale deeply, struggling to keep my composure. “What happened the other night,” I begin, my voice wavering despite my best efforts, “is never happening again.”

His smirk widens, dark amusement flashing in his eyes.

“Which time, though?” he asks, a mocking edge to his voice that makes my face heat even more. He leans back, his fingers tapping idly on the armrest, as if he has all the time in the world to sit here and torment me.

I grit my teeth, hating the way he’s clearly enjoying every second of this. “Any of the times,” I snap, with as much conviction into my voice as possible. “It’s never happening again.”

Even as I utter the words, a small part of me doubts them. The memory of his strong hands on my skin, the way he looked at me with such possessive hunger—it’s all too raw, too recent. I hate this effect he has on me, that he’s able to pull me in with a single look or touch.

Damian watches me for a moment, his gaze unwavering, and then he leans in, close enough that I can feel his breath against my skin, hot and unyielding. His voice, barely a whisper, cuts through the silence like a blade.

“We’ll see about that, Kitsune.”