Chapter Nine

They returned to the hotel after dinner to change before the show. She'd said to dress casually, but, looking through his array of dress shirts and pressed slacks, Seto had the feeling that nothing he had with him would fit the type of 'casual' she had in mind. In the end, he chose to wear all black. Judging from the cover of the album, which was stored with his other belongings, he wouldn't look out of place.

Seto left his room to join her on the staircase, as had become their routine during their trip. He was slipping the key to his room into his back pocket when he turned out of the hall into the foyer. She was waiting for him, her back pressed to the railing. Her blouse was sheer black, exposing her navel and her bra. She was wearing the same jeans she had worn that night at the bar, with boots adorned with buckles and studs.

All manner of thoughts and images rushed through Seto's mind. He struggled to keep his eyes off the swell of her breasts as she crossed her arms around herself, as if her midsection was the most scandalous part of her outfit.

Seto swallowed hard, suddenly finding his mouth dry. "You brought that on a business trip?"

Her arms fell from her waist. She cocked a hip. "Give me a little credit. I had to piece this together from everything I brought."

Which meant she'd planned an outfit that involved sheer fabric.

Seto prayed for his self-control. "I see."

"What?" she asked. "You don't like it?"

He liked it too much. That was the problem.

"It's-" Seto looked to the side, feeling warmth curl around the tips of his ears. "You look good."

Her laugh uncurled his tension. "Thanks." Heels clicked on stone as she approached. "You look good too. Dark and mysterious. It just needs a little…"

She reached up and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt. Her fingers brushed against his collarbone, leaving gooseflesh and searing heat in their wake.

Seto grabbed her hands. His firm, but trembling. "Don't."

He'd let his self-control loosen too much already. The taut hold he held on it was beginning to vibrate, as if it would snap at any moment. He didn't know if he even wanted to hold onto it anymore. She was tempting, alluring. She excited something primal in him that was terrifying.

"Sorry." She pulled away, hands falling to her sleeves to pull them down. "I assumed… I shouldn't have."

"No. You were correct to assume. It's only that I'm your employer. It would be improper."

The corner of her mouth twitched. "So if I were to, you know, come on to you after my contract was up?"

The idea was too tempting. "Miss Miyoshi."

"I know, just thought I'd ask." She took his hand. "We should get going. I already had the hotel call a cab for us. Should be here by now."

Seto let her lead him down the steps. His eyes fell to her back. Hiding behind the curtain of her hair, bisected by the thin band of her bra, was a pair of leathery black dragon wings. He felt like a wayward traveler, caught in the spell of a dark siren leading him to his doom.

Through an alley bathed in blue neon was Cassiopeia, a world in which existed only music and cheering and pressing bodies, in a courtyard bordered by brick masonry and ancient stone walls. Sweat and alcohol mingled in the air. Chairs were lined in a semicircle facing the stage at the back of the clearing, but no one was sitting. The colors and sounds and smells threatened to send Seto into sensory overload. It was madness.

Miss Miyoshi pulled him along the edge of the crowd, dodging the wildest of dancers who seemed to exist on the fringes of reality, to the side of the stage and through a thick black curtain. Without the speakers pointing at their ears the noise behind the stage was lesser, but not by much. Seto put his hands over his ears.

She had to yell for him to hear her. "Too much?"

"How can you stand this?"

She shrugged. "My eardrums can't be saved."

"I weep for your future medical bills."

She laughed. "You and me both."

Men and women moved about in varying stages of dress. Some lounged at makeshift stations, touching up makeup, teasing hair, or placing piercings into their holes. The color palette was dark, with a wide array of hair colors and styles that look straight out of anime. Each grouping seemed to have a theme.

"There!" Miss Miyoshi pointed to a group standing around a line of makeup stations.

Among them was her friend Germain. He hadn't changed his clothes since they'd last seen him. The rest of them wore similarly styled clothing to his, with hair an array of wild colors and more piercing than Seto believed possible.

Miss Miyoshi left him to join them and all he could do was follow, his hands deep in his pockets. There was an explosion of celebration when they saw her. Hands slapped backs. Arms hugged shoulders. One woman in particular, with hair shorter than Seto's and a line of studs through her eyebrows, pulled Miss Miyoshi into a tight hug and kissed her full on the cheek.

Seto had never felt so alone in a crowd since his childhood. It left him with an uncomfortable sense of alienation, as if he was back at the table with his father and his business associates. A child looking up into the faces of old men who knew the world better than he did, who played their games and made their plans behind closed doors. That was until they deemed it the right time to pull Seto into the fold, in the worst way.

Seto shook the cobwebs from his brain and tried to refocus. Miss Miyoshi had pulled away from her friend to say something into her ear. The woman looked over at him, both brows nearly to her hairline.

Miss Miyoshi waved him over, where she could take his arm and pull him down so she could speak directly into his ear. Her breath brushed against his skin, warm and sweet, and it took all his willpower to not turn and capture those tempting lips.

"This is Takako Murdoch." She indicated the short-haired woman. "She's the one I told you about."

Murdoch leaned forward and took Seto's hand to shake it. "Just Takako, thanks. See you've been taking good care of Kisa for me."

"I doubt she needs much taking care of." Seto cut his eyes at Miss Miyoshi.

She just smiled.

Murdoch's grin had a sly glint to it. "Careful Kisa, I might steal this one from you."

"Nicht auf dein Leben,"(1) Miss Miyoshi said.

"Saw those pictures." Murdoch gave Seto's arm a firm slap. "Pretty impressive for a suit."

Seto rubbed his arm, not sure whether he was being commented or teased.

Murdoch took Miss Miyoshi's arm. "Kisa, you take front spot, 'Kay?"

"I thought we were doing doubles?"

"We were." Murdoch gave her a wink. "Then you showed up with your hot date. Gotta show off a little, you know?"

"He's not-" Miss Miyoshi looked at Seto, but the smile she gave him didn't stick. "Okay."

"Good." Miss Murdoch pushed her towards a station. "Put some sparkle on. We're up in ten." She took Seto's arm. "I'll get our special guest a drink."

Seto watched Miss Miyoshi sit at the indicated station as he was dragged deeper back. She stared at her reflection, squared her shoulders, then reached for the brushes.

It was quieter at the refreshment table, where alcohol and water flowed. It was still too loud for Seto's liking, but at least no one had to yell to be heard.

"What'cha want, sweetie?" Miss Murdoch asked, picking up a beer bottle for herself.

Seto scanned the open bottles of wine and the beer taps. "Water."

"You a lightweight?" She tossed him a bottle.

Seto caught it one-handed. "I prefer not to drink if I can help it."

She raised her bottle as if in a toast. "God bless your liver." She tipped it back to take a long drink, then leaned back against the table. "So, what you think of our little Kisa?"

"Excuse me?"

"Suits like you don't usually spend their off time in crowded nightclubs."

"I don't."

"Yet here you are."

Seto's eyes narrowed. "What's your angle?"

"Kisa brings a man to the club, gotta make sure he's on the up and up."

"I'm her boss."

"Wouldn't be the first time someone's pulled that card. We thought Sven was better than most, but he turned out just like everyone else. Puts his head up his ass and breaks her heart. Thought he could keep her under his thumb, but he didn't know her like I do. She's stronger than she looks."

There was a flash of heat through Seto's chest. He clenched his teeth. "She's had other boyfriends."

"Course she has. She's got needs like the rest of us." She placed the tip of the bottle to her lips. "So what's your angle, Mr. Kaiba?"

"I don't have an angle."

Miss Miyoshi was deeping her mascara. She'd brushed a shimmering shadow on her eyelids the same color as her eyes.

"You've gotta understand, Mr. Kaiba," Miss Murdock said, "Kisa isn't just my friend, she saved my life. So if you've got some plan in that big ol' brain of yours-"

"I told you." Seto's tone was hard. "I don't have an angle. Miss Miyoshi is working for me until my secretary returns from leave. What she does after that is none of my business."

"Isn't it?" She pushed off the table. "You can't bullshit a bullshitter. I saw how you looked at her in those pictures."

He pushed his shoulders back. "That means nothing."

"Keep telling yourself that." Her bottle hit the table hard. "I'll tell you who it does mean something to." She nodded to the stations again, but Seto kept his eyes trained on her. "That pretty little thing over there. You up and push her out of your life, I'm gonna be the one to get the phone call."

"That's not my problem."

"No, but I'll tell you whose it will be." She stepped up, placed a finger to her chain-draped neck. "Mine. She looks at you like you're the center of her Goddamn universe and I can't fucking stand it."

Seto's head whipped around to Miss Miyoshi. Germain was putting her hair up, pinning it so it formed a splayed fan that crowned the back of her head.

"You didn't notice, did you?" Miss Murdoch's head angled slightly away so she looked at Seto from the corner of her eyes. "Here I thought you were a genius."

"You're not going to psychoanalyze me too, are you?"

"Not my thing. Just wanted to get the feel of you."

"And?"

She crossed her arms and stepped forward so they stood side by side. They watched as Miss Miyoshi got up from her stool to join the rest of her group. One of them handed her an electric guitar.

"We'll see in the morning, won't we?" She jabbed a finger into Seto's chest." But know this, you break her heart, there ain't no force in the world strong enough to keep me from tracking you down and breaking that pretty neck of yours. Clear?"

Seto resisted the urge to lay a hand on his neck. "Crystal."

She had been a wonder at the bar. An attractive package in a single spotlight with her voice echoing in the silence. There, among the leather and steel, she was a spectacle. A glittering figure that sang as if there was nothing else, as if her whole life existed for the stage. The crowd devoured her, fed her in a cycle of give and take that filled the air with electricity. She thrived on it. She was alive, wild.

Seto's heart thumped in time with the bass drum. Her voice was a poison seeping through his veins. He wanted her image burned into his mind, to be able to look back at that moment whenever he closed his eyes. He wanted to forever see her in that hour of utter madness, of lost inhibitions. The noise, the music, they left no room for thought except for one.

She was made for the stage.

The spotlights, the neon, the roaring crowd, and the manic energy. Her body was a tool, an expression of her passion. The sensuality of her movement would have made even the most hardened man's blood surge, as it was doing to his. He wanted her in every conceivable way. That dark elegant creature deserved gold and riches and the world at her feet. He wanted to steal her away, cage her, worship her, make her every dream and desire a reality.

There was a band of tension in his core. It was warm, needy. It told him to take her, claim her.

The grip on his sleeves tightened. He couldn't want her. He shouldn't want her.

At the end of the hour, she stood overlooking the crowd at the edge of the stage. Her chest heaved with the effort it took to breathe. Her body was loose, satisfied. She raised her arm, leaned back her head, and released the most joyous scream.

The crowd screamed with her.

Seto's hands shook.

She climbed down from the stage. Sweat soaked the mesh of her blouse, sticking it to her every curve. Her hair was wild, falling from its pins. Her eyes were bright, mad, and she turned them on Seto.

He couldn't breathe.

She all but ran to him and flung her arms around his neck. She pulled him forward with such strength he had to hold her waist to keep them from toppling over. Her body pressed against him, hot and sticky.

She was laughing. "That was amazing! What'd you think? Awesome, right?"

Her breath heaved against his neck. Sweat and leather and citrusy musk. Everything that was her filled him, overflowed.

Control snapped with the force of galvanized cable. Seto pulled her hard against him. His fingers threaded through her hair, grasped and pulled her back so he could collide his mouth into hers. That first taste had been heady, addictive. He hadn't known it at the time. Now he was relapsing. She was his drug, his poison. He wanted to overdose.

Her fingers tangled into his hair, massaging his scalp. Her touch was fire. Nothing else mattered.

They came up for air and her voice drilled through the fog. "Seto."

The boat was white with blue trim, stained by algae and age. A tarpaulin was draped across its hull, shading the workspace where they'd laid out a pair of air mattresses and piles of blankets and pillows.

They sat together on the stern, legs thrown over the side and toes skimming the water. He could almost feel the breeze that blew across the river. Cool and crisp. A prelude to autumn. The stars were reflected on the glass sheet of water and it was like they were lost in space. Nothing but the sky above and below. Two kids with the universe at their fingertips.

Seto pushed her away, jerked back so hard he nearly fell. Miss Miyoshi was thrown back into her bandmates. Her confusion and sadness were knife-sharp, digging into his soul. A face was overlaying over her own. He knew that face.

His hands grasped his head, nails digging, trying to push back the unwanted thoughts, the memories.

Not here. Not now.

Her lips were kiss swollen. Wet. Inviting. Her eyes… he knew those eyes.

"...if I tell you something, you promise not to run away?"

Seto ran, pushing through the press of bodies. They had faces. Morphing, melting faces. Some he knew. Some he didn't, but he knew them. Or had known them.

He needed air.

He needed silence.

He needed time.

He needed to grasp the thread of his composure, his control. It was slipping through his fingers.

Seto broke into the alley, where the noise of the club was no more than a dull roar. Couples, who'd been engaged in their own carnal activities, stared at him, then walked away. He could only imagine what he looked like to them.

He stumbled halfway down the alley and leaned against the wall, shoulder to the grime and graffiti. He tried to move, put a hand to the wall to push off. He dropped to his knees.

Weak!

Seto clenched his eyes shut, tried to push the voice away. The harder he struggled for control, the more it slipped away.

Useless!

His hand slid down the wall. The other covered his mouth. He felt sick. Something was tearing at his mind, trying to force up and out.

Flashes of memory. A workboat bobbing in the water. A trellis covered in roses. An empty playground. A dark bedroom.

"Seto!"

He leaned his head against the wall. Not yet. He wasn't ready.

He could feel her walking up behind him. His every nerve seemed attuned to her. Her hand hovered above his shoulder, but didn't dare touch. She was scared. She had to be. He'd worked so hard to make sure no one saw him when the flood dam broke and his emotions spilled over in a tidal wave he couldn't control.

He was so stupid. He should've known better.

You never learn.

She stepped around him to kneel in the dirt and refuse, leaning forward to look at his face. "You okay?"

Sheer fabric and satin. Jeans tight as skin. The swell of her breasts and the shimmer of her lips. Red as sin, skin pale and smooth.

His mouth went dry. He licked his lips. Oh, God, he wanted her. Needed her. Wanted to feel her, know her. Feel himself move inside her. Feel her hands on his skin. Every desire he'd ever had, ever ignored, battled to make themselves known.

Seto hung his head. "I'm fine.

Her hands were in his hair, smoothing it down, easing the pain. "No, you're not."

Seto's eyes slid closed.

"Talk to me," she said.

"I can't."

The gentle massage of her fingers seemed to ease the hurt, slow the torrent. It was easier to think, easier to breathe. The frayed edge of his control came back into focus. He grasped it, held it gently. If he pulled too hard too quickly it would slip away again.

Her fingertips brushed his ear as she cupped his face and eased it up so he looked at her. "Please tell me. I want to help."

He saw fear behind her worry. He'd scared her badly. Who could blame her? The only one who'd ever seen him crumble had been his therapist, and he'd been stubborn enough not to call her.

Too proud.

Too stupid.

Seto pushed himself to his feet and backed away, stopping only when his back hit the opposite side of the alley. "I can't."

She got to her feet. She took slow careful steps toward him, her hands outstretched, as if she feared he would flee again. Like he was a scared animal. He wanted to take those hands and kiss those calloused fingertips. Could almost see himself doing it. He leaned back against the wall, hands flat against the stone. He had to ground himself. If he let himself slip again, that was it, there was no going back.

"Don't," he said. "I can't do this much longer."

Her head tilted. "Do what?"

He bit the inside of his lip. Stupid. He'd said too much already. But hell, why not? It's not like he could make the situation any worse.

He leaned his head back and looked up at the lines of blue neon. "I've spent almost four years building my self-control. I needed to suppress everything that wasn't necessary. My urges. My desires. I couldn't let anyone take advantage of them again. It was a mistake I didn't want to repeat." He gestured at her, the motion was tired and slow. "Then you showed up. I don't know what you did, but I can't focus when I'm around you. When we're together you're all I can think about. I look at you and it's like no one else exists. You say my name and these thoughts, these memories I've worked so hard to suppress start surfacing. Do you understand? I want you, but I shouldn't. You make it very hard to hold back."

After he was done it was like a weight had lifted from his shoulders. It felt good to finally say it, to acknowledge what he'd been feeling. At the same time, it left shivering anxiety in the hollow of his chest. Her silence didn't help. She stood there watching him, eyes scanning his face. He couldn't tell what she was thinking and, for one horrifying moment, he feared everything he'd ever assumed would come true. She would leave. Turn around, walk back into the club and never return. He would never see her again.

That seemed somehow worse.

She moved. Not away, but closer. She put her hands on his chest. Fabric rubbed against sensitive skin as she slid them up to frame his face. She rose to her toes and kissed him, the slip of her lips against his soft, smooth as satin. The tip of her tongue played against his bottom lip. Asking. Begging.

He didn't have the strength to deny her. His hands framed her hips and pulled her against him. The friction was sweet. He slid a hand across her hip, up her spine. She shivered. His fingers threaded through her hair. There was a clatter against the stone floor as pins were knocked loose.

She set the pace. Whenever he tried to push forward to deepen the frenzy, she would back off. Her lips would slide from his only to return a heartbeat later, continuing that slow languid pace that sent a fire smoldering in his core. It was the most blissful madness.

She pulled away the final time and let her heels settle back on the floor. She was bathed in the most radiant blue light. Bright. Glowing. Her hooded eyes were alight with cold fire. When she spoke her voice was strained. Thick and heady with desire.

"I don't want you to hold back. I want you." She pulled him forward until their noses bumped together. "I want all of you."

Seto groaned and captured her mouth. He let himself sink into her.

Fuck control. He wanted to drown.

Translation:

(1) "Not on your life."