Lotus Petals - The Books of Blood and Fire 1

Lotus Petals - Chapter Three

The daimyo's bathhouse was, in a word, perfect.

Aijyn saw it on Rhiannon's face as soon as the young woman set foot through the thin, muraled doors: she was overtaken by the rippling music of bubbling water pouring over the stones, the warm velvet steam rising from the lip of the springs, the scent of lotus and jasmine lingering like silk ribbons over the water. The young woman brightened immediately as she took in the sight of the daimyo's exotic grottos spread out before her like a paradise.

Aijyn smiled to herself as Rhiannon stared. The girl's enchantment shone in her eyes, lit by the soft touch of the chamber's torchlight, replacing the cynical mistrust she had worn in the temple. The oiran found herself quite glad their visitor had asked to see the springs at a time when they would be empty of anyone but themselves; the true loveliness of the baths would best be enjoyed in quiet solitude.

"This is..."

Rhiannon took a deep breath, closing her eyes to savor it.

"Zu gut, zutreffend zu sein."

"I am sorry, Rhiannon-sama?"

"Too good to be true," she muttered.

Aijyn offered her a tiny smile and reached out to help her untie the obi sash and remove her kimono.

"Take as much time as you like, mistress. I will wait to show you back to your lodgings."

Rhiannon slipped out of the kimono in one smooth, sleek movement. This time Aijyn didn't cast down her eyes, curious at the sight of the vampire noblewoman, a wild and lovely predator.

Naked, Rhiannon became remarkably vulnerable...and remarkably lovely. A tall, athletic creature, her flawless skin glowed like fair ivory. It was a shade warmer than the pale flesh of her kin-bitten brethren, exotically unfamiliar. Her legs were long and slender, her hips gracefully narrow, delicately sloping to a flat belly and the shallow cup of her navel.

Unlike a human girl, the vampire had no thatch of hair upon the mound of her womanhood. She had a perfectly smooth sex, like a flawless marble statue. Her breasts were not large, but more like little teacups, little peaches with timid, clandestine buds curiously pert in the wafting steam. On her left shoulder blade, she wore the savage black tattoo, the image of a double-headed axe ringed by weaving knotwork patterns. The ring grew narrower at the top, wider and more intricate at the bottom, like a circlet, a royal diadem around the warrior's blade. Along the bottom of the design read a short inscription in the Greek language—Aijyn recognized the characters from engravings and artwork the daimyo and his samurai sometimes collected. Orgí kai chályva, the creed of the weapons-masters: "rage" and "steel."

Then, Aijyn frowned. Nearly healed, she almost missed it: the tender flesh above Rhiannon's buttocks appeared faintly bruised, and crisscrossed with switch-marks.

Aijyn wasn't sure she'd ever seen scars—even as tiny as these—on any vampire ever before.

"Hidenka," she said gently, forgetting herself for a moment and reaching out to touch the welts.

Rhiannon shrunk away with a startled hiss at the brush of her fingers, and Aijyn quickly bowed, hiding the embarrassment—the fear—rushing to her cheeks. She wasn't sure what had come over her; she had never before risked laying a hand on one of the demons without express permission.

"Forgive me," she said in a tight whisper.

"It's all right," Rhiannon replied. The dark edge came back to her voice, though, and Aijyn feared she may have stirred up the beast within. She had been too bold in admiring the young creature's nudity, and even worse, daring to touch her.