Emperor of Havoc: Chapter 19

The mansion feels eerily quiet now.

My body aches in places I didn’t know it could, and every brush of the cool night air over my skin is a reminder of the rawness Takeshi left on me. Inside me.

I’m still trembling, my mind a maelstrom of emotions as I lie sprawled on a threadbare rug in the middle of the massive, crumbling library, covered haphazardly with the shredded remains of my clothes.

Takeshi sits propped up beside me against the side of the dusty couch behind us, his chest rising and falling steadily. The oni mask lies discarded on the floor a few feet away, its grotesque grin now harmless.

Takeshi’s face, however, is unreadable. He rests his head against the seat of the couch, staring at the peeling ceiling, lost in thought.

I hug my torn clothing around myself. The adrenaline is gone, leaving me raw and exposed, my mind too loud to let me rest.

I wish I could speak, to say something to break the suffocating silence. But even if I could, I don’t know where to start. My mind races with a thousand questions, none of which I’m sure I want the answer to.

“Have you ever heard of a man named Akira Ohno?”

His voice breaks the stillness, the question catching me off guard. I blink, turning my head to look at him. His expression hasn’t changed, but there’s a tension in his body that wasn’t there a moment ago.

“No,” I sign slowly. “Should I have?”

He looks at me sharply, probing. “You’re sure?” he presses. “He may have done business with your father.”

I sit up slightly. “Lots of people do business with my father,” I reply defensively. “You’ll have to narrow it down.”

Annoyance lances through me. I know what just happened was no fairytale “sweep me off my feet in a fit of passion” type of thing. I know what this marriage is. I know what we are to each other.

Means to ends.

And that’s what tonight was, too: a means to an end. I mean, I’m twenty-two years old. It was high time I finally just got the whole virginity thing over with. And it might as well be with the ridiculously attractive—albeit, psychotic—man that I’m married to. Right?

Still, a girl wants something after what we just did. Especially with that level of intensity. My body is aching everywhere with a delicious soreness that I have a feeling will remind me of tonight’s events for a week.

I mean, not cuddles and roses. But something. Instead, Takeshi is asking me—still naked, I might add— about my father’s business dealings. Like, come on.

“Why did you bring me here?”

His brow furrows.

“I would have thought by now that was fairly obvious,” he growls with an amused smirk on his face.

“Maybe it’s not,” I gesture back snappishly. “Was it to fuck me, or to question me about my father’s business?”

“Maybe both,” he says flatly.

“Asshole,” I sign, pushing off the floor with a deep wince as I struggle to my feet. Before I can even stand, Takeshi grabs my thigh and yanks me off balance. My heart lurches as my unsteady feet betray me.

But before I can topple to the floor, Takeshi pulls me down into his lap, my eyes snapping to his as I brace my hands against his firm chest.

“What the fuck?!” I sign.

“Maybe he was someone your father tortured, not did business with.”

I stare at him, my brow furrowed deeply.

“Are we still talking about my father’s business right now?” I motion quickly.

“You were looking for pillow talk?” he grunts back.

“I was looking to not talk about my father at all while sitting naked in your lap,” I sign tersely. Then I replay what he just said, and my frown deepens. “And Papa does not torture people,” I add indignantly.

Takeshi’s face is blank and unreadable.

“That’s not true.”

“The fuck it isn’t,” I sign back. “My father is brutal—vicious, even. But he’s not a…” I trail off.

“A what,” Takeshi growls.

“Nothing. Forget it.” I push against him, to get off of his lap and away from him. But his hands grip my waist tightly, unyieldingly.

“Not what,” he murmurs again.

I stare blankly at him.

“Not a monster?” Takeshi finishes for me, his tone mocking.

I look away, my jaw tightening.

“A monster like…what…” he growls, his voice low.

I hesitate, my mind racing for an answer that won’t set him off further. I can’t think of one.

His hands drop, releasing me. Shivering, I stand on shaky legs, moving from his lap to sit on the rug again. My back is to him as I pull the scraps of my clothing around me, hiding my nudity.

“Like me?” His voice rumbles behind me, his tone prying and accusatory.

I say nothing.

Neither does he.

The seconds tick by.

Finally, swallowing, I nod.

“Like you,” I sign quietly.

He doesn’t respond. I bite my lip, turning to face him.

Takeshi is gone.

For a moment, I just sit there, stunned, unsure what to do. His sudden departure stings, and I’m left with a hollow ache that feels far too familiar. Finally, I pull myself to my feet, wrapping my arms around me and quickly walking out of the room.

Sounds guide me through the creepy abandoned mansion until I finally find him standing dressed at the front door.

I’m about to sign something when he drops a small backpack at my feet.

“There are clothes in there. Get dressed. We’re leaving.”

I don’t move.

“I said get the fuck dressed,” he mutters.

“Takeshi,” I sign. “I didn’t mean⁠—”

He ignores me, stepping out the front door and back into the night, leaving me to dress as he starts his bike outside.

The mansion feels colder now, the silence pressing in around me.