Yuna's lips sneered with obscene humor, their venom dripping from each word as she leaned against the dark wall of the shadowed room, the air thick with the metallic taste of unspoken rivalries. "Your brother has already taken your prize, Akira. Yasahi is dead, before you can sharpen your claws."
Akira's reply slithered out of the depths of his chest, a low, thrilling growl that hummed through the floorboards like the distant thunder of an impending storm of revenge.
"He's not just hunting, he's reclaiming revenge for the ghosts that haunt us both, the ones we both have from the past that continue to bleed fresh."
He vaulted upright in a single, fluid, predatory motion, his silhouette unfurling like a snake from its den, his muscles rippling under the stretched fabric of his shirt. His voice blasted into the room in a roaring command that destroyed the brittle silence.
"If my instincts are correct—and they bloody well always are—then Vernon will move against Kazuki Joshwa next. The third in a series of bastards who was involved in Mom's murder. He has insinuated himself deeply into the current President's political inner circle. A slimy pillar holding a rotten structure upright."
With one swift and deliberate snatch, he claimed his mask from Yura's rumpled bed, the red crimson metallic face etched with the burning runes that pulsed with a malignant life of their own, holding promises of oblivion to all who crossed his path. "Before Vernon gets to paint the walls with his blood, I'll drown him in it."
Yuna threw up her eyes in celestial exasperation, folding her arms protectively over her chest as if to ward off her lunacy, though the thrum in the nape of her neck betrayed her momentary lapse as she exclaimed, "So Vernon's got it in for Kazuki, and what in the world are you lining up to join the firing squad too? Carrying on with some lovers' spat over the corpse?"
A ghost of a smile flickered across Akira's lips – dark, mirthful, filled with the cruel temptation of a hunter taunting his quarry. It was the sort of smile that stripped a woman bare, offering agony laced with bliss, the sort of smile that sent thighs tensed and tight in the secret darkness of excitement. "I know Vernon, sweetheart. I know him well. He just not got intention of killing Kazuki, he must have some other plan too."
Yura opened her mouth, the spark of protest trembling on her lips - soft, trembling, pleading to be ignited - but Akira cut through it with one sharp glance, his eyes blazing like two coals ripped from the underworld.
"Lucifer!" he shouted, turning to me as I lounged in the corner, my essence a vortex of smoke and vice, as he said in commanding voice, "Find the wretched whereabouts of Kazuki. Now."
"Of course, master. A devil knows all secrets—the filthy, writhing ones that make mortals squirm and beg." i replied with a smile.
I touched two fingers to my forehead, my eyes closing as the defenses separating worlds shattered. Images burst through me, a maelstrom of blasphemy: penthouse suites, spiredstrongholds, the stench of corruption.
"Minato Ward,"
I hissed, my lashes fluttering open as my eyes blazed with demoniac joy.
Akira's brows shot up in surprise, his tough facade cracking for the briefest moment as his chest began to heave in anticipation as adrenaline coursed through his veins like liquid fire. "Minato Ward? That highly protected area for Japan's millionaires!!!"
Yura's whisper was a weak thread present in the heavy silence, her tone weak, laced with the husky tremor of a woman on the brink of fear and the thrill of the unthinkable, her body swaying towards him of its own accord, "So what is the plan, Aki? " she whispered.
Akira's finger thrust airward like a dagger, commanding, proprietary, and flashing an illicit spark deep inside her, forbidden and delicious with forbidden lust, to be ruled by this man.
"You and Yuna go in through Street 11—and report that area from there. We don't know which area will have high security. "
Then his gaze locked on me, and I felt the wicked temptation dancing within those tempest-darkened eyes.
"Lucifer, want to ride shotgun with me into hell? Feel the blood rush hot against your skin?"
Tempting. devilishly so—the thrum of anarchy, bodies winding together from the carnage, slick with sweat and brutal. I wanted the hellish picture, black and white and red all over. I flashed a wicked grin, fangs sharp. "Oh, delicious invitation, but I want to bask in the carnage from both sides--nowhere and everywhere at once, my prick thick with the melody of their pain. I'll be there. and nowhere."
Akira's answering smile was sheer, unalloyed sin—a split revealing teeth honed to perfection for etching flesh, an undercurrent of laughter vibrating as shivers of macabre passion wended their way through the room like smoke. "I expected no different from Hell's own mistress." He assumed the mask with priestly deliberation, the leather conforming to the sculpted jaw like second skin as he transmuted himself into an icon of retribution—expansive shoulders moving, ridges of arousal straining beneath his trousers from the intoxicating thrill of coming kill.
"We forego teleportation," he decreed, his muffled but ringing voice carrying through the mask slits, his eyes blazing with a controlled and furious passion. "Cooldown's ten minutes—far too bloody dangerous in enemy nests swarming with heat-seekers.
"Yuna's smile was a tempting blade while her eyes slanted with mirth and the humid passion, "So, how do we storm the gates, then? Broomsticks and black magic?"
Akira's masked face tilted, that devilish smile resonating in his tone. "I've planned the perfect chariot. Parking garage in the basement of café, located lower level. Move."
We went down the creaking stairs, into the subterranean world of the café, a hellhole of concrete and darkness, stinking of oil and ozone. And there, two shining apparitions from the depths of Tartarus, twins from a nightmare, lurked: a metallic black beast, a 4000cc engine pulsating with suspended fury, and the titanium red brother, a hypnotic design of body and limb, cut and seductive, polished until it shimmered like a mirror, fresh from the depths, seconds from birth.
Yura's eyes went wide, gasp hitching in her throat like a moan, as if she reached out to trace those hunter lines with her fingers. "How in hell did these monsters slip in?"
"As long as we've claimed this Durabian Knights café as our haunt," He leaned against the wall, an apparitional form quivering in languid slow motion, "I ordered our manager—your uncle in fact, Yura—to excavate these beauties of mine out of my accursed garage and plant them here, neat and ready. Now don't ask how I owned them-I'm son of a millionaire. "
Yura spun on me, shock exploding on her pale face, cheeks flaming crimson—a blaze of color that opened her lips, "Uncle knows you're hooked up with me? Thrown our filthy secrets?"
Out of the depths of darkness that lurked behind a stack of boxes stepped, Yura's uncle, a gnarled bear of a man whose deep laughter shook like gunfire, pounding thick-furred paws on Yura's shoulders, dragging her back against his great big belly in a bear-like hug of brotherly love. "Of course I know you're hiding this Adonis of yours in your boudoir, niece! Suffocating him like a prize stallion bursting to buck and slash!" He grinned like a werewolf relishing a midnight feast of succulent morsels. "Cheer up, girl—Akira's gold is pure gold. Whatever darkness he's following is noble mayhem. More power to him and to boys like him hacking a cleaner world!"
Akira plunged through the taunts like a scythe through meat, the pressure sparking in his masked snarl. "The clock is hemorrhaging. Yura, take the red car and Yuna, you will go with her and I'll go in this black monster. "
Yuna's cheeks flushed slyly as her eyelashes grew heavy with demure modesty, yet her core tightened at the prospect of charging into danger while he watched, her body electric with the hard beat of lust-driven adrenaline. "To be honest, Aki. I don't have the slightest idea how to handle that creature."
Yura pushed forward, chin jerking upward with sudden ferocity, her eyes ablaze—a vixen unleashed, her hips swaying with the promise of power.
"I'll drive," she said.
Jaws dropped in synchronized horror, eyes fixed on her like a catch. I burst into a husky laugh, a liquid, mocking laugh that closed in on her like mist, my leer stripping her soul naked. "Oh, my love, my beautiful Yuna, my saucy wench—whoever knew about your lead foot? And from when you driving car."
Yuna's riposte was like a crack of the whip, and her eyes flared to blue flame, her voice got in rage, "What's wrong, devil? I've always taught myself—late night, deserted roads, I just love drive. OK!"
I held up palms in mock surrender, chuckling low and dirty. "Easy, firecracker. Wouldn't dream of taming that wildcat purr."
They slipped into the red car—a sleek Yuna, sinuous legs aggregating in the driver's seat, hands closing possessively around the walnut-finished steering wheel, knuckles turning white as she turned on the beast. That 4000 cc engine screamed like a mad bull in the trenches, its shakes rippling in their flesh, building lava in their groin and breasts. Tires shrieked in orgasm as she pushed off, blood red lightning bursting from the subterranean ramp, consuming the night in a frenzied, primeval incandescence.
I turned to Akira, raising an eyebrow in wicked taunt, lips twitching. "Still dawdling, hotshot? Your sister's already neck-deep in the race, leaving us in her dust."
His masked glare seared, frustration a gritty snarl edged with competitve flame that made his cock twitch. "Sod off, Lucifer."
He plopped into the black predator's open jaws, his gloved fists locked around the wheel, muscles tensed as a crouched cat springing into strike. The engine roared not awake, but eruption itself, an easily controlled behemoth unleased, its intestinal growl reverberating through metal as if the initial shock of lover's possession. It lowed, methodically, with an evil purpose, as if the darkened street trembled in anticipation of this-type ending. The headlights laced the black velvet envelop with surgical slices of brilliant illumination, cutting reflections off the black paint, which seemed to pulsate with malarkey-generated, hot-wild fervor, as if this beast inhaled night's air, exhaling speeds and death. Gasoline and rampant ambition drove through the muggy air, as pungent as lover's anticipation, as if this world-held breath in tense expectation of this type of unleashing, shattering time in mortal agape.
His grip became a crushing pressure, veins standing out like cords, mask's slits wide with a savage anger as he shouted into the night—a cry for a fraternal bloodlust, his voice shattering the night like a thunderclap.
"I'M COMING, BROTHER !!!"
The black devil pounced forward, tyres digging into asphalt with a scream of orgasmic madness, charging into the depths of the abyss, vengeance and ecstasy meeting in a harmonious concert of yet-unexperienced screams.