Surrender to Darkness Read online

  Murdoch gave Watanabe’s unlined face a second look. Japanese executives tended to be older, more seasoned. “How old are you?”

  “Forty-three. It was an honor for the board to name me as president. Were it not for my relevant experience and the wishes of Tatsu Ashida, I’m certain the position would have gone to another.”

  While Watanabe excused his embarrassing youth, Murdoch mulled over the man’s maturity. Forty-three would make him at least fifteen years older than Kiyoko, a rather large age gap. Perhaps his jealousy of the man was unwarranted.

  “Kiyoko’s father took me under his wing and treated me as the son he never had. He had hoped that Kiyoko and I would wed, so that the company could remain in the family.”

  Or not.

  Murdoch did a lunge thrust into open air. It was only partially successful in distracting his grumpy berserker. “Did he express that wish to Kiyoko?”

  “Yes,” Watanabe said. “But his desire may not be hers, and I’m not interested in a loveless marriage. I have not mentioned it since her father died.”

  Watanabe was a better man than he. Were it not for the disastrous effects of their touch, Murdoch would have long since coaxed Kiyoko into some quiet place in the wood to convince her of his interest.

  He straightened.

  Not that he had marriage on his mind. The whole I’m not aging but you are issue was guaranteed to sever even the most heartfelt bond.

  His peripheral vision caught the inward swing of the east gate. Kiyoko entered the compound dressed in her typical white gi, hair queued at her nape, a sheen of sweat upon her brow.

  “I have no right to ask it of you, Murdoch-san, but I would appreciate if you kept the last part of our discussion to yourself,” Watanabe murmured, as Kiyoko approached at a jog.

  Mention that his competitor for her attentions was offering the permanence and stability of marriage when he could not? Not bloody likely. “She’ll not hear it from my lips. You have my word.”

  “Thank you.”

  Kiyoko jogged over to them, her gaze on Watanabe’s face. Clearly remorseful, she placed a hand on his sleeve, pale against the dark material. “Ryuji-san, my sincere apologies. I am most embarrassed to have forgotten our meeting this morning.”

  It was a completely innocent touch. Nothing sexual about it at all. But that didn’t stop Murdoch’s blood from heating with his berserker’s jealous fury. His fingers tightened on the leather grip of his sword. There was nothing he desired more than to remove Kiyoko’s hand from Watanabe’s sleeve, but instead, drawing deeply on his warrior discipline, he ever so gently slid his sword back into the scabbard belted at his waist.

  His mission was the relic, not the woman.

  9

  The dreams were taking their toll. Kiyoko had never forgotten a meeting before, especially one she set up herself. But she’d tossed and turned all night, woken up in an agitated state, and desperately sought a run through the woods. Anything to cool the racy thoughts of Murdoch that continued to provoke her.

  And it had worked. Only moments after she exited the compound and began her run, her years of training reasserted themselves and she slipped into a state of supreme awareness and inner tranquillity. The whisper of the wind through the branches, the scent of pine in the air, and the firm press of her feet against the give of the earth became her world for a time.

  One glimpse of the damp T-shirt clinging to Murdoch’s chest and arms, and her serenity was lost, though.

  “I hope you can forgive my lapse,” she said to Ryuji.

  “Think nothing of it,” he responded. “We can easily reschedule. And it is Sunday. Perhaps you should take a break.”

  “Great idea,” Murdoch said quietly.

  “Actually, it’s not,” she rebutted. She needed to find a way to defuse the sexual tension between them. And she needed to do it swiftly. “Meditation with Murdoch is a much better idea. Ryuji-san, I would be most grateful if we could postpone our review session until later this afternoon. Perhaps four or four thirty?”

  A flicker of irritation passed over Watanabe’s face, then was gone. “Of course. I’ve got some telephone calls to make anyway.” He bowed to them both and then departed, circling the bell tower pagoda to reach the west gate.

  Gathering her courage, Kiyoko faced Murdoch. “We could both use a wash and a fresh set of clothes before we start.”

  He crooked a smile at her. “Shall we do it together?”

  “No,” she said, taking a step back. That smile was altogether too charming. “Definitely not. Meet me in front of the meditation hall in fifteen minutes.”

  “Fifteen minutes,” he agreed.

  Kiyoko was actually ready in twelve. Rather than return to the house, she used the communal basin behind the main hall to wash and swapped her running attire for a clean jacket and wide-legged hakama pants in the dojo. Despite her speed, Murdoch was already waiting for her when she arrived at the meditation hall. He wore his standard jeans and T-shirt, his leather jacket abandoned. His brown hair hung in wet waves, as if he’d miraculously found the time to wash it.

  “Are you certain you want to try this again?” he asked. “We haven’t had much success so far.”

  “Only because you allow yourself to be distracted.”

  “Aye,” he agreed. “I find it infinitely appealing to consider the many things I could be doing alone with you in a small room other than breathing.”

  She shook her head. “Which is why we will not be going inside. We will be practicing walking meditation today. Same upright posture, same cupping of hands, but instead of sitting, we will walk clockwise around the courtyard. You will go first, I will follow.”

  Murdoch folded his arms over his chest. “And to think I put cologne on for this.”

  “You did?”

  “I did.” He tipped his head up and leaned in, presenting his tanned throat to her nose. “Smell.”

  She did smell the scent. A deep, warm draft of citrus and spice. He was so close, it was impossible not to. “Why?”

  “To attract females. Or to be more blunt, one female.”

  She blinked. “Me?”

  “Aye, you.”

  “Then you made a miscalculation. Turn south, please.”

  He frowned. “What miscalculation?”

  She pointed. “Face the main gate, Murdoch.”

  After studying her resolute expression for a narrow-eyed moment, he turned. “What miscalculation?”

  “I prefer the way you smell without the cologne. Walk.”

  “I’ll remember that.” Pulling himself to the full measure of his six-foot-five frame, he stepped forward. An unhurried pace, with nice even footfalls. “Where is everyone?”

  Kiyoko followed him, admiring the surprising grace of his large body.

  “In the dojo, performing kenjutsu kata—formal practice moves done with wooden swords.” His shoulders were very broad. She could see nothing past him. “Enough chatter, Murdoch. This is meditation, not conversation. Pay attention to your breathing and to your steps. Feel your heel, sole, and toes connect with the ground and then lift off. Be aware of the courtyard. The grass, the gravel, the air. Experience the walk with your full body and mind—the beauty and simplicity of each step. Your mind should not wander, but if it does, bring it back to your steps and your breathing.”

  For once, he behaved.

  In less than half a turn of the courtyard, they had both settled into a calm, easy awareness. Kiyoko waited until the color of Murdoch’s auras shifted from orangeyred to a gentle violet before making another attempt to breach his wall of self-control and reach his berserker. Since none of her previous attempts had met with success, she altered her approach.

  Instead of trying to blend the broad edges of their auras, she narrowed her focus to the bluest spot she could find. Surely the most peaceful place would also be the most open place?

  But it was as firmly locked as the rest of his auras.

  She could sense the coil of his berse
rker beneath, but could not access more than the first few inches of his auras before colliding with his wall of self-control.

  Frustration bubbled, but she forced it to fall away.

  Murdoch had good reason to build such a formidable wall, and he’d had several hundred years to perfect it. Hardly any wonder that she was unable to breach it after only a few days. Time and effort would eventually reveal a way in, but the thought of subjecting herself to weeks of this intense sexual teasing was unbearable.

  They walked quietly around the courtyard for twenty minutes before Kiyoko gave up. With a sigh, she halted next to the fish pond and its softly trickling water structure. The courtyard was still empty.

  “Enough, Murdoch.”

  He stopped and turned. “That sounded almost final.”

  A silvery white koi swam leisurely around the edge of the pool, its long, flowing fins and tail sweeping through the water. “You never quite give your all to the meditation. You continue to hold a piece back. I’m not sure how much value the practice is giving you.”

  “You know why I can’t let go completely.”

  She nodded. “I do. But I also know that until you can embrace the whole of who you are, until you and your berserker are one, you will never find real peace.”

  “You don’t understand the horrors it’s capable of.”

  It. The word hung there, cool and empty, a perfect opening. She took a deep breath and dove in. “You mean the horrors you are capable of.”

  His face darkened. “I am not it, and it is not me.”

  “You’re wrong. We are all a balance of dark and light, Murdoch, even you. You prefer to box up your dark side, shunt it aside as if it’s some strange, untamed creature trapped inside you, but in reality, it is half of who you are.”

  “Bollocks.” Hands fisted, he took a step across the gravel toward her, then halted. “I was a whole man before I drank the potion. A weak, sickly man with the blurry vision of a cow, perhaps, but a whole one. After I drank the potion, I could feel the berserker inside me, writhing like a snake, threatening to choke out my honor and my pride. It. Is. Not. Me.”

  Kiyoko chewed her lip. His auras were pulsing now, dark red coiling around the blue like the snake he just described, smothering. Should she push him further? Or play it safe and stop?

  “And where is that weak, sickly man now, Murdoch?” she asked softly.

  The muscles of his jaw hardened until they resembled bone. “Don’t. Don’t begin to suggest that the man I was is gone. He is the only thing keeping the beast inside me in check.”

  “I’m not suggesting he’s gone. I’m suggesting that you cannot separate the two beings as easily as you like to believe. You are strong, healthy, and gifted with better eyesight, all courtesy of that beast within you. How can you deny that the two sides united form a better whole? Let go. Embrace both sides of your personality.”

  The gap between Murdoch and her disappeared in a single stride. He grabbed her shoulders with rough hands, shoved her back until she collided with the wall of the ceremonial hall, and ground out, “Are you certain you want me to open the cage, Kiyoko? Because the beast wants out. And he wants something you’re not prepared to give him.”

  She met his gaze, fearful but ready. “It’s not your berserker who wants me with that terrifying intensity. It’s you, Murdoch. There is no separate entity. If you want to kiss me, then kiss me.”

  It was a huge risk to challenge him. Even if Murdoch accepted that his berserker was truly him, it would take a tremendous amount of self-knowledge and self-discipline to balance such a fierce duality. He might not be able to stop. Judging from the play of furious emotions on his face, he was already very close to losing control.

  “Honor and courage and intelligence are as much a part of you as the strength and health of the berserker,” she added. “You have the ability to walk away, if you so choose. It is a choice, Murdoch. Your choice.”

  His gaze drilled into hers.

  Kiyoko returned his stare, left breathless by the cocoon of his body heat and the sheer force of his masculinity.

  A pause settled on the world. The sounds from the dojo faded into obscurity and the air grew still with anticipation. The searing heat of his clenched hands seeped through her jacket as he continued to pin her against the building. There was a long moment when Kiyoko wasn’t sure which route he would take.

  But she knew the instant he decided.

  Her heart felt like it would burst from her chest.

  He was going to kiss her.

  Murdoch ignored the voice in his head. The one that reminded him of his long and brutal history with the berserker, the one that kept insisting that history repeated itself because of stupid decisions like the one he was about to make.

  He let his eyelids drop.

  His focus narrowed to Kiyoko’s mouth. Currently unadorned by lipstick, her lips were parted slightly. As her breath passed raggedly between them, the full lower lip trembled faintly. It wasn’t fear, he was certain of that. She had goaded him to this point on purpose, pushed him to the brink of sanity for a reason.

  She wanted this kiss as badly as he did.

  And just like that, he surrendered. Because as much as his conscience told him there was no hope, he wanted her words to be true. He wanted to own the beast inside him, to have the power to tame it. He wanted to end the senseless destruction and the careless acts of violence.

  He wanted her.

  He wanted every dream he’d enjoyed over the past few days to be possible, to be real.

  The grip of his hands on her slim shoulders eased and he bent his head to hers. Slowly, savoring every delicious sensation. The soft heat of her breath on his skin, the subtle feminine scent that was just her, the minute adjustment she made to the tilt of her head to give him better access. He memorized it all.

  Because there was no telling how much he’d remember once he actually touched her.

  He hovered a millimeter from her lips.

  Lord, she was lovely. Since his arrival at the dojo, he’d become quite adept at turning a blind eye to the details of her appearance. A form of self-preservation, perhaps. He’d made a concerted effort to see only the competent martial artist, the serene monklike onmyōji, the intelligent young businesswoman.

  But this close, her beauty overwhelmed him.

  The delicate oval of her face. The bright, clear eyes. The lustrous shine of her smooth black hair.

  Damn. He wanted her so badly, his balls ached.

  But kissing her was a horrible risk. Maybe he could control his berserker. Maybe it would all turn out okay. But if he went solely on experience, on the very real mistakes he’d made in the past, more likely he couldn’t.

  He dropped his hands from her shoulders, but did not step away. He couldn’t. His damned feet refused to budge.

  Fearing a loss of his resolve, he closed his eyes to her beautiful face. There was something thoroughly unjust in knowing the one person he wanted most would forever be off-limits, forever outside his grasp.

  He sighed …

  … and she captured his breath with her mouth. She pressed her velvet-soft lips to his and gave him a gift he had no right to claim—an eager, inviting kiss.

  Every nerve ending in his body exploded with pleasure, overwhelmed and at the same time begging for more. A wave of heat rolled over him, leaving beads of sweat in its wake, and the walls of his self-control came crashing down. His hands snatched her to his chest, crushing her soft body against his hardness in response to some primitive need he could not name.

  But hot on the heels of pleasure came the beast. Murdoch felt it claw up his chest, choking him, cloaking him, and he made every effort to rein it in.

  No. Not it. Him.

  Kiyoko flung her arms about his neck, fueling the bonfire of his need and inviting his berserker to take the lead. The familiar red mist clouded his vision, and his muscles expanded until the material of his T-shirt stretched taut and the waistband of his jeans dug into h
is flesh.

  Murdoch sucked in a shuddering breath.

  Hurting Kiyoko was the last thing he desired. If his berserker was truly a facet of his self and not some foreign creature, he should be able to step away. All he had to do was own the beast. Claim it. Assert his dominance over it and …

  Let Kiyoko go. Release her.

  His hold on her gentled, and a swell of pride rose in Murdoch’s chest. He was in control.

  Unfortunately, the moment was short-lived.

  Kiyoko’s hips ground against his in needy abandon, and his head swam. A low growl rumbled in his chest and his big hands yanked her body off the ground. He deepened the kiss to bruising force. The berserker wanted more, so much more. It howled inside him, spinning like a tornado in his gut, demanding the last constraints be dropped. Kiyoko whimpered faintly under his assault and a rumble of feral satisfaction rose in his throat.

  Murdoch held on, desperately struggling to keep his head above a rising tide of beastly desire.

  Open your hands and let her go. You can do it, Murdoch. Just—

  His berserker froze in taut awareness, sensing danger. A missile sang through the air, breached his shield, and burrowed deep in his right shoulder. Dull pain accompanied it—barely enough to make him flinch, but more than enough to prod the beast into unmitigated rage.

  Instinct took over.

  In a blink, any pretense of containing the power coursing through him fell away. Murdoch was yanked below the surface in one sharp tug of a mighty dark fist.

  Kiyoko felt Murdoch jerk and then shudder.

  His lips left hers, and a snarl of undisguised fury seared her face before he released her and spun around. Breathless and weak-kneed from his kisses—and her own equally powerful desires—she fell back against the wooden wall. She couldn’t see around his body, but she had a very good idea what faced him. A small army of onmyōji warriors.