Blood Bound

Chapter 28: Kenji Yamasaki

The interior of Kenji's home is far more pleasing and welcoming than the harsh exterior. The walls are painted in soft, peach, white and pale blue colors. Here and there, a couple of abstract paintings decorate the walls and there's a set of swords up on the mantelpiece beneath the fireplace. The furniture are in bolder colors, a deep gray or deep brown that contrast yet compliment the soft pastel colors of the walls. In each corner, though, are cameras that swivel lazily around, scanning every nook and cranny. It should make you feel safe but I don't feel that way. It feels like an invasion of privacy but I guess as a vampire, one can't be too careful who you let inside your house. All I know is that it kind of ruins the cozy feeling.

Kenji grabs a drink from his personal bar (how rich is this guy?!) and returns to the pair of us, standing in the middle of what appears to be his living room. His chocolate almond eyes land upon me and I'm having a hard time seeming normal under his uniquely handsome features.

„You," he clicks his fingers at me and points to the long, deep grey sofa in front of me. „Sit,"

I wobble awkwardly, wincing with each step and take a seat. He follows, dragging a wooden, antique-looking chair and plants himself in front of me. I can't handle his scrutinizing gaze so I turn my attention to Sophie who's sitting on the back of the sofa behind me, rubbing her neck irritably.

„There was no need to choke me, you know," she snipes at Kenji but he ignores her.

His hands reach for the cardigan that holds my arm (his hands are massive – he could easily grab my whole head with just one hand!) and he swiftly undoes the binding. Then he releases my shoulder from the tourniquet and my arm starts throbbing painfully. I hitch in my breath, jerking away from his grasp.

„Stay still," he orders me sternly and attempts again to take a better look at my wound.

I avoid looking at it with all my might, staring hard instead at my surrogate doctor's facial features. He looks young, maybe in his late twenties, early thirties. He's got a nicely trimmed beard that centers around his mouth and chin. A small cut-like scar lies across his left eyebrow but it's not disfiguring; in fact, it gives him a certain kind of characteristic. A man who enjoys fights, perhaps?

I yelp in pain when his fingers push near the wound. „Why didn't you heal it?" Kenji directs his question at Sophie, eyes narrowing.

Sophie shifts uncomfortably in her seat. „There wasn't time," she mutters under her breath.

Kenji scoffs. „Yeah, right," he sneers and then continues his leering over my wound. I feel something trickling down my arm and notice upon looking that the wound has started bleeding again. I glance worriedly at Kenji whose expression is inscrutable. I hope he has already had his meal because I'm sure that a big guy like him would definitely suck me dry! Despite his handsomeness, I'm way past my limit of getting attacked for the day. My body tensing up, I shift back in my seat as I have no desire to be this close to him anymore.

„I've already fed, if that's what worries you," he says calmly and looks up at me from the wound. „I won't do anything except help you,"

I do relax a bit from that statement but what he does next makes me shriek: he licks the palm of his hand, lubricating it with his own saliva and smears it on my wound. My germaphobia kicks in hard, making me reel and I jump out of my seat. I make to rub off the saliva of my shoulder but Kenji grabs my wrist and stops me.

„Leave it," he says and forcefully sits me down. I struggle in his pincer-like grip, desiring nothing else than to run to the bathroom and wash it all off. The disgust and revulsion are making me nauseous. I try with my injured arm to reach for it, but Kenji secures that one as well. I whimper in fright and panic and turn desperately to Sophie who's already by my side but instead of prying his fingers off my wrists, she grips my uninjured shoulder.