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Steam rose in silver tendrils, shimmering in the glow of candle lanterns nestled among the boulders and along the cedar deck. Their flames trembled on the water’s surface like fallen stars.
A bamboo spout wept a constant, gentle stream into the pool.
Beyond the railing, Kyoto lay draped across the valley—a spilled treasure chest of a thousand golden lights glittering against the velvet dark.
Further still, mountains rose like ancient guardians, and their peaks were dusted with snow that glowed under the full moon.
I had seen a lot of beautiful things. Sunsets over the Mississippi. Second lines dancing down Tremé streets. Candlelight on the faces of the ancestors in Aunt Delphine’s altar room.
But nothing like this.
“Yoichi. . .”
“Do you like it?”
“It’s beautiful.”
He looked down at me instead of the view. “Yet, still not as beautiful as you.”
“You’re smooth.”
“I speak the truth.”
Lord. This man.
He stepped down into the water, carrying me with him.
Heat wrapped around my calves first, then my thighs, then my hips, my belly, until I was sinking into it with a long moan I didn’t even try to hold back.
So perfect.
The water smelled faintly of minerals, and the liquid moved silky over my skin.
Yoichi settled against the rocks and pulled me against his chest, my back to his front, then turned me slightly, so my cheek could rest against his shoulder.
His arms wrapped around me beneath the water. “How is my mate?”
“She is fine.”
“Are you sure you don’t—”
“I’m not hungry or thirsty, Yoichi, but I do want to know about your curse.”
“It is a rather boring story.”
“Then, bore the shit out of me.”
He let out an annoyed groan, and then for a long moment, we remained silent, staring at each other.
The bamboo spout poured.
The lanterns flickered.
The moon watched.
And I realized that, although the water was warm and soothing, my body would not completely relax.
I was still hot.
