Shadow Reaper (Shadow #2)(62)

She looked around the room. Comfortable. Beautiful. Spacious. She'd never had anything like that room. Her own bathroom. Drawers and a closet filled with clothes. She pulled a silk kimono from the closet. Blossoming cherry trees ran up the material in soft pinks and browns. It was gorgeous. She wrapped herself up in the long robe and ran her hands down it. The silk felt sensual against her skin, and glancing at herself in the mirror, she was shocked at how she looked.



She studied the makeup in the light-up vanity. She knew enough to make her eyes smolder, but she had never used a red lipstick. Osamu would have been furious and called her all kinds of names. She could barely believe she was so daring as to choose the ruby red. She nearly wiped it off, but then she squared her shoulders.



Ricco Ferraro was a good man. A worthy man. By every account he was considered one of the best shadow riders. If she had a small amount of time left, she wanted it to be spent with him. She wanted to feel like a beautiful woman. She had gone over and over where her brother could possibly be, but she had no clues. No information. Nowhere to start. She could only hope that if Osamu was in on the conspiracy to kill Ricco, after Mariko's death she would have Ryuu released unharmed. In the meantime, Mariko was going to spend as much time as possible with Ricco. She'd continue to try to find her brother, but she knew the odds were stacked against her.



She took one last look in the mirror at the woman she didn't really know and resolutely turned toward the sound of that heavy bag and the pounding rhythm that hadn't once paused. Heart pounding, she continued at the same pace, not fast, not slow, but graceful, silent, moving in the silk of the kimono, feeling it against her bare skin. She had never been more certain, or more nervous, about a decision.



Ricco moved around the bag with the fluid grace of a fighter. She couldn't help but admire him. He was a gorgeous man, a perfect physical specimen if she was going to be clinical. She much preferred to be clinical over the surprising well of emotion he invoked in her.



"You shouldn't be in here right now," he said.



He didn't turn around or even glance her way. She was behind him, their shadows hadn't touched, yet still, he was aware of her. That was good, because she was acutely aware of him.



"You have to stop." He was hurting himself. She knew why. She'd used physical exercise to try to stop the pain and the chaos in her head when Osamu had driven her to want to hurt something or someone  – usually herself. Just as he was doing.



"You shouldn't be in here," he repeated. "Give me another hour or so."



"There has to be a better way. Hurting yourself isn't the answer, Ricco." She kept her voice very low, just like his. Her tone was sultry; his was commanding and it vibrated right through her.



He stopped hitting the bag and glanced over his shoulder, his eyes dark and enigmatic. She shivered at the mixture of pain and rage she saw there.



"I have two ways to rid myself of this: working the bag and Shibari. This seemed safer."



She stood her ground, although it took more courage than riding the shadows ever had. "I'm here to be your rope model."



       
         
       
        



He shook his head. "It isn't safe when I'm like this. I could hurt you."



"No, you couldn't." If there was one thing she was certain of, it was that Ricco Ferraro would never hurt her. She was shocked at how certain she was of that fact. Clearly, when their shadows touched, it revealed far more of him than she understood until that moment. She could spend a lifetime getting to know another man and she wouldn't know him as well as she did Ricco. "You would never harm me. I very much would like to do more rope art with you, that is if you want it, too."



The drumming of her heart was loud in the ensuing silence. She had no idea if she was stepping over some invisible line with him. She didn't know enough about relationships of any kind, let alone the strange one she found herself in now. She only knew that she had to stop him and the only way to do it was to give herself to him.



"I was late, Mariko. You understand if I had gotten there on time, I might have stopped the massacre. I got lost."



"I hesitated coming out of the closet after Nao pulled Ryuu out. I was so terrified, I hesitated."



He swore in Italian. One of the first things all riders had to learn was multiple languages, and she winced at the extremely foul expletives. He finally switched back to English. "You were three fucking years old."