One (Ryohei)
Naitodogaron is my name. I am the Night Dragon of the Yakuza. And tonight, I was going to claim what was to be mine.
I studied the nightclub’s blueprint once more – my club’s blueprint. I held my pistol by my thigh, tapping it lightly as I murmured to myself.
The threat to Hiraoka Clan had come from this club. The clan who thought we were weak was in for a surprise. We weren’t going to run in guns blazing, no – we were going to run this club.
It had once belonged to my clan, long ago, before slipping through too many hands – until we finally reclaimed it. Then our new enemy stole it out from under us. Hence, tonight’s takeover.
I checked the magazine of my pistol again, just for good measure.
As a Yakuza soldier, my job was to slip in with the others, pose as clubgoers, and dance the night away – our way of making a statement. Then I’d reveal myself as the one in charge – the rightful ruler – as the dragon that I was.
It didn’t matter who the enemy was this time. We were now stronger and ready – this club would not slip out of my grasp again.
The club’s neon lights not only would accentuate my elaborate set of tattoos that stretched the width of my exposed back, chest, abs, ribs, and arms, but would also make the body paint I had painstakingly etched on my face and neck glow.
Those who faced me head-on would be met with my namesake – the dragon; those who attempted to come at me from behind would be cursed. The Oni I had on each shoulder blade, red and blue, told them I was protected and that any who attempted to harm me would receive my punishment.
Many a time already had I slipped through the night unnoticed to exact retribution on those who deserved it.
My renown was growing among the Yakuza clans. No longer was I merely some lowly soldier, I was making a name for myself, a name many already dared not mock anymore: Naitodoragon.
I was a rebel, an anarchist of my people – my broken chains and burning tower had set my skin on fire from the pain I endured when I had them inked. And I wore them all proudly.
I secured my gun into its strap beneath my pants. If I was threatened, I’d tear the Velcro seams and retrieve my weapon with ease.
I had opted to carry only one pistol rather than having both strapped to my back as I preferred. I was confident, withal. I had keen eyes, a sharp aim, and a quick finger on the trigger.
Our enemies would know we were Yakuza, but the clubgoers . . . probably wouldn’t know or care either way.
As for me, I could be myself – despite the enemy knowing I was one of them – as my ink was usually hidden in public, and now with my face painted and my black hair gelled into spikes, I was unrecognisable yet still unmistakably remarkable.
Unless someone took a real close look the next day at the hints of colour that might linger on my skin, they wouldn’t know that the soldier who was mocked by so many other Yakuza for defying tradition was the one who was running this place. I’ll have taken it over before they’d have time to say the F-slur.
My fellow soldiers and I completed our preparations and stormed into the place, yelling out war cries in Japanese over the din of the music and rushing into the fray of dancers to enjoy staking our claim for Hiraoka Clan.
Laughing, I danced through a few songs before marching to the bar and right behind it, grabbing a bottle of saké, and taking a few swigs from it directly. The bartender gawked at me the whole time while the bouncer protested.
‘You can’t do that!’ the big man bellowed.
I squared my shoulders at him. I’d faced sumo wrestlers and taken them down easily, just by knowing where to hit. Smirking with condescension, I looked him in the eyes, getting right in his space.
‘You want to say that again? Maybe you can deliver a message to your boss from the Night Dragon of Hiraoka Clan of the Yakuza.’
The man gulped. I chuckled. Yeah, that's what I thought. He didn’t look so tough anymore, despite his bulging muscles.
I took another swig of saké before dousing my chest with it, making my tattoos glisten. The crowd around me went wild. Sliding my hand with meticulous intent, I rubbed the alcohol over my pectorals, following my dragon’s tail down to my abdomen. I revelled in how the reddish purple and cyan of my otherwise pale Inyo full moon made the dragon stand out, and doused it all the more.
The women were swooning for me, but I never had any interest in any woman. I ignored them, simply enjoying the sensation of the saké slathering over my inked skin.
My eye caught a man who stopped dancing to stare at me, his hungry eyes roving my body, his mouth open just enough for me to see him lick his lips. By the way he was salivating, I assumed my quarry was into men – or at least into me.
His eyes shone green like the sea, though I wasn’t certain due to the lights around him. His face was more clean-shaven than mine, and he had smooth-looking porcelain skin, soft cheekbones, and dimples on the sides of his mouth, with lips alluringly red in the dim light and oh-so inviting.
I was caught in his gaze, everything around me growing quiet.
Few had ever had this effect on me before – but him, he would be fun to play with tonight.
Grabbing the edge of the counter, I hopped over, garnering a round of applause and whoops from the clubgoers, and I marched straight to my quarry. His eyes widened and I saw his face redden beneath the neon lights.
He was but a couple of inches shorter. I loved that. I could envelop him in my embrace from above yet still meet his gaze and claim his lips easily. I couldn’t wait to do both.
‘I need help spreading this saké all over my body,’ I declared. ‘Care to give a man a hand?’
If he could have drooled, he would have. He slurped, then blinked, before offering me a lopsided grin. I could see his gaze roving my chest – from the full moon Inyo that shone behind the indigo dragon, following the serpentine body of the dragon down to my beltline – before his captivating eyes met mine again.
He bit his lower lip, raising his hand tentatively.
‘Don’t be shy,’ I encouraged. ‘I won’t bite you . . . unless you want me to.’
‘Fuck,’ he exhaled, his herbaceous breath on my face. ‘I want you to bite me.’
Oh, that tightened my pelvic muscles and had me reacting in all sorts of wonderful ways, with tingles coursing through my body.
‘You want me to claim you?’
Grinning, I leaned in towards his ear, ignoring all the shouts of disappointment from the ladies, or the cheers from anyone else around us. I spoke softly enough for my words to sound like a whisper, loud enough to be heard, my voice a sultry purr.
‘Then if you’re good to me, I might reward you.’
His breath hitched, as did mine. I was turned on by the way he was with me. This one was genuinely shy, this one wanted to be bolder, this one had no poker face whatsoever, and I loved it.
I nibbled his earlobe to entice him and his hand came up so fast, slapping against my pec. He pressed as he smeared me – I had to offer resistance as I enjoyed this saké-drenched massage. It felt so good to be touched the way he was touching me. He marvelled at me as his hands glided along my chest, spreading the saké.
Grinning, I took another swig, poured some more over myself, and tilted the bottle towards my partner. He opened his mouth, staring at me the whole time.
Fuck, was he thirsty. And getting bolder by the minute. I poured enough saké into his maw for him to be satiated from the drink before pressing my sticky body to him.
His sexy clothes would have to go if I wanted to enjoy the feel of him completely.
I started undulating to the beat of the music with him, as did he, my hand going to the small of his back. He looked so delicious – he was gorgeous in his tight black leather pants and silver V-neck top – and I wanted to ensure no one would get between me and my dance partner.
I looked down at his face to observe him more carefully. Sexy, carefree, obviously hot for me. A flash of white light illuminated the club at the beat of the music every now and then. Fuck, he had sea-green eyes, beautiful enough to drown me in his gaze, ashen hair too dark to be blond but too light to be brown.
Our hands roamed our bodies, as we pressed ourselves more flushed together. I felt a crackle – like static electricity, but something more alive, more orgasmic – pass between us. Oh, was I ready to take this one home. We were both hard and we both knew it.
Our faces came closer, and our lips finally grazed. We grinned seductively at each other – I could feel his desire and knew that he felt mine too.
I looked down at our rubbing crotches.
And then I saw it – a small red dot, right there on the blue of my namesake’s scales.
My eyes widened, and I pulled my partner down with me, ripping the bottom of my pant leg and grabbing hold of my gun as a bullet whizzed past my head.
Someone screamed over the music and there was blood spattering on me. I pulled my pistol’s safety back and scanned for the location of the threat.
There. A small glint.
A sniper was trying to stop us from taking over the club. That was not going to happen. I might have been a soldier merely, I might have been the laughing stock of the Yakuza for being gay, but I was also a businessman and the Night Dragon – I was going to own this club.
I growled deep in my throat, my frustration rising. It had been agreed: this was my chance to prove myself, despite the bigotry. I was not going to let anyone take that chance from me.
Keeping my hand on my partner’s side as he cowered beside me, both of us still crouched, and placing myself in front of him like a shield, I aimed. And shot.
And a Japanese man plummeted from the catwalk down onto the club floor – dead. He did not bear the symbol of the clan from whom we were taking over the club. This was odd.
I waited. Alert.
Nothing more.
One sniper? He must’ve had a reputation, to be the only one sent. I must’ve been the first target.
I turned to my partner, who stared at me wide-eyed, feeling a small twinge of guilt. I was ready to apologise to him – he had not bargained for this and this had certainly ruined our fun.
The music stopped and the crowd began to shout and disperse, as my fellow soldiers took over security of the club that would become mine.
I opened my mouth before he gaped, ‘You saved my life!’
I was not expecting that.
‘Only fair. I did not realise I was putting your life at risk when I chose to dance with you.’ We were still shouting over the noise.
I held out my hand as I rose and helped him stand. I steered him away from the carnage that was on either side of my periphery, making sure he looked directly at me. On one side of me was the sniper’s victim, and behind my dance partner was the sniper.
‘Don’t look away from me,’ I said into his ear. ‘You don’t need to see what I caused.’
I backed my man up, guiding him. He kept his eyes on me the whole time, putting his trust in me. When we had passed the sniper’s body, I turned him to face the back exit where others were fleeing the scene. Hands on his shoulders, pressing my chest against this back, I led him forward.
He stopped before we reached the metal door, turning to face me. His eyes darted to what was happening around. I grabbed his face firmly with both hands and forced him to look into my eyes.
‘I said look at me! I don’t want you to see what happened in there. You don’t need to see that. You don’t deserve to see that.’
'What did happen in there?’ he asked, furrowing his brows.
There was a demand in his expression, one I’d seen in the eyes of my superiors many times, and I felt compelled to answer.
‘I took over the club.’
My partner digested that. He nodded, then we headed for the door. Now that there was better lighting on his face, I could tell he was maybe only a handful of years younger than me – late twenties, I was guessing.
‘I’m sorry our night was cut short.’ I let my eyes rove over his body and grinned lasciviously. I knew when next he saw me, he would not recognise me. It was a shame. Not in all my thirty-three years of existence had I met a man who aroused such hunger in me. I considered kissing him.
'Can I at least have your name? Or were you going to let me discover that the next time I came to hang out at your nightclub?’
I let out a chuckle. Oh, he was coy – and he wasn’t shy anymore.
‘They call me the Night Dragon.’ I jerked my chin up. ‘Now go. I am letting you leave without going through any interrogation. I trust you will not speak of what happened here to the police. It would be dangerous for you if you did, not because of me, but because of my superiors.’
He nodded. ‘So you’re not the highest in charge?’
‘I’m moving up, but I have much to prove.’ I urged, ‘Go.’ Part of me hated telling him so, but it had to be done. I felt a powerful need for him to be safe. And I had a club to run now and a mess to clean up.
His eyes fell to my lips and his face reddened. ‘You owe me a bite.’
If I said that my breath hitched earlier, now it truly did, and my body reacted to the husky tone with which he spoke to me.
I stared at him, mouth ajar, wanting him.
And then I lunged, grabbing his arm to pin him in place between me and the wall, and jabbing my tongue into his mouth as his lips parted with a moan. Behind the saké I’d fed him, I could taste what that herbaceous flavour was – sweet eucalyptus candy.
Bringing one hand to the small of his back to hold him possessively and cupping his face with the other, I thrust myself at him, devouring – he was so hungry and so was I.
I growled in my throat as he pressed himself against me for more before I could pull away. His tongue explored my mouth in ways that made me shudder with need, and I wanted him to use his tongue to explore other parts of me.
And then, I delivered on that promise. I crunched down with my teeth on the plush lips that devoured mine and tasted blood. I suckled in his lower lip as I drank him.
The tremble I felt from him and the way he moaned against me told me that while he might not have enjoyed the actual bite, he enjoyed me. He was responding to me.
That elicited an orgasmic gasp from me as the crackle of energy between us intensified.
My hand on his back became a claw and I rubbed my hardened groin against his.
I pulled myself away, breathless, before I would do anything more with this poor man who had no idea what he’d be getting himself into if he got involved romantically with me. One night of fun with a stranger was one thing – but now, because of what had transpired, because of what we had just shared, we were more than mere one-night stand strangers. I couldn’t name it, but I knew we were more.
I took a step back. All I wanted to do was pull him to me and reclaim him – I felt unsatiated.
‘Go,’ I commanded. I wanted to protect him, and yet I wanted to devour him and take him right there.
Licking his split lip, my dance partner backed away. ‘I wish we’d had more time together.’ He smiled. Oh, he was beautiful. ‘Good night, Night Dragon. I’ll be dreaming of you.’
His face was so red, and mine felt so hot, my groin was responding in all the possible ways.
I watched him walk away, already feeling wistful, and it dawned on me he’d asked my name and never gave me his. I hissed a laugh.
I turned back to the club proper, striding towards the bar, sticky with saké and relishing the taste of my dance partner’s blood on my lips.
Then I stopped in my tracks.
I wasn’t the first target of whoever was trying to stop Hiraoka Clan of the Yakuza from taking over the club, I suddenly realised. I was the sole target.
Thank you for taking a look inside the world of Ryohei and Jeremy and the Dragons of the Yakuza.
If you’re enjoying this Excerpt, the full book is available in bookstores and online book retailers.
You will find it at the following link:
AMAZON: https://www.amazon.com/Naitodogaron-Night-Dragon-Dragons-Yakuza-ebook/dp/B0GJ7H99DR
