The skyline looked so different from his office in the Chateau Sanguine.

Canute stared out at the view before him, in awe at the mishmash of old and new that seemed to permeate every inch of the city of Kyoto. Sleek, modern architecture met culturally distinct sites, from sprawling temples with slightly curved roofs to red torii gates and small wooden two-floor buildings that housed centuries-old businesses, to large, intimidating buildings made of glass and steel that Canute was more comfortable in. Those powerhouse skyscrapers made him feel more at home, and less out of place, in the beautiful but definitely homogeneous city.

He had both arms behind his back. His stance was at ease, practiced from his time in the military. He felt the tension in his muscles begin to slacken. Closing his eyes, Canute sighed.

Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.

There was once a time he was probably happy enough to be around such culturally rich sites, but the modern seemed so much more…uniform. There was a sameness that he appreciated. Sure, differences made everyone unique, but Canute had enough of differences when too many wars were waged because of them. Even now, people reveled in their differences, and let an us-versus-them mentality create lines in the sand where there shouldn’t have been.

Canute had been part of a world where us-versus-them had torn his people apart.

But he’d rather not think about that now.

Breathing evenly as he watched the hustle and bustle of an even more densely populated city than Monte Carlo, Canute felt a soft hand on his shoulder and he turned slowly to look at the reason why he was even here in the first place.

Ranmaru stood there, all porcelain handsomeness with just the softest hint of feminine beauty where it counted. Canute’s breath hitched when he saw his Kindred’s face glow gently underneath the pale moonlight, the long-sleeved yukata of a deep, dark lilac color he was wearing having fallen slightly down his shoulder, revealing more of the soft skin underneath.

Skin that he had yet to touch.

“Are you alright?” His Kindred asked.

Canute nodded. “I suppose it’s just jet lag,” he lied.

Ranmaru didn’t look convinced. But then again, ever since they met, he’d always been much more perceptive than he let on, and a lot quieter and more aloof, too. He was like this beautiful ceramic doll—his expression was always a little dry and cold, and oftentimes lifeless. He always seemed so distant. Canute didn’t know if this was how having a Kindred soul felt, but it was like a sensation of pain echoing through his chest, like a yearning that hadn’t ceased even after they’d met. Where was the entirety of him being consumed? Where was the feeling of never needing anything other than his lover?

Nevertheless, Canute believed that Ranmaru was his. He could feel it. He’d known it the moment their eyes caught one another’s. And because their souls were entwined, the younger male was beginning to know more about Canute than the Nordic man wanted to let on.

At least, that’s how it felt.

Deep, almost black-colored eyes looked right up at Canute, staring blankly into his eyes. Canute was sure the jig was up.

“You’re not going to tell me?” Ranmaru asked. “We’ve been here ten days. Your jet lag should be gone by now.”

Canute looked up at Ranmaru like a deer caught in headlights. He didn’t want to lie to his Kindred, but he also didn’t really want to upset the younger man. “No, it’s nothing, my love. I suppose I’m just a little tired from the trip.”

Ranmaru regarded him, squinting his eyes right at Canute, before ultimately nodding. “If you say so.”

The beautiful doll of a man sauntered over to the nearby couch, plopping and sighing. He pulled out his cellphone and started to tap away at it. The expression on his face seemed to crack for just a split second. His eyebrows furrowed. His lips pursed. Inexplicably, Canute felt a pang of wooziness course through his body.

But he had no time to think about that. As he quickly pushed his nausea down, Canute turned back to look at the room around them, noting the sheer extravagance of his surroundings. The spacious, almost palatial apartment they had was a sign of Himiko’s own distinct wealth. Apartments like these just didn’t exist in Japan, unless they were for the filthy rich. The suite laid out for them was about as large as an entire floor in an office building.

Each silence between them had become more tense than the last.

“Your aunt has been very kind to offer us her suite like this,” Canute said, in an attempt to break the ice. “I’m glad she’s been so welcoming, all things considered.”

Ranmaru looked up at Canute after a minute or two of tapping away at his cellphone almost angrily. “I’m sorry, what did you say? I hadn’t been listening.”

Canute blinked. He gritted his teeth, but said nothing.

Almost every time he spoke, Ranmaru seemed like he wasn’t wholly there, like his mind was a million miles away. It was a quality that he didn’t find particularly kindly to when it came to his Kindred. It’s not as though he was demanding his lover’s attention, but considering they were the only ones in the room, it would have been nice to have Ranmaru actually initiate a conversation for once.

Canute didn’t know what the universe was doing, but he trusted in it. After all, why would it entwine his soul with Ranmaru’s if the man didn’t complete him?

He sighed, trying to calm himself down. “Nothing. I was just trying to make conversation.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Canute’s eyebrow twitched, but he elected to say nothing.

Ranmaru looked up at Canute, offering a weak smile. “I’m sorry, I have to do something. Will you be alright here on your own for a bit?”

Canute shrugged. “I guess,” he said. “It’s not as though we spend as much time together as we used to.”

There was a passive-aggressiveness in his voice that surprised even Canute. His heart ached. Something was wrong, and he knew it deep in his bones, but he couldn’t pinpoint as to exactly what it actually was. Why did he feel this way?

He could’ve sworn Ranmaru rolled his eyes as the smaller man stood up and strode out of the room, closing the door gently behind him. Like a ghost, he just quietly shuffled away without a trace.

The Nordic man didn’t think being with his other half would be this way. He turned to his own cellphone, peering at the clock on the screen. He mentally counted what time it was back home at the Chateau Sanguine, before swiping at his lock screen and calling up the only person he knew who could help him.

Should have been some time in the evening back at home. He would be awake, at least.

Click. A familiar voice filled him with warmth.

“I would have thought it would take a little longer before you started to get homesick.”

His closest confidant, the man he considered his brother, was a man named Cyrus. He also happened to be the family’s patriarch, who was suave and aristocratic with a cool head for business. Until very recently, he was also single—until Bastien, Cyrus’ Kindred, came into the picture.

Now, there was a sense of warmth to Cyrus that hadn’t been there before. In fact, Cyrus’ words sounded amused. Canute couldn’t help but grin, even though he really didn’t feel all that happy at the moment. Truthfully, he had been feeling a little homesick.

“I’m definitely missing the Chateau Sanguine,” Canute replied. “But Japan is just as beautiful.”

He spoke a little too quickly, there. He hoped he didn’t sound too obvious.

“Oh? Here I thought your Kindred would be keeping you close by and entertained.”

“He does,” Canute answered back, and now he couldn’t help but realize that he sounded a lot like he was covering things up. His voice lilted towards the end, and he was biting on the inner lining of his cheek.

“Something tells me there’s trouble in paradise,” Cyrus said. “What’s wrong?”

Canute didn’t know how to say it. How could he? Cyrus was busy running things at the Chateau Sanguine while he was gone. In between politics, taking care of Bastien, and about a thousand different things that Canute used to help him with, the Nordic vampire knew he shouldn’t have done this. He shouldn’t pile his issues on his brother’s doorstep.

He could handle his own problems.

“Nothing,” Canute said hastily, almost too hastily, in fact. “It’s just that…well, I mean, I have to ask. About the Kindred bond.”

“You can ask me anything,” Cyrus said. “All you have to do is say the word.”

Canute sighed. “Sometimes, do you feel as though maybe fate, or the world, or destiny—whatever you want to call it—do you think maybe it got things wrong? I feel for Ranmaru, but sometimes I feel like we’re only barely tolerating each other’s presence. We don’t have anything in common, and I just can’t break through the ice.”

Cyrus was quiet as he listened. Canute appreciated the man taking the time to weigh his words, but he was worried. What if he was broken in some way, shape, or form?

Finally, Cyrus sighed. “No, I don’t feel that way for Bastien at all. He’s always felt like he’s completed me.”

Canute felt something inside him drop.

“Oh,” he answered blankly. “I see.”

This time, it was Cyrus’s turn to sigh. Canute could almost see Cyrus place a hand on his forehead and shake his head as he spoke. “I can’t lie to you and tell you it’s okay, my friend, when it’s not. Have you claimed Ranmaru yet?”

“I can’t. Ranmaru doesn’t want to. Not yet, he says,” Canute replied. “It’s hard for me to keep total control, but I’m trying my best. Some days I just want to get it over with, though, and see if that changes things.”

“Well, it’s odd for someone to know what the Kindred bond entails but not want it,” Cyrus said. “Perhaps that’s the problem. There might be something in his past that makes him not want to be part of it. Have you tried asking him?”

Canute sighed. “To no avail. He’s still very closed about his past. Something else has been bothering me, actually.”

“Tell me.”

Canute turned toward the door, as if willing himself to see if Ranmaru was on the other side. “Sometimes, it seems as though the people around him don’t really know him.”

The tone of confusion in Cyrus’s voice was clear as day. “What do you mean?”

“I mean it exactly the way I said it,” Canute replied. “There are times when I’m out that people ask me who Ranmaru is, and that they didn’t know that Madame Himiko actually has a nephew. He never goes out, preferring to stay in either Himiko’s suites or mine, and for the most part he’s ignored by the maintenance and security personnel here. It’s like he doesn’t exist.”

“Maybe Himiko kept him secret,” Cyrus said. “But this is me trying not to cast a shadow of doubt over your Kindred, my friend.”

“That’s not all, brother. Sometimes, even Madame Himiko wonders what we’re doing. I catch her asking herself why we’re trying to set up this deal, and suddenly Ranmaru comes barreling in.”

Canute didn’t even tell Cyrus about that feeling of nausea that overcame him sometimes when Ranmaru looked deep in his eyes. It was kind of like suddenly finding himself with a case of vertigo for a split second, and then coming back to earth after being launched thousands of feet into the air.

“That’s rather suspicious,” Cyrus admitted.

That pit inside of Canute told him exactly the same thing. “On the plus side, the work Himiko wants done seems to be almost complete. I hear Oda will be coming tonight.”

“Then you can come home soon. Maybe together we can figure out how to thaw Ranmaru’s icy exterior, and why things seem a little odd on that end of the world. I’ve been to Japan, and besides the freedom of expression in their pornography, they’re very into courtesies and respect. The people under Himiko’s employ shouldn’t be treating her nephew like that, especially if they’re close enough that she actually ended a business deal with Herod because of his affront to her family’s name.”

Canute couldn’t help the little guffaw that came out of his mouth. “Here’s to hoping, brother. Here’s to hoping.”

“If you’re desperate enough to seek it, my sole piece of advice for you is to be patient. You can’t dig for information because you’re still in a rather precarious situation, and with regards to claiming your mate, you can’t force something that another person doesn’t want. It’s like saying having another child will solve your marital problems,” Cyrus said. “Things will just get worse if you try to force their hand, either way you look at it.”

Canute moved towards the couch and settled there. He leaned back and took a deep breath. The scent of his Kindred lingered, and it was sickly sweet, cloying, like the scent had been honeyed a little too much, to the point of almost being nauseating.

Wasn’t everything about the other half of his soul supposed to compliment him? Why did they seem so…wrong? Why was it that, where Ranmaru was concerned, Canute felt like something was just the slightest bit off?

“I understand,” Canute finally replied. “It kills me to say so, but I do understand.”

“Good. In the meantime, finish up what you need to do in Kyoto,” Cyrus said. “That way you can come back as soon as possible.”

The call ended with Canute smiling wistfully at his screen and nodding. Cyrus was right. The sooner he finished up, the sooner he could come back home. Himiko only needed him for a couple more things, and they were about to approach Oda personally with their plans.

Himiko had been uncharacteristically generous. But perhaps it was going to pave the way to a more unified front between their two families.

Politics—Canute was never very good at that. Diplomacy and following orders were more his forte. He’d always been a soldier above all else. That made him adaptable, but only to a point.

Plans within plans were never his strong suit. Even his brother had admitted that he was growing rather tired of all the lies. Something told Canute that Cyrus was lying, though. He liked bossing people around too much to ever let go of his position.

Canute took a deep breath, trying to will away his fatigue. He walked out of his suite and strode to the elevator, heading towards Himiko’s main offices to continue on with the last bit of his work.

Just a couple more days, Canute. You can do this.

Focus on the end—and then he could finally figure things out in his personal life.

Thoughts of his current situation overwhelmed him enough that he didn’t notice the world pass him by as he walked from his and Ranmaru’s rooms to the elevators, and onward to Himiko’s suites. If Canute weren’t so sure, he would have started to think he was becoming depressed.

When he opened the doors to Himiko’s offices, he was greeted by what looked to be a Mexican standoff. He would have found it humorous, if he wasn’t so alarmed. What was normally a bustling office looked like it had gone through hell. Bodies were crumpled all over, the furniture looked like it had been broken twice over, and even the paintings were askew as though a tempest had just run through the entire floor. Some of the bodies were alive, evidenced by the wincing, groaning, and twitching. Others, still, lay dead.

That was never a good sign.

On one side, a good few feet away, was Himiko, staring daggers at a group of people, who were surrounding Canute’s Kindred. Ranmaru stood in the middle of the group, his usual, blank expression clear as day on his face.

Ranmaru, surrounded by four unknown men… dressed in full black from head to toe, who had blades summoned and floating right by their hands through some sort of sorcery. They looked like magic-wielding ninjas, and this small, humorous voice inside Canute thought that somewhere out there, a ten-year-old boy was having a conniption at the thought of killer ninjas wielding magic spells.

“What’s happening here?” Canute asked as he watched Himiko stare daggers at her nephew.

Immediately Canute readied himself. His muscles tensed, and like a cat, he was ready to strike. But when Ranmaru’s gaze met his, he felt that familiar pang of nausea and wooziness course through his body. This time, however, it was a thousand times worse. It was like there was something in those eyes…

Canute doubled over and winced. He shook his head and gathered his bearings, turned to look at his gracious hostess.

Shit. What’s happening to me?

Himiko only turned slightly to look at Canute. “We’ve been duped,” she said matter-of-factly. “There was a snake in our midst all along. None of this is right. None of this should have happened.”

She then turned to face Ranmaru once more, anger and seething hatred clear as day in her eyes.

Why would she be looking at her nephew that way?

“I am the Shaman Queen! How dare you wield your siren magic against me?” Himiko snapped, her eyes fixated on the group of warrior-mage-ninjas. She pulled her ceremonial-looking dagger from inside her silken sash, pulling it from its sheath and letting the jewels glisten underneath the fluorescent light. Running it across her fingers, she whispered a few arcane words and flicked her fingers, letting droplets of her blood dribble into the air. “I’ll show you what happens to people who dare take advantage of my magnanimity!”

The warrior-mages braced themselves, standing in phalanx formation around Ranmaru.

Himiko started chanting.

If those ninjas were good at their magic, Himiko was even better.

And though the words were too honeyed, too complex, Canute watched with awe—not like he could do anything else—as Himiko manipulated magic with such mastery. The blood didn’t fall to the floor. It remained suspended in the air, glimmering and glowing with eldritch magic, finally swirling and forming a perfect magic seal that looked almost like the shape of a pentagram. When she pointed her dagger forward at Ranmaru, what looked like thousands of little magic bullets began to burst out from the magic symbol, careening right toward their attackers.

Like some kind of magical dance, the aged woman used some sort of sacrificial, blood magic to create things that Canute had only seen a few times before. Seidr magic in his homelands…from nearly a thousand years ago.

Impressive, definitely, and dangerous.

That seal served as weapon and shield, because as soon as any of the attackers tried to move too close to her, it careened back and forth with every wave of Himiko’s hands. Canute, on the other hand, merely felt a burn that slowly started to gush out of his body. It was like the dam of his self-control was breaking.

That berserker inside of him wanted to be unleashed. His inner demon ached for blood. Something wasn’t right, and Canute didn’t like not knowing what he was facing. All he knew was that she talked about siren magic, and that was dangerous. Even more primal than the bending of thoughts to someone’s will, to bend someone’s emotions with just the softest of whispers was one of the deadliest shows of force on this earth.

People would move heaven and earth for the people they loved, after all, and would break past anything to make sure the people they despised were rightfully put in their place.

Regardless of what he thought, however, he was stuck to his spot, unable to move, a slave to the siren magic. Whenever he willed his body to even twitch, to try to move a single inch, something like fire burst inside of him.

“Wait, Madame, your nephew—”

“I have no nephew,” Himiko groused in between her dance, like some whirling dervish sent from oblivion to strike down her enemies.

No nephew? But…

Even as Himiko danced, Canute could see that the Shaman Queen’s energy was beginning to fade. She was starting to pant, her eyes were beginning to dim, and her movements were becoming sluggish. The warrior-mages that surrounded her didn’t seem perturbed in the least, merely dancing around with their telekinetic blades at the ready, striking at any perceived openings they found.

Of course, until they actually found one, and the sound of blade cutting through flesh resonated through the hall.

Himiko’s eyes widened. Her lips parted. She looked down, seeing an entire blade impaled through her body. The blade retracted just in time for her to turn her head, and seeing one of the warrior mages standing there, flicking his blade to rid it of blood. She fell to her knees, shaking.

And just like that, the Shaman Queen’s dance was cut short.

Canute roared, feeling bestial anger course through his veins. But something was holding him down—something that made his body burn as though a net of fire had been thrown over him. He looked up, seething, gritting his teeth, watching as Ranmaru walked over from where he stood, toward their assailants.

“Ranmaru, don’t!” Canute exclaimed. He finally felt the gate inside him break open, and with a rush of strength, he roared like the bestial creature he was.

Something felt like it had lost its hold on him, and it spurred him into action. Even though these past few days had been hard on his relationship with Ranmaru, the man was still his Kindred. Canute had a duty to protect him, and he wasn’t a man who shirked his responsibilities.

In the blink of an eye, Canute found himself behind one of the warrior-mages. Like a warrior possessed, he flicked of the wrist, cracking the man’s neck and let him crumple to the ground, dead almost instantaneously. He was moving around at nearly mach speeds, a silent whirlwind of anger and desire to protect. He’d gone through another man when he looked back up at his Kindred, who only took a few steps back toward the balcony.

“I’m sorry,” Ranmaru said, his voice blank, his apology didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m not yours. And Himiko isn’t my aunt, either. But you already know that, don’t you?”

Canute’s heartbeat felt like it was ringing in his ears. From the balcony, in a burst of shadowy energy, a large man appeared, strong and musclebound and only half-clad in kimono and a pair of hakama pants. He scanned the room, his lips curled into the slightest of frowns. With his long hair in a bun and a hand on a sheathed katana by his side, the man looked so out of time, in what seemed like samurai garb. His presence was intimidating, regardless of how he looked, and it made Canute feel tense.

Himiko clutched at her wound, and Canute could only barely hear her spoken words.

“Oda.”

“Himiko.” The man regarded her. “Thank you for handing over your holdings to me. It seems my Kindred has done well in making sure I am unopposed. Finally, after all of this time, Kyoto is mine.”

At that moment, it seemed that those still standing of Himiko’s men finally had the smart idea of grabbing onto her to usher her out of the room. Her eyes were still wide with shock. The remaining ninjas, having served their purpose, disappeared in a puff of smoke.

If there was ever reason to believe that ninjas actually existed and all the tricks that came with them, Canute thought dryly, this was one of them.

Ranmaru finally turned to look at the man who appeared, whose face was impassive until he started to smile widely. “You’re here, my love.”

His sandals clacked on the ground as he ran, grabbing onto the much larger vampire’s body. His arms wrapped tight around Oda’s massively muscled form, and the man, who stood a few inches taller than Canute, could only smile.

This was the look Canute wanted to have with the one who was supposed to be meant for him. That dagger of deceit cut through him deeper than he thought. Canute didn’t know what to do, or what to say. Instead, he could only watch the tableau of his ‘Kindred’ latching onto his family’s supposed sworn enemy.

“Ah, my beautiful siren,” Oda said. “Your ruse worked. And we didn’t even lose that many men.”

“Of course. I would do anything for you, Oda,” Ranmaru replied. “You know that.”

 Oda finally grinned as those words were said, and the massive kimono-clad man leaned down to kiss Ranmaru square on the lips just as a veil of shadows covered them like a cloak, making their bodies dissipate into the darkness of the open balcony.

Finally, something inside of Canute broke.

He’d been tricked. He’d been denied his actual Kindred. In one fell swoop, he found out he’d been lied to all this time. His emotions had been used against him. He had worked all this time…for nothing.

Ranmaru wasn’t his.

Who was?

Did he even have a soul to share with someone?

Was someone like him worth having one?

He was a soldier. For a long time, he was just an automaton, working under powerful men in their service. Even now, he was just a tool used by someone else. Was he even surprised at the lies? Something, deep down inside him, that dark inner demon that Cyrus always talked about, told him that this wasn’t surprising.

He didn’t deserve a person to share that bond with. He had no soul.

He didn’t deserve happiness. He was a soldier. All he needed to do was serve.

But why did it hurt so much?

Fate had played a cruel trick, and in doing so, he’d been led away from home, given false hope serving a man who probably had no qualms, absolutely no second thoughts, about having used him for their own gain.

Like a broken animal, he roared, and that’s when he felt the crackle of magic shatter inside him and everything turned to black.

Only the cold embrace of oblivion would calm him now.