Free Yashakiden: The Demon Princess, Volume 2 by Hideyuki Kikuchi Page A

she asked.
    His answer was to grab her breasts. She bowed her back. “Hoh. The best reward of all. Let’s enjoy ourselves, shall we?” As he spoke, something wet and tongue-like flicked against the woman’s throat.
    â€œYes, yes,” she moaned, and then shouted. The wild, violent passion of the scene was such that if Ryuuki or Kikiou were watching, they’d be unlikely to tear their eyes away.
    â€œLeave it to me. What fine breasts. I could suck them forever and never get bored. How about you take that hand away? Hey, what a mess of a face. What are you twisting away for? Just the kind of girl I love to fuck. Let me lick that fucked up face of yours. Look at me. Tastes good. Ashamed? It stings, don’t it? Bitter dregs, huh? Ha ha ha ha— ”
    He roared with laughter, a ribald noise that erupted toward heaven. This was the same laughter that Shuuran and Ryuuki had heard in the corridor above.
    In the midst of the dusky light—in the black and white shadows—the carnal heaving and writhing commenced, his words mingling together with her gasping, panting breath—
    â€œJust you watch. That man is dead.”
    Hot desire reduced his voice to a husky growl. He was so deep and hard inside her, their bodies so tightly welded together, that it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

Chapter Three
    Setsura Aki walked casually along the dusky road.
    This was the kind of summer evening when a man couldn’t take ten steps before his forehead was damp with sweat. The time of day when housewives rushed about making last-minute purchases for dinner. When kids carrying talismans and water pistols filled with holy water played cops-and-robbers with the more harmless species of gremlin. When hard-working businessmen hurried home, briefcases in hand.
    The everyday activities in July here in the “safe area” that brought the streets of Arakimachi to life.
    Setsura showed up like a broomstick shoved between the spokes of those smooth routines. What made passersby mopping their foreheads and necks with handkerchiefs stop and gape wasn’t the sight of a long black duster and black high-collar shirt, all completely out of season.
    Rather, when it came to upsetting the ordinary routine, even wild and woolly creatures from the no-go areas in the DMZ couldn’t compete with what could be called this man’s heartbreaking beauty.
    Usually the unapproachable man-of-mystery, clothed in a vague, indefinable air, would transform into someone friendly and approachable. But that wasn’t the case here.
    The cool eyes, the finely chiseled features—that a sculptor would give anything to carve in stone—and that sense of high risk. The combination impressed pedestrians with a sense of danger, while the young women watched him pass by, their cheeks blushing with undisguised desire.
    Ryuuki’s qi had put Setsura through the wringer. He felt like he had a ton of lead on his back. The fatigue filled his gut, constricted his veins. After ten yards he was out of breath.
    But taking a break was out of the question. This was one time when he couldn’t put off until tomorrow what had to be done right now. If anything, he had to pick up the pace. Based on what he’d understood from Mephisto alone, these were no run-of-the mill villains.
    More than anything else, Mephisto had messed it up with Ryuuki and hadn’t come out of it much better than himself. Add the powers of the other three into the mix—
    Then there was that little incident at the hospital. The vampire lady came for him and took off without finishing the job. Setsura didn’t understand what had gone down either. But seeing how she’d easily broken through all the security fail-safes in Mephisto Hospital—that the devil himself could not escape from—sent a shiver down his spine.
    To make matters worse, Takako had been infected by those poisonous fangs.
    He felt like his