Abijah generally didn't care to make sure a lowly courtesan even lived another day after he was finished with them.

But then came you. A pretty little Japanese blossom.. one that he didn't want to crush. Not yet.

And so, there you were, his marks all over your fair skin, laid bare after the night's activities, your inky black hair spread out over the pillow beside him.

He watched the sun rise through the window of his luxurious prison- the castle that damned Shogun had insisted he stay mainly confined to- with a vague feeling of anger.

You were nothing. No one. A simple whore who sold your body every night. So why..

Why did he catch himself wanting you for more than just coital acts throughout the day? Why did he buy you from your employer?

When you stirred, he looked away. "Mornin', dote," he rumbled. What was it about you? He had no idea. It was irritating him more and more. He already felt vague annoyance brewing.