Seeking Her - Analia Tempest
Copyright© 2026 by Koimiko
Chapter 3: Warned Away
Jason sat in his uptown office, pretending to work while Analia haunted every thought like a scent caught in the back of his throat. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the image of her dressed up, hair swept back just enough to bare her throat, a whisper of gloss on her lips that made him ache to taste her again.
She didn’t need paint or polish.
She was allure.
He remembered her mouth under his, how her lips had swollen from his kisses, how her eyes had gone soft and unfocused as if the world had narrowed to just them. Flashes of her tied to his bed played behind his eyes. Her voice broken, begging to be punished by his hand. His body answered the memory without permission. In his long life, he had wanted lovers, taken lovers, left them behind without a second thought.
This was different.
Two weeks since he’d dropped her off. Two weeks of restraint that felt less like discipline and more like starvation. What was she doing now? Was she thinking of him?
God, he hoped so.
By the time he left for lunch, the city felt hollow, streets too loud and too empty all at once. He wandered without purpose, lost in the gravity of her absence, until he turned a corner and collided with someone solid enough to steal his breath.
His heart stuttered.
Analia.
Right there. Real. Warm. Unmistakable.
For a heartbeat, he forgot how to be ancient. Forgot how to be careful.
“Ana,” he murmured, the name rough in his throat as he took her in like something rare and ruinous.
She stepped back, just a fraction.
Enough to hurt.
“Mr. Nishi.”
The distance stung more than he expected.
“Please,” he said softly, leaning in just enough to feel the spark jump between them, “call me Jason.”
He wanted to hear it from her mouth. Wanted to know if she felt the same pull clawing through him. The air between them tightened, charged, fragile as glass.
“Did you get the flowers I sent?” Jason asked.
Analia nodded, a faint curve to her mouth. “Forget-me-nots and sunflowers. A very thoughtful mix.” Her eyes flicked over him, slow and knowing. “Remembrance, worship, fidelity.” She tilted her head. “An interesting choice for a yokai who insists he wants no strings attached.”
“My motives,” Jason said quietly, “are ... evolving. And I’m done pretending otherwise.”
He stepped closer. Discipline be damned.
He wanted Analia in his bed and in his life, and the truth of it burned too hot to keep swallowing.
“Motives, Mr. Nishi?” Analia asked. “Motives?”
The words were light, almost amused, but the air between them tightened, stretched thin by everything he still wasn’t doing.
“I’m trying,” he said, voice rough-edged with restraint, “to give you the space you deserve. To move at your pace.” He paused, the admission pressing hard against his ribs. Then, softer, nearly unguarded, “Just know it isn’t indifference holding me back.”
His hands stayed at his sides, fists loosely curled, as though restraint were something physical he had to keep leashed.
“It’s choice,” he finished.
And it cost him more than he let on.
Neither of them noticed the eyes fixed on them until a body forced its way between.
“J! There you are.”
Lyria’s voice rang too loud, too sharp, already cracking with practiced distress as she clutched his arm. “I’ve been trying to reach you.”
Jason’s stomach dropped.
“Oh,” Lyria continued, turning her attention to Analia with a smile that never reached her eyes, “is my adopted sister bothering you again? Chasing donations for her little orphan project?”
Analia froze.
“Don’t mind her,” Lyria said lightly. “She’s ... well. You know. A nobody.”
The words landed like a slap.
Jason pulled back instinctively, anger flaring too late, his mouth opening to correct her, to end this--
“So,” Analia said quietly, already retreating. Her eyes flicked between them, something breaking cleanly inside her gaze. “You know Lyria.”
“Oh, he knows me very well,” Lyria purred, glancing sideways at Jason. She counted it out in her head. One. Two. Three.
Analia turned.
She didn’t run. She didn’t argue. She simply walked away.
“Ana--” Jason called, panic biting sharp and sudden, but the crowd swallowed her whole, leaving only the echo of what had almost been.
The moment Analia disappeared into the crowd, something in Jason went cold and bright all at once.
“Enough.”
He turned on Lyria so fast she startled, his hand closing around her wrist and pulling it off his arm. Not hard. Never that. But firm enough to leave no room for confusion.
“Do not touch me like that again.”
Lyria blinked, then laughed softly, as if this were a game she’d already won. “Jason, don’t be dramatic. She’s nobody. You saw how quickly she ran.” Her smile sharpened. “That nobody can’t keep a yokai like you satisfied. Not like I can.”
The words hit him, and this time he didn’t hesitate.
“She didn’t run,” he said, voice low and lethal. “She walked away from cruelty. Learn the difference.”
Lyria scoffed. “You really think she belongs in your world? Analia is nothing. No power. No name. No--”
Jason stepped closer, forcing her back a half-step with nothing but presence. His eyes burned, ancient and unmistakably yokai.
“She is everything,” he cut in. “And you will speak her name with respect, or not at all.”
Lyria’s smile faltered, just slightly. “You’re choosing her?” she demanded. “Over me?”
“I’m not choosing,” Jason said, each word deliberate, final. “I already belong.”
Her breath caught.
“I belong to Analia,” he continued, unflinching. “In intent. In truth. In every way that matters.” His gaze hardened. “You don’t get to rewrite that because it threatens you.”
For a moment, Lyria said nothing. Then her lips curled, bitterness seeping through the cracks. “She’ll leave you,” she hissed. “Someone like her always does.”
Jason straightened, the last of his restraint locking into place like steel.
“Then that will be her choice,” he said. “Not yours.”
He turned away from Lyria without another word, already scanning the crowd, instinct reaching outward, fierce and focused.
Because Analia hadn’t just walked away.
She’d been driven off.
And Jason Nishi did not forgive debts like that.
No.
Absolutely not.
Analia kept walking, each step an act of will. She would not get involved with anyone tangled up in Lyria’s orbit. She had learned that lesson the hard way.
Jason called after her, his voice chasing her down the street, but she didn’t slow. Today was Nala’s birthday. She had cupcakes to buy, candles to pick, a promise to keep. She would not let old wounds poison something meant to be joyful.
Inside the store, the lights were too bright. The aisles swam.
Disgust rolled through her, hot and sudden.
How could she have slept with a yokai male who knew her sister?
The thought twisted in her stomach until she had to grip the edge of a shelf just to steady herself.
Her phone had rung itself breathless for two days, vibrating across counters and tables until she’d finally turned it face down, as if silence could be forced into obedience.
On the third day, frustration snapped.
She marched outside and answered without looking at the screen. “Yes?”
“Analia.”
Her shoulders stiffened. The worry in his voice was unmistakable, and somehow that made her more defensive, not less.
“Yes,” she said coolly. “This is she.”
“I’ve been calling you for days. Why haven’t you answered?”
She exhaled sharply. “I don’t date or flirt with anyone who knows Lyria. I’m sorry. Truly. But we shouldn’t see each other again.”
A pause. Then, faint amusement threaded his voice.
“That’s fortunate. Because I’ve never dated or flirted with her.”
“What?”
“Don’t misunderstand me. She’s ... adequate.” He sounded almost bored. “But she’s clingy. Needy. And she smells of too many men. I would never touch someone like that.”
Her grip tightened on the phone.
“Have I ever broken my word to you?” he asked quietly.
“No,” she admitted. “But--”
“No buts.” His voice softened. “I corrected her assumptions. Made it very clear who I belong to.”
His laugh rumbled through the line, warm and real, and before she could stop herself, she laughed too. The knot in her chest loosened, just a little.
“I missed you,” he added. “And for the record, you are worth more than twenty of her. She had no right to call you a nobody.”
Analia shook her head, smiling despite herself. Maybe she had let Lyria’s shadow linger too long.
The doorbell rang just after three.
With the children still at school, Analia frowned as she opened the door. The regret hit instantly.
Lyria stood there like a walking brand advertisement. Designer dress, pristine heels, handbag swinging from her wrist like a weapon.
“What do you want?” Analia asked, already tired. “I’m busy.”
Lyria brushed past her without invitation, nose wrinkling as she surveyed the modest living room.
“This place is disgusting,” she said. “You have money and still choose this?”
“We value work in this house,” Analia replied tightly.