Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 101427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
You’re freaking your people out.
One of the white-clad attendants appeared and handed him a pair of soft indoor slippers. They were black silk with gold embroidery across the toe.
Groaning, Kenji guided one of my ankles forward, carefully placed the slipper onto my foot, and whispered something in Japanese.
An Eye grinned.
What did he say? I bet it was nasty.
When Kenji was done, he rose from the floor, quickly took off his shoes, and put on slippers.
I smiled at him. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. I enjoyed every second of that.”
I made a note that Kenji definitely had some sort of foot and heel fetish.
We will definitely be exploring that.
We headed forward and it felt like entering a shrine more than a home. Every detail was exquisite. Shoji screens stood open on either side, revealing long corridors that stretched forever.
Kenji’s hand rested on the small of my back as we crossed another threshold.
I was still trying to make sense of it all when one of his men approached us from a hallway.
We stopped.
Kenji looked at him and they spoke in low, clipped Japanese.
Then I heard a bit of English.
“Bomb placements confirmed.”
My body went cold.
Kenji gave a tight nod, jaw flexed, and murmured something back I couldn’t translate. But I didn’t need to.
Bombs. This war is really going to happen.
Kenji was going to detonate entire pieces of Tokyo.
My stomach clenched so hard I had to force my jaw to stay shut.
The walls of the mansion seemed to tilt for a second, the beauty around me warping as my brain tried to make sense of the brutality beneath it.
This man who had kissed me like I was the only thing tethering him to this world. Who held my hand on a helicopter like a sacred vow. He was preparing to erase parts of a city.
How many innocents would die?
I wanted to ask, but I didn’t get the chance.
More men appeared speaking in Japanese and Kenji’s face grew tense.
What is going on? Is everything okay?
To my right, an older man in white stepped forward. First, he bowed deeply to Kenji and then he turned to me. “Miss Palmer, my name is Sako. I’m the house steward. It’s an honor to serve you.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“May I show you around while the Dragon has his meeting.” He glanced at Kenji for permission.
Kenji gave him a single nod and let go of my hand. “I will see you soon, Tora.”
I swallowed not wanting to be separated but knowing that he had to focus on the war ahead.
And then, just like that, the Dragon slipped back into place.
Gone was the man who had knelt before me like I was a queen. Gone was the lover who had guided me over the bridge with a hand at my back, who kissed the tips of my heels and stroked my ankle like he needed it to breathe.
In his place stood the ferocious beast.
That dragon-shadow rose high against the wall—dark, elegant, and terrifying. His spine straightened into an impossible line. His jaw locked. His hands, which had just been tender and slow, folded behind his back in military stillness.
His men around us snapped to attention, as if they’d felt the shift in air pressure too.
Fuck.
Sako turned toward me and gestured with an elegant hand. “Please follow me, so I can show you to your quarters.”
I hesitated.
Just for a second. My hand still tingled from where Kenji had touched it.
But war was coming.
And I wasn’t the one holding the match.
So I walked off with Sako and made sure to keep his pace.
Fuck. . .
Ten feet ahead, I glanced over my shoulder.
Kenji was even more surrounded—men murmuring to him in clipped Japanese, their shoulders tense, their eyes full of worry. The Dragon stood motionless, that terrible shadow stretching long and high behind him like a living omen.
But. . .his attention wasn’t on them. . .instead he watched me walk away. . .and even beneath all that ruthless power, all that quiet devastation he was about to unleash on the world, I saw a flicker in his eyes of the man who kissed my feet.
Of the man who called me Tora like it was sacred.
What will these next days look like?
Chapter eight
The Dragon’s Lair
Nyomi
Sako moved like ink over water—fluid and precise. His outfit was all white, cut in a traditional Japanese silhouette with sharp shoulders and a high collar, but tailored perfectly.
Not a thread out of place.
Not a wrinkle in sight.
He walked next to me, and we moved through a long glass corridor first, the floors beneath us glowing faintly with embedded light strips.
Wow.
“This way,” Sako said gently, opening a wide black-and-gold paneled door.
The first room we entered was a pool room—not like the ones in hotels or spas. This one had no chlorine sting in the air. The entire space smelled of jasmine. The carved stone pool was deep and narrow, its water still as glass.