“This morning, Tokyo will wake up to the Dragon’s fire.”
Reo nodded. “And the Fox won’t know what bled through him until he’s already drowning.”
I let Reo’s promise settle in my bones.
Gunfire cracked again—closer this time. Muffled screams echoed up the stairwell. The air had shifted. The building itself braced.
We were almost out of time.
I took the present from Satoshi and headed off.
My Eyes followed.
Reo said some words of encouragement, but I barely heard them, because everything inside me was already moving ahead of my body—rushing toward her scent, her voice, her softness, her heart.
Chapter two
Power at My Feet
Nyomi
The scent hit me before the sound did—blood, fresh and bitter, riding the heat that clung to Kenji’s skin.
Then came his footsteps, bare against the marble.
I stayed seated, though my fingers tightened around the arms of the queening throne. The leather under my palms felt slick now, not from sweat but from the static of fear and awe colliding inside me.
And then he walked in.
Kenji Sato.
Shirtless.
Torso a living canvas of dark ink and hard muscle.
No shoes.
No words.
Just blood drying on his hands and eyes full of fury.
And call me crazy, but it was absolutely magnificent to behold.
Shit. He is still pissed. I’m glad he isn’t mad at me.
Yet, to my surprise, he held a gift in one hand. It was a long box wrapped in thick, matte black paper with a single pink bow on top.
The contrast was almost disorienting.
Violence clung to his sculpted body, but the present appeared delicate.
It made my chest ache. Because only a man like him could carry both violence and kindness in the same breath, and make both feel like seduction.
Entering further into the room, his chest rose and fell with controlled breaths, though everything about his face said uncontrolled rage.
His jaw clenched. His mouth was firm. His hair was slightly damp, like he’d run bloody hands through the strands.
But it wasn’t just him that entered. He’d brought that menacing dragon-shadow too.
