Even more, when I saw it, Kenji was stepping into his power.
Why did this. . .dragon-shadow surface now?
I had no idea what the answer could be, just that it was behind us.
Towering.
Breathing.
Claiming the steam, the stone, and the air itself.
Kenji lowered his head to the hollow where my neck met my shoulder and slowly. . .possessively. . .he breathed in my scent. When he finally spoke, his voice was wrecked velvet—low, deranged, fevered, and aching, “Tora. . .you are the criminal. I am the judge. This is your trial.”
I blinked.
“Your first offense, walking into my war room looking so fucking sexy and giving all of my men erections.”
I did my best to not grin.
“Every one of them looked at you, Tora. I saw it—the way their eyes followed your ass, your breasts, your fucking heels. They wanted you.” His cock ground harder against me, brutal, possessive. “But they don’t get you. No one does. Only me. If another man so much as touches this pussy, I’ll slit his throat and make you lick the blood from my fingers while I fuck you screaming.”
That grin left my face and I widened my eyes.
Well. . .damn.
He took the hand not clamped over my mouth and ripped my robe open with a violent tug.
The fabric fell apart in an instant, baring me to the wet air. Steamy heat rushed across my skin, clinging to my breasts, wrapping them in mist and making them gleam, slick and sensitive.
My nipples hardened instantly.
The robe’s loose fabric clung to my arms and sides, useless now.
“Your second offense, putting me in the water, binding me, and taking away my breath while you jacked my cock.” He let out a heavy groan that vibrated through my body. “Third offense, instead of simply dominating me. . .you turned me completely out until my mind was no longer the same. My very chemistry is altered.”
What?
My breaths came out as broken stutters against his palm, the rhythm of someone unraveling.
“Your fourth offense was leaving me. After what you did. . .you thought you could walk away? I’ll fuck the memory of escape out of you.”
I shook my head against his palm and tried to let out the muffled protest rising from my throat. I didn’t want to give him the quick satisfaction of my surrender. . .not yet. But in his strong arms, the attempt was futile.
“And if you ever leave me like that again. . .I’ll chain you to my bed and fuck you until your pussy forgets what freedom feels like.”
I tried to speak, to explain, but that damn palm remained clamped around my mouth. All I could get out was mumbling.
“No.” He slipped his nose along my skin. “There is no explanation I want to hear from you. No defense. Just punishment.”
Again, I shook my head against his palm, trying to deny him, deny myself. Some wild spark of me still wanted to resist, to prove I wasn’t just his captive. But my body betrayed me—my pussy clenching, my thighs trembling, the sound leaking from my throat not a protest but a moan.
He moved his other hand and grabbed my breast. “You left me starving. Now I’ll feed on you until you can’t stand.”
Fear and lust tornadoed through my body, spinning violently.
My heart boomed with terror, but my pussy pulsed with need.
How could that be?
