His gaze didn’t waver. “I am.”
My heart beat harder. Faster. “That was what Paris was about, wasn’t it? You went there due to something dealing with this war?”
“Yes. I planned to discuss this all with you during dinner. . .but your surprises blew my mind. I became distracted.”
“War. You’re going to be in danger?”
He chuckled.
I frowned. “That’s not funny, Kenji.”
He tilted his head. “Tora, I am always in danger.”
It wasn’t bravado. It wasn’t drama. It was reality, etched into the lines of his body, his scars, his instincts.
Still, a thread of panic started to unravel within my core. “So what happens now?”
“Once everyone is at the safe location, the war begins.”
“And what is this. . .safe location?”
“It’s an island I own. Off the coast of Japan. Private. Hidden. My men have villas scattered across the cliffs. My mansion is in the center. It’s a fortress of glass, gold, and stone. The floors are heated obsidian. There’s a private onsen fed by volcanic springs. No one gets there unless I say so.”
Jesus.
I wrestled with all of this information and then spoke, “Your Eye said that Hiroko and her assistants are going there too.”
“When my father and brother realize that the assassins didn’t get me, they will search for Hiroko so they can torture her for any information.”
“Dear God.”
“So she’ll be with us until the war is over.”
My nerves were on edge.
“Your friend will be with us too.”
“What?”
“Zo. My father may have learned of his location and would go after him next if they can’t find Hiroko. I’m sure Reo probably has men grabbing him.”
All I could imagine was Zo pissing his pants when he opened the door to Kenji’s men. “Holy shit.”
Kenji smiled. “Everything will be fine, Tora.”
“How can you guarantee that?”
“Because I am the fucking Dragon.” Then he seized my waist with both hands—no hesitation, no gentleness—just raw, unfilteredclaiming. He yanked my body against his like we were two magnets that had fought too long to be apart.
And then he kissed me.
No. Heobliteratedme. His mouth didn’t just crash against mine. It conquered. It consumed. It tore through whatever fragile barrier I’d been pretending still stood between us.
I tasted rage and obsession. Fire and death. The promise of pleasure laced with the threat of being utterly undone.
His grip was iron, one hand curling into the base of my spine like he was anchoring me to this moment, this choice, thiswar. The other slid up my back, fingers fisting in my hair, tugging just enough to make me gasp.
He swallowed the sound like a starving man drinking holy water.
