He gestured to all the doors around us. “The second level is for the Roar, Claws, and Fangs.”
“They are housed here, and not in the villas?”
“Exactly. If there is ever a time when you feel unsafe, and the Dragon nor I are near come to this level.”
“Okay.”
“The men stationed here are loyal. Deadly. They will protect you without hesitation.” Sako held up one finger. “However. . .go to the Fangs first, if possible.”
“Why the Fangs first and not the Claws?”
He exhaled like it pained him. “Because. . .the Claws sleep naked.”
I choked back a laugh.
Sako looked genuinely disapproving. “I have addressed it many times. They do not care. ‘Comfort over protocol,’ they always say.”
Well. . .I bet all of them are kind of fine as hell, so. . .I may go to the Claws first.
I chuckled to myself.
Sako returned us to the staircase.
The stairs spiraled, narrowing the higher we climbed.
We made it to the top.
The hallway was a masterpiece. Smoked glass panels glowed softly behind illuminated etched kanji in deep navy ink. The characters flowed in wild strokes.
Sako pointed to a huge door. “This is where the Dragon and you will sleep.”
Oh my. Let’s see what we have here.
Chapter nine
Curated Devotion
Nyomi
And with that, Sako walked up and pushed the door open.
I followed.
The floors shifted as we entered. From stone, to lacquered wood, to finally a tatami so soft it silenced every step.
The air turned warmer here, laced with faint incense.
The master bedroom was decadent but clean in its design. Walls of floor-to-ceiling glass curved in an arc, offering a panoramic view of the sea and the cliffs.
Night had blanketed the island, but the moon painted it silver along the waves.
Sheer silk curtains billowed at the glass, caught in the breeze of some hidden ventilation system. On the far end, an indoor cherry blossom tree stood in a planter of black stone.
Oh damn. That’s dope.
A massive bed dominated the center. Low to the ground in traditional style but impossibly large, with layers of black sheets and deep red silk coverlets.
To the right, a sitting area framed by curved furniture in lacquered gold and obsidian, like a lounge from some surreal imperial dream.
