Cold.
His arms crossed over his chest. His eyes moved from my mother to me to the blood on my knee and back to my mother. "You're filling his head with nonsense again."
My mother's hands fell from my face. She rose slowly and bowed her head. "It's not nonsense."
"It's fairy tales mixed with bullshit." My father stepped forward and his shadow stretched long across the floor.
And although I loved him, I did not see a beast within it.
It was just a man's shadow.
He glared at my mother. "It’s not truth. Just stories your grandmother told you to make you feel special. There are no shadow beasts. There are no hunters. There is only blood, power, and the will to take what you want."
He looked down at me. "Clean yourself up, Kenji. My son doesn’t get to cry over a scraped knee."
He turned and left.
My mother watched him go and she fisted her hands at her sides.
Once he was completely gone, she knelt in front of me again and whispered, "He's wrong. You are a dragon, Kenji. And one day, someone will love you so much that they’ll see it too. Remember that."
“Okay, Mommy.”
I blinked.
The war room came back into focus. The glowing miniature Tokyo. The candles. The ice cream melting in its bowls.
And Nyomi. Watching me with concern. Her beautiful face tilted. Her eyes searching mine.
I found my voice. "You see a dragon behind me?"
"Yes."
"What does it look like?"
She paused. Considered. Her gaze moved to the space over my shoulder, and I watched her eyes track across somethingI couldn't see. "It's like a shadow, but not a regular shadow. Scarier. Thicker, yet translucent. Wispy. Like black smoke given form."
Oh shit. She really does see it.
She gestured with her hands, tracing a shape in the air. "Sometimes it's small. Hovering close to you. But other times it expands. Gets massive. Overbearing."
I widened my eyes.
She shook her head. "It's hard to explain. It's dark, but not like darkness. More like... depth. Like looking into something old and powerful."
My chest tightened.
"And its eyes." She met my gaze. "It has eyes. They watch me. Sometimes they seem protective. Sometimes, curious. I’ve thought I was seeing things, but. . .in the same breath I just accepted it too. I guess that’s the South in me. Superstitions, ghosts, hoodoo. All of those things were just as normal in my childhood as sweet potato pie and big dinners after church."
My blood roared in my ears.
She sees it. Truly sees it.
The realization crashed through me like a wave breaking against rock. My hands trembled. My heart slammed against my ribs. I felt like the floor had dropped out from under me and I was falling, but the fall felt like flying too.
I didn’t know which truth to get high off first—the fact that this pointed to her being my true soul mate or that my mother’s stories held solid proof.
Tora. . .
