I straightened on my stool, but I didn't move away from Hiro. We were close—shoulders almost touching, the sketchpad open between us, colored pencils scattered across the counter.
Kenji's eyes swept the scene one more time. His gaze moved from me to Hiro. Lingered on the lack of space between us. Then came back to me.
And I saw two things in his expression at once.
Jealousy—a flicker of possessiveness, that quietminehe never had to say out loud.
And warmth.
Genuine warmth.
Like a man who was annoyed that his brother and his woman were so close, but also deeply, secretly happy about it.
He wants us to love each other, I realized.Even if it drives him crazy.
Kenji breathed in slowly, taking in the kitchen. The prep stations. The sample dishes. The sketchpad full of cocktail designs. The remnants of our taste-testing scattered across multiple plates.
Then my eyes moved to Reo.
And my stomach dropped.
Bruises darkened his jaw. His nose looked swollen, and he moved carefully, like a man trying to hide that his ribs hurt.
Hiro is right. Kenji fucked up his ribs.
The old Nyomi—the one who existed before this morning, before Hiro's lesson about death and mirrors and what pyres meant to men who lived in this world—would have reacted.
Would have gasped.
Would have turned to Kenji with accusation in her eyes and loudly demanded to know what happened.
But I wasn't that Nyomi anymore.
So, I stayed quiet.
And when the rest of the Fangs filed in behind Reo—all of them looking a little roughed up, a little tired, a little like men who had just done hard work—I was even more glad I'd kept my mouth closed.
This is their world. I’m the student. Not the teacher.
Reo's nose twitched.
His head turned slowly toward the prep station. Toward the plate of mac and cheese croquettes—golden and crispy, still sitting where I'd left them. And suddenly. . .Reo drifted toward them like a man hypnotized. “What do we have here?”
"No." Hiro's voice rang out. "Don't touch anything. Have some respect. The Tiger is testing samples."
I smirked at the audacity of Hiro after he’d just been stealing samples earlier.
Reo's hand hovered over the plate. His expression was completely serious. "Well. . .as the Roar, I must make sure that all dishes are safe for the Dragon and his men."
Hiro rolled his eyes. "You smell the cheese."
Reo's serious mask cracked. "Aww. So thereischeese in there."
I did my best to not laugh.
Reo turned to me and those bruised eyes became hopeful. "May I?"
I looked at him—really looked at him. The bruises. The swollen nose. The careful way he held himself. Whatever had happened this morning, it had been hard on him.
