Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 115388 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115388 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
The Fox believed I’d been tamed by grief and his pathetic show of dominance in his hospital room. Let him. I wanted his soldiers slow with comfort, soft with arrogance. I wanted them asleep when the city lit up.
By the time he realized what I’d done, there would be nothing left to salvage.
Not his empire.
Not his pride.
Not even his name.
However, the bombs wouldn’t detonate yet.
Not tonight.
I needed these next few days to breathe.
To fuck.
To worship my Tiger the way she deserved.
Her voice echoed in my head—low, sleepy, tinged with that wild edge she thought she could hide. But it wasn’t her words I felt. It was the kiss. That final moment before we parted. When I pulled her in and devoured her lips like I hadn’t eaten in years.
I could still taste her breath—sweet, electric, threaded with lust.
Her hands had trembled against my chest, not from fear, but from the force of holding.
Even now, I could feel the ghost of her mouth on mine. Every time I closed my eyes, I was back inside it, devouring her all over again.
Nyomi. . .
I didn’t know what peace felt like anymore. But I knew peace sounded like Nyomi’s laughter when she forgot she was guarded, and it would also be the moans of her surrender. It probably smelled like her skin—black amber and ripe plum.
If I died in this war, I wanted that scent in my lungs.
So. . .for now. . .I’d let the city sleep while I held her.
Let my enemies dream while I fell deeper into her soul.
The reckoning could wait, just long enough for me to taste her pussy and make her voice hoarse from moaning my name.
Finally, I will see her.
Chapter twenty-three
The Mystery Date
Kenji
My Rolls-Royce glided through the Tokyo night with the grace of a panther. The engine purred low, a sound so luxurious it barely registered as mechanical.
Outside, Tokyo burned in motion—neon lights smeared across the windows in wild, chaotic brushstrokes. Crimson kanji. Electric blue streetlamps. Flashing pink signage that danced.
Tokyo didn’t sleep—it shimmered, thrummed, and lured.
It was a living poem written in neon and breathless desire.
And tonight, it felt like the entire city was blurring just to usher me toward whatever madness my Tiger had designed in secret.
I can’t wait to taste her.
The only thing that drove me crazy was the fact that I still didn’t know the location.
I was the Dragon, I should have already known.
Not because I needed to vet it myself.
Not because I didn’t trust Reo.
But because I owned this city and I wanted to be there already. To have her in front of me. To watch whatever unhinged little plan she’d been cooking up blossom on my time.
And more than anything?
I wanted to fuck the surprise out of her.
Naughty tiger.
But I waited.
Impatient.
On edge.
For the last six hours after arriving in Tokyo, I’d had a whole special team of men trying to figure out the location.
Nothing came.
Even her personal guards didn’t know.
She hadn’t left the apartment once the entire fucking day.
That was the first red flag—she knew I was watching.
Although many people went in and out of her friend’s apartment, none gave us any clue of where tonight’s date would be.
Therefore, I’d activated three layers of new surveillance. One Scale simply watched her building. Other Scales tailed every friend she’d seen in the past 48 hours. A third monitored every digital whisper—text threads, deleted messages, cloud pings, dummy accounts, burner phones, QR codes, crypto wallets.
Nothing stuck.
By afternoon, she’d gotten multiple grocery deliveries. Tons of bags and boxes that she would not let her guards go through or help her take up. Regardless, the amount of them suggested a small gathering.
For a moment, I thought she might be hosting the date at Zo’s apartment. Maybe something cozy, something she could control. I wondered if she was cooking for me. That thought alone twisted something low in my stomach. Not just arousal, but dangerous hope.
Women didn’t cook for me.
They dressed up for five-star menus and handed me the bill.
But her?
What if she was in that apartment rolling up her sleeves and cooking for me?
I tried not to get too excited. Tried not to imagine her barefoot in Zo’s little kitchen, humming while she tasted sauces and thought of me.
But fuck, it was difficult to not wonder.
That fantasy was what began to get me hard.
Her friends moved like people with nothing to hide. They laughed. They strolled.They wasted our time.
Aimi, a sculptor with cobalt blue braids and a fetish for antique weaponry, had an art installation opening in Nakameguro. She spent the afternoon on livestream talking about “erotic violence and feminine myth” with a whiskey in one hand and a steel blade in the other.
Mai, a quiet powerhouse who taught Pilates and coded blockchain apps in the evenings, went to a silent retreat in Setagaya, then showed up at her grandmother’s house with lemon tea and a book about grief.