Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 101427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Kenji let out a long breath. “Why come? I’m in the air. En route to the safe location. Reo is handling cleanup.”
Opening his eyes, Kenji rolled his neck slowly and spoke back into the phone. “Brother. . .breathe. You're hyperventilating through the signal. Yes. You are. No. There is no such thing as rage-breathing. No. There is no difference.”
One of the Eyes snorted.
I smiled.
“How could there be internal bleeding when no one touched me? Do you think I’m fragile?” Kenji quirked his brows. “Well. . .maybe I should not have asked.”
I didn’t know what Hiro said next, but it caused Kenji to chuckle. “Never mind that, Hiro. Go to the safe spot. Yes. The safe spot.”
A pause came.
Then he said the words that chilled my spine. “Tomorrow, we go to war, brother. Be ready.”
He hung up, put the phone back in his pocket, and looked at me. “You’re still breathing steady.”
“I am, but. . .”
He leaned his head to the side.
“How are you doing?”
His jaw went tight, his posture controlled, yet heat rose in his gaze. “I am regretting something.”
“What are you regretting?”
“That I didn’t make you cum one more time.”
I lowered my voice. “I came twice and I’m sore.”
“But you’re not ruined.”
“We didn’t have time for that.”
“There’s always time.” He slipped his gaze along my body covered in the cape. “I’m thinking I may have my men close their eyes so I can eat your pussy.”
My lashes fluttered.
“But there’s a problem with that.”
“W-what’s the problem?”
“I don’t want them to hear your moans.”
“That is a big problem because. . .if you eat me. . .I’m moaning. Loudly.”
A dark groan left him as he leaned forward and kissed me like he needed to memorize the taste of my soul.
And, I melted.
Mouth parting.
Pulse racing.
Thoughts scattering as if crows in a storm.
He groaned again, deeper this time, and angled his head to kiss me harder.
Deeper.
Wilder.
Until I wasn’t just breathless, I was undone. I could feel the heat of his restraint, how close he was to completely losing it.
A second later, he pulled back just enough to drag his teeth across my bottom lip, biting down gently and then letting go.
His eyes met mine.
Dark.
Dilated.
Dangerous.
Right when I thought he was going to say something, he claimed my mouth again, parting my lips and slid his tongue inside.
My knees would’ve buckled if I wasn’t already seated.
He pulled back a little and this time his lips sealed around my bottom one. He sucked on it hard, drawing it into his mouth and moaning.
Fuck.
Then he bit down.
I gasped.
He bit again.
Sucked.
Pulled.
And when he finally released my lip, it tingled with heat.
So did every inch of my body.
His eyes searched mine, slow and consuming. “Open my gift.”
“Gift?”
“The one on your lap.”
I looked down. “Oh yeah. Shit. How could I forget?”
He chuckled.
I leaned away and grabbed it. “That kiss shoved me out of reality.”
“Mmmm. Naughty Tiger.”
“Naughty Dragon.” I curved my fingers around the edge of the box. “Did you get this in Paris?”
“Yes. I had it made for you there. It’s something small, but. . .I figured you should open it now because by the time we land on the island, I may be busy with my men.”
“I understand.”
I removed the bow and wrapping.
Next, I lifted the lid.
Inside was an elegant pen.
“Oh wow.” I picked it up. “This is. . .insanely perfect.”
The pen was black amber. Sleek and cool to the touch, but with depth to it. The nib had to be pure gold.
I raised it up in front of me and got a closer look at the nib. It was sculpted into the head of a dragon with tiny ruby eyes. Its body coiled around the pen in subtle relief, talons catching the light.
The barrel shimmered.
My breath caught. “This is the most beautiful pen I’ve ever seen in my life. How did you get this made for me?”
“Yes. Commissioned during the trip. Montblanc atelier. They told me it would take weeks. I said, no. She needs it now.”
I imagined the poor person assembling a crew to get this pen crafted before the Dragon returned to pick it up.
I looked down.
A bottle of ink sat nestled inside, deep plum, nearly black, with a satin label. The wax seal was shaped like a dragon’s talon.
Next to that an ivory card was engraved in gold and read:
For every word you bleed onto the page, may you remember who burns behind you.
— K.S.
Oh. God.
My chest squeezed.
I wasn’t ready for that.
My eyes watered as I turned the pen in my hands, careful not to smudge the gold.
I knew Montblanc.
I’d saved for weeks once just to get a limited-edition pen from them. It wasn’t even custom. Just a numbered one in honor of James Baldwin. I still remembered the price tag—more than my rent at the time. I didn’t eat breakfast for a month, wore the same twist-out for four weeks straight, and convinced myself that sacrificing groceries and my hair was worth it.