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)
Buckets murmured as water sloshed.
I watched the path settle into the marble the way ink settles into paper.
Fed stone wins wars. What about fed men?
I rolled my shoulders and thought about Hiro’s last words just now.
He wasn’t just fighting for stew or fucking macaroni and cheese. It wasn’t even about pride.
The Claws didn’t want gold leaf on their plates—they wanted a cook that remembered their names, a bowl set down like a blessing, a smile from Nyomi as she waited to see if they liked her meal.
They wanted the feeling of family and belonging.
And her giving the bento boxes to the Fangs and Eyes, had made them feel excluded.
Goddamn it. Those fucking bento boxes have caused an internal uprising.
Our father would have never cared of such things. Maybe that was why his wars always lasted for too long and so many of his men tended to be traitors.
His men were never fed with love. The empire barely held, but the foundation remained cracked and cold.
I could buy Hiro and the Claws anything—award-winning chefs, gold-flecked sushi and naked models to place it on, wine flown in from Paris by private jet.
I could build them feasts on marble tables lit by a hundred candles.
But I couldn’t buy them Nyomi—the sound of her laugh, the way she poured her love into the simple task of making a plate or passing a glass.
To receive that from my Tiger was something else entirely.
It was rare in our world.
Her warmth seeped into the cold places within my heart and stayed there. Perhaps, the others felt that way too when experiencing her attention.
No wonder the Fangs bragged.
Still, jealousy lingered within my frame. I didn’t want to share her, but she was warmth and love. In war, that was important.
Strategy was temperature. Cold men shot straight but died early. Warm men stayed to finish the war and remembered why they should come home.
The Fox had taught me that a floor without blood was cursed. He was wrong by half. A floor without blood lost battles, but a house without love lost its sons.
If we were going to beat the Fox, then love and warmth would be the answer.
Fine, Brother. . .I get it. . .finally. . .
When I looked back at Hiro, I no longer saw a nuisance. I saw the kid who learned to turn sugar into a comforting blanket, the pre-teen who could cut a throat without blinking and still sleep beside the window like he was waiting for dawn to find him. I saw the man that was now battling grief and the loss of what could have been with a woman who had deserved his heart and more.
I thought I already knew enough about leading my men, but this war was teaching me more.
A throne that requires blood. . .also requires soup.
I nodded. “I’ll talk to my Tiger.”
Hiro and the Claws’ reactions were immediate.
Hiro’s grin hit first—sharp and boyish at the same time. He bit down and crunched the lollipop. Surely, sugar crystals now dusted his tongue. He tried to hold on to the usual smug, but it cracked at the edges and something softer bled through. He looked. . .happy.
My little brother, happy over food. I wish you could see this, Jobon.
Toma dragged in a breath so dramatic I almost laughed and then he bobbed his head, making that purple mohawk bounce a little. “Please make sure she does the yams with the warm bourbon butter.”
“I will ask her nicely.”
He eyed me. “And the hot honey cornbread?”
“Let’s just. . .” I did my best to not yell. “Let’s just be happy with my delaying the food rule for now.”
Kaede flexed his fingers inside those leather gloves. “Will dinner be tonight?”
I thought of how sexy Nyomi looked in that skirt and heels. “She’ll be busy today. I’ll talk to her and let you know later.”
Daisuke folded his arms over his chest. “Thank you, Dragon. We appreciate your fully lifting the food rule for the Claws.”
“Not fully lifting. One dinner. That’s it.”
The twins tilted their heads in unison and spoke like a two–man choir.
“Macaroni,” said one.
“And cheese,” said the other.
Hiro grinned. “Definitely. And due to the disrespect we should get a breakfast or a brunch also. Whatever your Tiger feels up to—”
“Absolutely not.” I held up my finger. “If she agrees, it’s one fucking dinner. You all will eat what you’re given, and you will fucking say thank you. Are we clear?”
The Claws nodded like I’d handed them weapons.
Hiro, for once, didn’t argue. “Clear.”
“Now leave me alone and get some rest.” I stormed off, done with the matter.
Tora. . .where did you go? And do you understand what we will be doing when I find you?
Chapter twenty-nine
Pressure
Kenji
The war room had thinned to a handful of men bent over the glowing 3D model of Tokyo, sliding labels into place with exhausted fingers. Most had already left for their villas, where warm light, laughter, and the arms of lovers waited to erase the cold stink of today’s plotting.