Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 154368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 772(@200wpm)___ 617(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 772(@200wpm)___ 617(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
I turned away from Kaoru and Yoichi and walked over to the window.
The sun was almost down now. The sky was streaked with pink and orange, and the ocean stretched out endlessly in front of me.
Hurry up, Kenji. I want to be in your arms and just truly know that you are safe.
After a while, the air in the kitchen transformed into a symphony of scents—earthy root vegetables, the sharp tang of miso, the clean smell of steamed rice.
My mouth watered.
I thought of Hiroko again.
I didn’t even get to say goodbye. That feels so wrong. . .
I wanted to cry some more, but wouldn’t let myself. I had to keep myself together.
I turned back to Kaoru. "Can you bring me a book from my bedroom? It’s called, ‘When the Dragon Swallowed the Moon.’"
He bobbed his head. "I'll get it."
“Thanks.”
He left the kitchen, and I sat down at the small table near the window.
Yoichi appeared beside the table and set a glass of water next to my wine without saying a word. Then he went back to the wall.
How did he know I needed this?
“Thank you.”
“No problem, Nyomi.”
I took a sip and then thought about Kaoru bringing me When the Dragon Swallowed the Moon.
I took another sip.
Yeah. That’s what I need.
Books had always comforted me.
When I was a kid and my mother was too drunk to notice I existed, I'd lose myself in stories.
When I was older and the world felt too heavy, I'd disappear into someone else's life for a while.
Into their problems.
Their love.
Their victories.
That's why I wrote.
To give other people that same escape.
To help them forget the sadness of death, the reality of pain and stress, the anxious weight of living.
Art always helped people survive the roughest times in life.
It saved them.
And right now, I needed to be saved from my grief.
Kaoru came back a few minutes later with the book in his hands. "Here you go."
"Thank you."
He smiled and went back to leaning against the counter.
I ran my fingers over the cover and thought about where I’d left off.
The heroine, Sol had been lying between her two dragon shifter mates. There’d been talk of her going through, the ripening which seemed like it would be a horny phase for female dragon shifters.
I hope so. I’m here for all the filthy sex.
Hiroko’s words entered my mind.
"Remember. Don't let his presence knock you off your throne. A dragon's fire is only as strong as the woman who dares to breathe through the smoke."
I swallowed, closed my eyes, and let the grief wash over me. Let myself feel this overwhelming sadness for a moment instead of pushing it away.
How did she die? Should I even ask about all the dreaded details? Fuck. . .
"Many women in my world have told their stories. I'm not sure what mine would offer now. Perhaps, I should leave this dream alone."
All I knew for sure was that I was going to honor her. She’d wanted me to write a book about her life and that would be my first priority after this war ended.
It just made me sad that we wouldn’t be together. I’d imagined us celebrating at her book launch and watching her during the book tour doing tons of interviews.
She would have flipped the world around with all of her bold statements to women.
Damn it.
This time, I took a large gulp of the wine, opened the book, and found the passage where Sol was lying between Korin and Pyrran, learning about the ripening, swallowing the moon, and becoming a goddess.
I settled deeper into my chair. Took another sip of wine. Let the kitchen sounds fade into the background—the chopping, the sizzling, the quiet murmur of Chef Bunzō giving out more instructions.
And I let myself escape into dragons and immortal, fated love.
Into a world where the heroine was powerful, protected, and wanted.
Chapter forty-three
A Flight into Forgiveness
Pyrran
Pyrran lay in the darkness and watched Sol sleep.
She was curled against Korin. One of Korin's arms was draped possessively over her waist, holding her close even in sleep. Their breathing had synced.
Pyrran frowned.
She was turned away from him and kept a foot of space between them because she was still angry.
Still hurt.
Still terrified of the dragon who had dropped her from the sky and forced her to shift or die.
Pyrran's jaw clenched.
He'd made a terrible, unforgivable mistake.
And now their queen couldn't even look at him without flinching.
The moonlight came through the open arch of their chamber in a pale, silver flood. It pooled across the bed like spilled milk and caught the edges of Sol's black hair.
His dragon stirred beneath his ribs and ached.
The bond between the three of them pulsed faintly in the dark. It was a low, golden thread that Pyrran could feel more than see. It hummed where Sol's skin touched Korin's. It thickened where Korin's breath fell warm against the back of her neck. And it reached for Pyrran across the empty space of the bed like a hand extending through water.