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)
"It wasn't okay, of course. It was never okay. But I'd still suck on the sugar and hope for the best." And then to my surprise, he reached his hand out and traced the drawing of the lollipop on the rim. "I guess, I never stopped."
I didn't know what to say. So I just picked up a red pencil and added more color to the drink—deepening the cherry red.
“What are the ingredients?”
“Don’t you want to be surprised?”
“I’m already surprised.” He met my gaze. “Please, tell me.”
"Cherry sake," I said softly. "Vodka. Grenadine swirl. Touch of cream for the white." I wrote the ingredients in the margin. "Looks sweet like candy, but truly hits like a very fucking dangerous blade."
"Just like me."
"Just like you." I laughed, and then he followed. And I didn’t know how long it went on. In fact, we were still laughing when the kitchen door opened.
And Kenji stepped through first.
The laughter caught in my throat.
His eyes found mine first—then moved to Hiro, to the lack of space between us, to the sketchpad we'd been huddled over.
I watched him take it all in. Watched him decide what he was seeing. I couldn't tell if what came next would be a kiss or a confrontation.
"Brother." Hiro's voice was easy. Unbothered. "Perfect timing."
Kenji said nothing.
He just looked at me.
Chapter twelve
Even When It Burned
Nyomi
I raised my eyebrows.
Behind him came Reo, and behind Reo, the Fangs filed in.
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 quiet mine he 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 there is cheese 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.
And he was still here.
Still smiling.
Still trying to steal cheese.
This is who they are.
"Of course." I winked. "Take all you want. It is your job after all."
Hiro's jaw dropped. "Really?”
“Yes. Really.” I shrugged.
“I had to fight just to get a taste."
"But, Reo has to make sure there's no poison."
“Exactly.” Reo didn't wait for further permission. He grabbed a croquette with his bruised hand and popped it into his mouth.
His eyes closed, and he groaned.
Kenji blinked.
One of the Fangs snickered.
"Well. . ." Reo grabbed another one. "I will surely need a further assessment."
"Told you," Hiro muttered. "The man has a problem with cheese."
Reo ignored him completely, already reaching for a third.
I laughed—and caught Kenji watching me.
In this moment, there was no dragon-shadow.
Just him.
And his eyes lingered on me with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine—a shiver of warmth, not fear. I found myself drawn into that gaze, into the depth of emotion that swirled there.