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 blinked.
His hands found her waist, and he spun her into his arms.
Okay.
She gasped—surprised, delighted—and then he kissed her.
Oh my. This is going to be a romantic performance.
She melted into that kiss as the flute’s notes rose.
Her fingers curled into his chest. Her body arched against his. A giggle escaped her lips when he pulled back, breathless and stunned.
Giggling some more, she pressed a finger to his mouth. “Shh.”
Then she slipped away.
I smirked.
She danced backward, blowing him a kiss. Her laughter rose, turning light and musical.
The man stood frozen near Shibuya crossing with his painted face revealing a mask of shocked joy.
Seconds later, he began to dance on his side of the display.
Spinning.
Leaping.
His movements were full of bliss.
Like a man who'd just been touched by a divine goddess.
The woman twirled away through the city.
She wove between Ginza's towers, skipped over the miniature Sumida River.
Her kimono left trails of color in her wake.
She was playing.
Teasing.
Enjoying her life.
She danced toward Shinjuku.
The second man saw her coming.
Oh shit. I forgot about him.
He moved to intercept, cutting between the narrow alleys of Golden Gai.
Unaware, the woman spun around a corner and found herself caught by him too.
His arms wrapped around her.
She looked up at him with eyes wide.
He kissed her.
Girl. . .
This kiss was deeper than the first guy.
More urgent.
His hand cradled the back of her head, pulling her close. She stiffened for a moment—genuinely surprised—and then she giggled against his mouth.
Alright. . . .be careful. They have swords. Let’s hope they share.
When he released her, she stumbled backward with her hand pressed to her lips.
Two men.
Two kisses.
Her painted face flushed with delight.
She giggled again and rushed away, disappearing into the maze of miniature Tokyo.
The second man watched her go, and his expression was dazed. His body swayed like he'd been drugged.
He began to dance on his side of the display.
Spinning.
Reaching.
Lost in the pleasurable memory of her mouth.
The music shifted.
The drum beat faster.
The shamisen struck a more urgent note.
Both men began to move.
They pursued her through the city from opposite directions—weaving between buildings, leaping over bridges, following the ghost of her laughter.
So intrigued, I left the Dragon’s hold and leaned forward, wondering what would happen next.
When they meet up, are they going to have a big orgy?
The woman ran ahead of them, glancing over her shoulder with that flirtatious smile. She giggled as she ducked beneath Tokyo Tower, spun through Roppongi, her kimono blazing behind her like a comet's tail.
She thought it was a game.
She thought they were both chasing her.
And then the men reached the center of the display.
They emerged from opposite sides near the base of Tokyo Tower—and froze.
They saw each other.
Oh shit.
The woman kept running for a few more steps before she realized the footsteps behind her had stopped. She turned with that playful giggle still on her lips. . .and saw them.
Standing face to face.
Recognition dawning.
And it was like this realization hit them at the same moment.
Their joyful expressions twisted into something darker.
Jealousy.
Rage.
The understanding that they weren't the only man in her life.
The first man drew his sword.
The second man drew his.
Steel sang as the blades cleared their sheaths.
Oh fuck. It’s about to go down.
The woman's giggle died in her throat.
Her flirtatious smile vanished.
Yeah, girl. A threesome is not happening today.
With their swords raised, the men circled each other.
The music grew dark—the drum pounding like a war drum, the shamisen shrieking with rage.
I gripped the edge of the table.
The first man lunged.
His blade swept in a vicious arc, and the second man barely twisted away.
Their swords met with a clash that rang through the war room.
I almost jumped.
Sparks seemed to fly—or maybe it was just the candlelight playing tricks.
They fought.
Really fought.
Not the careful, choreographed dance I'd expected.
This looked real.
Their bodies slammed into each other. Their blades met again and again, the sound of steel on steel filling the space.
They moved through the miniature city, and I held my breath every time a sword swept close to a building.
Y’all better not mess up the Dragon’s war room.
But they never hit anything.
The precision was extraordinary.
Even in their fury, even in their battle, they navigated Tokyo's towers without disturbing a single structure.
The woman rushed toward them.
"Stop!" Her voice rang out. All the flirtation was gone. All the playfulness. Now there was only fear in her eyes. "Please, stop!"
She tried to get between them. Reached for the first man's arm.
He shoved her away without looking, and his focus was locked on his rival.
She stumbled.
And tried again.
The second man's sword swept toward the first man's chest, and nearly caught her across the throat.
I didn’t mean to, but I murmured, “Be careful.”
They fought more.
She got in the way and jerked backward, her hand flying to her neck.
The blade had missed by inches.
Maybe less.
Both men froze for a heartbeat.
Then they were fighting again, moving away from her, their battle carrying them through Roppongi, through Ginza, their swords flashing in the candlelight.