Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 161615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 539(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 539(@300wpm)
"She was probably just trying to understand who you are," I said, though something about Nyomi's observation made my own instincts prick.
"Maybe." But her voice said she didn't believe it.
"Trust your instincts, Tora." I studied the empty path where they'd disappeared. "You're hunting a spy tomorrow. If something feels wrong about anyone—even someone who's served me since my childhood—I want to know."
She turned to me. "You think one of them could be the spy?"
"I think anyone could be the spy." The words tasted like ash. "That's what makes betrayal so effective. It comes from where you least expect it."
"Even from someone who loves you?"
"Especially from someone who loves you. Love makes the perfect disguise."
“Then. . .consider having Reo look into Hina’s whereabouts since she’s been on the main island.”
“Okay.” I noted her observation and laced my fingers through hers. "Come. Let me show you our new paradise."
She followed, but I caught her glancing back once more at the empty path.
The Scales were being taken away.
Already I could hear the staff’s helicopter turning on.
And now, finally, I had my Tiger all to myself.
"Come," I pulled her attention back to me. "Let me show you what paradise actually looks like."
She turned, and when her eyes met mine, some of the tension left her shoulders. "Okay."
I helped her out of the helicopter and then placed my hand firm at the small of her back.
Soon, we stepped onto the stone helipad.
The island hummed around us—alive, waiting, ours.
And still, I wondered why the fuck my Roar would have my personal Scales at my private surprise today. I'd known him for too long to ever think his actions were meant to harm me.
Yet, Reo never made moves without seven reasons hidden behind the obvious one.
Was this a test for my Tiger?
For me?
Or something else entirely?
Did he suspect Hina too?
Or was this all just paranoia in my mind?
Chapter twenty-one
Borrowed Time
Kenji
While the other helicopter took the Scales away, the guards fanned out across the island—close enough to kill for me, far enough to vanish into the scenery.
But for me, they didn't truly exist.
The world narrowed to my Tiger, and the way the wind caught her braids, teasing the tips along her neck and across her shoulder. The way her scent moved through the salt air—black amber and ripe plum—wrapping my senses in the silk of her.
Due to the war, this date on the island was borrowed time.
The silence before the bloody battle.
The romantic calm before the chaotic storm.
And I welcomed it.
Even dragons needed stillness before they burned the world.
Plus, rest would sharpen our blades.
Mine and hers.
I took her hand, and it smoothly fit against mine, small but fierce, soft fingers threading through as if claiming ground.
As we headed down the steps, I traced slow circles along the inside of her wrist with my thumb, feeling her pulse tap against my skin.
The stone steps descended from the helipad in a gentle curve, bordered by Satsuki azaleas in full bloom. They were deep pinks and soft whites.
The ocean breeze carried their sweet fragrance and mixed with the salt air.
“These flowers are so pretty.”
“I’m glad you like them.” I squeezed Nyomi's hand. "They’re from Kyoto. My landscape architect tried to convince me that local flowers would be easier to maintain out here, but I wanted these specifically."
“Why these flowers?”
I guided her down another step and stopped us at a bush. My hand possessively tightened around hers. Then, I leaned in closer.
"Satsuki means 'fifth month,'" I murmured against her ear.
She shivered.
I nipped at the lobe and licked my lips. "The flowers bloom once a year, blazing with life, commanding all of Japan to witness their glory. And then—" My voice dropped to a whisper as she released my hand to touch a flower. The loss of her skin against mine felt like a physical wound. I watched her fingers caress the delicate pink petals, imagining those same fingers trailing across my chest.
“Then?” she asked.
"Then the flowers wither and die, leaving nothing but memory and longing until the next bloom."
She looked up at me. "That's. . .a little sad that it’s such a short time of blooming."
"The short bloom is what makes them precious. If they bloomed all the time, no one would notice them. But because they're fleeting, because you can't have them whenever you want. . ." My voice dropped lower. "Every moment with them matters."
"So you brought them here." Her eyes searched mine. "To a place where hardly anyone would see them."
"I brought them here, because when something is rare and beautiful, I don't share it with the world. I keep it for myself.”
“You’re very much a dragon.”
“In some ways.”
“In most ways.” She put her focus back on those flowers and touched them.
And I lovingly watched.
The breeze lifted her braids again, carrying the sweet scent of the azaleas around us. Sunlight slid across her collarbone, and I obsessively followed it with my gaze.