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)
Then the petals flattened against my skin and didn't stop.
They pressed into me.
It wasn't soft either.
They breached my flesh and pain ripped down my arms in long, hot lines—like being tattooed again except the needle was going deeper.
Past the ink.
Past the muscle.
The tattoos drank them in. Black lines split open like wounds and the white crawled inside, petal by petal, and every one that dissolved into my skin burned.
Stems threaded between my ribs.
I felt the first one punch through the gap and the pain was so sharp my vision cut to white.
Then the second.
The third.
Each one cracking through cartilage with a sound I heard from the inside—wet, structural, wrong. Roots burrowed down my spine and I felt every vertebra come apart, loosening like a chain being pulled from both ends.
They found my stomach, wrapped around it, and squeezed until my throat locked and the sweetness of chrysanthemum flooded the back of my mouth.
Then the roots reached my heart.
They twisted around it.
Slowly.
They merged in the organ.
Threading through the valves.
Slipping between the chambers.
And my heartbeat changed. It stuttered. Skipped. Beat once around the roots and the flowers pulsed with it, blooming in rhythm with my blood, feeding from the inside of my chest.
White petals unfolded from the splits in my skin, wet and perfect, and I understood.
The flowers weren't holding me.
They were replacing me.
“No!” My chest cracked open with newly blooming chrysanthemums. Then, a scream tore out of me before I knew it was coming. “Get out of me!!”
The sound carried across the water.
The gray sky devoured it.
The flowers didn't move.
No!
My eyes flew open.
I blinked several times and took in the stone ceiling above me.
It was a. . .dream. . .
My heart slammed against my ribs.
I looked down. Braids spilled across my chest. Brown skin pressed against mine. Nyomi's arm was draped over my stomach, her palm flat against my ribs, her fingers curled gently into the space between them.
I began to orient myself taking note that it was my Tiger’s fingers, not stems. Her lush brown skin, not white petals.
Just a dream.
I closed my eyes, exhaled a shaky breath, and thought about the type of flowers that had grown into me.
Chrysanthemums. The flower of grief.
Every autumn, my mother would place them on the altar for our ancestors.
My pulse wouldn't slow down.
Then I felt it, a shift in the air.
I opened my eyes and turned to the right.
Holding a thick blanket as well as two robes folded over his forearm, Reo headed in and his entrance was quiet.
Hiro stepped in next.
Huh?
I raised my eyebrows.
What happened?
Today, they wore all black—heavy boots laced tight, tactical pants with reinforced knees, and long-sleeve shirts.
I looked back at the boots and tensed.
A single white petal clung to the toe of Reo's boot. My chest seized as I stared at it. The petal was small and curved. It could have come from any flower on the island. However, my body didn't care as it remembered the dream.
No. That’s nothing.
I looked at my brother.
Hiro had a lollipop in his mouth, the stick tilted between his lips.
My hands went still.
Soon, they stopped by us.
Reo immediately covered my Tiger with a blanket, although not before Hiro got a quick glance at her bare ass.
Careful, brother.
Hiro smirked and pulled out the lollipop. It was black.
Fuck.
Nyomi stirred against my chest. Then her fingers flexed on my ribs and went still. I felt the shift in her breathing. She was waking up, but she wasn't moving yet. She was listening.
Smart.
I kept my eyes on Reo's face. His expression looked carved from stone, but I could see the tightness around his mouth. The way his jaw worked like he was biting back words.
He was definitely upset.
While he’d known I had talked to Hiroko, he never knew what the surprise was going to deal with.
Reo took in the space. The stone slab. The equipment in the corner. The scent of smoke and sex. His hand closed into a fist at his side. Then opened. I watched him swallow whatever he wanted to say.
The line of his jaw twitched.
I yawned and then kissed my Tiger’s forehead. “Wake up, Tora. We have company.”
She stirred a little and then lifted her head. Her thick braids slid across my shoulder as she looked at Reo, then Hiro, and then back to me. Her body tensed against mine. She was reading their posture, assessing their hands, and taking in the combat gear.
As always, my Tiger is smart.
Pride moved through my chest. She was definitely learning our world.
Reo's expression softened slightly when he looked at her. "Good morning, Nyomi."
My Roar’s voice remained gentle and professional. "The movie theater is being prepared for you and the island today. The popcorn machine is running. Your breakfast will be delivered there when you're done changing."
She yawned. “Okay.”
"Your hairstylist and her cousin will be waiting for you in the theater’s VIP section." Reo checked his watch. “Soon.”