Page 73 of The Dragon 1
It was cold, crisp, and delicious, slipping down my throat in a rush of silky bubbles.
My legs stretched out and my shoulders softened.
The stress I’d carried in my spine all day about this date began to unwind, unfurling with every mile the car put between me and reality.
In fact, the massage seat's pressure points found places inside me I didn't know could be touched, sending ripples of electricityacross my skin that made me wonder what Kenji's actual touch might do.
The music video faded into another one showing a hot guy with muscles dancing in the middle of a busy street.
I exhaled, slow and deep, letting the luxury wash over me.
This experience is already crazy and the date hasn’t even started.
With champagne on my lips, music in my ears, and gold buttons at my fingertips, I put my view back on the window.
While the city pulsed with motion and desire, I now felt so far away from it, like I had just stepped into a dream.
Because I wasn’t truly in Tokyo anymore.
I was inhisworld now.
I shouldn’t have, but for a few seconds, I wondered how many other women had sat in this very seat, heading to him with their own gifts and hopes.
A tiny hint of jealousy hit me.
Next, the first chapter ofWhen the Dragon Swallowed the Moonplayed out in my mind.
What a crazy story. . .
I’d devoured that chapter last night and hadn’t meant to fall asleep after reading it but I had.
And when I did, I dreamt of a dragon with wings like thunderclouds and eyes filled with ruin. He chased me through a burning and crumbling palace.
Right before he was about to catch me, I woke up.
Dragons. . .
I took another sip of champagne and pressed my palm against the door, grounding myself. The city outside still shimmered but it had faded into background noise.
My real focus was back on that book—in that scene I couldn’t shake.
Korin.
The god-dragon who’d burned a city for the sheer thrill of it.
Until he saw her.
That woman—a vision of calm amid carnage. Standing barefoot in the square while everything else crumbled around her. Her skin was deep brown like mine. Her hair long and wild. She hadn’t flinched when the sky cracked open and death poured out of it. She didn’t scream when his fire roared through the air.
She didn’t run.
She’d simply raised her hands and stopped him cold.
That image haunted me.
Because here I was, gliding through Tokyo in the most expensive car I’d ever seen, headed toward a man who commanded a fire of his own.
I wasn’t standing in a city square, facing down a beast but it sure as hell felt like I was walking into the dragon’s lair.
