Page 83 of The Dragon 1
Electric.
A soft rustle stirred the branch above me.
Petals broke loose and twirled down around.
Wait a minute.
I felt it.
That sensation of being. . .claimed.
My gaze pulled left before I could think.
And there he was.
Kenji.
The Dragon himself.
He stood at the edge of the courtyard, shadow and moonlight clashing behind him. Tall and absolutely handsome. His muscular body was sheathed in black—tailored, severe, commanding. No tie. Shirt open just enough to reveal the edge of ink licking along his throat.
My heart stopped and then raced.
He wasn’t just handsome.
He wasn’t just dangerously powerful.
He was pressure.
Atmospheric.
Tectonic.
My thighs tightened.
His presence didn’t ask for permission.
It rearranged the space and rewrote the air.
Made the lantern light seem too soft.
The music too quiet.
Before I even realized I was moving, I fucking stood like a complete idiot. . .as if a king had entered.
What are you doing? Fuck. Do I sit back down? No. . .I’m already standing so. . .I don’t know. . .
I steadied my breath and just stood there.
Hey. . .if he asks why I stood. . .I’ll say some bullshit about this being a. . .New York thing or something.
It didn’t matter.
The damned man didn’t walk over just yet. He just remained there. . .watching me like I was the reason the moon had risen tonight.
I could do nothing but stare back—throat dry, pulse unhinged, legs a little too wobbly.
Fuck. How is it possible that he’s even hotter than last night?
