Page 89 of The Dragon 1
“I’m excited to see what you brought me.”
“Good, I just hope you like them.”
“I will. I like gifts but I love intentions more,” he deeply inhaled me. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll eat and enjoy a. . .specialperformance.”
I put my view on the stage. “Why is that hook there?”
“Oh, you saw that?”
“It was hard to miss.”
“Most would miss it.”
“Hooks freak me out,” I returned my gaze to him. “Why is it there?”
“You’ll see later.”
“During the performance?”
“Yes,” he nodded. “And then maybe after we eat. . .we’ll perform too. . .”
What does that mean?
He stepped back, breaking the tension just enough for me to breathe again.
Barely.
Then, with the smoothness of ritual, he pulled out my chair. “Come. Let’s enjoy ourselves this evening.”
I glanced one last time at the hook above the stage, tried to guess what it was for, and then I sat down.
Here we go, a date with the Dragon.
Chapter fourteen
Skin, Wood, and Memory
Kenji
When I first entered the garden and spotted Nyomi, I lingered in the shadows.
It was uncharacteristic of me—this hesitation. But the moment I saw her, my breath stilled, and for once in my life, I let it.
She stood at the center of the garden like she had bloomed there. Her dark brown skin glowed under the moonlight. And that dress—white, strapless, clinging—was blasphemy on a curvy body like hers.
The contrast was divine.
Innocence in color.
Sin in shape.
The way her hips curved told me that the universe had made them for only me.
One would have thought that I would have walked forward then, but I couldn’t.
