Page 224 of The Dragon 2
I looked up at him with a hard gaze and no smile or softness. “Kneel.”
His eyes didn’t flare.
He didn’t hesitate.
He just dropped down to the floor like he’d trained for it. And sure. . .his legs were folded in but they were also positioned in a way that gave him the ability to leap forward and tear a man’s throat out if I whisperedattack.
His spine stayed straight, chest out, head high, but his hands. . .those rough, beautiful hands rested on his thighs with terrifying calm.
The silence between us swelled.
The Dragon had bowed.
And not just bowed. . .he obeyed.
And yet. . .
It wasn’t a kneel of submission.
It was a warrior’s rest.
Like he could still kill for me.
Like he stillmight.
Like he would get up off this floor if he damn well pleased and fuckmeinto submission.
But that was the beauty of it.
The danger of it.
Theecstasyof it.
Because he’d chosen to drop for me. Not out of fear. Not out of weakness. But because his hunger demanded it.
Yeah. I’m staying in Tokyo.
I kept my expression neutral and whispered, “Good, little Dragon.”
His moan was guttural and laced with ache. Deep enough to quake the floor.
Still, he didn’t move.
Didn’t break.
Didn’t speak.
He just. . .burned.
I love this. It feels so fucking good.
But Hiroko hadn’t warned me about this specific addictive part. She’d prepped me on how to dominate. How to hold my power with grace. How to make a dragon kneel. But she hadn’t told me what it woulddoto me when he actually did it. When a man like Kenji—six-foot-two of stone, blood, and violent legend—chose the floor.
Standing there, I realized something that rattled me more than any moan or growl could.
He still had the real power, not because he commanded it but because hegaveit. And that made it all the more dangerous. All the more addicting.
He had made himself the gift and then placed it at my feet, wrapped in muscle and ink.
