Page 102 of The Dragon 1

Between my legs.

Across my breasts.

At the base of my throat.

Then, his mouth moved lower, to the inside of my wrist. That tender place pulsing like a war drum.

He kissed there too.

Slower.

Hotter.

Groaning, he let his teeth scrape gently along the skin.

A moan threatened to break free from my lips. I had to grit my teeth to keep it from coming out. His touch was a smoldering flame on my skin, and I ached for more. But instead of pressing further, he gently placed my hand back on my side.

“Naughty Tora,” his eyes were hooded as he sat back in his chair.

Just as the air between us turned molten, a soft rustling interrupted—bare feet against stone, the whisper of silk gliding through night.

A young woman in a pale lavender kimono approached the table with her hands folded neatly in front of her. Her hair was coiled in a smooth bun held by pins shaped like flowers.

Behind her, followed a man in crisp chef whites, older, with silver dusting his temples and a quiet nobility in the way he moved. He bowed first, spine straight, eyes polite.

“Welcome,” he said in perfect English.

Kenji nodded once. “You may begin.”

The waitress bowed deeply, then stepped aside to reveal a sleek black cart that glided soundlessly behind her—six covered trays, each shaped like a shallow bowl of obsidian.

Beneath their lids, I knew without a doubt that something magical awaited.

The chef lifted the first lid.

A fine mist of cold fog curled into the night air.

Wow.

Inside were paper-thin slices of fish, glistening over a bed of crushed ice. The cuts were so delicate I could see light pass through the edges.

They were arranged like glittering silver scales, draped across a frozen koi fish, sculpted entirely from ice.

The chef gestured. “This ismadai, Japanese sea bream.”

I peered closer.

“This is a traditional fish for celebration. It is symbolic of joy and transformation.” The chef held up two fingers. “It is also aged for two days to deepen its flavor and served withyuzu kosho, a spicy citrus paste, and freshly gratedhon-wasabi, which comes from a farm in Shizuoka.”

I blinked, completely speechless.

He continued, “the sculpture beneath is yuzu ice, shaped as a koi. In legend, koi swim upstream and if they succeed, they become dragons. Therefore, this dish is a symbol of perseverance and ascension.”

For a second, I couldseeit.

A small koi, golden and red, shimmering like a flame in water fighting its way up a rushing stream. Pebbles rattled beneath the surface. White spray blurred its vision. But the koi didn’t stop. Itclimbedthe water like a force of nature, breaking through the crest of the current and then suddenly rising in the air.

Itshifted.