Page 115 of The Dragon 1

Tied.

Hers.

And now, she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

I’d planted a seed with a whisper—and already, it was blooming inside her like fire twisting through velvet.

The chef set down another plate, then carefully removed a bell-shaped glass cover, releasing the scent of cedar smoke and fatty tuna belly.

The sound of his voice was calm and practiced.

Still, my attention remained on Nyomi.

Because I would kneel for her and was desperate to do so once I stepped into this garden.

Did she understand the concept of my surrender?

Power was a currency I’d mastered.

I could wield it, withhold it, snap it in half and pass it around to my men like communion.

But Nyomi?

She made me want toofferit.

To give her the rope and let her decide whether to bind or bless.

My cock was hard beneath the table, the arousal sharp and controlled.

I didn’t move.

I didn’t need to.

Just watching her process her own desire was enough. Her eyes had turned slightly glassy, her focus distant— fixed on an image only she could see.

Me, perhaps.

Stripped of armor.

Laid bare at her feet.

She still hadn’t responded to my offer.

She didn’t have to.

Not yet.

But I could feel the war happening inside her.

The woman on stage continued to spin, slower now.

The cello murmured something aching and low.

The air smelled of grilled eel, charred yuzu, and citrus blossoms steeped in broth.

I didn’t care.

I only wanted to know one thing.