Page 18 of The Dragon 1 (Tokyo Empire #1)

No rules posted on bamboo plaques.

I saw it in the way Yoichi watched Kaoru with that quiet warning. In the way Kaoru’s playful edge dulled. In the way their presence had shifted—from social companions to dangerous protectors.

I could see it in the structure of the date itself.

Every part of this night was curated.

Choreographed.

Not just to impress me—but to make a clear statement.

You’re mine.

Swallowing, I sat down slowly and as I settled in, my gaze swept the grove. The stage. The petals. The empty seat across from mine.

Because somewhere in this moonlit garden—even if I couldn’t see him yet—the Dragon was watching.

I was no longer just his guest.

I was being kept .

Possessed.

Cherished in that terrifyingly, beautiful way that only a man with real power can do.

The sort that didn’t beg.

Or chase.

The kind that built a kingdom for you and waited for you to step inside—then quietly locked the door behind you.

What the fuck did I just get myself into?

I wasn’t used to that at all.

As a Black woman, I was used to earning every ounce of affection.

To proving I was worthy.

To being the one who poured out softness without always getting it back.

To being loved in fragments, conditionally, or not at all.

So sitting here—surrounded by impossible beauty, with two lethal men guarding me like I was gold—it twisted strange sensations into my chest. Because for once. . .I wasn’t chasing safety or negotiating my worth or even being asked to shrink, serve, or wait.

I was being kept.

Deliberately.

That realization didn’t just hit me.

It wrecked me.

My throat tightened. My eyes stung—not with tears, but with shock.

It was all overwhelming.

And. . .a little addictive.

Where are you, Mr. Dragon?

A shiver ran down my spine.

I scanned the space some more.

Surely, you’ve left your lair by now. Or maybe. . .

I pursed my lips together.

Maybe, you’re just waiting for me to realize I never left it at all.

My hands shook.

Because I’d already stepped into your world and the door behind me had already quietly closed.

I looked back at Kaoru— Pinky— who leaned one shoulder against the tree and crossed his arms. That pink hair glowed in the moonlight. He looked like he wanted to wink at me again but didn’t.

Yep. Kenji is here.

I turned away and thought about what Pinky had said earlier, about my opening doors I couldn’t close.

At first, I’d figured that he meant the doors themselves were irreversible. That once I gave Kenji a gift, once I stepped into this world, he would never let go. That I basically might stir something in him I could not un-stir.

But now I wasn’t so sure that’s what Pinky really meant.

Maybe he wasn’t talking about Kenji at all.

Perhaps, he was saying that the more I intrigued Kenji the more he would lure me into his world, to doors of power, of luxury, of a life so far-removed from my own that the doors might as well exist in separate realities.

Once opened, I would not be able to close those doors.

Not because Kenji wouldn't let me but because I might not want to.

Fuck.

The man continued to hauntingly play his instrument on the stage and my attention went to the swaying hook above it.

A woman strolled over, holding a tray. When she arrived, she placed a blue and white porcelain pitcher on the table and then two tiny blue cups. “Here you go, Ms. Palmer.”

“Thank you.”

“This is Juyondai. It has aged for three years. The flavor palate is bold with ripe dried fruits, caramel, and subtle hints of vanilla.”

“Sounds outstanding, thank you.”

She poured me a cup and stood there waiting for several seconds.

I touched my chest. “Oh, should I try it?”

Smiling, she did a half bow.

I picked up the warm cup and sipped the sake. The smooth liquid slipped into my mouth with an elegance I’d never experienced with any type of wine. The caramel soothed my tongue while the sweet taste of fruits finished the experience.

It was so light.

I almost chugged the rest of it.

Instead, I set it down so that I could have a clear mind around Kenji.

“The sake’s perfect. Thank you so much.”

She poured a little more, bowed again, and left.

I took another sip of the sake, letting the warmth trail down my throat.

Then, the wind shifted.

The air changed.

Subtle.

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?

As if he heard me, he prowled over.

Oh fuck. The date is beginning.