Page 97 of The Dragon 2

"His kidnapping Sol is one of my favorite parts."

"Of course it would be." This time, she gave a soft, throaty laugh. "Korin is terrifying."

“But you love that about him?”

“I do.”

I let the silence draw long and low between us. “And Sol? What do you think about her—the mysterious woman that stopped a dragon?”

“Sol.” Something in Nyomi’s voice had changed. She let out a long sigh. “For some insane reason. . .I relate to Sol.”

I smirked.

“And I know I sound crazy. She’s a magic woman with cold powers who got born out of a blue egg and chased through a forest by a shapeshifting god, but. . .that’s now my ride-or-die. Ifeelfor her. I want her to win. I want her to know her powers and history and. . .I want Korin to be her little bitch. I want her to have power over him in the end.”

It was my turn to laugh.

“I’m being serious.”

“I know you are, Tora.”

“Will Korin be her little bitch?”

“I’m not going to spoil the book. That is a crime in my family.”

“He’s taken her away and I am just freaking out. I had to get some admin things done today, but the whole time I had the damn story in my head.”

She really loves it.

My heart warmed.

“And I have so many freaking questions, Kenji. What is she? Does Korin know? You can tell me that part. Right?”

“I’m not telling you that part.”

“Oh, come on. And the ice flowers. I feel like that means something. She created them by accident near his feet, but does that mean that her magic is attracted to his magic?”

I grinned.

“And when Korin melted the ice rose, everything got dripping wet and I thought. . .one day she is going to be dripping wet too.” She chuckled. “Are they going to have sex?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Kenji, you better not have given me a book where they don’t have sex.”

I laughed some more.

God, I wanted to be with her.

Not in silk sheets or gilded suites.

Not even in control.

Just there.

Even on that stupidfuton.

I would trade this opera house—every crystal chandelier and velvet-wrapped box, every ounce of bloody mafia capital—for a night lying on that creaky futon beside her.