Page 44 of The Dragon 2 (Tokyo Empire #2)

Chapter forty

The Case of the Bento Boxes

Kenji

I went through the door I’d seen Nyomi enter and climbed black glossy stairs. They spiraled upward in a slow almost hypnotic curve that forced me to pace myself.

Step by step.

Breath by breath.

Along the wall, images hung in gold and crimson frames. Each one held a portrait of femdom glory.

A red headed woman kneeling on a velvet throne, her boot pressed to a man’s bare chest.

A Japanese woman standing tall in a corset and gloves, her riding crop tapping a man’s lips while his eyes were blindfolded.

A Black woman with a shaven head and a snake tattoo down her spine gripping a man’s jaw as he groaned against her thigh—his mouth wide, his hands behind his back like in prayer.

These images were challenging my deepest-rooted convictions about power and vulnerability.

They taunted me.

They stripped something from me.

My logic.

My arrogance.

My illusion of control.

Continuing up, my pulse mirrored the rhythm of my climb. I could hear the faint echoes of my own heart thundering in my ears.

Tora. . .whatever waits at the top of these stairs. . .I'll take it. Bind me. Burn me. Feed me your pussy.

With every step I ascended, I swear I was shedding a layer of my old self.

More portraits came and they were more extreme.

A Chinese woman in a crimson cheongsam stood poised with a braided leather whip at her side. Behind her, a man hung from silk suspension ropes, his wrists tied above him, ankles bound wide, and eyes glassy with submission.

I swallowed.

The next showed a towering Black beauty with bronzed skin and coiled hair with one boot pressed gently to a white man’s throat.He lay flat beneath her on a bed of dark furs, arms folded behind his back, and his mouth parted in awe.

That’s when it hit me.

These stairs weren’t just a path to her.

They were mental preparation.

Was the staircase supposed to strip my armor?

Surely, I was right because by the time I reached the top, I wasn’t walking like a king.

I was hungry, delirious, and aching.

I was a man ready to kneel and beg.

Because I wanted Nyomi so fucking bad. I craved her mouth, her body, her pussy, and her fucking nails dragging across my chest.

Oh, Tora. This night. . .it will be my undoing.

I walked out of the stairwell and spotted Reo and my two Eyes—Arata and Itsuki—waiting by a large red door.

What is this?

Protocol was that Reo would’ve vanished by now. My Roar was built for strategy and endgames. Besides confirming security precautions for my dates, he didn’t interfere with desire.

I already knew Reo had that under control because I’d felt the presence of my Fangs all night.

They’d been in the shadows of the dining area, silent and hidden.

Now, I felt them on this upper floor within the shadowed corners.

My Fangs wouldn’t interfere with the date unless someone pulled a weapon and tried to kill me.

But what was more off was the fact that my Eyes were not already in place of what Reo liked to call the Intimacy Location.

They’d guarded me while I fucked.

Behind Reo, Arata and Itsuki stood like shadows carved from black jade, still breathing, but barely.

No one was born into that role.

It had to be earned through many years of loyalty.

Once the position was given, the men were marked.

I’d been there the night they took their oath and let the ink burn under their skin.

Each of them had the same kanji tattooed at the outer corner of their eyes.

視

A thin black stroke etched so close to the lash line it looked like war paint.

It didn’t just mean see. For the rest of their lives, they had to be watchful and unflinching in devotion.

It meant: You see what I can’t. It meant:;You never blink when the blade is coming. It meant; You die before I fall.

I stopped in front of Reo who no longer wore the sunglasses but still had that wicked smirk on his face.

He gave me a half bow. “How was dinner?”

“You know how it was because you feasted on it before me.”

“I would not say feast. I would say sampled.”

“Twice.”

“A Roar must be thorough.”

I pointed at him. “You are not to eat anymore of her food.”

“Is this a rule?”

“Yes.”

He tilted his head. “That creates a great inconvenience.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What inconvenience?”

“Your Tiger has already provided all of us with bento boxes filled with her food. She made quite a lot of it and—”

“Us? Who is us?”

“Your Fangs. Your Eyes. And me.”

Tora. . .

From the corner, my Eyes stirred. It was barely a shift of muscle but it was enough to tell me that my Eyes, Arata and Itsuki had been excited about trying her food.

Reo continued. “I thought it would be disrespectful to decline. Plus, throwing it away would’ve been wasteful. She clearly made the effort to feed us and it is quite strategic. She should be rewarded with our compliance.”

I frowned. “Strategic?”

“She’s incorporating herself into your life by feeding your people. That’s more than manners. That’s love language territory. A high-level romantic gesture.”

That hit deeper than I expected. Still, I gave him a skeptical look. “Feeding you all her delicious food is loving me?”

Reo nodded. “She knows our roles. Our loyalty. She labeled the boxes by unit. The Dragon’s Roar. The Dragon’s Fangs. Minutes ago, she provided your Eyes with their boxes. Your Tiger wants to feed your inner circle. Who am I to get in her way? It is so clever. So, nurturing.”

I growled low in my throat.

“She wants us well-fed so that we can protect you,” then, Reo frowned. “But of course, if you would rather we spit on her feelings, throw her loving gesture into the trash, and go hungry—just say the word.”

“Do you know what I hate more than being verbally outmaneuvered?”

“No, Kenji. I do not.”

“People enjoying my Tiger’s food.”

“And this is a rule?”

I sneered.

“Can this rule begin tomorrow which would give us the ability to eat the bento boxes?”

“My Tiger’s macaroni and cheese is so good that you would risk my punching you in the face right now?”

“I can take a punch but I cannot get another portion of that rich macaroni and cheese anywhere in Japan.”

Pride surged through me because he was right. Nyomi’s cooking surpassed most.

I gave up, “the rule begins tomorrow.”

A sigh came from the shadowed corner. Clearly one of my Fangs were relieved to take their bento box home.

Tora. . .you cannot spoil my men.

I put my view on the huge red door. “Is she in there?”

Reo nodded. “She is.”

“Yet my Eyes are out here with you, why?”

Reo’s face turned more serious now. “Because I wanted to test something.”

“Test what?”

He gestured toward the red door. “Open it. Peek in. Then tell me if you still want your Eyes inside.”

“My Eyes are always inside.”

He shrugged. “Humor me.”

I stared at him. Reo wasn’t prone to dramatics. If he was keeping my two most trusted guards out of the room—something was worth seeing within.

Fine.

I stepped toward the red door and reached for the handle. The brass was warm. The air behind it was warmer.

I opened it just enough to slide my head in and what I saw blew my fucking mind.

The room was massive, bathed in red light and deeper shadows.

At the center stood Nyomi.

She wore a massive black cape—high-collared and regal. It swallowed her body entirely, except for one devastating detail. . .her leg. It emerged boldly from a long slit in the cape, draped in a sheer red gartered stocking that hugged her thigh.

On her foot was a diamond-studded six-inch heel. Gold glimmered along the arch. Crystals sparkled down the stiletto. That heel alone could’ve crushed a man’s ego.

Oh, Tora. I am going to fuck you.

My body vibrated at the sight because I knew that whatever was under that cape wasn’t just lingerie.

It was war and I would not be prepared to fight it.

But it wasn’t just her that stopped my breath.

It was what surrounded her.

To her right was a pile of red and black rope. Coiled and braided.

Are you going to tie me up, little Tiger? We’ll see.

I moved my gaze to the left and parted my lips in shock.

Oh. . .

A gold and black throne stood there. The legs ended in lion’s paws and the armrests curled with gold filigree.

But the seat. . .

Oh Tora… Yes.

The seat had a discreet open center padded around the rim in black leather. An actual hole for something where a cushion should be.

Directly beneath that seat’s opening was a pillowed cushion as if someone—some man—was expected to slide beneath the throne, place his head on that pillow, and stay there waiting for the person to sit on the throne.

Sit on their face.

I could see myself laying on that pillow, with my face looking up at the hole, ready to worship and serve her pussy.

Tora, if you want to sit on my face. . .just say please. . .

There were even hooks on each of the throne’s legs. Those must have been there to hold down the wrists and tether the person in place.

I knew in that moment whatever was about to happen would be unlike anything I’d ever experienced.

My cock throbbed against my pants. My chest felt hollow and full at once. For the first time in my entire fucking life, I questioned if I wanted anyone else to see me like this.

Even Arata and Itsuki.

My Eyes.

Because the truth was, I still had no idea who I would be in a moment like that.

Surely not the Dragon.

Not the man who controlled Tokyo.

I would probably be. . .Kenji.

And not even my Eyes got to see him. That version of me had remained hidden within my chest the moment my mother and Jobon died.

I put my view on Nyomi.

She had been silently watching me.

Swallowing, I shut the door gently and took a breath. Then and only then did I turn back to Reo.

He raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

I used to believe my Eyes could watch everything.

They had seen me naked in more ways than one.

They’d stood in corners like shadows while I fucked women into sobbing confessions.

They watched my hands twist nipples until they begged for my mouth, watched my fingers curl deep inside slick heat while I talked dirty.

They’d seen my mouth devour clits, seen me drag my tongue over trembling inner thighs just to make women scream my name loud enough to echo through hotel floors.

They’d seen my cock disappear into tight, willing holes—wet mouths, hungry cunts, the sweet, trembling grip of a woman’s ass while I pulled her hair.

And when I came?

They’d seen that too.

My orgasm wasn’t quiet.

It was always violent.

Sometimes it ended with me growling into a neck or slapping my cum across a woman’s cheek just because I could.

My Eyes probably had that moment memorized—that twisted, pleasure-drunk expression I made right before I emptied my cock.

But tonight?

With Nyomi?

What would they see?

I exhaled. “No Eyes.”

Reo didn’t smirk. He only nodded. “I thought so.”

“But. . .” Nervousness rose within my chest. “You didn’t see her, did you?”

“I only saw the room earlier this evening.”

“But not her? Not her leg? Not the fucking cape?”

“No, Kenji. I did not see any of those things.”

Good.

Whatever Nyomi wore beneath that cape was all for me and my unraveling. The idea that someone else might see the way her pussy peeked from lace or how her nipples stood taut beneath silk. . .it filled me with a primitive, possessive rage.

Not even Reo, Arata, and Itsuki could be allowed that privilege.

I leaned my head to the side. “But. . .from just seeing the room. . .you knew I wouldn’t want my Eyes in there?”

Reo nodded. “Everyone doesn’t deserve to witness a man’s rebirth.”

Hmmm.

I pursed my lips together and studied my Roar.

Reo was right. I didn’t want witnesses nor an audience to whatever was going to happen in that room. And I definitely didn’t want a single soul to see what she had hidden beneath that cape.

Reo had always protected the Dragon and my empire.

But tonight, he protected me.

He guarded my soul.

“Thank you.”

Reo bowed. “Have a good evening.”

“I will,” I adjusted my collar, though the heat in my blood had already undone every thread of it. And with that, I opened the door and stepped inside, but two questions thundered in my head.

What if I knelt and couldn’t rise again? What if she stripped away the Dragon, touched the man beneath the blood and title, and I liked it too much to ever become the Dragon again?