Page 7 of The Dragon 2 (Tokyo Empire #2)

Chapter six

The After Shock

Nyomi

Kenji’s chef is coming to make us breakfast. Wow.

I shut the door slowly and leaned back against it.

Is this really my life?

There was a time when I lived off vending machine dinners and cold apartment floors. Now a man was offering me silk sheets and caviar mornings.

I spoke into the empty living room. “I think I might actually be a fucking queen.”

Zo was still humming in the bathroom—something by Donny Hathaway now, I was sure of it. The man wasn’t showering, he was giving a damn performance.

The pipes rattled softly.

I wanted to jump in after him and scream, “You are never going to believe what just happened,” but I held my excitement in. I already knew what Zo would do anyway. Zo would scream when I told him, and then we would chat about it all morning with a bottle of wine like two church ladies in sin.

I padded across the room and dropped back onto the futon.

Heat still lingered between my thighs, but now it mixed with giddiness.

Once Zo finished, I would need to shower too and put on some clothes.

I set the hotel card next to me.

I can’t believe he got me that suite. Did that guy say that it was reserved. . .indefinitely? Damn. Should I go?

I stared at the card.

Imperial Lotus Suite–58th Floor.

My name wasn’t even on it, but somehow it felt like it was engraved all over the damned thing.

I ran my fingers across the gold foil.

When a man gave you a suite— indefinitely —when he had a driver posted outside just in case you wanted to be swept off somewhere?

When he sent a chef before you’d even had time to brush your teeth?

It could mean devotion.

Or it could mean control.

And I knew better than to confuse the two.

My stomach twisted with a mix of heat and warning.

My father used to control my mother with lavish trips and gifts. A new watch after an argument. A Paris trip after a cruel silence. Diamonds in velvet boxes when she'd caught him cheating the first time.

He’d smother her with luxury until she couldn’t tell the difference between being adored and being owned.

I watched her shrink for years—draped in silk and blinking through martini lunches, smiling like her teeth were glass.

By night, she would laugh at parties with champagne on her lips and grief in her eyes.

I learned early; diamonds didn’t dull the sound of a woman disappearing.

I spent years promising myself I’d never trade safety for sparkle. Granted, even the strongest woman wanted to be spoiled.

I would never let a man dress my cage in gold.

Even if that man had a cock like poetry.

Even if he made my body bloom.

Even if his darkness made mine feel seen.

Kenji was dangerous. I’d known that from the moment he looked at me like he was already planning which part of me to ruin first.

But this?

The suite.

The key.

The driver.

It all made me nervous and I wasn’t sure if it was good or bad. If I stepped into that suite too fast, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to leave him . I didn’t want to be one of those women who lost the plot to the man’s true story of manipulation.

I don’t think Kenji is trying to control me, but. . .I’ll just chill for now when it comes to taking him up on that suite.

I set the card down.

Not yet, Dragon. You don’t get all of me that easy. Not until I know what it means when you call me yours.

If he wanted my submission, he’d have to survive my resistance first.

I’d watched too many women who looked like me give and give until they had nothing left but exhaustion and a man still asking for more. Black women were taught to be ride-or-die before we ever learned to rest.

Taught to pour honey on wounds.

Taught to fold into softness even when the world stayed sharp around us, always cutting.

But I wanted a soft life. I deserved one. And if he wanted to be part of that life, he had better come with tenderness in one hand and tenacity in the other.

I wouldn’t just be impressed by silk sheets and chefs on standby. I would more be impressed by consistency, by a man who saw the burdens I could carry and still thought I should be held like a jewel.

So no, not yet for the suite.

Not until I knew for sure if he was here to worship or to wear me down.

Not until I knew for sure that being his, also meant being free, not owned.

Even more. . .every woman before me probably said yes to his suite on the first night. But I wanted to be the one he couldn’t tame so easily. He said I was a tiger, and for the first time, I was actually starting to believe him.

Not just some soft kitten in silk sheets, not just some warm body to tuck into a hotel suite and call it love.

A tiger.

Regal.

Relentless.

Raw.

A Tiger Queen even.

Not waiting for a crown.

I was the crown.

And if he wanted to touch me, he’d need to bleed for the privilege.

You shouldn’t have jumped for those panties so fast, Dragon. Now look at me—fully feeling myself.

Smiling, I glanced at the little stack of my things on the floor—laptop, charger, and the fantasy book he gave me.

When the Dragon Swallowed the Moon. . .

I leaned over picked it up and shifted onto my side.

I could read until Zo gets out of the damn shower and Kenji’s chef appears.

The cover shimmered in the early light, bleeding through the blinds—deep obsidian, traced with gold and a silver title.

I flipped it open, trying to remember where I had left off.

Ah, right. . .the Dragon named Korin.

That chapter had hit me like a dream I wasn’t ready to wake from.

I remembered the weight of it—how Korin had torched the world from the sky, an ancient, unstoppable force. Cities burned, soldiers crumbled, and there was no stopping the wrath of that dragon.

Not until her.

God.

This beautiful, magical Black woman hadn’t even flinched when he roared across the heavens at her. Hadn’t moved an inch when towers collapsed and men screamed around her. She just stood there barefoot and raised her hands.

She didn’t scream nor did she run—she fought .

Cold power shot out of her and she silenced Korin’s fire. And when she got the dragon, it hadn’t been rage that came out of him, it was arousal and awe.

That dragon had hovered there midair, confused and trembling. His fire strangled. His cock—yes, even in dragon form—responded like her magic was the most forbidden touch he’d ever known.

Now that was a naughty dragon. Didn’t he show his dragon cock to her? Yeah. I’m pretty sure he did.

I shivered at the memory.

The audacity of that moment.

The heat of it.

Other lines hit me.

She’d seen the beast.

Next, she would meet the man.

His human form was one he hadn’t worn in decades. A form he’d buried to become legend.

I could still remember that last line.

He didn’t think he would survive another day if he didn’t at least know her name.

I let out a slow exhale, opened the book again, and flipped to the next chapter.

What would come next?

Would Korin really return to her as a man?

Would she let him close?

And what would he do to prove he was worthy?

I needed to know. Absolutely giddy, I pulled the blanket around my waist, curled up on the futon with the book, and began to read.

With each sentence, I didn’t know if I was reading a fantasy or a warning.

But my fingers turned the pages like they already belonged to the beast.