Chapter 16 Breakfast with the Dragon
Chapter sixteen
Breakfast with the Dragon
Nyomi
I can’t believe we even have to have this discussion.
I turned and walked into the bedroom, gesturing for Kenji to follow. I wasn't going to have this conversation in the hallway.
He stalked after me, and one of the guards quickly shut the door behind us, probably grateful to be released from whatever that moment had been.
I turned to face him. "That's not going to work."
Kenji’s eyes flashed with anger. "What’s not going to work?"
"Your law about my cooking for your men. No one is respecting it, and if I find out you're actually trying to enforce it, I will not cook for you again."
His eyes went wild. "Tora—"
I held up a hand. "Let me ask you something. When I’m feeding your men, what do you think I am doing?"
He frowned, clearly thrown by the question. “Tora, it’s not about your purpose—”
"It is. My feeding them is keeping them strong and ensuring loyalty." I stepped closer. "I want to care for them in my way. Build bonds. Show them they matter—”
“That’s exactly what I don’t want—”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s sharing you!”
“Guess what? You’re going to have to share me.”
“The hell I will—”
“Once my grandma meets you, she will be impressed by so much that she will damn near adopt you and I will most definitely have to learn how to share you with her because when we visit she will snatch you away from me and take up all your time in Charleston.”
He blinked and went silent.
“We’re all. . .you know. . .” I shrugged. “Becoming family. And. . I’m figuring out my place.”
His voice went calm. “Your place is next to me. That’s it.”
“I also have some say on what my place is. Right?” I leaned my head to the side. “Or are you going to bully me into doing everything and anything you want?”
He looked at me, and a firestorm of emotions played out in those intense eyes.
I held my ground. “I love that you want to possess me, Kenji, but it also makes me happy to cook for everyone. It makes me feel useful—”
“You are fucking useful. We’ve discovered those skills—”
“Cool. Add it to my list and mind your business.”
“Mind my business—”
“I am cooking for your men. Deal with it.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “And that’s the end of this conversation. Go out there and let your guards know they can eat the banana bread.”
“Banana bread? That’s what you made for them?”
“Yes.”
He snapped his view to the door. “Did I get some too?”
“Of course. You got the biggest piece.”
He put his view back on me. “Why feed my guards?”
“Because Hiro was like. . .if I was going to feed my guards then I should feed yours.”
“Hiro? When the fuck did you talk to Hiro?” His head jerked back like I’d slapped him. “And hold on. Who’s your guards?”
“The guards that walked with me this morning. They’re mine now. I trust them, and they’re chill.” I pursed my lips.
“So you’re picking your guards now?”
I tried to make my voice sound much more alpha, but instead it came out squeaky. “That’s right. I’ve. . .assigned my security crew.”
“We’ll talk about that later.” He studied me. “Back to Hiro. When the fuck did you talk to my brother?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got the fucking time.”
“He was in the kitchen. We cooked together and—”
“Who cooked together?” He widened his eyes.
“Hiro and I—”
“My brother?” His mouth opened in utter shock. He blinked twice. “Are you sure it was Hiro?”
“Yes. I’m sure. It was your brother, but let’s get back to your supposed law on no one eating my food.
For your information, Hiro is already downstairs eating a full plate.
Plus, there's food heading to Reo. And those guards outside?
They've been standing watch all night. Don't they deserve something warm? "
"They deserve nothing that's yours!"
"My cooking isn't an object you can own, Kenji.
It's a gift. And gifts are meant to be shared.
" I reached up and touched his chest, right over his heart.
"You can't hoard my love for cooking. It doesn't work that way. It will hurt me and I’ll get fucking pissed and resentful. I’ll stop being your fun little Tiger and instead be your bitchy little Tiger. "
The fight drained out of his eyes, replaced by something more complicated.
Frustration.
Acceptance.
Desire.
“Kenji. . .I would like you to tell the guards that they can eat their food. I would also like you to put on some clothes, and then come eat what I made for you before it gets cold.” I swallowed. “Please. . .respectfully. . .Dragon King Almighty.”
He snarled a little, but. . .he did just as I said. He walked his naked ass to the door, opened it, and growled, “Eat the fucking banana bread!”
I smirked.
They responded together in Japanese.
He growled back. “Thank her. Don’t thank me.”
Next, he slammed the door and stomped into the closet.
Wow. Dramatic much?
I let out a long breath.
From inside the closet, I heard the sounds of Kenji moving—drawers sliding open with more force than necessary, hangers clicking, fabric rustling, a low growl of frustration, then the distinct sound of a zipper.
He was getting dressed.
Finally.
I walked back to the door and opened it slightly, catching the attention of one of the guards. "Could you finish setting up, please?"
The guards moved immediately, probably grateful for permission. They hurried in with chairs and a small table, positioning it near the window where morning light streamed through.
Their movements were quick, efficient, and practiced.
In the hallway, I could see the other guards had wasted no time with their surprises. They'd already opened their bento boxes and were eating the banana bread. Some of them dipped thick slices into the small containers of whipped cream and caramel sauce I'd packed.
One guard closed his eyes as he chewed, and I had to bite back a smile.
Another nodded at me in thanks.
They like it.
God, that felt good.
The closet door opened behind me, and I turned.
Kenji emerged wearing black pants—perfectly tailored, sitting low on his hips—and nothing else.
His chest was still bare, all those tattoos and muscles on full display. His hair was slightly mussed from whatever war he'd waged with his clothing. His eyes found mine immediately, dark and intense.
My breath stuttered.
I honestly wasn't sure which version of him was the sexiest—pants on or pants off.
Both messed with my mind in different ways and made my knees weak. Naked Kenji was lusty power and primal obsession. Partially dressed Kenji was controlled danger with a hint of erotic civilization.
The guards finished arranging the table and chairs, then filed toward the door. They moved around Kenji carefully, and he watched them go with that predatory stillness he did so well.
The door clicked shut.
We were alone.
“Perfect. Let’s eat.” I turned toward the food cart, ready to finally sit down and eat.
Fast, Kenji's hand closed around my arm. “Hold on, Tora.”
What?
He pulled me to him in one smooth motion, spinning me until my body collided with his chest. His other hand cupped the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair.
Then he kissed me.
Intensely.
His mouth claimed mine with a hunger that had nothing to do with breakfast and everything to do with dominance.
Holy fuck.
His lips were demanding, his tongue sliding against mine in a rhythm that made my toes curl. He tasted like morning, want, and barely controlled need.
I melted into him, my hands sliding up his bare chest, feeling the heat of his skin, the rapid beat of his heart beneath my palms.
When he ended the kiss, he growled against my lips. “Mine.”
I shivered. “Yours.”
When we finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard.
He licked his lips. "I'm still pissed, Tora."
"Why?"
"You cooked with my brother? What the fuck does that even mean?" His hand slid down to my ass and he squeezed it. "You left my bed. You fed my men and then claimed a portion of them for yourself. You probably smiled at Hiro, giving him joy that was only mine—"
“I think you’re exaggerating and being a bit of a drama king.”
His other hand cupped my face. "I'm sure my guards enjoyed walking around with you this morning in a way I wouldn't have liked. Your time is mine. Your fucking presence is mine too."
I shivered. “Kenji, while I lowkey like you being possessive of me, we need limits—”
"Tora. . ." His thumb traced my lower lip. "I woke up and every scent of you in this space was gone. Your scent was barely on my pillows and sheets—”
“I feel like that should be good enough—”
“Your warmth and softness wasn’t there. Do you understand what that did to me? Waking in an empty bed, not knowing where you were?"
I swallowed.
His voice went lower, more obsessive. "Next time, I'll find you by scent alone. I'll track you through this entire house, this fucking island, if I have to and I will pound my cock into you hard until your pussy aches.”
I blinked. “My pussy already aches.”
“Then, it will ache some more. You are mine, Tora. And I always find what's mine and punish when necessary."
The promise in his voice wasn't a threat.
It was absolute possession wrapped in worship.
And God help me, it made my nipples stiffen.
With that, he let me go and headed off to the table. "Did my brother really help you cook?"
"Of course." I sat down at the table and lifted the top of my plate.
He lowered to his seat and raised his eyebrows. "Really?"
"Sure did."
He took the top off his plate, stared down at the food, and grinned. “This looks amazing.”
“I hope you like it.”
“Thank you, Tora. I’ll love it.”
“Good.”
We began to eat.
Kenji cut into his Eggs Benedict with the focus of a man approaching something sacred. The moment the poached egg broke, golden yolk spilled across the English muffins and bacon.
“Mmm.” He took his first bite, closed his eyes, and made a pleasurable sound low in his throat. "Fuck, Tora."
I couldn’t help but smile.
He opened his eyes and looked at me. "This is incredible."