Chapter 13 Rising from the Flames
Chapter thirteen
Rising from the Flames
Nyomi
What is Kenji's surprise going to be?
The question circled my mind as we walked down the hallway together.
After this morning—the pyre, the ash, the way I'd shattered in the kitchen and been held together by his brother's ocean-calm arms—I had no idea what to expect.
Yet, with every step, Kenji's heat began to surround me.
Not all at once.
Sensually slow.
It was a fever rebuilding after the cool cloth had been pulled away.
Hiro's calm had been an ocean—vast and exactly what I'd needed to breathe again. That steady coolness had settled over my skin, quieted my pulse, and brought me back from the edge of the fire.
But now?
Strolling beside Kenji with his heated hand around mine, I could feel that ocean evaporating.
Searing off.
Steam rising from the surface of me.
And his heat didn't ask permission.
It never did.
It just arrived.
Scorching hot and rolling off his body in currents that pressed against my side, my neck, the thin skin behind my ear where my pulse lived.
And I didn't pull away.
I leaned into it.
Because here was the terrifying, beautiful truth about this man—Hiro could cool me down, could bring me back to reason, could hold me together with steady hands and a calm voice.
But I didn't want calm for too long. I wanted the thing that undid me. The furnace of my Dragon.
The way his proximity alone could make my thighs tighten and my breathing go shallow. The way his thumb caressed my palm—one slow stroke—and sent a current straight through my belly and lower. Into that hot, liquid place that only he had access to.
I glanced at him.
His jaw.
The column of his throat.
The way his shirt pulled across his chest with every breath.
I wanted to put my mouth right at the base of his neck where his pulse beat slow and steady while mine raced.
This man had burned a hundred bodies this morning.
And I still wanted him so badly my teeth ached.
That should have terrified me.
But the terror and the desire had tangled together somewhere inside me until I couldn't pull them apart. Until they were the same rope, the same flame, the same relentless heat pooling between my hips with every step.
Hiro was the ocean.
But Kenji was the volcanic tide that pulled me under.
We continued walking, and I thought we would turn right toward the main part of the mansion.
Or left toward his wing.
Instead, he stopped us right in front of my office door.
O-kay. . .
I looked at him. "Why are we—"
"Open it."
“Alright.” I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
My desk had been moved against the wall. In its place stood three women—one with brushes and palettes arranged before her, another with combs and pins laid out in neat rows, and a third seated in the corner with a velvet case across her lap.
A single gown hung on a stand near the window. The afternoon light illuminated every detail.
And it was on fire.
The fabric seemed to burn without heat—reds bleeding into oranges at the hem, oranges melting into golds as they rose toward the bodice. The colors shifted and moved even on the stand, alive in a way fabric shouldn't be.
Wow.
I stared at it. At all of it. My office transformed into a dressing room. A team of women waiting. A gown that burned.
Then, I turned back to Kenji.
He stood in the doorway, watching me take it all in. Those dark eyes tracked every emotion crossing my face. "I know you had set plans, but I'm claiming your entire day."
My breath hitched.
"I know you wanted to get your hair braided today.
I know you planned to show movies for the island, to lift morale.
And I appreciate that. I appreciate you and the way you think about others.
" He stepped closer. "But we're going to do that tomorrow.
Today, I want to take care of you. Because you've been taking care of everyone else. "
My throat tightened.
"And understand. . .I have things I need to do too. Meetings. Calls. Weapon inspections. Strategy sessions that should have started an hour ago." His hand found my jaw and tilted my face up to his. "I'm putting all of it aside. Because you—and what we have—is more important than any of that."
My eyes watered.
"I want to heal the fracture."
I swallowed.
"The fracture that happened this morning. I felt it, Tora. The crack between us. And I refuse to let it widen."
He felt it too.
That crack I'd been carrying in my chest all day, and he was stopping everything to mend it.
I let out a long breath. "The braids can wait for another day."
"Yes."
"The movies can wait too."
"Of course." His thumb traced my cheekbone. "So, you're going to give me your day?"
I looked at this man—this dangerous, powerful, terrifying man who was choosing me over his empire within a war, even if only for an afternoon. "Yes. I'm yours."
He kissed me—his mouth hot against mine, his hand sliding into my hair, his body pressing me back until I felt the doorframe solid behind me.
He kissed me like he'd been waiting all day for permission.
Like he'd been holding himself together with fraying thread and I'd just cut it loose.
And I kissed him back.
Tasted his tongue.
Let the fire of his mouth burn away some of the ash still coating the inside of my throat.
When he pulled back, we were both breathing hard. “Hmmm.”
I quirked my brows. “What?”
“You smell like my brother.”
“He hugged me. That’s probably why.”
"No. I saw the hug. Too short to leave that much of him on you."
“There was another hug earlier. He was comforting me.”
Kenji frowned. “Hmmm.”
I rolled my eyes. “And then of course there was the moment when we were passionately making out in the kitchen.”
“Aww. That must be it.”
“Yeah.”
“Then, I’ll make sure I put torturing him on my list for this evening.” He smirked. “But until then. . .”
I grinned.
He licked his lips. "I'll see you soon."
"Where?"
A dangerous smile spread across his face. "You'll see."
His hand found my jaw and tilted my face up, but his fingers didn't stay there. They drifted lower. Down the side of my neck. Slow. Like he had nowhere else to be. And stopped right where his teeth always went.
I shivered.
His thumb pressed into the bite mark.
Gentle at first.
Then not.
A sound left me that I didn't plan.
"Mmmm.” He bit his lip and then calmed his expression. “Still sore?"
"Yes."
“Good.” His thumb pressed harder. A dull, sweet ache bloomed from the mark and spread down through my breasts, my belly, lower to my pussy, settling hot and liquid.
I moaned and my knees almost gave out.
“Mmmm.” He moved his thumb from the bite and pressed one more kiss to my forehead.
Soft.
Tender.
Then he pulled back, and I caught it.
Just a flicker.
His eyes dropped to my mouth. Then lower—my neck, my collarbone, the place where my pulse hammered beneath my skin.
His jaw tightened.
His hand curled into a fist at his side.
He wanted to stay.
Every line of his body said so.
But he stepped back.
And then he was gone.
Fuck.
I stood in the doorway of my transformed office with my lips still tingling and my heart racing.
What are we going to do today?
I turned around and stepped further inside.
The woman with the silver-streaked chignon approached me. "The Dragon chose this gown for you.”
“Okay.” I walked toward the stand near the window. “This is so beautiful.”
At first glance, the gown was truly fire—reds, oranges, golds. But then, I stepped closer, and my breath became shallow.
After this morning—the pyre, the bodies, the flames climbing toward an ash-choked sky—fire should have repulsed me. Should have sent me spiraling back into that dark place where I couldn't breathe.
But I couldn't look away.
Because the longer I stared, the more I saw something else too.
At the hem, where the deepest crimsons pooled like embers, delicate feathers had been stitched into the fabric.
Subtle.
Almost hidden.
The tiny feathers curled upward along the skirt, growing lighter as they rose—scarlet feathers becoming vermillion, vermillion becoming gold.
And at the bodice, where the brightest flames blazed, the structure lifted like wings unfurling.
Oh my.
The architectural lines swept upward from the waist, and those golden feathers took flight at the neckline.
A phoenix.
My heart stuttered.
It wasn't just a fire gown. It was a phoenix gown. A creature born from flame. A thing that blazed and rose anyway.
What is he saying with this gown? Or am I putting too much symbolism on this?
Someone cleared their throat.
I turned.
A woman with a velvet case rose from her chair and approached.
“The Dragon wants you to wear this with the gown.” She opened the case before me.
Diamonds.
But not ordinary ones.
These diamonds glowed amber and tangerine. They were flames trapped inside jewels.
"They’re fire diamonds." She lifted them out of the box. "Extremely rare."
“Gorgeous.” I stared at the necklace, the earrings, and the delicate bracelet. Each stone blazed with color, throwing warm light across the velvet.
I’m not imagining things. He is definitely leaning into symbolism.
He'd given me fire to wear around my throat.
Fire for my ears.
Fire for my wrist.
After a morning of ash and death, Kenji was draping me in flames and asking me to rise like a phoenix.
"We have ninety minutes," the silver-haired woman said. "Shall we begin?"
I looked at the phoenix gown.
At the fire diamonds.
At the team of women waiting to transform me.
Fire had tried to break me this morning.
Maybe it was time to wear it instead.
"Yes. Let's begin."