Chapter 47
Chapter forty-seven
Homecoming
Nyomi
Kenji filled the doorway the same way a gun sat in its holster—contained, still, and dangerous even at rest. His massive shoulders were squared, yet his weight leaned left. That was the only crack in a posture that belonged to samurai bloodlines and centuries of men who refused to kneel.
The white bandage on his forehead couldn't hide the bloom of blood beneath, a crimson confession of what he'd endured. Purple bruises marked his jaw and cheekbone.
Baby. . .
His grey shirt stretched across his chest, still damp from whatever rushed shower he'd taken. The fabric clung to the hard planes of his body and left nothing to my imagination. The edges of his tattoos crept past his collar and along his forearms— dark ink against golden skin.
His gaze seared me across the room, and the air between us collapsed.
My heart slammed in my chest.
I crossed the dining room before my brain caught up to my legs.
Once near, I hit his chest hard enough to hear the breath leave him, and his arms locked around me—one across my back, the other cradling the base of my head. He crushed me against the solid heat of him so tight my ribs ached.
And I relished in the pain and pleasure of it.
His heartbeat hammered fast against my cheek as if his body hadn't caught up to the fact that the battle was over.
The heat of him soaked through his shirt and into my skin, and every hard ridge of muscle pressed against me.
“Fuck, Kenji. You’re back.” I buried my face in his neck and breathed him in. Under his lush smoky scent, was the faint copper of dried blood beneath the clean soap. He smelled like war and the effort to wash it off.
His voice rumbled through his chest and vibrated against my cheek. "I'm okay, Tora."
I pulled back just enough to see his face. My vision blurred. Warm tears spilled down my cheeks before I could stop it. "You’re hurt?"
“But I’m still strong, still standing.” He raised his hand and caught the tears with his thumb.
His calloused skin slid warm across my cheekbone.
Then, he held my face, and his gaze moved from my eyes to my hair.
Those dark irises traced the goddess braids, following the pattern Deja's hands had woven.
His jaw loosened. His grip on my waist tightened.
A low groan rolled out of him.
That sound went straight through me, vibrated down my spine, and pooled warm at the base of my stomach.
"Mmmm. Tora, I like your hair." His fingers found one of the braids and he traced it from root to tip.
I smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”
“Oh yes.” Then he gathered a fistful of braids at the base of my neck and gently tugged. Testing it.
I blinked. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing, Tora.” His gaze went dark. A groan rolled out of him so low I felt it in my teeth. "We're going to have some fun tonight."
I sucked my teeth and moved his hand out of my hair. "First of all, I need to apologize."
He tilted his head. “Why?”
"I was supposed to teach you that you are never to touch a Black woman's hair, especially after she gets it done."
He quirked his brows. "Who isn't supposed to touch your hair?"
“You.”
He grinned as if I told a joke.
"It's a whole thing, Kenji."
“Not our thing.” He ran his fingers through the braids again and groaned. The sound was absolutely indecent. "Yes. I like this very much."
He tugged again, and my knees almost buckled. "Perhaps we will keep the stylist on the island until the war is done."
"Oh God."
Kaoru laughed from behind us. “I told you. Two days.”
His hand stayed in my hair as he walked me backward and deeper into the dining room. Each step pressed his body closer to mine, and I could feel his cock hardening and exactly how much he liked the braids.
Damn.
I placed my hands on his chest and stopped him. "Kenji. . .are you sure you're okay?"
He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against mine. The gauze was rough against my skin. "I am, Tora. Especially now, that I'm with you."
“Okay.” My hands found his jaw, and I made sure to be gentle around the bruises.
He's here and alive. Thank you, God.
I kissed him. My body melted into his as our lips met, and the space fell away until there was nothing but the heat between us. His mouth moved against mine with a hunger that matched my own, and when his tongue slipped between my lips, I tasted copper and salt.
Blood and sweat.
And I just knew that he had killed his way out of whatever trap he’d found himself in.
Fire ignited and blazed through my veins. A soft moan escaped me as his fingers tightened in my hair, the slight pain only heightening the desperate relief flooding through me.
I don’t know what I would have done if you had not come back.
Then someone hugged me from behind. Arms wrapped around my waist, and I felt their chest press against my back.
What?
An ocean breeze scent washed over my neck and shoulders.
Oh. Hiro.
Then this cooling sensation hit me next.
Mmmm.
I was sandwiched between fire and water, and my body didn't know which way to lean.
Hiro’s deep voice came next. “You're hogging our tiger."
Kenji groaned in annoyance. I stopped kissing Kenji and laughed. Kenji's gaze lifted to meet his brother's over my shoulder. “Hogging? How could I? I’m not sharing her.”
Hiro chuckled. “We’ve already decided that you are.”
Kenji frowned. “When?”
“On the helicopter, brother.”
I let go of Kenji and turned around in Hiro's arms. “Don’t I get some say in this?”
“No.” Hiro shook his head.
I took him in.
He looked rough too. A cut above his eyebrow that had been stitched. Purple bruises along his neck and collarbone. His knuckles were split and raw. But he was grinning at me like he’d just returned from a long vacation.
More important, his shirt was gone. Just tanned skin stretched over hard muscle.
Kenji spoke, “Where did your shirt go?”
“I took it off so our Tiger could see that I was okay.”
“Put your fucking shirt back on—”
“It’s fine, baby.” I hugged Hiro and pressed my face against his bare chest. His skin was cool against my flushed cheek, and I could smell the salt and sea even deeper now. "I'm so happy you're back."
"There we go." Hiro squeezed me, and his laugh rumbled through his chest and rolled across my skin like a wave pulling back from shore. "This is a proper welcome."
I felt his heartbeat against my cheek. “My bad. I’ll work on that.”
“No. That was Kenji’s fault. Next time, I will beat him to you.”
Kenji growled, “And then I will beat you.”
“A duel over your Tiger?” Hiro shrugged in my hold. “Bring it. I’ve fought over less.”
Kenji stepped closer behind me. His heat pressed against my back while Hiro's cool held my front.
Two brothers.
Two elements.
And me caught between them like a flame dancing on the surface of the ocean.
These two are going to be the death of me.
Hiro's gaze lifted to my braids. "Oh. This is very nice."
He leaned back and tilted his head, studying the pattern. "What is this called?"
"Goddess braids.”
“Do you think she can do this for me?”
Kaoru chuckled.
Hiro glanced his way.
Kaoru cleared his throat and put his view on the plates.
I smiled. “Deja would probably love to do your hair.”
"This is so beautiful." He reached up to touch one of the braids.
Kenji's hand shot out and caught Hiro's wrist midair.
I backed up.
Hiro looked at his brother's grip and then at Kenji's face. "Really?"
"Don't touch her hair. It’s rude."
I smirked.
Oh really?
Kenji let go of his wrist. "And put your fucking shirt on. She isn’t going to be inspecting your bruises. You’re fine."
“Am I? I fought the most men.” Hiro looked at me and winked. “Kenji didn’t even fight one guy.”
Kenji rolled his eyes.
I chuckled. “Well. . .I don’t believe that, Hiro.”
Grinning, Hiro looked down at me and took in the braids again. "I hope you know that my brother is going to destroy every single one of those braids."
"I'm aware."
"Tonight."
“Well, I was hoping for a few more days.”
Hiro held up a finger. "He won't even make it to tomorrow."
Kenji said nothing, and that silence confirmed everything.
The Claws started filing in along with some of the other men.
Kaede came first. His platinum-blond hair was wet and tied back, but a few damp strands had come loose and hung around his face.
A bandage wrapped his left forearm, and he moved with a slight limp.
His expression was calm as always—the kind of calm that made you wonder if he'd been born without the ability to panic.
"Hey, Nyomi." He dipped his head as he passed and then slowed when his gaze caught the table. “Huh?”
Daisuke followed with his sharp black mohawk still perfect despite everything. Both eyes were bruised purple, and he held his side like his ribs were screaming at him. He didn't acknowledge the pain. Just walked in, scanned the room, and stopped at the table too.
Shock covered his face.
Toma came in grinning, even though his bottom lip was split and swollen and long gashes stretched across his neck. He spotted the food and his whole face changed. "Oh shit. Is this for us?"
The twins were last. Aki had a bandage wrapped around his hand. Yuki had a cut along his jaw. They moved together in perfect sync like always—same stride, same tilt of the head, same quiet sweep of the room.
Then they saw the table and both of them went still too.
I watched them all standing there—battered, bandaged, alive—and the sight hit me somewhere deep.
Hiroko should be walking through that door too.
The thought came fast and sharp like a blade slipping between my ribs and stabbing my heart.
I could see her so clearly. The way she would have surveyed this table and smiled.
The way she would have touched my shoulder and whispered something about how a woman who feeds warriors owns their loyalty forever.
I still can’t believe you’re gone. . .
My eyes burned. I blinked it away and straightened a plate that didn't need straightening.
Later. Not now. Not in front of them.
The room was quiet. All of them staring at the food, the candles, the chairs arranged for every single person.
Even Kenji finally looked around. "What is this?"
"I just thought we'd need a good dinner." My voice came out lighter than I intended. "All of us together. Just to kind of get our minds off things. . .just, you know, after everything. But. . .you all don't have to stay too long if you're exhausted."
"Exhausted? We’re Claws. Not Fangs.” Chuckling, Toma headed to the table and sat down. “I’m just glad the Dragon’s Heart is in charge now. I thought I was going to have to eat that old slice of pizza in my bedroom’s fridge.”
I blinked.
“Thank you, Heart. I’m definitely eating.” Kaede limped to the table and lowered himself into a seat. “I almost died three times today. Let’s just say this meal is in honor of me and my new sword."
Toma grumbled in annoyance.
"Thank you, Nyomi." Daisuke sat down, pulled a bowl of miso toward him, and inhaled the steam with his bruised eyes closed.
Aki grabbed two chairs and slid one toward Yuki. "If this is what happens when we go to war. . ."
“. . .we should go more often.” Yuki sat beside him and shook his head. “Much appreciated, Nyomi.”
“Thank you.” Aki grabbed food from a serving plate with his chopsticks and put it on his own plate.
Yuki immediately reached over and started eating directly from Aki's plate.
Aki loudly sighed but didn't stop him.
"Look at this spread.” Daisuke began plating. “This is definitely worth my stab wounds."
Toma pointed his chopsticks at Kaoru. "The Fangs better not have touched anything before we got here."
Kaoru snorted. "We have self-control. Unlike the Claws."
"Self-control?" Toma leaned back. "I have seen Yoichi eat an entire tray of—"
"Shut up and eat your food, Toma." Yoichi's voice came from the doorway, calm and final.
Toma ate his food.
“Tora. . .” Kenji moved his gaze across the dishes done in five colors, the steamed tofu, the miso bowls. Then, he looked at me. “You are truly a queen that we’re not worthy of.”
My chest warmed.
Hiro got to my side. “And deserving or not, we’re keeping you all to ourselves. Our Tiger. Our Queen.”
Kenji loudly groaned in disgust and guided me away.
Once we got to the table, Kenji didn't let me sit in my own chair. Instead, he sat down, pulled me onto his lap, and wrapped his arms around my waist. Then, he whispered in my ear, "I just want to be close to you. I need to touch you."
“That’s fine, baby.” I settled against him and relished in his warmth seeping into me. His arms tightened, and I could feel his heartbeat against my back too.
He's here and safe.
Hiro dropped into the chair beside us and stretched his long legs out under the table. Even sitting, he took up space like he owned it.
I leaned forward on Kenji's lap and reached for the serving dishes. "Let me fix you a plate."
Kenji's arms loosened just enough to let me move. I started with the rice, pressing it into a neat mound the way I'd watched Chef Bunzō do it. Then the simmered root vegetables. The steamed tofu with its dark glaze.
Kenji watched me. "You're spoiling me, Tora."
"And I always will." I set the plate in front of him and placed a bowl of miso near it.
He kissed the side of my neck and grabbed his chopsticks.
On my right, Hiro reached for the large serving spoon on top of the rice.
“Nope.” I took the spoon right out of his hand.
He widened his eyes. "What are you doing, sis?"
"You thought I was going to let you do that yourself?" I was already scooping rice onto a plate for him. "Sit back."
Hiro stared at me and then grinned. "Yes, ma'am."
I built his plate the same way as Kenji’s. Rice. Vegetables. Tofu. Miso. I placed it in front of him, and he looked down at it like he'd never seen a plate of food before. "Thank you.”
I smiled. "You're welcome."
He leaned closer and dropped his voice to a whisper. "I’ll have to hurry and eat this before Kenji roars and blows flames over the plate."
Kenji laughed. "Not this time, brother."