Chapter 1
Chapter one
The Three of Us
Kenji
The elevator opened on three.
Hiro stepped out first.
We followed.
My guards peeled off at their posts and I walked Nyomi down the corridor with my hand at the small of her back.
The corridor was dim and still with low lights and the distant shift of guards changing posts.
When we arrived at the bedroom, the guard gave us a low bow and opened the door. Two other guards exchanged glances.
I held my chuckle in.
They probably think I’m sharing her with Hiro tonight.
They’d seen this happen before. But this time they would be absolutely wrong.
The doors swung open.
The smell of cedar incense was low. The staff knew to keep it that way after midnight.
I took in the space that I'd designed in a single afternoon three years ago. I’d told the architect what I wanted and watched him struggle to keep up. The floors that shifted underfoot as one entered, stone giving way to lacquered wood giving way to tatami so fine it swallowed sound entirely.
The curved glass walls.
Most people assumed they were purely glass.
They weren't.
One panel—the third from the left—was a door. It opened onto the balcony that extended over the outer edge of the building, looking out beyond the grounds, beyond the tree line, to where the island eventually surrendered itself to the sea.
The water was far out from here. A dark suggestion on the horizon.
I'd used the balcony only once. The architect had called it the room's crown jewel. I called it unnecessary. I didn't need a balcony. I needed walls.
But I'd kept it.
Tonight, moonlight came through the glass in long silver panels, laying itself across the tatami, across the black sheets and the deep red coverlets of the bed.
The sheer curtains moved in the ventilation's breath, and beyond the hidden door, the balcony sat empty as always. The night air moved across it undisturbed.
I turned to the cherry blossom in its planter of black stone. I’d chosen it because I wanted something living in here.
Hiro gave Nyomi the sake bottle. "Here."
"Why am I holding this?"
"So I can do my thing."
"What thing?"
Hiro moved past both of us, crossed the room in five long strides, and launched himself into the air in a full arc of absurdity. And when he landed, he did so face down, arms spread, and the mattress bouncing twice.
Nyomi snickered and opened the bottle of sake. "Well. . .that was worth it."
She took a sip and handed it to me. "Would you like some, Mr. Dragon?"
Smirking, I took it. "I would."
"Don't drink it all up." Hiro rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. "We should put a mural up here. Something. . .beautiful and artsy."
I lifted the bottle and took a slow sip, while still watching my Tiger over the rim.
She was breathtaking to take in—hips angled, fingers loose at her side, the faint sheen of sake already glossing her lips.
I swallowed.
Too slowly.
The burn of sake sat low in my chest, but it was nothing compared to the heat building under my skin.
Later, Tora. I'll have you riding my cock.
The vision hit me.
Nyomi, completely naked, straddled my lap.
Her full breasts swayed hypnotically at eye level with those dark nipples pebbled tight against the cool air, begging for my mouth.
Her long braids spilled over her shoulders in dark silk and copper curls. Her palms pressed hot and flat against my chest as she rose, thighs flexing, taking her sweet time sliding that wet pussy back down on my cock.
When she finally sank fully onto me, a broken, breathless moan tore from her throat, vibrating through where our bodies joined.
Calm down.
My cock didn’t listen. It started to get hard.
I lowered the sake bottle and cleared my throat.
"What kind of art, Hiro?" Nyomi tilted her head back, studying the ceiling like she was already seeing it.
"Something with movement." Hiro crossed his ankles. "Dragons. Water. Maybe a naked woman."
"Why a woman?"
"Why not a woman. Women are the best subject matter. They've been keeping painters employed for centuries."
She laughed. "You want a naked woman on the ceiling?"
"I want tasteful nudity on our ceiling."
I handed the sake bottle back to Nyomi.
Carrying the bottle, Nyomi climbed onto the bed and settled beside Hiro. She tucked her legs under her thighs. Those sexy braids fell over one shoulder.
She looked so goddamn captivating.
All mine.
I pulled my shirt over my head and let it fall on the floor.
Then, I felt her eyes before I saw them. The way the room's temperature shifted slightly as her attention landed on my chest, traveled down to my cock, and then returned up to take in my chest some more.
Careful, Tora. I may not hold back and fuck you right in front of my brother.
I flexed.
Both pecs.
Her lips parted.
Hiro lifted his head from the mattress, looked at her face, and then stared at me. "Is that all it really takes?"
"Be quiet." I cracked my neck and got on the bed too.
I settled against the headboard, and Nyomi shifted without being asked, finding her place between my legs and lying her back against my chest.
She tipped her head into the space beneath my jaw.
Tora.
I gathered her in my arms.
My Tiger. My queen. My anchor.
I moved my arms and placed one hand at her hip while the other moved into her braids, working slow from root to tip.
Fuck. I like this style. Whatever it is, I’m going to have her do this most often.
I grinned.
Thank God, Rin kidnapped the stylist. Now she’ll be here to do other styles.
Nyomi exhaled.
I whispered in her ear, “You like when I touch you like that?”
“Yes.”
“Then, I’ll do it more.”
Hiro got on his side and propped himself on his elbow beside her. Close, but careful with the distance.
Very smart brother.
The three of us filled the bed without crowding it. Her warmth ran between us, without being asked or directed, finding its way into every space until the very air smelled like her. Black amber and ripe plum threading into our souls.
Peace.
I sat with that word.
Earlier tonight I had been buried alive with graveyard dirt pressing down over my face and I had smiled through all of it because the Dragon had no other choice.
Now, I was here in this room with my Tiger's weight against my chest and my hand moving through her braids and the sound of my brother's soothing voice filling the space.
This is good. I didn’t know I needed this.
I looked at Hiro over the top of Nyomi's head.
But. . .did he know I needed it?
I thought back to the way he'd strong-armed his way into the elevator, into this room, into this bed.
Had he looked at me at the dinner table and seen what I could not show?
Had he watched me eat, laugh, and raise my sake cup and known—the way only Hiro ever knew—that underneath all of it his brother was suffocating?
He would never say so. His true intentions would always be a mystery.
He would never sit beside me and ask if I was okay either.
Never offer comfort.
But if he were worried about me, he would simply appear, loud, ridiculous, and completely impossible to remove.
He would fill the room with noise until the grief had nowhere left to stand.
You always know.
I looked back at the ceiling.
The buried feeling had not disappeared. It was still there, below the sternum where I kept it. But it had loosened enough that I could breathe without counting the breaths.
Hiro had done that.
Nyomi had done that.
Between the two of them—this woman who fed my soldiers and this brother who refused to leave—I had been pulled, increment by increment, back toward the surface.
Hiro broke the comfortable silence. "This is so out of character for Kenji. I've never seen him act this way with any woman. Not even when we were teens."
I frowned. "Act like what?"
“The possessiveness and the flexing.”
“I was not flexing. I was stretching.”
"Both pecs jumped? In sequence?" Hiro chuckled.
Nyomi shrugged. "I'm fine with him flexing or stretching."
You'll get a better view later.
"I bet you are." Hiro took the bottle from her and sat up. "Just know that you are the only one to make the Dragon flex like a ridiculous idiot."
She looked up at me and blushed. "I like that information."
"He's got it bad for you." Hiro took a long swig and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Before you, I thought Kenji was a heartless asshole with women."
"What?" I pulled Nyomi slightly closer. "Why would you think that?"
"When you fucked a woman, you didn't care who had her? Me. The Claws. The Fangs. You treated women like they were fucking hors d'oeuvres at a party."
I shrugged. "Just because I was fucking them, didn’t mean they were my women. They could be with who they wanted."
"Yet tonight." Hiro reached over and offered me the bottle.
I took it. "What about tonight?"
"Tonight, you were losing your mind with the Claws hugging Nyomi."
"Baby." My Tiger looked back at me. "I know you weren't tripping over that. Right?"
"Some of the hugs lasted too long."
"See!" Hiro fell back onto the bed and laughed. "You've turned my brother out."
I frowned. "I'm not turned out."
"Brother, you are so far past turned out. So pussy whipped that whipped is a small dot behind you."
"I'm not—"
"You flexed your pectoral muscles."
"I was stretching."
"You were peacocking." Hiro turned to Nyomi. "What do you think, Tora?"
She held up her hands. "I'm not involved in this."
“Smart answer.” Hiro sat back up and studied me. "Actually. Speaking of you two having sex—"
"No one was speaking of it." I took a swig of the sake.
Hiro pointed. "What was happening in that teahouse this morning?"
Nyomi's color rose in her face as she reached for the sake bottle. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
Hiro watched her take the bottle. "The two of you were on a stone slab. Half naked. Instruments laid out like there was an operation happening or possibly a car engine being rebuilt. I think I saw a blowtorch. I don't know. Lots of weird shit."
Nyomi chuckled against the mouth of the bottle.
Hiro kept his eyes on me. "And your chest and arms had all these dark pinkish slashes. What kind of freaky shit did you both do the night before?"
Nyomi shrugged one shoulder. "Normal stuff."
I gestured toward the bottle. "Have a drink and don't worry about what we were doing."
"Must be pretty freaky then." Hiro reclaimed the sake. "I ask because the image I walked in on this morning now lives in my head rent free and I deserve context."
"You deserve nothing." I settled my hand back into Nyomi's braids.
She lifted her gaze to the ceiling. "Koi."
We both looked at her.
"That should go up on the ceiling. Gold and red koi swimming in a circle." She tilted her head further back and took in the plaster like she was already commissioning the mural. "Lotus flowers around the edges. And a moon."
Hiro put the sake on the nightstand close to him and stared up too. "Full moon or crescent?"
"Full."
"Yes." A long, satisfied exhale left him and he laid back down. "A full moon should go there because. . .that's the moon that witnesses everything. It knows it all. The truth. The lies. The things left unsaid."
The three of us went quiet after that.
Nyomi's breathing slowed and deepened. It wasn’t sleep, but close to it.
I leaned toward my nightstand, grabbed the small remote, and pressed it.
Sound rose into the space. The shakuhachi flute sang low through the bamboo. Then a koto joined it. The musician perfectly plucked the strings one at a time. And all the notes twisted together in the most spiritual way.
It was music for temples. . .and endings. . .
Rest in peace, Hiroko.
Nyomi turned her face slightly toward my throat and exhaled.
Hiro closed his eyes.
I set the remote down and pulled her closer.
With Hiro’s eyes still closed, he whispered, “This is nice.”
Nyomi snuggled up against me. “It is.”
And I wasn’t sure if they were talking about our moment on the bed or the music. Maybe they meant all of it. Maybe there was no difference.
The music played another bar. Then another. The shakuhachi vibrated through the speakers and the koto answered in pure harmony.
Hiro opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling for a long moment like he was reconsidering the koi mural in real time.
A minute later, he sat up, reached into his front pocket, produced a single joint, and held it up between two fingers. It was rolled tight. The red paper was thin, and the ends were twisted closed.
I leaned my head to the side. "Where did you get that?"
"When Reo sent me to grab Hiroko, she was getting dressed." Hiro turned the joint slowly between his fingers. "Her slave was rolling five of these. I thought they were cute and said so. Hiroko heard me, came out, and told her slave to give me one."
I eyed him. "Slave?"
Hiro shrugged. "Love slave. Sex slave. I don’t know. He crawled out of a cage. When he was finished rolling the joints, he crawled back in."
What the fuck?
Nyomi sighed into my chest. "We'll have to figure out what to do with him. Zo should know what Hiroko wanted."
"Either way." Hiro looked at the joint one more time. "Hiroko would have wanted us to smoke this in her honor."
The room held that.
I shook my head. "I'm already pretty tipsy."
"Yeah." Hiro met my eyes. "But you need to get high."
He glanced down at Nyomi, then back at me. "With this war. . .and now we have an idea about where our father is hiding. . .when are you going to get another chance to do this?"
I thought about what was coming.
The chaos.
The death.
The endings.
The beginnings.
What could go wrong? Hiro, my Tiger, and me high. This will be interesting.
I shrugged. "Light it up."