The Way Home
Chapter twenty-seven
Nyomi
I fell asleep in Kenji’s arms somewhere between the island’s tarmac and our journey home to Tokyo.
After that, the night returned to me in fragments.
I rose toward consciousness in small, shimmering intervals. My eyes opened long enough to gather one image, one sound, or one sensation before sleep drew me under again.
The helicopter lifted from the island.
The black ocean stretched beneath us.
Tokyo appeared in the distance, and millions of lights scattered across the darkness like stars that had grown tired of heaven and descended to earth.
Then the car carried us through the city.
Tokyo slid beyond the windows in ribbons of gold, white, and red. Towers leaned through my blurred vision. Traffic lights bloomed and disappeared. Rain glazed the glass and transformed the city into wet strokes of color painted across the night.
Each time I opened my eyes, the world had changed. A different sky floated above me. A different vehicle carried me. A different ceiling passed over my head.
Kenji’s scent traveled with us through the night—clean soap, smoked sandalwood, and burnt ginger.
Inside the helicopter, his scent mingled with aviation fuel, metal, and the cold night air that rushed through the cabin each time the aircraft shuddered above the black ocean.
Inside the car, his scent mingled with the rich leather of the seats.
Inside his mansion, his scent threaded through the aromatic smoke of incense burning along the passageways.
Man, wealth, fire, and devotion became one fragrance around me.
Kenji remained at the center of every memory.
His warm muscular chest rested beneath my cheek, and with that came the deep, steady beat of his heart against my ear, serving as my soothing anchor, guiding me away from the woman who had entered the forest and surrendered everything the war demanded from her.
Whenever the helicopter shifted or the car turned through the city or even when we entered his mansion, his muscular arms reminded my body that he would always hold me together.
He would always be there.
Forever.
Even in his exhaustion, he protected me.
In Tokyo. . .when the gates appeared. . .those massive iron structures opened slowly before us and divided the darkness.
I woke enough to see a long drive unfolding ahead. Sculpted trees bordered both sides, and low golden lights illuminated the path. The enormous mansion stood at the end of it with rows of glowing windows burning against the night. It was a kingdom shaped from stone, glass, and shadow.
His kingdom.
So sleepy, I struggled to keep my eyes open.
Rows of staff waited beneath the towering entrance. Their heads lowered as Kenji carried me inside.
Exhaustion kept my face against his chest, and his heart continued beating against my ear while his voice moved above me—deep, calm, and absolute.
“This is my Tiger.” The words traveled through the entrance hall and fell on all his staff. “This is my Heart.”
His arm tightened around me. “She is the new master of this estate.”
A quiet and wounded part of my soul raised its face toward the light.
“You will give her the highest respect,” Kenji continued. “Her comfort, her safety, and her happiness will be treated as commands from me. Do we understand?”
The staff bowed lower. Their voices rose together. “Yes, Dragon.”
Then Kenji carried me further into the mansion. A painted ceiling floated above us with clouds and a black and golden dragon. A chandelier scattered warm light across polished marble. A passageway extended beyond the reach of my tired eyes.
Incense smoke curled through the air in pale ribbons.
Kenji carried me into an elevator.
Mirrored walls surrounded us. His reflection stood within them, showing how the night had sharpened every line of his face with blood, grief, and victory.
I rested in his arms. My body looked small against his. “Your mansion is beautiful.”
“Our mansion.”
“We’ll see. I have not decided to move to Tokyo just yet.”
“Very funny, Tora.”
I grinned.
He looked down at me. “How are you?”
“Due to my big, sexy dragon carrying me around, I’m doing just fine. I don’t know why I’m so tired.”
“You should be tired.”
“You too.”
“Yes, but you give me strength.”
My heart warmed.
The elevator carried us upward. We passed the first floor, the second, and then rose toward the third-floor master suite.
After that, my memories softened completely. He slowly undressed me, kissing my bare skin and groaning through the process. He dressed me in silk. Then, satin sheets brushed along my body.
Amber light glowed throughout the vast bedroom. Curtains moved gently before towering windows while Tokyo burned beautifully beyond the glass.
Kenji lowered me onto the bed, and then he lay beside me.
And his warmth settled around my body.
And his muscular arms closed around me.
And his chest returned beneath my cheek.
And his heartbeat found my ear again.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
This was what safety felt like. This was what being absolutely loved by a powerful man felt like. His arms became the container in which my nervous system finally let go.
The war had ended.
The island had faded behind us.
The dead would now only travel with us inside broken memories.
Our daughter would live within the ache we carried.
Surely, our grief entered the mansion beside us and settled into the shadows.
Hopefully, love entered with it and filled every space that sorrow had opened.
All I knew was that inside Kenji’s huge arms, my soul rose, and my healing was beginning and. . .my fractured pieces were starting to shift toward one another as my spirit stretched toward our future.