Page 77 of Emperor of Wrath

You need fucking help, self.

I get out of bed and start to wrap the comforter around myself. Then I spot the pile of folded clothes on the end of the bed, which I’m guessing are for me: sweatpants and a hoodie. I can already tell just by looking at them that I’m going to be swimming in them.

Still, better than walking out there naked.

Nothing he hasn’t seen, but again, I’m not sure I’d survive if he decided to have a round two this morning.

As good as that honestly sounds…

I chase the thought away as I venture into Kenzo’s bathroom and turn on the shower. The water stings at first as it cascades over my bruised body, and forget facing the spray—my nipples say hell-to-the-fuck-no to that. But as the warm steam envelops me, the aches and soreness slowly melt a little.

Three aspirins and a quick towel-dry later, I’m slipping into the crazy oversized sweatpants and hoodie that I’m sure are his. On the plus side, the enormous hood acts as a giant baggy turtleneck, hiding the vicious bruises around my throat.

Although… Something tells me he’d like to see those. Like a beast likes to smell its scent on a trail. Or a conquering king likes to place his flag on the enemy’s palace.

The smell of sweet, merciful coffee hits me when I walk out of Kenzo’s bedroom. I start to walk toward it, but I suddenly jump as a tall, dark figure steps menacingly out of the doorway to what looks like a study of some kind.

Takeshi glares down at me, jutting out his chin at me.

“Good…morning?” I mumble, frowning up at him.

Kenzo’s brother doesn’t have the highest opinion of me. And I can’t imagine me slashing his tires when I thought they were Kenzo’s did much to improve that sentiment.

“Morning,” he grunts, his brow furrowing deeper. “I got an email earlier to schedule the delivery of a motorcycle I didn’t buy.”

I resist the urge to grin.

“Yeah?”

I mean, Takeshi might not like me, but my beef is with his brother, not him. And since Hana has turned out to be so freaking cool, and Takeshi is her twin…

Let’s just say that while we were in Montreal, before my phone died, I may have made a little purchase as a peace offering.

“Yeah,” Takeshi scowls. “A Kawasaki ZX10R.”

“Wow.” I nod thoughtfully. “That’s a pretty sweet ride.”

I didn’t just replace his tires.

I bought him a whole new bike. Go big or go home, right?

Takeshi eyes me, his muscled arms folded over his broad chest. “Your adoptive daddy foot the bill for that?”

“Did yours, for your last bike?”

“I pay my own way, witch,” he snaps coldly.

“Funny. So do I.”

His mouth twists. “Don’t try to buy loyalty from me.”

I sigh. “I wasn’t buying shit. It was an apology.” I lift a shoulder. “I shouldn’t have fucked with your bike. I was mad.”

“And?”

God, is nothing easy with any of the Mori brothers?

“And I’m sorry. Truly. It was shitty of me.”

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