Then, she smiled.
In a blur, she dropped to the floor, sweeping my legs.
I fell, my back hitting the mat with a thud. Before I could recover, she was on top of me, straddling my chest, her knees pinning my arms.
She had snatched my bokken from my hand as I fell and now she held it across my throat, pressing down just enough to let me know she had won.
She leaned down, her face inches from mine. Her hair hung down, creating a curtain that cut off the rest of the world.
I could feel the heat radiating from her body. I could smell the faint scent of her shampoo and the adrenaline of the fight.
Her eyes were dark, dilated and intensely alive.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. The air in the room seemed to thicken, charged with a tension that had nothing to do with combat.
She looked at my lips. Then back up to my eyes.
She slowly lifted the sword from my throat. She stayed there, her weight pressing me into the mat.
"That's a point for you," I said, my voice sounding a little breathless even to my own ears.
She smirked. She tapped my nose with her finger.
Boop.
Then she rolled off me and stood up, offering me a hand.
I took it. She pulled me up effortlessly.
"You're getting faster," I said, brushing myself off.
She shrugged, but she looked pleased.
I checked my watch. "It's getting late. And I'm starving."
I looked at her. She was wearing sweatpants and a t shirt, sweat dampening her hairline. She looked beautiful.
"We're going out," I said.
Her head snapped toward me, eyes widening in alarm. She shook her head vigorously, pointing at the window, then making the sign of the Vought logo she had drawn before.
'Danger.'
"No," I said, stepping closer. "I know a place. It's a private restaurant. Very exclusive."
She looked doubtful. She touched her face, then her hair. 'I can't go out like this.'
"We'll get cleaned up," I said. "And... I took the liberty of ordering some things for you. They should be in your closet."
She looked at me, suspicious.
"Go look," I said.
She hesitated, then turned and ran out of the gym.
I followed at a slower pace. I went to my own room, showered and changed. I put on a suit… not a business suit, but something sleeker. Black silk shirt, no tie, a velvet dinner jacket.
I walked out into the living room and waited.
Ten minutes later, the door to the guest suite opened.
Kimiko stepped out.
She was wearing a dress I had selected from a high end designer's lookbook. It was an emerald green silk that flowed over her body like water.
It had a high neck but an open back, revealing the smooth muscles of her shoulders. She had pulled her hair up into a elegant bun, leaving a few strands to frame her face.
She looked uncomfortable, tugging slightly at the hem, but she also looked stunning.
She looked at me, seeking approval.
"Wow," I said.
She blushed, looking down at her feet… which were currently encased in a pair of strappy heels she was clearly still figuring out how to balance in.
"You look incredible," I said, walking over and offering my arm. "Ready?"
She took a deep breath, then nodded. She looped her arm through mine. Her grip was tight and nervous.
We took the private elevator down to the garage. Marcus was waiting by a different car this time… a vintage Rolls Royce Phantom, a vehicle that screamed old world privacy.
"The Orchid Room, Marcus," I said.
"Yes, sir."
The drive was smooth. The partition was up, giving us privacy in the back seat. Kimiko stared out the window, watching the city lights blur by. She was tense, her eyes scanning every car we passed, looking for threats.
I placed my hand over hers on the seat. "Relax. You're with me."
She looked at me, then slowly relaxed her shoulders.
The Orchid Room was located in the basement of a nondescript brownstone in the West Village. There was no sign. Just a heavy wooden door.
Marcus opened the car door. We stepped out. I led her to the entrance. I knocked once. A panel slid open, eyes checked us and the door swung wide.
The interior was a world of hushed luxury. Dark wood, red velvet and the soft glow of candles. There were only five tables in the entire restaurant, each separated by soundproof screens.
"Mr. Spencer," the maitre d' whispered. "Your usual table is ready."
He led us to a secluded alcove in the back. We sat. The privacy was absolute.
"This place has a strict no phones policy," I explained as a waiter poured water. "And the staff are paid very well to be blind."
She looked around, taking in the atmosphere. She relaxed, realizing that no one was looking at her.
The dinner was an omakase experience… chef's choice. Course after course of exquisite masterpieces arrived. Sea urchin with truffle.
And the wine. I ordered a bottle of vintage Pinot Noir.
"It's strong," I warned as I poured her a glass. "But good."
She picked up the glass, sniffed it and took a sip. Her eyes widened. She took another sip.
We ate and drank. With every glass, the walls came down a little more. My Regeneration meant I metabolized alcohol fast, but I let myself feel the buzz. Kimiko, with her regeneration, was in a similar boat, but the sheer quantity we were consuming… was doing the trick.
Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were bright and glassy. She was smiling more, her silent laughter coming easier.
She reached across the table and touched my face, tracing the line of my jaw with a cool finger. It was a bold move, fueled by the wine.
She pointed to herself, then to me, then brought her two index fingers together. 'We are the same.'
"Yes," I said, covering her hand with mine. "We are."
We left the restaurant two hours later, both of us stumbling slightly. The cold night air felt good.
The ride back was a blur of city lights and soft jazz on the radio. Kimiko leaned her head on my shoulder, her body warm against mine.
When we got back to the penthouse, the silence of the apartment felt welcoming.
"Water," I mumbled, loosening my collar. "We need water."
We stumbled into the living room. I collapsed onto the massive sofa. Kimiko followed, dropping down beside me.
She kicked off her heels with a sigh of relief. She pulled her legs up, curling into the corner of the sofa, but then she shifted. She moved closer.
She rested her head on my chest.
I froze for a second, then relaxed. I put my arm around her shoulders, pulling her in. She fit perfectly.
The city lights twinkled outside the window, a galaxy of stars below us.
I closed my eyes. The last thing I felt before the darkness took me was the rhythmic beat of her heart against my ribs and the warmth of her hand resting over mine.
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