The Dragon's Empire Book 1
"We go to Talia."
Chopper blades clawed the dawn sky as we lifted off, Manhattan shrinking ant-trail below. Talia's law office hunkered in Midtown glass canyon, corner suite armored with mahogany panels and steel-file vaults, Atlanta sass etched in gold-lettered door. She met us in reception—a curvaceous knockout in a curve-hugging sheath, box braids, gold-cuffed, swaying, almond eyes, smoky assessment, instant.
"Sugar, you look like death warmed over," Talia drawled thick Southern honey-laced steel, pulling me into a mama-bear hug before hazel dissected Kenji cool. "And you—dragon boy—better have brought roses or warrants."
Sikat na Kabanata