Harshly but quickly Kagome bathed, more out of compulsion than anything else. She felt the need to purge herself of Sesshoumaru, at least in ritual. She felt the need to punish herself too, though she tried to suppress it: the maddening urge to excise herself of the shame that snaked like dark poison through her

“Kohaku-kun,” Kagome bit out, intensely annoyed. “What do you want?” Hard and glinting as chips of obsidian, the taijiya’s keen eyes flicked over her, taking her in from head to foot. A fresh flush of outrage rose to Kagome’s cheeks, her fingers clamping that much tighter around the gaping waist and collar of her untied

Kagome dug her fingers into the empty sheets. She wanted to get up. She wanted to go right now, out into the cold gathering dark. She should go—go and press her lips to the unyielding stone of her husband’s grave. But her tired body wouldn’t respond to her wishes. Paralyzed, she closed her eyes and

Kagome blinked after him. Hirokin… What a strange guy. Curling her fingers loosely around the cockle shell, she eased herself down from the slab of rock and waded back to shore. Her head was pounding by the time she had dried, clothed, and dragged herself back home. Still, she upended the near-empty bottle of sake

“What,” Kagome choked out, her cheeks flaring as she reeled, “what are you doing?!” Hirokin cocked his head to one side, his lovely white-gold hair spooling down the exposed curve of his collar. “You seemed unsettled by your lack of clothing compared to mine. I sought to alleviate this discomfort.” “That’s the opposite of what

Kagome sat up with a start. In a brilliant crash, her reiki met the invasive demonic aura, a flash like lightning sparking out across the invisible plane where their energies collided. Purifying vapor blossomed in a shimmering veil between them. As the crackling mist dispersed, a stunningly handsome face stared back at her, faintly smiling.