Misa felt two fat tears leak out from underneath her heavily made-up eyelashes as she cuddled deeper into the arms of her lover. She could feel the warmth of his palms and the gentle pressure of his fingers against her bare waist, could sense the defined abs just millimetres away from her naked back, could hear the very faint whoosh of his even breathing close to her exposed ear.

When she had been with her previous lovers, they had held her so close that it was as if they would never let her go. When their fingers had splayed against her bare skin, they had caressed each inch gently, reverently, thanking their lucky stars that they were allowed such a privilege. When their lips had hovered mere inches from her ears, they had formed tender words, whispered promised and endearments to her as she slept soundly in their embrace.

Light was supposed to be her knight in shining armour. He had saved her life, he had promised her that she would be the goddess of his new world. He had told her so many times that she had done well, that he needed her, that he loved here. She knew she loved him, and that she would give her life for his ten times over if she could.

So why was there a part of her heart which felt as cold as ice as she lay in his arms? Light was always perfect, there was nothing lacking in his manner or his attendance to her. He was a magnificent lover, caring and thoughtful, every inch of his smooth, defined body moving against hers as if they were made for each other.

But the only time she had ever seen his beautiful russet eyes alight with emotion was when he argued some point of the Kira case with ugly, freaky Ryuuzaki. He was always cool and patient with her, his voice soft and even, level to the point of a drone sometimes, whereas with Ryuuzaki he often lost his temper, colour blossoming in his cheeks. Come to think of it, it was only ever after a brief, violent tussle with Ryuuzaki that beads of sweat ever collected on his skin, or his breathing accelerated into harsh pants. Never with her, even after they had spent the night together.

Sometimes she wondered if he would stroke the skin under his fingertips and brush the hair from an ear with his lips in a faint tickle of warm air if it were Ryuuzaki, and not her, lying in his arms. Perhaps it was this faint, uncomfortable inkling which left her cold against his warm body, lonely even as he held her close. Sometimes, she thought they might both be better off in another's embrace.

But Misa would not relinquish her Light to that pale wraith, his skinny hands wrapped like dead spiders around the handle of a coffee cup, his bloodless lips working as he devoured cake after cake. Not if it cost her an ocean of tears would she give up. She wriggled closer into Light's embrace, pressing up against his chest, skin on skin, placing her own small hands over his and hugging tightly. He was hers. It was her body he was holding close. It was her hair tickling his nose. She was lucky. She was happy. She was Light's, and Light was hers.

But how could a knight come to rescue her if she did not feel safe and comforted in his embrace?