Disclaimer: I own nothing but the writing.

Notes: Be warned. You'll need to be able to accept, even like, certain clichés (even though I've made a slight effort to deviate from the standard) as well as handle first-person POV (of Inuzuka Hana).

Now, there are elements in this cliché that I personally think have a silly, lasting appeal. I wrote most of the early parts long before the Twilight phenomenon, although the clichés had already existed for years. But as it goes, "about three things I [am] absolutely positive":

First, I did not respect this cliché.

Second – there was a part of me very dissatisfied with how Naruto canon was going, and I really started liking alternate universes then.

And third, I figured, why not bring together two things - The Cliché and Naruto - I indulge(d) in, do not respect, and want to toy with, in one fic?

Chapter 1 – After the Fact

I would only wish the headache I had upon waking on my worst enemies.

Problem was, I didn't know who that might be. The smiling brunette nurse at my bedside didn't look like she had any ideas. Naturally, I asked her what was wrong with me.

"Well, miss, you were in a traffic accident yesterday. Since you were diagnosed with a mild concussion, you family had you spend the night in the hospital."

"But I don't remember any accident." I remembered a little about boba tea, but…

"Short-term amnesia," explained the nurse, her kind face twisting in sympathy. "It should end in a few more hours; worst case scenario, a week or two. Otherwise, you seem to be in great condition."

This did cheer me up. "Thank you for clearing this up."

"You're welcome. Now get some rest. Your husband will be around at eight o'clock tonight."

Right then, I had two options: panic or take deep breaths. I had no memory of this accident, let alone of a husband. Panic struck me as horribly unproductive, so I settled for taking it all in stride.

My husband had better explain everything.

Before said spouse visited, though, I had another visitor. She looked calm and melancholy, lady-like in a classic, old-fashioned way. She said she was my in-law, Uchiha Mikoto.

I'd meant to greet her with a smile, but the instant she entered the room, my gag reflex kicked in. I covered that up as severe coughing until I could compose my face. The woman must have wandered into a foul-smelling area en route, but no longer smelled it herself by this time. Sort of like skunk-spray victims, although I didn't think there were any of them in the city.

The nurse, used to being polite in the face of unpleasantness, gave no indication of smelling anything. The hospital was thick with medicinal, laundry, and alcohol odors, with a dash of old pee. Maybe that could deaden the olfactory senses over time.

Resolving to be courteous to my elegant in-law, I held my breath when she sat down by the bed. "Hana dear, how are you feeling?"

"Excellent." The headache had receded somewhat. "Although I'm embarrassed to say, even after lunchtime, that I'm still very hungry."

"You've been on a liquid diet. You had soup this afternoon, didn't you? I brought something – it's not much, but I hope it helps."

Inside the perfect little bento box she had unwrapped were rice, pickled vegetables, and tonkatsu, breaded meat. My mouth filled with saliva. I thanked her and started on the tonkatsu first. As smelly as everything was, Mikoto's thoughtfulness went a long way towards earning my goodwill.

Anticipating my questions, Mikoto revealed details of the accident while I ate. Everything was there, from license plates to car models to street names and the time of day. "Itachi has the photos; we were lucky you came out unharmed aside from the concussion." It'd been my car crashing into the back of the other one.

"Then the accident was my fault? I have to make reparations… update my insurance…"

"Normally, yes, but there's no way we can let you do that." Mikoto looked adamant. "Your honeymoon was already delayed once because of my son's job. Now that you say you are well, the entire family believes it's your right to enjoy that time as soon as possible. Fugaku and I will handle everything else."

Her declaration knocked something loose in my memory, but like a particularly deep-rooted baby tooth, it refused to dislodge completely. "At least I should alert my own parents," I tried. Not that I had a clue who they were; I was probing for information and a reaction.

Mikoto's resigned, compassionate expression prepared me for the news. "The nurse told you about the amnesia, Hana? I do hope it'll fade in time. Let's hope for the best. But your parents… don't you remember? You've been an orphan since you were born to a single mother who died in childbirth… you've lived alone all the years before you married Itachi."

A few items she mentioned resonated: single mother, living by myself. As for the rest, I drew a blank. "My… husband is aware of my condition, right, Mikoto?"

"Yes, he is. We're all hoping for your full recovery."

I laid down my chopsticks. "Mikoto, I'd like to go home. If I see some familiar objects, I might recover faster."

She frowned, explaining how my car keys – and the attached home keys – had been temporarily confiscated by the police. I was pleased to learn that Itachi had never gotten a copy of my keys; it fit with my sense of my own personality. Itachi's apartment, Mikoto warned, was not furnished for married life. Apparently, we had been searching for a new home before the traffic accident.

The news disappointed me. "Then I guess I'll wait for him to drop by and discuss it with him."

Mikoto had no objections, but not once in our conversation had she struck me as particularly enthused to be a mother-in-law. After she left, her scent lingered. I wouldn't have forgotten it in a hurry, anyway. Worried that asking for air-freshener would get back to Mikoto, I asked the nurse to open the window. The usual smells of smoke, urban pollution, and cheap food rose to my floor and cleared the air.

This reprieve meant that my husband's odor when he arrived at exactly eight nearly laid me out.

Half of it was surprise that he stank. Then I reasoned, maybe Mikoto had visited him before seeing me and acquired some of that smell. Whether it was because he was male, or because his job today had entailed working at a smelly site, the reek was inescapable. I trained myself to take shallow breaths, but every now and then a fresh whiff had me recoiling a little.

Just by how Itachi looked and carried himself in that police uniform, however, I could tell why the pre-amnesia me had married him. He had beautiful eyes – irises the deep, rich color of red wine, lashes that shadowed his cheekbones because of the overhead light. And he had a low, gentle voice, very bracing. If he was my husband, he could help me through this.

I also thought that anyone I married should be able to take blunt honesty. "Itachi, I'm sorry for all this trouble, and I don't want to complain, but… what have you been up to today? That is, where did your work take you?"

"You know much of what I do is classified, Hana." He reached for my hand. The caution in that gesture seemed out of line with our being newlyweds. He sensed this, and his long fingers closed around my bare skin more strongly than I expected.

"Can I be direct with you?"

He nodded.

I shot him a wry smile. "You and Mother-in-law smell really strange. I can't explain it… it's not very pleasant, and I was wondering if you did something or went somewhere today."

After a pause, he said, "You knew about my family's condition when you married me. Did you forget that, too?"

I tilted my head. "I'm sorry. It seems that way."

Itachi leaned towards me. "Some people are more sensitive to our scent than others. It's a miracle you accepted my proposal." His thumb stroked the back of my hand.

He sounded so serious, like he was laying his emotions bare in front of me. "Well," I murmured, "not if you're always this charming. But please remind me – what family condition is that?"

Itachi stroked my hair back, pulling me closer to whisper in my ear: "As it happens, Hana, my family and I are all vampires."

For some reason, I didn't have any trouble believing that. Nor did I question why my immediate, private response was relief at its logic: Oh, that's why they stink! That makes sense.

It made no sense whatsoever.

"So… you eat blood?"

He withdrew, observing my face. "Yes."

"And nothing else?"

The pause was longer. "Yes."

"And your entire family… well, Itachi, how does your mother know how to make such delicious food then?"

"I think you're ready to come home."

Mikoto hadn't been lying about Itachi's lair being little more than a bachelor pad; out of consideration for my nose, he brought me there anyway, so that the decaying fruit smells of his collective family and extended family wouldn't overwhelm me.

None of the furniture looked all that expensive, but it had taste and worked well with the room. I had expected dispassionate blue walls and sharp-edged, modern glass tables. Itachi's apartment was full of very dark wood and black, off-white, and burgundy accents.

The hospital had discharged me in the clothes Mikoto had brought as a loan, but I really needed to wash off the Uchiha family scent. There was no avoiding it, but I preferred it not to touch my skin.

"If you don't mind…" I began.

"Take the bathroom. Everything you need is inside." Poor fellow, he must be exhausted after a full day's work, and my clueless person on top of that. On impulse, I slid a comforting hand over his shoulder as I passed, not glancing back to see his reaction. It would be easier on both of us if we stopped tiptoeing around each other.

The shelf in the opaque shower stall offered a selection of masculine products that at least smelled like themselves, not Uchiha. I had plenty to mull over under the stream of hot water.

First, I couldn't imagine why any of the Uchiha brood would bother lying to me about the family; in that case, the vampirism would be outrageous enough. I trusted my gut instinct that they were telling the truth on that count. I also knew, deep down, that I had no problem with the Uchiha being vampires. No, what I really wondered about was motivation. If the Uchiha had no motive to lie about the marriage, then the marriage was probably true, and I probably had consented to marry Itachi; in that case, I'd have to trust my past judgment and work backwards for my motive.

Unless the Uchiha were lying on some other detail, which would reveal a motive for lying about the marriage.

My logic got me nowhere: who would work so hard to get a daughter-in-law – or wife – who couldn't help but wrinkle her nose at you? The vampire – non-vampire relations just complicated the issue.

By the time I got out of the shower, I'd resigned myself to borrowing the towels in the cabinet. Assuming Itachi wouldn't take well to the idea of me rummaging in his room for clothes, I padded to the sitting room.

Someone else was there, talking to Itachi while playing with the remote of the impressive plasma TV opposite the couch. I halted at the entrance out of sight and sniffed. There were two guests, actually; one of them I couldn't hear or see. That one, in the adjoining kitchen behind a low partition, smelled younger, while the one with Itachi smelled a little older. Of course, I had nothing in the realms of rationality to explain my certainty. Good thing I had opted to go with the flow from the outset.

One other fact was confirmed: all three were male, Uchiha, and stinky.

Suppressing a sigh, I peeked around the wall to see if I could catch Itachi's attention. He stood up upon seeing me. Despite his swift response, the visitor rose from his seat as well before Itachi could block all of me from view.

My husband – it was still peculiar in my mind to consider this man as such – seemed to understand my request without my saying anything. "Follow me." In a flatter tone that passed for exasperated, he added, "Shisui, go sit down."

I heard the other man chuckle as we traveled the short distance to Itachi's bedroom. "Forgive me, but who is Shisui?"

"One of my cousins. My brother, Sasuke, also came over. I'd introduce you, but…" The pause was eloquent commentary on my state of dress. In a minute, he passed to me a black t-shirt and sweatpants.

I hesitated. "Um, Itachi… do you have anything else I could also borrow?" Underwear, perhaps? Tiny shorts? Even as I struggled with voicing it, I couldn't imagine any sort of underwear he would have that I'd feel comfortable wearing, knowing that, well, it was his.

My face felt suffused with heat; it had probably gone red. I cast my gaze on the innocuous digital alarm clock on the bedside table. "Never mind," I said.

"Are you sure?"

An enlightened monk wouldn't find fault in his even tone of voice. "Yes. I can manage. Thank you."

The back of his knuckles brushed over my cheek, startling me into glancing up. His mouth hadn't so much as twitched, but I sensed a smirk beneath the façade. "Come out when you've changed." He closed the bedroom door behind him.

Holding my breath, I pulled on his clothes – his scent overlaid them thickly – and left the room. By this time, the three males had moved on to the door. I took care to be quiet as I approached.

Itachi's brother was half-arguing, half-reminding him about a family dinner. "Seeing as you're Father's favorite, the least you could do is remember to fit his birthday dinner into your schedule."

"Of course." As an older sibling, Itachi had perfected the art of agreeing in such a way as to irritate his brother further. It was an amusing ploy I recognized… from experience? I rubbed the back of my scalp. That was a river I'd cross when I got there.

"So long, Itachi," said the third male voice – Shisui's. "I'll see you around… and your new wife, too."

"You're f – ing disgusting," Sasuke interjected with real feeling.

"That's what you think."

"I think you were dropped on your head as a baby."

"Just showing appreciation. Isn't that the point of this exercise? Eh, Itachi?"

"Shut up." Itachi had become cold and deadly. "Unless you forgot, you're to treat her as my wife."

"Technically… oh, fine. I'm going. Have a good one." The door closed.

I couldn't help smiling at Itachi's look of aristocratic forbearance. Having witnessed the exchange, I had seen how close they all were beneath the bickering. It gave me an inexplicable pang.

"Hana."

"Hm?"

"Come over here."

I made a face but left the wall. He took my wrists, fingers circling them loosely. His eyes ran searchingly over my face.

"Do you remember anything yet?"

"Nothing definite." I didn't want to lie.

He dropped my wrists. "I can sleep on the couch, if you feel more comfortable that way."

Kicking Itachi out of his own room would only make me feel worse. "No, it's all right. I'm not tired, truth be told. Maybe I'll watch some television until morning."

Almost unconsciously, he gave me a visual once-over, checking for signs of fatigue that belied my words. I didn't believe he would discover any, but for a quicksilver instant, his scent flared with a desire that he snuffed out in its infancy. My lips parted in both amusement and surprise.

"As you wish, Hana." He was terser, determined to give me ample space tonight. "Good night."

"You, too. Sleep well." I watched him withdraw to the bedroom. Unlike Itachi, I didn't see what was hideously wrong about finding my spouse attractive.

I went to the police station to retrieve my keys even before Itachi had left the flat. To a degree, it was an excuse to avoid reminders of him. My body had adapted slightly to his scent when I slept surrounded by it; it was something else. Thinking your husband is attractive is different when your opinion is confirmed by his leaving the shower shirtless. I wasn't so cowardly as to pretend I was still asleep, but I couldn't meet Itachi's eyes.

The interior of the police station hit me with unexpected déjà vu, so I had high hopes about my own apartment.

Unfortunately, I wasn't going to be able to see it.

There were boxes of stuff in front of the door where my keys had brought me. Not the neatly packaged moving boxes either; these boxes overflowed with everything that someone had tossed inside. Shirt sleeves and jackets, the frame of a lampshade, and tattered drapes had all been piled indiscriminately.

The notice on the door explained it all: Eviction. Plus the locks had been changed.

It annoyed me. Surely amnesia was a valid reason for forgetting the rent?

The notice warned that all my possessions would be removed and destroyed if I didn't reclaim them in three days.

I ran through the call list on the unfamiliar phone I'd retrieved that morning. The landlord's answering machine picked up. He had left for an equatorial island for the month. Thwarted, I searched for any other potentially helpful names, but then decided I didn't remember any of them well enough to risk calling.

Itachi's name was there. I thought he would be busy, but just at that moment, the cell phone vibrated, displaying Itachi's name on the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Hana, I'm on break for a few minutes. You had no trouble regaining your keys?"

"No, but…" I explained the eviction. "I have nowhere to store everything."

"Go to my parent's house. I have a large room that's still mine; you can store your possessions there for now." There was a brief silence. "Shisui is off-duty. I'll send him over if you want his assistance. Such as it is."

I laughed. "That would be great. Don't worry, I can handle him. He doesn't seem like a bad person."

"He doesn't know where to draw the line. Very well, he'll be there in half an hour."

"Thank you." And because it seemed like something a wife would say, if she had any affection at all, I added lightly, "I love you."

This time, his silence was rife with something else. When he spoke after a beat, he sounded gentler, quieter. Slightly pitying. "Likewise." He hung up.

Shisui didn't look any more like a cop than he had from my glimpse of him the night before. He assured me that he was, while adjusting the gelled, spiky part of his black hair with surreptitious, typical male vanity. He didn't smell as rotten.

"Did you eat recently?" I asked before I thought better of it.

"Can you tell?"

He smelled fresher. I nodded. "How often…?"

"I eat whenever I'm hungry. That's once or twice a week, or if I take in a lot, once every twelve days." His grin bared clean white teeth. "I only go for criminals. Have you broken the law lately?"

"Not that I know of," I said, which wasn't even funny.

"I regret that Itachi kept us apart the other night. Here, we should be introduced. I'm Uchiha Shisui."

"And I'm – "

"Uchiha – "

"Hana." The lack of a surname dampened my mood. I gestured at the heap of untidy boxes. "I didn't realize I had so much stuff."

"I drove over in a van. I think three trips should do it. Come on."

I hoisted the first large box into my arms. My own strength surprised me.

Itachi had called his mother ahead of time to explain the situation, so Mikoto opened the doors when we showed up. She looked a trifle depressed. When I asked what was wrong, she shook her head. "A sentimental feeling, that's all. Your putting those boxes in my son's room drives home the fact that he moved out." She encouraged Shisui and me to return in the evening to enjoy a potato and meat stew.

"Mikoto, if it's not too personal a question, can I ask why you cook?"

She wiped her hands on a kitchen towel. "I find it meditative. Vampires can drink substances other than blood, even if they don't get any nutrients; I wouldn't invite Shisui over for dry solid food. On the other hand, it's wonderful to finally have someone in the family who can appreciate my cooking."

I headed out again in Shisui's company. He claimed to like sitting in diners and watching people eat, and what he did with his time was really his business. As I hadn't eaten enough since the previous two days, I ordered two full meals. Shisui didn't bat an eyelid.

He had a light beer while I ate. Naturally, conversation turned to food. "Sometimes I come across people as high as the Konoha Trade Towers; BACs around 0.30 also taste pretty bizarre... You really don't mind me talking about this?" Suddenly, he looked serious. "You know that I kill?"

It repulsed me, and yet… as people, the Uchiha weren't the worst sort I could think of. "I'm learning how to deal with it." The water condensed on my milk tea slid down the sides in fat droplets. "Could you tell me why your family – Itachi's family – accepts me? Aren't I food?"

My question disconcerted him into swallowing too quickly. He stumbled over his reply. "Not everyone accepted the union immediately. But they could see how badly the two of you wanted it…"

My eyes narrowed. Instinct was frowning in puzzlement. I decided to tackle it from another angle. "And you, do you support the marriage?"

His smirk resurfaced. "Itachi needs a girl to remind him he's male. I'm not as close-minded as the older generation to hate you on principle, based on your species. Can you say the feeling's mutual?"

I felt him exude charm, tugging at my senses like a fisherman reeling in a catch. He left me aware of this on purpose. One minute, the lessened reek of overripe tomatoes pushed at my nose; the next minute, a tide of alluring fragrances washed it away. I smelled the fresh straw of new tatami mats, which I recalled from a long-ago New Year's Day; the subtle, pleasant scent of cologne; a final, indefinable smell, dark and smoky like chocolate fumes, sensual and masculine. Funny, I didn't even like chocolate that much, but it wove a lovely haze around me.

"Is there anything else I can bring you?" The waitress's voice jerked me out of my stupor, even though Shisui hadn't ceased to bombard me. Glancing at her star-struck expression, I concluded that his efforts had drawn her over. To be fair, Shisui had more than enough visual appeal. It was a vampire – or Uchiha – trait.

"Yes." Shisui showed her the beer. "Another one, please?" He relented his assault so that the girl could tear herself away.

I chased the last fragments of udon in the soup. "Do you know that you change your scent?"

Shisui blinked. "Huh, really? Well, I suppose no vampire's ever tried to charm a – charm anyone as sensitive as you are to our odor. Do you prefer it?"

"It's an improvement," I conceded.

We walked past a line of parked motorbikes outside. The sight jogged another memory. "I'd like to ride a motorbike," I said. "I think I had one, once." Shisui looked perturbed.

He dropped me off at Mikoto's so that I could pick out what I needed from my boxes. True to her word, she served me some of her jaganiku stew. Itachi turned up a while later to escort me to his apartment.

"Do they let you off earlier because of your situation?" I asked, holding the bag of necessities I'd refused to let him carry. "You know, amnesiac wife?"

"Perhaps."

When we picked up his mail, he showed me one of the packages. "I had your prescription sent to my address. It's for any aftereffects of the accident."

Anti-trauma and a list of symptoms I didn't have, but I decided I could comply for a week. His arm touched mine when he reached out to press the floor button. With a start, I realized that he had fed recently, too.

"Did Shisui give you any trouble?"

"No, I think you demonize him. He was perfectly well-behaved. He even demonstrated how you guys lure your victims."

"On you?"

I looked up at his softer, vaguely dangerous voice. "Oh, don't get mad."

"It was inappropriate, considering who you are."

"Well, you can try it yourself. I don't mind." Just to tease him, I leaned against his side, tilting my head. His arm wrapped around me, and abruptly, the atmosphere in the elevator mutated. All my muscles tensed. I wanted to arch my neck against his mouth – which, after I remembered that was the point, was an urge that died swiftly once Itachi stopped.

The experience rattled me. Shisui had imposed simple attraction. Itachi had done something much stronger and predatory, similar to hypnosis. Coming to terms with it stirred up unexpected anger. I pushed him away and waited coldly for him to unlock the door.

He pressed his lips to my temple at the entryway. "Did it frighten you?"

Of course, he knew. "Sorry. I really hated it."

"Isn't that what Shisui did?"

I avoided his eyes in favor of carrying my bag of things to the sitting room. "No, he made me feel… attracted."

"That's not how we hunt." Without needing to check his scent or posture, I could tell Itachi was angry. I accidentally met his eyes and was caught by that scalding red glare. His voice remained flat and controlled. "I'll talk to him."

"What do you use it for, then?" I asked.

"To find a mate."

Mikoto called to talk to me about the benefits of hot springs while Itachi was washing up for bed. I had no idea why she had hot springs on her mind until I asked Itachi.

"She and Father arranged our honeymoon at a hot springs resort. We're to leave this weekend."

His hair was down, and it looked so silky that it distracted me from immediately responding. "That's nice… this weekend? Should I prepare anything?"

"Clothes for three weeks. Everything else, Mother has anticipated." He let me run my fingers through his hair.

"Mikoto is quite amazing, isn't she?"

An ironic smile curved his pale mouth. "It was always her wish that I marry."

I could bet that she had wanted him to marry in the species. "I shouldn't have gotten angry with you earlier," I said, apropos of nothing.

"No," he agreed. I slapped his shoulder. He moved out of reach; I had the feeling he was smirking inside, but I wanted to be sure he had put his bad mood behind him.

"Please don't be angry at Shisui."

"I will be if you insist on defending him."

I short him an arch glance that he wasn't looking to see anyway. "He only finds me attractive."

The stare he gave me was mildly irritable. "So do most men who look at you." He didn't seem to realize what he had said.

"And you don't. Find me attractive," I clarified. "My own husband…"

I was only half-serious, but he came around the bed and put his hands on my upper arms. I forgot about his smell when he bent his head. His proximity overwhelmed me. "I found you attractive when it was still dangerous to do so."

"It isn't now?" I smiled at him, then twisted out of his hold. "Can you indulge me for a moment, dear? How did we meet?" Beneath that cajoling tone, I had a real need to hear the answer.

Itachi sat on the bedcovers beside me. "The first few times I saw you, you didn't know me. You caught my scent and hated it, so you kept your distance and never truly saw me. Vampires have better vision than your kind. I saw everything about you."

I looped an arm around my knee. "So, then what?"

"I didn't dream of taking your blood, not even once. It would have been unnecessarily dangerous, with your instinctive aversion. I still did the rounds in those earlier months, and I saw you now and then. We didn't talk until you came to the police station to turn in a wallet you had picked up."

The story confused me. I was sure there were pieces of truth, in the same way I sensed Itachi's odd fascination behind that calm veneer. And that wary, never fully relaxed guard of his seemed deliberate. As if I were capable of threatening him.

I got off the bed, restless and trying to shake off the feeling of unease. "Thanks for telling me. You must be tired now. You should sleep."

He raised his eyebrows in an achingly familiar way. "You don't believe me." When he stood, he had several centimeters on me. "Fair enough. I wouldn't either."

I braced my hands on the side dresser behind me. "This isn't working, Itachi. Can you tell me something true?"

I had nowhere to go when he moved closer, trapping me between him and the dresser. "Truthfully, Hana, you once threatened my brother on behalf of someone you cared deeply about." His breath ghosted over my lashes. "That is why we are together."

This was Itachi as he really was, stripped of the illusion of tame matrimony. Perversely, I liked him better this way.

I reached up to bring his face within kissing distance, and told him so.

I could have warned the Uchiha that packing me and Itachi off with only each other was a bad idea. But I didn't. Neither did I inform Mikoto that the lie of our supposed marriage was fraying like silk drapes in the paws of an angry cat.

I invaded Itachi's personal space by saturating the flat with air freshener that sickened even me after two hours. I moved the few items in the bathroom to different cupboards. I opened all the windows when he clearly preferred them closed.

In retaliation, he did… nothing. Rather, he had this expression, telling me that he was being the mature one. It drove me insane.

And we were still going on our belated honeymoon. Together.

I hoped Mikoto didn't mind how many pieces her son returned in.

In a bizarre turn of events, I really did want Itachi's attention. Even as I tried to make him go off the deep end, I wanted him to see me as a woman on my own merits, not just for the convoluted reasons he had for complying with the farce in the first place. Maybe that was just my ego complaining, though, because I wanted something similar when Shisui popped in once – Sasuke seemed determined to stay away – and his flirting soothed my spirits.

Two evenings before we left for the resort, and after Itachi had once again evicted his cousin from the premises, he gave me a long, measured look. I had sat down lengthwise on the couch with the small advertising packet in my hands. My eyes were on the photos, but I could feel that Itachi was upset. After almost a week of martyred impassivity, that was something.

I met his eyes, and immediately a wave of heat hit me, beginning at my throat, the insides of my wrists, and my thighs. I had appreciated his gracefulness and good looks now and then, but never like this. He smelled headier than Shisui, male and dangerous and bloody. I had a hunch that most people didn't get off on that last aspect of his scent. Maybe that was what made me a freak of nature who associated with vampires. I could only think: fresh blood equaled successful hunting. Successful hunting indicated competence, which was good.

"Is this what you'd prefer?" I heard Itachi ask in a colorless tone. "For me to use that on you all the time?"

"No," I snapped. My reaction was mortifying. My blood raced urgently; I wanted his skin against mine, his heat beside me. "Stop. Please stop." Even my voice wavered under the onslaught. "Itachi, I don't want to go to the resort."

He took a step towards me, not relenting. I gripped the cushions; my nails dug deep enough to tear. "It's only for three weeks," he said at last.

"I'm sorry, but I'd really prefer not to."

The waves of longing subsided. He leaned over me, one hand braced on the arm of the couch. "Do you need to go to the hospital? It's normal to be upset." All uttered without inflection.

I hurled the pamphlets at the wall. Their laminated edges nearly cut Itachi's cheek. "What about this is normal?" I wasn't upset. I was frustrated, tired of complacently obeying The In-Laws. Whatever I'd been before the accident, it couldn't have been a submissive wife.

But then I realized that explaining all of my doubts to Itachi, whom I did not particularly trust (at all), would not be the height of tactical wisdom.

"I'm sorry." I relaxed my shoulders, letting my energy deflate. "I just wish… you've all been so patient but I still can't remember a thing."

Would he buy the lie? Possibly, he'd overlook it, if that was real pity shading his eyes – if he had a shred of decency, killer though he was, to allow me some dignity. He was too sharp for the falsehood to go completely undetected.

"It would reassure both my mother and father if you went with me."

"Fine. All right." I flashed him the best smile I could manage, and he bent over to kiss me on the lips for the first time that I could recall.

It was far from unpleasant. Still, as he moved away I found myself thinking without much hostility, I'm going to have to kill you.