Keiji had seen a great many terrors and living legends in his lifetime. Hell, his own best friend had become a sometime-tyrant in the end. He liked to think he was pretty experienced with the fiercer side of humanity.
And then there was Magoichi Saika.
He still had yet to figure her out. She was so out of his league that they could not even be considered to be playing the same sport. She was more than confident, more than self-assured, more than violently beautiful. Even trying to describe her intensity was like trying to substitute a candle for the sun.
And maybe that was why he was so overwhelmed with affection as she lay beside him – or rather, more accurately around him, arms tangled around his torso, fingers linked in his hair, legs wreathed between his, seizing him with the same force she used to seize entire cities. But the effect was ruined by the childish jut of her lip and the way her hair frizzled out from her head in a mess of red, seeping lazily across the mattress like a stain.
He had not tamed her, of course; that was impossible. Their relationship was more akin to the cat that adopts its human rather than the other way around.
He craned his neck, cracking it painfully in the process, and kissed her wild mouth with all the tenderness he could muster. Her eyes blinked awake at the touch, a question surfacing in the wrinkles of her brow. What was that for?
The stupid grin that pulled at his cheeks was entirely out of his control. "Good morning, my lady."
