Chapter 21: Limelight

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha

Back again with an update! Sorry for the delay. We are getting closer and closer to the end, now—hope you guys are ready! Probably about 75% through the story, give or take. Thanks so much for the lovely reviews! They totally make my day.

"Sweet Jesus, I'm on fire. She has the sweetest, darkest side, and when it comes into her eyes, I know iron and steel couldn't hold me. Good God, I'm easily bruised, so often a moth to her flame. And the things that she's asked me to do..." - "An Audience with the Pope" by Elbow

'You need to claim her.'

Hiroshi stood at the kitchen sink, clearing away the evidence of their breakfast and flicked an ear in absent annoyance. 'Are you still on about that?'

'You should be all over that, fucker,' it hissed, instantly infuriated by Hiroshi's refusal to take it seriously. 'If they find her—'

'They won't.'

'If they find her,' it repeated, voice shaking with barely concealed fury, 'it would be for her benefit to be marked as one of the Inu no Taisho's. No one would dare touch her.'

'Like no one would dare touch Eri or Hana?' He regretted the callous thought the moment it shot electric across his mind. A growl so low and deep it was barely audible registered in his mind, and he flushed at its warning.

'Yeah, well, I'd hope you're not dumb enough to leave your mate on the other side of the country where you can't protect her—'

Hiroshi grimaced, a jolt of hurt coursing through him at the reminder. 'That's not very fair of you. You know damn well why Rei—'

'Don't give a shit if it's fair or not, Hiro—it's true. Claim her. Claim her, and protect her.'

He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the living room, where he knew Julia was sitting legs crossed on the floor as she brushed Zooey. 'I know you're not that oblivious. You know that our scent on her is a liability.'

'It's a shield, Hiro—'

It took everything in him not to scoff in disgust at the blatant lie. 'It's not a shield, it's a fucking weapon, and it will be used against me. How do you think that will work out for her? If I tie my life to hers while she's being hunted—because of us—how long do you think she'll last? You of all people—you should know. You've already had to protect her from one asshole who thought she was my mate.'

It was silent for a moment, seething. '…Are you telling me you can't protect her? Is that what I'm hearing?'

'Now you're being deliberately obtuse,' Hiroshi pointed out mildly as he started the dishwasher. He could hear the young woman humming along happily to a Paul Simon track, though she kept the speaker volume low for his comfort. 'I'm not omnipotent. I can't be with her twenty-four hours a day. Even if I could, she would murder me if I tried.'

'…You know she's already drenched in your scent, right?'

Hiroshi knew he should feel guilty about that, but there was some perverse, base part of him that was proud. Proud that it was so obvious Julia was his—even if she wasn't his in every way yet. He tried not to react, and instead, grabbed a wet rag, wrung it out over the sink and began to wipe down the counter-tops.

'You might not have come inside of her, but there are traces of you on her stomach, her thighs, her hands—fuck, Hiro, her mouth,' it pressed urgently.

It wasn't actually trying to be crude at the moment, but Hiroshi still couldn't help the flush that dusted his face as he tried to keep busy.

'So as of now—right now—she smells like your mate, but she's not your mate. She's still free game. Someone—anyone could take advantage of that.'

This time, when the sound of deep, low warning growls reached his ears, they weren't just in his mind. He uncurled his lip, and tried to relax his stiff body. Hiroshi tried to busy his mind with Khachaturian's Masquerada, but it tamped the waltz back down and broke through—It meant it would have its say today.

'…If something were to happen to her, can you tell me that we'd walk away unscathed? You think we'd be fine because you haven't fucked her yet?'

'Don't be crude,' he thought automatically, because he really didn't want to have to admit anything to the voice. He didn't want to let it know it was right—and he knew it. If something were to happen to her or if she left—

'—She'd never.'

-Maybe he'd survive, but he honestly wasn't sure about it anymore.

'Goddammit, Hiro, I'm trying to have a serious fucking conversation with you for once. And you tell me not to be crude? You stand there, try to keep thoughts from me and clean your goddamned kitchen, and I'm trying to talk about our fuckin' mate.'

It had been almost three weeks since he had spoken with the now-deceased bull youkai that attacked Eri, and he was just now starting to relax a bit. The first week in particular had been very trying to Julia's patience, as Hiroshi was constantly underfoot, and when he wasn't, he had two of Inuyasha's men, men he'd known since he was a young teen, keeping an eye on her from a distance until he returned.

Because, despite what he'd told the bull, he was not, in fact, calm in the face of the threat against Julia's life. He was very much so un-calm, like there had been a noose around his neck for two years now, but he was only realizing it now—now that it was starting to tighten around his throat. He was nervous and needy, tense and alert—always, always alert.

And he felt trapped, boxed-in. His skin itched, like his very body was aching to burst free from its confines. He knew she had to be feeling the same way, though she had yet to complain.

But.

But. The trailer for her movie was being released in less than two weeks, and she had a few talk show appearances lined up to promote the movie—including two in America. He hadn't told his uncle yet—or Julia, for that matter, but he had no intention of letting her go alone. If he wasn't able to take off a few days, then he'd send Miroku. Kimiko and Kannon. Someone—anyone who could at the very least identify other youkai and hanyou, and not let them get too close.

'I know this is her dream,' he thought. Hell—it was everything she'd ever wanted out of a career. 'But goddamn, this couldn't have come at a worse time…'

A sudden impulse to pick her up and bolt ran through his mind, and he gave it due consideration. 'Actually,' he thought with a mirthless chuckle, 'that sounds fucking fantastic…'

The voice seemed slightly mollified by this impulsive decision. 'Though this discussion is far from over, Hiro.'

Brushing off its half-hearted irritation, he headed down the hall for his bedroom, and swiftly changed out of his sweats and into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. When he made his way back to her, she was still singing quietly to herself as she used her hand to sweep all of Zooey's loose hair into a small pile on the floor beside her knee.

"What do you say we get the hell out of here?"

With a happy gasp, she whipped her head around to see him standing behind her. He was no longer half-naked, she noted unhappily, though she could appreciate how handsome he looked in his black dragon-hide jacket and a slim-fitting pair of jeans, Gintsume tucked securely at his hip. He and the sword had been inseparable lately. "I thought you'd never ask! …Where are we going?"

"For a run."

"For a run?" she asked dubiously. A little of her excitement ebbed, and she was trying to not look too disappointed. All Hiroshi had to do was level his half-cocked grin at her, holding out a hand to help her to her feet, and she was ready to agree to anything, though—no questions asked.

"And maybe more," he added with a soft shrug, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "It might be nice to get away for the night—we'll see. I have my wallet, just in case."

"But what about Zooey?"

"Possibly the only perk of living so close to Kannon," he quipped dryly. "He can check in on him—payback for the hundreds and hundreds of dollars worth of my groceries he's devoured." She looked so damn excited, and he briefly wondered why they didn't do things like this more often if it made her so happy. He smiled. "I'll give him a call once we're…wherever we're going."

She tossed her head back and laughed, curls bouncing, and he had the strangest impulse to nuzzle her bared throat and tangle his fingers in her hair. He wondered, briefly, if he'd ever get enough of her. And then he thought, no. No, it wasn't likely. The more he took, the more he craved.

And that was okay with him, too, he supposed.

"You may want to go ahead and change," he suggested, nodding at her makeshift pajamas. With an excited squeal, she took off for the bedroom, the hyper dog hot on her heels.

Within minutes, they were both dressed and standing behind his house, facing the woods. Stretching her arms over her head and bouncing on the balls of her feet, Julia tried to prepare herself for any kind of physical exertion. "So, a run, huh? Why do I get the feeling that I don't necessarily need my running shoes for this?"

"You're going to hate it," he promised cheekily, and she laughed again when he offered her his back. "Let's try it, though."

He didn't have to ask twice, and once she was settled with her arms twined around his neck and her thighs hugging his hips, he straightened and curled his fingers under the crooks of her knees.

Her chin was on his shoulder now. "Have you ever done this before?"

There was an indelicate snort, and from this position, with him being the most relaxed she'd seen him in weeks, she thought that maybe she could see a little of his father's personality in him, after all.

"The running—sure. I love it. The running with someone clinging to my back? Not at all. But Mother seems to love it when Father takes her, so there must be some merit to it. ...Hopefully this won't be so bad."

"All of this confidence you're instilling in me" she deadpanned, rolling her eyes even though he couldn't see her.

"I'm sure it will be fine," he told her. "It just may take a few minutes for me to make the appropriate adjustments for a passenger. Make sure your chin isn't on my shoulder whenever we're starting to land, okay? I like your tongue where it is, so try not to bite it off."

"Wait—'land'? Wha—" and then they were off.

Ten seconds in, and leaping from the first tree to the second, she wanted to smack him upside his handsome, stupid head, even as she tried to keep her own head from smashing into his upon landing. This was the worst!

Forty seconds in, and on their seventh tree now—each landing easier and smoother than the last, she was pretty sure she never wanted this to end. He grinned when he felt her death-grip on him ease a bit and heard her laughter trailing behind them.

He ran for hours, looping lazy circles all throughout the expanse of protected forest that surrounded his and his parents' homes. At first he fed off her thrilled laughter and excitement, but then, as the minutes became hours and the thrill wore off, he enjoyed her contentment instead. Once they were both sure Hiroshi knew what he was doing and his landings became more graceful—hardly making contact with ground or branch at all, she relaxed against him and quietly enjoyed the ride, the smile never leaving her lips.

Eventually, as dusk approached, he picked a towering tree—one of his favorites—and settled them both on a thick branch, overlooking most of the forest. With his back against the trunk and Julia nestled in his lap, they sat in comfortable silence, watching as the sun set against the cityscape in the distance.

"It's beautiful…" she finally whispered, snuggling deeper into her coat and Hiroshi's chest.

"Mm. You warm enough?"

"I'm fine," she told him, loathe to let him know she was chilled, least he insist they head back.

When his warm hands enveloped her icy ones, he shot her a sharp look, daring her to lie to him, and she squeezed his fingers. "I'm fine," she promised. "I just want to stay here for a little while longer. I can always warm up later."

"Alright." Rubbing some warmth into her frozen digits, Hiroshi tucked them under the hem of her coat to shield them from the frigid February breeze before wrapping his arms around her again.

"I can't believe this is the way you live," she said at last, looking out over the horizon as the pinks and orange faded into hazy purple darkness, the glow from the city preventing any true star-gazing. "You are so lucky to be…" She chewed on her bottom lip and struggled to find the words. "This was amazing, Hiro. Just incredible." Her smile was soft when his lips pressed a kiss against the curve of her jaw, just under her ear.

Truth be told, he felt much better than he had in weeks. He'd needed this escape, this time alone with her away from everything and everyone. And now that he'd burnt off some excess energy and anxiety, now that everything was quiet, including the voice, he was able to enjoy his time with her in full.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."

"How often do you come out here to run like this?" She felt his shrug against her back.

"I used to do it all the time. It's a great way to clear your head. It's been a while, though. I don't think I've been out here since the night we made up."

She untucked her hands to grip the arms wrapped around her and gave him a brief squeeze. "I'm so happy that you feel you can share this part of your life with me," she murmured. It was quiet, but she knew he could hear her clearly. "I really am."

His hand flexed appreciatively against her. "Me, too, Jules. Want to head into the city now? Grab a bite to eat? Maybe we can find a hotel and go see a movie or a show or something."

She leaned back to gently nudge his chin with the crown of her head. "Let's go see what kind of trouble we can get into," she agreed.

Two weeks later, the inu hanyou was making his way through the airport, having managed to take Thursday and Friday off. He'd not been comfortable taking any more time away from work, so Julia had flown out a couple of days before with Miroku and her agent—a small, bookish woman, who was always rushed and high-strung.

He hadn't been on a plane since the night Eri was attacked, and that must have been what was causing this Pavlovian response of excessive anxiety as he strode through the airport, waiting for Miroku to answer his cellphone. He'd already tried Julia, surprisingly upset when it went straight to voicemail.

'She's probably already backstage,' he reassured himself. 'I need to get a fucking grip.'

"Hey, Hiro. You on your way?"

The muscles in the hanyou's shoulders unknotted at his cousin's soft and calm voice, suddenly feeling a bit silly for worrying. "Yeah. Just reached my gate. You guys getting ready for the interview?"

"Yeah, she's back in the greenroom with her agent, getting dressed. I just sat down. The show is about to start."

Hiroshi shouldered his satchel out of the way so that he could pull his ticket out of his pocket, thanking the woman as the QR code was scanned and she nodded for him to continue. "Great. So no problems at all?"

"Nope. None, whatsoever. She dragged me all over Midtown Manhattan last night, though. I'm sure she'll want to go out again tonight after the show, and—fair warning—she's already planning an itinerary for you tomorrow, both before and after the interview. You'd better get some sleep on the plane. She is tireless."

The hanyou chuckled. "That sounds about right. …So she's already backstage? I was hoping I could catch her before," he murmured, mostly to himself. "How did she seem? Nervous, or is she excited?" Hiroshi stepped off the jetbridge and onto the plane, smiling at the stewardess that greeted him, and making his way towards his seat.

"As expected—energetic. Maybe a little nervous, but mostly excited."

"Alright, good. I just wanted to check in before we take off. I'm boarding now, so I'll see you guys soon."

Miroku chuckled. "Not too soon. That flight is a nightmare, Hiro. Good luck."

"Yeah, yeah. I've brought some melatonin with me, so hopefully it won't be so bad." Shrugging the satchel off his shoulder, he placed it in the overhead bin before ducking into his seat. "Alright—I'll see you in…roughly fourteen hours, I suppose. Be safe, both of you."

"Will do. Later, Hiro."

When the call disconnected, he buckled himself in and settled back in his seat with a sigh. Placing his faith in the melatonin pills and Stravinsky's music, he closed his eyes and attempted a nap.

Miroku was right—it was going to be a long flight.

Maybe she should have been nervous. Probably. Probably, she should have been nervous. Just like she should have been nervous in yesterday's interview. But the moment she heard her name being presented, as though she were a prize, it was like a switch had been flipped. She was on.

With a bright grin plastered on her face, she strode onto the stage to offer a wave to the crowd a quick hug to the host.

And now she sat across from the popular talk show host, seemingly oblivious to the fact that millions would be watching her from their homes.

"So I hear you're actually from New York," the host enthused.

Julia hummed her confirmation into the mug of water she was sipping and nodded, swallowing as she placed it back on the desk beside her. "I am! I spent my childhood in Harlem, right on the Hudson."

"Harlem! No wonder you fled to Japan," he teased, and Julia giggled, face crinkling with good nature.

"You say that, but I have nothing but good memories about the place. I don't come from a lot of money, so growing up, my mother always looked for free or cheap activities to keep my brother and me busy and social. Harlem had—has?—" she shrugged to the audience for their opinion before turning back to Mr. Lawson. "—a wonderful community outreach program. And the art scene was unforgettable. We saw countless community plays, art exhibits, and movies in the park."

"Well, that is about the nicest thing I've ever heard said about Harlem. I almost want to move there myself! …Almost."

Julia laughed again. "Well, it has been years and years. I was twelve when I moved to Tokyo, so consider me an unreliable source of information."

"I promise I will take nothing you say to heart," he quipped, and the audience voiced their amusement again, right on cue. "So, you've spent the last ten years as an expat in Japan. Any plans to move back home one day?"

"Not at the moment. I'm quite happy in Tokyo. You just can't beat the food there, you know?"

He chuckled, and gave her a sly wink. "Are you sure it's the food that's keeping you there? No one has managed to capture your heart yet?"

She took a deliberately long sip from her mug, clearly drawing the question out to the point where it was no longer awkward, but humorous. After setting her mug aside, she smoothed the skirt of her short dress and pinned the Jon Lawson with a knowing look. "Why? Are you interested?" she teased with a grin, and the host dutifully laughed.

"Julia," he gasped in mock scandal, and pretended to nervously loosen his necktie, "You'll get me in trouble with propositions like that! …But is that an offer? Because I'm pretty sure even my wife would be ecstatic if I brought you home with me." Lawson turned to the audience. "Am I right?"

Cue laughter and cheers from the audience.

"Well, as flattering as that is, Jon, I'm taken—" She laughed when the audience made sympathetic noises. "I know, right? How did he get so lucky?" Finding Hiroshi at the front of the audience, she winked cheekily before turning back to the man beside her. "But should I ever find myself sans a suitor, I'd be more than happy to meet, or steal, your wife."

Everyone laughed. Everyone loved her. She was easy to love—easily digestible, clever, pretty, sweet with a sour, down-to-earth edge that made her seem real and relatable. Here she sat, toe-to-toe with the number one talk show host on the Eastern seaboard—with only one unreleased movie under her belt, alongside a handful of commercials and guest appearances on criminal TV shows, and she radiated nothing but confidence.

'She was born for this,' Hiroshi realized, almost in awe, as he watched her win over the hearts of millions of Americans as easily as she'd won him over. She was a natural, with no formal education in the trade—only experience and a deeply innate understanding of people and what they found attractive in a persona.

In some ways, he supposed they were similar. They both understood people and could become whomever they needed to be in order to get what they wanted.

All too quickly her segment ended, and shortly after that, the show's hour came to an end, and people started filing out of the venue.

Hiroshi and Miroku were waiting for her once she made her way out of the greenroom twenty minutes later, all smiles and ecstatic energy. She was practically vibrating with excitement as she skipped over to them to fall into her boyfriend's arms with a quiet squeal.

Julia couldn't remember the last time she felt so alive. She was in New York City for the first time in ten years. She was with the two people she loved most on this planet, aside from maybe her mother and brother. And she had just been applauded by a full audience in the highest rated late night talk show in the States.

"That was good, right?" she asked, elation obvious, as she pulled away enough to peer up at his face. "That felt good."

He bent forward to place a kiss on her forehead before peeling her away to offer her an arm. "Better than good," Hiroshi assured her, ushering them towards the exit. "You were brilliant, Jules—really. Who knew you could be so lovable."

She pulled her arm from his briefly so that she could swat at him. "You jerk," she accused, feigning outrage. "I can't believe that just happened… Hiro, I was on The Late Show with Jon Lawson… I just peaked, I'm sure of it. It's all downhill from here."

Hiroshi draped an arm over her shoulders and shoved his free hand into his pocket. "Yeah, for some reason, I don't think that's going to be the case. They really loved you, Jules."

"You killed it, Jules," Miroku agreed, stepping forward to hold the door open for them, and together they stepped into the frigid late February evening.

It was a tragedy, in her opinion, that her short velvet dress did nothing to shield her legs, and she immediately broke into goosebumps. She really wished, at this moment, that Hiroshi had not convinced her to ditch her puffy coat back at the hotel. "Gross. I can feel my leg hair growing," she grouched. "And I just shaved like 5 hours ago. Hey—you know where we're going, right?"

"Mm. It's about four blocks away. Want to walk or should I hail a cab? You look a little cold."

Her chest grew warm with affection when his gold gaze fell upon her, concern evident as he waited for her answer. She snuggled into further into his side, and they continued to make their way down the sidewalk. "We can walk. We'll just walk quickly. Besides, I'm starving, so maybe we can grab a bite before?

"Sure—whatever you want. It's your big night."

And there was that warm feeling in her chest again—the one she experienced so often around him for all sorts of reasons. Whenever she'd catch him watching her while she was wrapped up in some mundane task or another. When he'd wrap her in his arms and mold himself around her before they fell asleep. When he'd laugh at one of her terrible jokes, expression open and genuine and so very different from when they'd first met…

God, she was such a sap, she realized with a grin. And then she realized something else—

"Street meat!" Julia cried happily. She pulled away to clasp her hands together as she whirled on them. "I am absolutely famished, and I do not plan on dancing and drinking on an empty stomach. So…" she pointed at the cart a few yards away. "Let's do the New York thing, and grab some street meat, yes?"

"That sounds illegal," Hiroshi pointed out before he broke into quiet laughter when he noticed Miroku's red face. "You're already blushing, and the night has only just begun. We're going to have to do something about that."

The kitsune looked disgruntled at his cousin's amusement, and even more bothered by the idea of eating food from a random cart off the street. But he said nothing as Julia began a conversation with the vendor and placed an order, looking expectantly at the other two afterwards and waiting on them to decide what they wanted.

A few minutes later, they were back to making their way to some new club that Kimiko had read about and suggested, portable food in hand. She took a bite of the lamb gyro and moaned happily into it.

"That good, huh?" Miroku asked dubiously, peeling some of the paper back from his gyro. Hiroshi chuckled when his cousin gave the food a cautious sniff. Anything that was proudly referred to as "street meat" wasn't something the kitsune was sure he would be able to stomach.

"Not bad," Hiroshi allowed, after the first bite of his falafel pita. "Not bad at all." He huffed in faux-irritation when Julia redirected his arm to her mouth so that she could help herself to his food. She moaned again, clearly approving of his choice before offering him a bite of hers.

"Oh, I missed this," she whispered after swallowing. "Mom used to treat us to anything we wanted from a food cart after we brought our report cards home. You know, as long as they were good."

"C's didn't get street meat?" Hiroshi asked, and she grinned back at him.

"You'll have to ask Jackson. C's," she scoffed. "There's nothing average about me." She looked to Miroku expectantly. "Verdict?"

He gave her a thumbs up while his mouth was full of food. "Totally sketchy, but delicious, I'll admit."

O-O-O-O-O

The lights were too low, the music was too loud, and the patrons were far too friendly—Americans. Julia tossed her head over her shoulder towards the bar, and felt the room spin for a moment with the sudden motion.

It was possible she'd had too much to drink already.

She took another sip of her Sidecar to steady the room and rally, least Miroku destroy her in yet another game of darts.

"He's not flirting with her, is he?"

Miroku's brows quirked with good humor at the suspicion lacing his friend's tone. "I think he's just being polite, Jules." He readied a dart, aiming carefully before letting it fly—another perfect throw. "Though, to be fair, you are both incorrigible flirts."

She made a show of considering his words before shrugging with a grin and taking the spot he relinquished to her so that she could take her shot. "Well… yeah, that's fair."

"Though, maybe you more so than him," he teased.

"Also fair," she allowed. She released her dart, uncaring of if it hit the bullseye or not.

It didn't.

Miroku apprehensively eyed the metal tipped dart now stuck to the wall a solid foot from the dartboard. He honestly had no idea why steel-tipped darts were still legal here—especially in an establishment that dealt solely in alcohol and dancing. "Maybe…maybe we should play pool instead?" he hedged.

"Are you admitting defeat?" she challenged. "Because it sounds an awful lot like you're admitting defeat."

"If admitting defeat can spare some poor soul their eye, I mean sure—I relinquish my win."

She looked thoroughly pleased with herself. "Told you I'm a darts expert." He could only shake his head at her, amused, as he started to usher her towards a pool table, where the current game was just wrapping up. He stopped when her fingers plucked at the rolled-up sleeve of his button-up. "I'm not feeling pool right now. I came here to drink and dance with my best friends—and here's my drink," she announced, presenting it to him for proof. "And you're my friend—so let's go dance!"

Miroku looked around at all the strangers grinding on the dance floor, a blush immediately stealing across his face. "Yeah, no, I'm not dancing here."

"Not even with me?" she asked gently, touching his elbow, and he shot her a disbelieving look. She was convincing, but the kitsune knew when he was being manipulated. Kimiko and Julia both prided themselves in bending both hanyou—and Kannon—to their will. Her smile was sheepish as she watched his incredulity morph into irritation. "You'll never see these people again, Roku. No need to be embarrassed."

She said that like his self-consciousness was something he had any control over, he noted, almost amused. "Go grab Hiro—he'll dance with you."

"Of course he'll dance with me," she drawled, keeping a suspicious eye on the young blonde currently giggling over her boyfriend as he waited for their fresh drinks. "But I want you to dance with us, too. I'm not going to leave you here by yourself."

"Are you suggesting I need a babysitter?"

She laughed at his sulky tone. "You need to drink up, Miroku. One of us is clearly still tightly wound, and I unhooked my bra hours ago, so it's definitely not me."

His blush was back with a vengeance, but he couldn't help but laugh at her. "I think you might be the one that needs a babysitter."

"Without a doubt. Now come dance with me, so that I don't have to dance with strangers until Hiro rescues me."

"That's still not happening, Jules. I don't dance. But go have fun. I'll be at the bar with Hiro."

"Ugh, fine. I guess I'll just go be molested by strangers, then…" she sighed dramatically. "A young and tipsy vulnerable woman, alone on the dark dance floor in a strange place? Oh, don't mind me," She laid it on as thick as she ever had, but he would only roll his eyes at her.

"Yeah, that doesn't work on me, Jules. Wrong hanyou."

Her pout shifted fluidly into an unapologetic grin. "It was worth a shot anyway. I'm going to go make friends now. …Hey, do me a favor, and make sure she doesn't get too hands-y?" she asked with a nod in Hiro's direction.

"Oh? You want me to defend his honor if she's too forward?" he teased. "Maybe throw a drink on her?" He was rewarded with a giggle.

"I knew you'd understand!"

"Yeah, yeah—alright, go have fun. I'll try to protect Hiro's virtue." He knew he misspoke when her smirk became sly and suggestive.

"What virtue? I took care of that months and months ago, Miroku."

His face was flaming. He knew it, even as he rolled his eyes yet again. "Jules," he groaned, wiping at his face. "Leaving now."

It was just too easy with him. She was laughing, even as she slipped out of view onto the crowded dance floor and made a point to dance with anyone and everyone and no one.

When she finally returned to the bar over half an hour later, Hiroshi and Miroku were still where she'd left them. The blonde, she noted with some satisfaction, was nowhere in sight.

Hiroshi made a face when she settled herself into the seat between them. "Someone's sweaty," he teased, holding up his hands in surrender when she shot him a quelling glare as she attempted to keep her hair off her neck to cool down. "Having fun?"

She attempted to push up the rich garnet sleeves of her velvet babydoll dress. "Yes. But why would you let me wear long-sleeves to a club, Hiroshi?" she whined, trying to dry her clammy hands on the incredibly short dress "It's so hot in here."

"Well, you have been drinking and dancing," he reminded her. "And it's 30 degrees outside. You wanted to wear your puffy coat, remember?"

"Ugh, don't remind me. …What are you drinking, and is it cold?" She didn't wait for his response before she took his drink from him and took a sip, unable and unwilling to hide her disgust at the burn. "Oh, gross, Hiro, why do you hate yourself?"

He took his drink back from her with a chuckle and slid her drink over to her. It had been sitting for quite a while, but she accepted it gratefully, regardless. "So Miroku told me you asked him to throw a drink in some woman's face?" There was smug humor in his voice, and she shot a look of betrayal to her kitsune friend. At least he had the good grace to look away, ashamed.

"First of all—tattle tale!" she accused, jabbing a finger into Miroku's ribs, satisfied when he flinched away. "Is nothing sacred anymore?" She turned back to her hanyou. "Second of all—I did not!" Her outrage softened to sulkiness as she shot one last half-hearted glare at the kitsune. "…He volunteered."

Hiroshi studied her for a while, unable to keep his fondness hidden in the slightest. She was drunk—beyond the shadow of a doubt. Not sloppily so—he didn't intend to let her make herself ill or lose time when she had such a big day planned for them tomorrow after they dropped Miroku off at the airport. But she was definitely enjoying herself. Face flushed and unguarded, and the under layer of her curls slightly damp with sweat—she was as gorgeous as she'd ever been. His eyes kept wanting to wonder to the creamy expanse of her thighs, which her incredibly short dress did little to hide. He wanted to taste the salt on her skin.

'God, I need to get a fucking grip.'

"You don't have to be jealous, you know," he told her, a soft smile quirking his lips. "For the same reason I'm not threatened by the guy in the navy dress shirt over there that was psyching himself up to ask for your number while you were dancing"

"Oh?" she looked over her shoulder. "Which one? Is he cute?" she ribbed, lips quirked into a smirk now as she felt him lean in to her.

His dark chuckle, warm against her ear, did horrible and wonderful things to her body when combined with the considerable amount of alcohol she'd already consumed. She let her eyes drift closed briefly. "Does it matter? He sees you with me, and he's horribly disappointed."

She hummed distractedly, trying to remember through the alcohol where the conversation was going before her tangent. 'Oh, right—jealousy,' she remembered after a moment. "Yes, well… That's you. Me, on the other hand… I don't share well with others, you know," she murmured, looking up at him through dark, hooded eyes. Her tone, her expression was drenched in sex, and his body reacted instantly.

He gave her a cross look, and willed his body back under control. "You have to know what you do to me when you look at me like that," he complained, though there was no real irritation in his voice.

When her gaze brightened instantly, she laughed and turned back to her drink, shoulder-checking the silent and red-faced kitsune hanyou on the other side of her. "Hush, you. You're making Miroku uncomfortable."

Hiroshi leaned forward so that he could see his best friend's face from where he sat on the other side of the girl. "Miroku, are we making you uncomfortable?" His cheeky smirk was enough to make the younger hanyou grin back, despite the blush that still stained his cheeks.

"A bit, yes."

"Mm!" Julia hummed into her glass, struck by a sudden notion. A pointed finger flew up to bookmark a thought. She ignored her boys and downed her drink before she looked over her shoulder, scanning the bar and dance floor. She quickly stumbled out of her chair and nearly lost her balance in the process, but for the quick reflexes of both hanyou on either side of her. With a grateful smile as they released their grips on her arms, she turned on her heel and headed towards the crowd behind her. "Be right back! I almost forgot—I'm going to go find a girlfriend for Miroku."

"Aw, hell, Julia—please don't-!"

She paused long enough to let him know that she heard him. "Fine—not a girlfriend, but a drinking buddy. Consider it practice. But first, I have to pee!" she called over her shoulder before she was swallowed by the crowd.

Hiroshi chuckled and turned back to the bar, reaching over to slap his cousin's shoulder in sympathy. "She's the worst," he informed Miroku fondly, and an ear flicked to track Julia's movements through the crowded bar. Zeroed in on her, as he was, everything in the distance was just white noise.

"I don't know why I let you guys talk me into stuff like this," the kitsune muttered, burying his face in his hands.

"She's not Kannon, 'Roku. She doesn't derive a sense of joy from embarrassing you in front of women. If she brings someone back and you are too uncomfortable, she'll take the lead," Hiroshi promised. "She's a friendly drunk. And if she doesn't, I will. Just try to loosen up some. Want another shot?"

Miroku looked grateful. "God, yes."

Hiroshi was pleased with this response. "I'll make it a good one."

"By 'good,' you mean strong," his cousin surmised.

"Obviously. I'll probably even feel this one." He leaned forward when the bartender came around to them again. "Two Four Horsemen," he requested, snorting when the bartender quipped 'Someone doesn't want to remember tonight.'

While the man behind the bar busied himself with making their mega-shots, Hiro toyed with the drink in front of him. A comfortable silence fell over them. And then—

"I love her," he admitted softly, quiet enough to ensure it only reached his cousin's ears over the loud bass they felt in their bones.

Miroku's smile was gentle, and he pushed the hair away from his face so that he could pin the hanyou with both eyes. "I know, Hiro. I love her, too. Maybe not the same way you do, but I do." He shrugged. "She's good for you."

"I knew that, but it's still nice to hear. If I'm being honest, I probably never would have let it progress this far if I thought you didn't like her."

There was a lazy grin, and Miroku lifted a finger signaling to the bartender for another round. "I'm flattered. Didn't know you thought so highly of my opinions."

The corner of his lips quirked into a half-smile before the inu hanyou looked back down at the lowball glass he was absently twisting on the bartop.

Miroku watched his cousin's face relax into a thoughtful expression as he seemed to settle into thoughts a little too serious for their current setting. "It's been a while since we've had a chance to talk, just the two of us."

Hiroshi started, and his eyes met Miroku's deep green guiltily, as his smile became sheepish. "I know. I'm sorry about that…"

"Don't be. I already told you—Julia's a nice addition."

"Mm," he agreed softly, and his gaze fell back to his glass, though his small smile didn't fade.

"She's your mate, right?"

Again his eyes snapped up at the quiet question, just loud enough to make sure it was for his ears only over the loud music, laughter and conversation around them. He was silent for a moment and took another sip of his drink. She was. She was, and he knew it—had known it, but he hadn't dared to utter it out loud yet, least he curse her in some way. Throat tight and feeling trapped in his own skin again, he finally gave a small nod, trying to force his rigid body to relax again.

"She is. She will be. Not yet," he murmured. "After those youkai showed up at my house… I can't risk making her a more desirable target for them."

The younger hanyou nodded sagely. "I get that. …What does it think about her?"

There was a soft snort, and a bitter, dark smile as Hiroshi carelessly bunched his shoulders and slouched back over his drink to hide his lips from any prying eyes. "It fucking loves her. As much as it can love anything, at least," he admitted, and Miroku frowned thoughtfully, surprised by this new bit of information. For almost fifteen years, the voice had been a dark cloud looming close over Hiroshi's head. The fact that it was soft on anyone—let alone a human woman…

"That's a relief to hear," he said at last. "If I'm being honest, I never thought you would agree on anything."

He scoffed at the idea. "It cares for Julia. That's about as far as our agreement goes. …That night with the wolf…It saved her. I probably would have been too late," he admitted, and Miroku didn't miss the touch of resentment and guilt in his tone. "Careless," he bit out, as though it were a curse. "It wants me to take her as my mate sooner rather than later. Thinks claiming her as one of the Inu no Taisho's will protect her. …I disagree. The wolf wanted her because he thought she was my mate."

"And Jules… does she know any of this?"

He shrugged again, trying to shake off his discomfort. "To an extent, she knows she may be being hunted. Not in as many words, though. Didn't want to worry her more than I had to. And she knows I love her, but I haven't asked her yet. To be my mate, I mean."

"Does she know about it—your voice?"

His lip curled up to bare fangs, though his fury wasn't directed at the kitsune. "Fuck no. And I don't plan on telling her."

Miroku studied him for a long moment with that one deep green eye, as pensive as he'd always been. "Why not? You know she won't look at you any differently. That seems like something she'd want to know about..."

"Of course it is," he tried to tease and force the tension out of his shoulders. "She's nosy. …It's not her I'm worried about," he admitted, still distinctly uncomfortable. Miroku had always been his sounding board—the only person for over half his life that he felt he could—or would—discuss it with. Ever since that day under the tree, three months after his episode, Miroku had been his confidante. He'd listened to Hiro explain, silent through Hiroshi's embarrassment, then anger, then nervousness as the inu hanyou waited for his best friend's reaction. Miroku had never judged him, though—had never treated him any differently than he had before Daphne's death. He just accepted Hiroshi's words, let him vent whenever he needed, and then they'd go play video games, or go grab food, or go for a run or a swim. But never in all that time had they ever discussed it in such a public place, even if the low lighting and loud music made the conversation private. Hiroshi still felt far more vulnerable than he preferred.

When his friend waited patiently for him to continue, Hiroshi chewed carefully on his words. "It's already too familiar with her," he said at last. "I don't want it taking any more liberties than I'm willing to give. It's… It doesn't know how to be kind. Or gentle. She's never going to see that," he ground out, and felt a wave of rage and indignation sweep over him as it digested his words. He tried to shut it out before its venomous retort could settle in his brain.

At this moment, a drunken man in a rumpled suit and loosened tie came between them, hovering over Julia's abandoned seat while he tried to flag down a bartender. The spell was broken, and Hiroshi was again confronted with how insanely stupid it was to have this discussion here of all places. Their conversation was put on hold for the time being. Once the bartender returned with their shots and they were alone again, they tipped the glasses together.

"To more nights like this?" Hiroshi offered.

Miroku grinned back at him before nodding his thanks to the bartender that placed another Whiskey Sour in front of him. "Or less."

Throwing the shot back before slamming their glasses back on the counter, the kitsune hanyou tried not to gag. "God, Hiro, that was horrible," he managed with a grimace and a shudder.

"Yeah, it's not supposed to be very good," he allowed with a short laugh. "Its only purpose is to make you feel it. Give it a minute," he promised.

With great gusto and an air of excitement, Julia suddenly threw herself between them again, another young woman in tow. "I made a friend!" she announced with a grin that claimed most of her flushed face. "This is Lizzie—she's my new B.F.F., and she's going to do a pickle-back shot with us! Lizzie, this gorgeous silver-haired man to my right is Hiroshi, the love of my life. And this handsome ginger devil is one of my best friends—and Hiro's cousin, I guess," she added with a not-so-subtle wink to the kitsune once Lizzie had her back turned. "Miroku."

"Pleasure," Hiroshi told the newly arrived woman with a lazy grin before turning back to Julia. "B.F.F.s, huh?" he drawled, smirking down at her while the kitsune hanyou stammered out a "hello" to their new drinking buddy. He could practically hear the blood singing in her veins when she reached out to kiss him 'hello.'

"Mm," she hummed happily against his lips before releasing the grip on his button-up and pulling back a bit. "It's the kind of bond you can only form in the ladies room after several drinks. Are you jealous?" she teased, and he laughed, his eyes twinkling at her.

"Maybe a little," he conceded amiably.

"Well, can't have that, can we? I'll have to drag you to the ladies room with me later tonight. Maybe we can bond in one of the stalls."

Beside her, Miroku choked on his drink, and she laughed again, a bright and happy sound as she reached behind her to pull Lizzie closer into the group. "Now… about those shots!"

They were in his living room, folding clean laundry side-by-side when his cell rang. Glancing at the name that flashed across the phone's face, he snatched it up. "Hello, Uncle," he greeted. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Nephew," Sesshoumaru greeted amiably enough. And then, "I take it you enjoyed yourself in the States?"

"It was a nice enough time. We just got home a few hours ago. …Everything okay?"

"That remains to be seen. Care to tell me why your face is all over Entertainment Television?"

He was silent for a moment, as he waited for the full weight of Sesshoumaru's words to sink in. "What?" he bit out. Carefully rounding Julia, he swiped up the remote from the sofa cushion and flicked on the TV, scrolling through the channels.

Julia gasped when she saw familiar images being discussed on a tabloid show. An image of the two leisurely crossing a crosswalk, Hiroshi's arm slung carelessly over her shoulder and her arm around his waist. Another image of the two of them eating brunch outside of a small Manhattan café, Julia lost in laughter and a wry smile twisting Hiro's lips as he reached for his coffee. "Snow White actress Julia Braden seen on the streets of NYC with Handsome Mystery Man" the crawler read.

The woman wrapped her arms across her stomach as she tried to decide how she felt about this. On one hand, it was a little flattering to see herself on the television as "newsworthy." On the other hand, those were private moments with Hiroshi on their last full day in New York, and she couldn't help but feel a little violated... Her concerns, however, had not yet aligned with Hiroshi and Sesshoumaru's.

The hanyou felt his stomach twist with anxiety as her name was linked to his face. "Shit," he told his uncle.

"Hn. Quite. Did you even know these were being taken?"

Heaving a sigh, he clenched his jaw. "No. Of course I didn't." He had been entirely too lost in her. He had been in a different country, far away from the people that had been such a threat for what felt like ages. He hadn't even considered that Julia might garner attention from Paparazzi this early in her career. He'd let his guard down, and used the time to unwind—regardless of the fact that he'd followed her out of the country in the first place in order to protect her…

'I'm such a fucking idiot. Careless,' he thought for the second time in as many days.

At least his ears had been hidden from view by the baseball cap he wore. His eyes hidden behind aviators. Not to mention his family's trademark hair had long been sheared off, and he wasn't sure if word of his new look had traveled. 'Maybe it's not that bad. Maybe no one will recognize me, and this will all blow over.'

'Sesshoumaru found you,' it pointed out grimly. 'And I seriously doubt he just happened to be watching "Stalking Celebrities," or whatever shit show this is, so it looks like facial recognition scanners work on those photos.'

'Maybe they don't have access to that technology,' he suggested, hopeful, and fully aware of how dumb and unlikely that thought was.

'Are you stupid?' it asked in sarcastic awe. 'No, really—are you stupid? That may be the dumbest fucking thing I've ever heard you say. The same people who have almost certainly managed to hack into Sesshoumaru's database without sounding alarms while making youkai disappear, and you think they don't have access to facial recognition tech?'

"I suppose I don't need to tell you that this situation is not ideal. You are supposed to be an idea, Hiroshi. A warning. A ghost. That does not work if your face is plastered all over the television and internet so that anyone can find you."

"I'm looking at the photos now. Have they identified me yet? Is my name being mentioned in connection with Julia's?"

"Not at the moment, but I am sure it is just a matter of time."

Again his stomach churned. "Do we know who the photographer was? Has he sold the photos to anyone else? Any tabloids or magazines?"

"Ryuu is looking into this as we speak. In the mean time, Cillian and Kichiro will continue to watch over Julia during work hours. Inuyasha has already agreed to their assignment indefinitely. I trust you find this arrangement satisfactory?"

Though it was posed as a question, his uncle's tone left no alternatives, but the hanyou wasn't about to object to additional trusted eyes on his charge. So he gave the affirmative. Sure, that was fine.

And after he disconnected the call and turned to his lover, she looked upset, concerned as she chewed her bottom lip and waited for his reaction. With a soft huff of air, almost a woof, he reached out with this thumb to free her lip before she could further abuse it.

"You're going to draw blood if you keep that up," he chastised with a smile.

She stopped herself from nuzzling into his palm as his thumb continued to trace her bottom lip. No, she wasn't going to let him distract her from her concerns, and taking a deep breath, she took a step back. "That sounded serious."

"It wasn't good, no," he admitted carefully. "But it's not yet proven to be bad, either. There is a chance this could be nothing."

The skeptical look she gave him spoke volumes of how much faith she placed in his words. "I'm endangering you, is that it? Your face is on the news because of me."

He snorted in good humor, but carefully banked his amusement when she looked offended and on the verge of upset at his perceived dismissal of her concerns. "Julia. This is a risk I run with the job I have. It's an even greater risk due to my family's high-ranking and unmistakable features. …Rei got lucky—the silver is hard to miss," he tried to tease, ducking to meet her eyes. There was no trace of amusement in them as they flicked back and forth to study his face. "You're not a danger to me," he lied. "If anything, it's the other way around."

She turned immediately back to their forgotten laundry, and had managed to fold only a few more articles under his unwavering stare before she whirled around to meet him head on again, eyes blazing and fists balled at her sides. She was daring him to lie to her again. "Then why do I feel like the Salome to your John the Baptist?"

"Julia," he chuckled, placing a kiss on her left eyebrow, "you are so dramatic." He kissed her other eyebrow as she attempted an indignant growl.

"I think this is a reasonable concern, Hiroshi Takenawa," she muttered stiffly, and he smiled again as he ducked to brush his lips against her cheeks, her nose.

"The full name? Damn…" Pulling away, he finally straightened and looked down at her, though his gentle humor never faded as he pushed a curl away from her face. He watched some of the fight leave her instantly. "Everything I do, I do because I'm choosing to do so. You didn't force me to date you, or to go to New York, or to walk the streets with you. You're not forcing me to love you. Everything I do, I do freely. And all choices have consequences. I knew this going in, so this is something I should have prepared for. Please don't worry about me."

"But—"

He cut her off with the warm pressure of his lips on hers, his fingers looping lazily around her wrists. A content rumble filled the air around him when she immediately gave in to his attentions, now thoroughly distracted as she melted into him. It never failed to surprise and thrill him to see just how responsive she was to him.

He pulled back after running his tongue over her tender bottom lip, and gave her wrists a pointed tug. "Let's go to bed, hm? We can finish folding clothes in the morning."

She followed willingly as he led her to the bedroom, shedding clothes as they went, all thoughts of Salome and John the Baptist forgotten in their wake. Hiroshi was determined to pretend that nothing had changed or was going to change. Tomorrow, once he went into the office for damage control, he knew he would have to face the reality of his—their—situation. But now…

Now, in the safety of his own home, with the full threat not yet realized, he just wanted to soak up every moment with her—to be as close to her as he ever was. He'd memorized her many times over already, to the point where he could probably build her from scratch without reference if needed. He was confident that he knew all of the little details and nuances that made her Her.

The little dimples that bookended the base of her spine. The little mole on her ribcage below her left breast. The way she would stop breathing, stop writhing for a moment when she was so close, muscles taught. Her reliable breathy giggle after she'd come. The way she'd stretch out like a sleepy cat on her stomach after cleaning up, her legs crossed loosely at the ankle…

He made a point of memorizing all of it every night. And he'd be damned if he would ever give that up. Tomorrow, he'd continue taking strides to secure her safety, and he'd probably regret ever dragging her into his life, as he often did these days. But tonight, right now—none of that mattered much to him.

Kenji held the receiver to his ear expectantly. "Yes?"

His secretary was on the other end. "Sir, Shun Ito is here. He says he needs to speak with you."

"Send him in." He hung up without further ado, and only a moment later the familiar youkai was ushered in by his apathetic secretary.

He stood in silence in the massive office as the tall, willowy woman left them alone, closing the doors quietly behind her. She was human, but Shun had not missed the two frighteningly large youkai with automatic assault rifles guarding both sides of the office entrance.

Ikeda was still sitting at his desk, and had yet to look up to greet or acknowledge his guest in any way, and he continued to skim through an email on his desktop. Feeling a little awkard and more than a little annoyed over being ignored, the youkai stepped further into the room, approaching what was obviously a stupidly expensive and gaudy desk.

Finally, with an irritated sigh, the human leaned back in his chair and met the youkai's eyes. "Yes?"

Shun cleared his throat and gave a shallow, almost imperceptible bow. "Sir, it's about the hanyou's son—the Interrogator."

Something between contempt and amusement lighted Kenji's dark gaze. "The Interrogator?" he repeated, lips quirked into a sneering half-smile. "His name is Hiroshi Takenawa, is it not?"

"It is, sir."

"Then why do you continue to call him the Interrogator, as though he is some boogeyman you are afraid of conjuring at the mention of his given name? Does he frighten you?"

Shun clenched his jaw and bit back his indignation, choosing instead to pin the human with an unreadable stare. "No, Hiroshi Takenawa does not frighten me."

"Good. I am so tired of hearing that ridiculous nickname. It's been two years, and he and his father are no closer to finding us than they were at the beginning. I don't need our own organization empowering them."

The youkai was silent, and Kenji studied him for a long, quiet moment. Though this youkai had not removed his charm in front of him before and he was not able to tell what Shun actually looked like, he was willing to bet some sort of feline, judging by the lean, lithe frame, and sharp, slanted eyes—exotic, foreign. It might also have something to do with the almost haughty, bored stare the youkai pinned him with—one of the few he'd met who had no trouble meeting and holding Kenji Ikeda's gaze.

Ikeda found that he was not fond of that quality. He began to eye the file in front of him, already wishing for this meeting to be over and present company to depart.

"Well? What information do you have regarding this hanyou?"

"We were able to positively identify his woman."

Once more, Ikeda leaned back in his leather chair and closed a file in front of him to give the youkai his undivided attention. "Hm. Good. It certainly took long enough."

Shun could not be bothered to dignify that with a response, but presented a manila folder to the businessman, and gave him a second to finger through its contents. "Her name is Julia Braden. She's an actress."

"Braden," he repeated softly, looking over a photo of the woman who had been caught unawares as she exited a yellow Beetle that had seen better days. The name rang a vague bell.

"She has been all over TV lately. She's lead in the new Snow White movie that will hit theaters this November. And I believe you have business with her father?"

That peaked his interest. "Do I now? 'Braden,' you say?" He reached for the ledger on his desk and quickly flipped it open.

"Charles Braden. Goes by 'Charlie.'"

His finger ran expertly down the a list of names until he found a Braden, Charles. "Abigail, Jackson and Julia," he read aloud to himself. "And this is the Interrogator's mate?"

"Well… That's what they say," the youkai hedged.

And now he was annoyed again. His brow furrowed and he pinned the man with an impatient look. "What are you implying? Is she his mate or not?"

"Well, we are sure she is important to him, but is she his mate? Not as such, no."

He was silent for a long moment, cold fury evident as he clenched his jaw and directed a black scowl at the cheetah youkai. "That fucking bird," he began in quiet fury, "stood there, threw me a goddamned piece of used clothing, and told me to use it to sniff this bitch out like a fucking dog. And you're telling me that it was all pointless because she's not even his fucking mate?"

"Not quite. It is clear that that is his intent, though."

He was exasperated now. "You fucking youkai… Shouldn't your boss have known this? Why are we just now discovering this?"

"Takenawa has kept the girl a tightly-guarded secret. The Hounds have been shaken, and no longer trust their colleagues, with few exceptions. The girl has bodyguards."

"So goddamn useless," he muttered. "Very well. How do you know, now, that this girl is not tied to him?"

"After the boss told us that the Int—that Takenawa was found via facial recognition scanner with the Braden girl, we were able to find her easily. She lives with him, but we cannot go near the Hounds' houses with the numbers required to succeed without risking the miko alerting them of our presence. We had our best nose follow her to the supermarket this afternoon after she visited with her parents. When Takenawa is not with her, it seems she has two of the Hound's men guarding her from a distance. The tracker was able to get quite close without arousing suspicion. He confirmed that she has not mated with the Taisho's nephew."

"Well, that's interesting."

The youkai gave a brief nod. "Sir."

"So if someone else were to come along and take her for a mate—"

It took a lot of effort for Shun to bite back his disgust at the idea. "You are suggesting that we ask one of the youkai or hanyou to take her as a mate by force?"

"Is that a problem?" There was a threat evident in his question

"It doesn't work like that, Sir. You'll be hard-pressed to find someone who would take a mate if their youki doesn't acknowledge them."

Ikeda's laughter was sharp and acerbic. "You have got to be kidding me. These youkai are willing to give up their lives—"

"—and mates follow into the afterlife." Shun realized he might have pushed too hard, and been a little too snide with his remark when the silence that ensued was rife with hostility.

"Interrupt me again, and it will be the last thing you do. Am I understood?"

The youkai froze for a long moment, before offering a stiff nod.

"I realize it must be painful for you to swallow your pride and take orders from a human," he began, straightening the papers on his desk—and even that seemed menacing for some stupid reason, Shun realized. "But I suggest you remember exactly who it is that is bankrolling this operation. You may not respect me as much as your "boss," and I may not frighten you—for now, but before you show your ass, or disrespect me to my face, I urge you to think about—to really think about—how strong you are. And think over these questions, as well: How many youkai do you think I've made disappear?" The muddy brown eyes shot up and met Shun's stunned yellow, and he was satisfied when he saw the first inklings of fear and dread in those tawny depths. "Do you have a number in your head? I assure you, it's not high enough. Now… how many youkai do you think you, personally, could take on? And how many youkai do you think I've bought the loyalty of?" Ikeda pointed to the large heavy doors the youkai had just been ushered through. "Do you remember Mishka and Sasha—the two hulking behemoths with enormous firearms that you walked past on your way in here? Do you think you could survive both of them if I were to ask them to remove your spine by way of your asshole?"

When he was greeted with more stunned silence, he 'tsk'ed in disappointment, and raised his voice just a bit. "Mishka?"

The door opened immediately, and the giant, silent Russian bear pinned his cold gaze on Shun and awaited his orders, his twin brother unmoved from his post by the door.

Fear prickled across his skin, a slight sheen of sweat breaking out on the back of his neck as he met Mishka's eyes. The threat was blatant, the danger eminent, and in this closed off space, so far above ground level, Shun knew he was dead if that fucking human wanted him that way. After all, he was fast—damn fast—but he wasn't faster than a bullet. And he wasn't particularly strong in the face of such obvious brute force. He swallowed his humiliation.

"I apologize for any disrespect," Shun blurted, at last, turning his attention back to the human. "It will not happen again."

Mishka turned his heavy gaze back to Ikeda, giving no further sign that he'd heard the youkai speak at all, and when, after a moment of consideration, the man nodded, Mishka turned on his heel with a grunt, and shut the door behind him on his way out.

Shun slumped a bit in his relief.

"Alright. Now that we've reached an understanding… Let's pick up where we left off. So what would happen if we killed her while they were not mated?"

"It depends on how close they are, and if his youki has accepted her yet. He might weaken a bit. He most likely would not die. We would be poking the proverbial hornet's nest, though. And once we do so, there would be no turning back."

He looked down at his ledger again, before turning to the photo staring up at him from the file—a professional headshot this time. She really was quite attractive, though she had more of a girl-next-door quality about her than he tended to look for in his women.

"Okay. What if she lived, but as another man's? What would happen then?"

Shun lowered his gaze, "The outcome would likely be the same, but with more risk. If Takenawa ever found out where she was being kept—"

"Oh, he would definitely know."

"…Sir?"

At the utter bewilderment in the youkai's voice, Kenji laughed. "If I'm keeping her alive, of course she will be flaunted in front of the hanyou… Otherwise, what would be the point?"

"Sir, with all respect, you cannot force a mating. It wouldn't work. There are some types of youkai who can have sex without taking a mate, but if that were to happen… Sir, you are talking about raping the intended of the Inu no Taisho's Head of Investigation, and not keeping the whereabouts hidden. He would come, take the youkai in for questioning, and after he's wrung every single piece of information out of him, Takenawa would kill him. Takenawa would survive. The girl would survive. She would still technically be unmated and up for grabs. And we would probably be ruined."

"And if it's not a youkai, but a human? And if she leaves him willingly? Then what would happen?"

"Well…" Shun began thoughtfully after a moment. "The same. As long as they are not mates, he would survive, though I do not know exactly how he would react. If she left willingly, he would have to let her go. I seriously doubt he would challenge a human, unless he wants to fall under his uncle's sword."

That caught him by surprise. "You believe the tai youkai would execute his own nephew?"

Shun shrugged at the disbelieving humor in the man's tone. "If Takenawa were deemed dangerous to humans and the Inu no Taisho, who has been so rigid on the subject, were to do nothing, that would be the end of his rule—especially considering this period of turbulence. And if the taisho were to do something, the legendary hanyou will turn on him to protect his son. But again, that is a big If."

Kenji studied Julia's image again—her heart-shaped face, the deep cupid's bow of her lips that were curved into a mischievous smile, the soft, dark curls. She looked sweet with good humor and a good nature about her.

He would enjoy breaking her.

"Well, that is interesting." His eyes lingered for a minute more before he pried them from the photo and locked on the cheetah's yellow gaze. "Might as well try, I suppose."

Well, that can't be good. ;) Hopefully this chapter reads okay. Honestly, I was so ready to be done with it, that I didn't proofread at all. Hope you all enjoyed the latest installment! As always, reviews are lovely.

Quotes of Randomness:

"If you don't hunt it down and kill it, it will hunt you down and kill you." – Wise Blood by Flannery O'Connor

"This guy being the president...it's like there's a horse loose in a hospital. I think eventually everything is going to be okay, but I have absolutely no idea what's going to happen next. And neither do any of you. And neither do your parents-because there is a HORSE loose in the HOSPITAL. It's never happened before. No one knows what it's going to do next-least of all the horse." – John Mulaney, Kid Gorgeous

"Those are those quiet days, when people are like, 'It looks like the horse has finally calmed down.' And then 10 seconds later, the horse is like, 'I'm going to run towards the baby incubators and SMASH 'EM WITH MY HOOVES. I got nice hooves and a long tail, I'm a horse.' And it's like, 'Ahh, that's what I thought you'd say, you dumb fucking horse!'" –John Mulaney, Kid Gorgeous