Disclaimer: I disclaim everyone but my OCs. There. Happy, copyright people!

Author's Note: This is a dark piece that I'm working on, though it's comparatively mild, if I may say so myself. ;D Just to clarify, in this story Kurama has never been born as Minamino Shuichi, his best friend Kuronue is alive and well, and up to this point he has never encountered Yusuke and the rest of the YYH gang. :D Please do review if you read—I need to know what you think so that I know how to proceed from here. :D

Prologue

The woman shivered, more from fear than from the biting cold. She hugged her thin kimono around her shoulders, only managing to pull the cold closer to herself as she grit her teeth to keep them from chattering. The water that soaked her garments wasn't evaporating, it was seeping into her body, and she knew that there was a very big chance she'd get seriously ill if she didn't get warm soon.

But she couldn't bring herself to move underneath the steady golden gaze of the person before her, who stood almost two feet higher. The water dripping off her hit the cold stone of the cave—the only sound breaking the ominous silence.

"You're shaking, Yumiko," came the mild remark. "Are you frightened?"

"Yes," she whispered, watching her breath mist before her, keeping her eyes on his hands. Not that she would see them when they would strike—they were too fast.

He took a step forward and her terrified gaze shot to his feet.

"You should be," he murmured softly, and she felt her heart hammer wildly as he began walking towards her.

She swallowed hard, doing her best not to cry, and her fingers clamped down on her own arms as she trembled violently.

"You displeased me very much, you know," he went on, his strong warm fingers closing over her shoulders. She felt a chill strike into her that made the bite of the wind and water look warm. "You'll have to be punished."

One hand slid from her shoulder to her nape, raising the hair on the sensitive flesh before tangling itself in the fine locks. He tugged with a sudden viciousness that made her head snap back and tears burn in her eyes, which she shut the instant pain surged into her nerves.

"Look at me, Yumiko."

She opened her dark eyes slowly and the tears rushed out. In the darkness his eyes stood out like two foreboding lamps, his silvery hair and pearl-white skin glowing as though light itself moved beneath. How could he emit such light and yet send fear darker than night curling into her gut?

"How shall I punish you?"

She couldn't answer—couldn't stop crying.

"How?' he persisted gently.

"Don't," she sobbed, unable to bear it any longer.

His fingers began to slide against her scalp, soothing the ache that his tug had caused. His other hand cupped her cold, wet cheek and his thumb slid over the cut on her small bottom lip.

"Why?"

Don't, she begged in her mind, not knowing what to answer. She deserved it—had it been anyone but him she would already be dead. But—Please don't.

"Are you sorry?" he whispered, his lids lowering until his lashes almost touched.

"Yes," she hiccupped. "Please. Don't."

"Show me, Yumiko. Show me how sorry you are."

She stared at him dumbly. Did he want her to beg his forgiveness? What did he want her to offer him? Castigate herself for his enjoyment? She swallowed, staring into his unfathomable golden eyes. Was he going to punish her if she didn't show him quickly?

"H-How?" she whispered, unable to make up her mind.

Something deepened in his eyes and she realized that they were darkening, filling with scarlet.

"Youko!" she gasped, stepping back.

"Silence!" he growled, and she froze at the savageness of his voice. He pried her fingers off her arms and in one swift motion sent the remains of her robes swooshing down her body. The chill bit into her ferociously, mercilessly, and she whimpered as pleasure whisked over his handsome face, darkening his red eyes almost into burgundy.

Yumiko closed her eyes, concentrating every fiber of her being into sending out a desperate—but mute—plea.

Somebody—please! Help me!

---

Her Starbucks mug crashed into the floor.

Her fingers froze over the keys of her laptop and her head turned slowly to the side. She stared at the liquid that was darkening her plush cabaret carpet, though she wasn't worrying about its condition. In the dim light of her study the wet carpet resembled something that sent an involuntary chill down her spine.

What...?

Pushing her glasses up, she bent towards the spilled mess, the pressure building inside her as a strange, all-too-familiar feeling filled her stomach. Slowly she reached towards it, staring hard at it and willing herself to be rational.

She felt her heart clench painfully as her hand jerked back. She lifted her hand to her face-level and stared at the thick scarlet substance that clung to her fingertips. A sickening metallic scent filled the air and she shut her eyes as her cell-phone rang. Mindlessly she reached for it and pressed the receive button, though what she heard as the connection was established did not ease the tension boiling in her gut and the cold that was creeping into her bones.

"Ella? Ella, can you hear me? It's important—you've got to come home."