Kagome dies—or at least she's pretty sure she does.
He's looking at her over his shoulder. There's something indecipherable in those amber eyes, and as much as she is desperate to look away—as much as she's mortified her own words have been thrown back at her—she can't.
She's trapped, an unwilling participant in an intense, sexy, silent staring contest.
"Miko?"
"Your towel," she croaks, lifting it from her pack. She barely feels it. "You forgot your towel."
"Hn." He finally turns away, lifting his hair under the falling water to rinse it clean. "You may bring it."
