The Hunter

Chapter Seventeen

It was late and their room was dark. Kohaku shut the door behind him and gave his eyes a moment to adjust. Rin was crouched in front of the hibachi* where the red glow of the embers illuminated her face from the shadows. She added a few pieces of charcoal to the small fire that would keep them warm throughout the night then stood upright, casting a glance at him over her shoulder.

The words he'd longed to say on the street hovered close to the surface. There were so many things he wanted to tell her, so much she needed to hear. His socked feet made no sound atop the tatami.

He moved behind her, sliding his hands up her arms as he breathed her in. She smelled faintly of camphor and the rice powder the kimono shop had dusted across her skin.

"Your hands are cold," she gasped with a note of censure. She stole them away before they could reach their goal and held them close to the fire. The flame's faint, radiant heat was nothing compared to the soothing warmth of her palms. With a touch she melted the cold from his limbs, softening them bit by bit.

A moment of silence passed and she rested her head lightly against his shoulder. He could stop it if he wanted to. A single word of censure would be enough to dissuade her. Instead his hands brushed over the soft silk covering her shoulders. She turned in his arms and he gently cradled her jaw.

"Rin-I…"

Her dark eyes searched his with a patient look and he felt his words evaporate once more.

"It's okay," she whispered and moved closer until her warm hands were pressed against his chest.

He breathed a soft sigh and her hands moved higher; they slipped around his neck to pull her body against his. She was hard and soft in all the right places and it made his knees feel weak. The small, alluring smile that curved her mouth was all the invitation he needed. His lips found hers and a soft moan that was half relief and half tortured want sounded in the back of his throat.

There'd been countless nights on the road to Edo when he'd awoken from dreams just like this. Sometimes she would cry out his name, others he'd gasp hers while she blazed a burning trail across his naked flesh with her hot mouth. In all his life his body had never so thoroughly ached with want.

Her tongue slid teasingly against his and his arms encircled her narrow waist. She'd kissed him like this before, that day when she'd told him about her brothers. Maybe she didn't hate him after all. Maybe she'd forgiven him for taking her so far from her home. Maybe he was only fooling himself. The seed of doubt grew until it could no longer be ignored. Did she even want this?

Red-faced and out of breath, he pulled away and studied her half-lidded gaze and swollen lips.

"Rin, if you don't want-"

She made a frustrated noise and pulled his mouth back down to hers.

"Baka. I want this."*

Her words burned through him and he exhaled a shaky breath. For weeks he'd pushed down his steadily growing feelings for her in the hopes that they would soon be forgotten. It was dangerous to care for her that way, wrong to want her. He knew that, understood it more clearly than he would've liked, yet the harder he tried to bury them the more powerful those feelings became. Even now, with his conscience demanding that he stop this foolishness before it went too far, he couldn't find the will to obey. As unworthy as he was she wanted him too, and for the moment that meant more to him than duty or responsibility or pride.

Dipping his head low, he gently pulled the edge of her kimono aside and followed the plane of her shoulder with his mouth. His lips slid over all the parts he'd longed to touch, including the elusive spot just beneath her ear. She giggled softly as his breath tickled her neck and the sound sent shivers tingling down his spine. He closed his eyes and did it again, committing the coy melody to memory. Every part of her was perfection.

Rin saved her neck from further teasing and manoeuvred her hands beneath Kohaku's shirt. She pulled the material over his head and tossed it carelessly to the floor. In the dim light she traced the scars that marred the skin of his chest, mapping them with her fingertips and lips. She was determined to commit them to memory – every tiny mark, every battle scar. She pressed a kiss to the largest one, the one that cut across his heart, and felt his pulse against her lips. It didn't matter who had come before or who would come after. Tonight his scars, his body, and his heart belonged to her.

With a hand at her waist he guided her to his futon on the floor. For as long as she'd known it, sex had been mechanical. There were no feelings attached to the movements, no passion behind the touch. This was different. There was an appreciation behind Kohaku's caresses, a gentleness to them that was borne out of affection and trust. She'd never known it could be like this. She smiled to herself and opened her mouth under his, groaning as his tongue delved inside seeking hers out.

She wasn't naïve enough to think that Kohaku loved her, but she couldn't deny that the way he caressed her made her body move in strange new ways; it made her feel alive. Without even knowing it, he was providing her with the answer to a question that had long plagued her thoughts. When it was right, when it was with someone you cared about, it could feel good for her too.

Kohaku's hand moved slowly, tantalizingly, down her body. He pulled her kimono open at the waist and she bit her lip to stifle a moan as his hands explored the bare flesh underneath. His mouth soon followed and he committed the most exquisite tortures against her - nibbling, sucking, and laving until she'd buried her fingers in his hair and arched her body into his mouth.

Encouraged, he explored further, his hands taking a meandering route down her stomach and over her hips to his next goal. Her body was thrumming, practically pulsing with expectation. He slid his fingers slowly, ever so slowly, into her warm, wet centre and she uttered a soft cry. His lips quirked upwards and he looked pleased by her reaction. With careful attention he teased, rubbed, and explored her until her hips were rocking against his hand, pleading for more. With eyes shut tight, she rested her head against his shoulder and breathlessly whispered his name.

At the sudden loss of his touch her eyes snapped open. He was above her, wearing a tender look she hadn't seen him wear before. The brief flash of concern in his eyes told her she could stop this if she wanted to, but she didn't want to stop. Tomorrow her world would change forever. At daybreak she would be forced to relinquish all that made her a simple country girl and become an Oiran of the daimyo's household. She would give up her past life, her hopes of returning home, and Kohaku too.

A quick glance at the window confirmed the sun had not yet risen. While the world was still dark she could pretend this one last time. She imagined the inn was their house, built by Kohaku's hands, and that the futon was their bed. In her dream she was his without doubt or reservation. There was no dark past to run from, no bandits or burning homes. Fumbling and nervous, he'd asked her to be his wife while her brothers looked on approvingly, wearing matching knowing smiles. At her nod she knew there would be no going back. With her heart racing in her chest she moved her head and he kissed her, smiling against her lips.

His hand slid languidly down the length of her thigh and then hooked her leg over his hip. With a hand on either cheek, she soothed away the sudden nervous look at crossed his features. He kissed her once on the bridge of her nose then stole her hand and pressed it to the futon, entwining his fingers with hers. With another kiss he entered her, slowly, carefully, and her eyes drifted closed.

She waited for the pain to begin, for his frenzied pace, for the impatience of wanting it to be over. His hips moved in a slow rhythm and a soft moan sounded in the back of his throat. He traced a path from her lips down her neck, to her shoulder and then the tops of her breasts. Each kiss left behind a tiny spot of fire that sent a shiver of pleasure jetting down her spine. Her eyes opened uncertainly and her hand slid up the bare skin of his back to wrap around his shoulder. There was no pain. She felt only warmth, power and a hunger unlike anything she'd ever felt. For the first time in her life she found herself actually wanting more.

Her hips lifted to meet Kohaku's next thrust and a pleasing grunt reached her ears. She bit back a smile and did it again, enjoying the little noises she was able to extract from him. His mouth pressed to her neck and she nipped at his shoulder, her teeth sliding over the rounded muscle. He grabbed hold of her hips and thrust a little harder. Her body responded instantly, tightening around him as her fingernail slid down the taut planes of his back.

They were moving in perfect synchrony, each sigh and moan echoed by the other. It could have been minutes or hours before she heard Kohaku gasp her name in a throaty cry that told her he was reaching his limit. She held him tighter, not wanting it to end. The sensation of his body being over her, inside of her, and around her all at once made her feel excruciatingly alive. And the muted cries that escaped his throat whenever she touched him, when would she hear those again? He breathed her name and kissed her hard on the mouth. Her body arched impatiently into his demanding more.

What happened next was as inevitable as the sunrise. With a cry Kohaku buried his head against her shoulder and gave himself up to her. Beneath her hands the muscles of his back shivered and twitched and a satisfied smile played across her lips. It had been perfect. Closing her eyes in contentment, she pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder. She couldn't have asked for a better memory to take with her once she left this place.

Kohaku rose up with an exhausted grin and gently kissed her once more. Rolling onto his back, he brought her with him, tucking her in tight against his side. She went willingly and listened with her head against his chest to the sound of his heart. His fingertips tenderly brushed her arm while hers traced the large white scar at the centre of his chest. They were quiet after that, each trying their best to avoid thinking about morning.

"Where did you get this one?" she murmured after a while.

Kohaku put a hand behind his head and gave a languid shrug.

"A demon's claw."

She studied the jagged shape and frowned. "Are all demons so big?"

"Some are," he replied seriously, "but we don't usually fight the bigger ones alone."

"How did it happen?"

She lifted her head off his chest and laid her chin atop her hand. He breathed an inaudible sigh and gazed up at the ceiling.

"I made an error in judgment," he said gravely. "I was the headman's only son. The entire village was watching me, waiting to see if I would live up to my father's reputation. I figured the only way to do that was to become the youngest demon slayer ever to have their first solo kill."

He closed his eyes and shook his head in frustration. Pulling in a deep breath, he let it out slowly and met her gaze.

"I was nearly dead by the time Sango found me. When she carried me back to our village, my father met us at the gate. It was the first and only time I've ever seen him cry. "

"Did you kill the demon?" she asked with an inquisitive tilt of her head.

He flashed a boyish grin, "Of course."

She smiled in spite of herself and his arm settled around her waist, holding her against him.

"Do you enjoy killing demons?" Her eyes followed the path of a small white scar on the underside of his chin and then lifted to meet his gaze.

"I was born to slay demons," he explained with little enthusiasm. "I've trained hard to become one of the best in our village."

"That doesn't answer my question."

His eyes held hers and he reluctantly conceded defeat. "I don't enjoy it, but it's my duty. I do a lot of things I don't enjoy for the sake of duty."

His jaw tightened and she let the sentiment behind his words sink in. He looked as though he expected her to say something more, but instead asked, "What would you rather do?"

His brow lifted at the question. It was as though he'd never stopped to consider it before. He took a while to answer and she waited patiently, having no desire to rush the little time they had left.

"Be a farmer perhaps, in a small village somewhere in the mountains. I want to have a house of my own, with sturdy walls built by my own hands. And endless fields where I can grow rice enough to feed a village. And a wife who's willing to put up with me…"

He stopped and his eyes slid over to hers.

"You'll have trouble with that last one," she teased, hiding her pain behind a smile. She didn't want to admit how deeply his words had cut her. Kohaku was a good man worthy of a good woman who could love him the way he deserved. He was owed so much more than a broken girl with a dark, twisted past. For a brief moment she was thankful to be going to the daimyo. It would make things easier in the end.

Kohaku's lips twitched, but didn't lift into a smile. He relinquished his hold on her and placed both hands behind his head.

"Will you stay in Edo long?" she wondered aloud.

Kohaku kept his gaze on the ceiling as he shook his head. "My village needs food and supplies and the journey will be difficult if more snow falls."

Rin felt something inside of her give way and deflate. She didn't know why, but his answer disappointed her. Maybe a part of her had hoped he would stay in Edo so that she might steal a glance of him every once in a while. Knowing that he would leave her behind made it all feel so final. Defeated, she picked herself up off of him and slid over to her own futon.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Kohaku lifted his head and reached for her, wearing a look of concern.

The cold hit her like a wall and she immediately regretted leaving the warmth of his side. Suppressing a shiver, she slipped beneath the icy covers of her own futon.

"Nothing. I'm going to get some sleep," she lied.

He looked surprised but offered up no objections. She could feel his eyes on her, even as she feigned sleep. Eventually his blankets rustled, signifying that he'd lain back down and she released the breath she'd been holding. It was better this way, she told herself, determined to believe it. It didn't work. The words were hollow and she knew it.

When enough time had passed she turned her back on Kohaku's motionless form and stared up at the window. Outside the night sky was slowly turning grey, signalling the coming dawn. She'd never felt so bitter towards a sunrise. Biting her lip to stifle any sound, she buried her face into her pillow and cried.

* A hibachi is a traditional Japanese heater. It's a round or cylindrical pot, usually made of ceramic or clay. To use it, people would light a small fire with wood in the bottom and then pile charcoal on top. The burning charcoal would radiate heat and warm a space (slightly) during cold winter months.

* 'Baka' is a very common Japanese insult that means the equivalent of 'idiot' or 'fool'. The intensity of the insult depends on how the speaker says it.

Author's Note: A few of you messaged me asking for a bit of a lemon this chapter, so hopefully I didn't disappoint. It's been great reading your reviews week after week! Let me know what you think of the new chapter.

Until next time,

Langus