It's very late. The moon has already slipped low enough to be seen through the west-facing window in my room. I should be asleep . . . but I'm not. I'm wide awake. Because of a certain young fire-demon who is laying quietly in my arms right now. I can still hardly believe he has come to me--at last.

It's been almost two months since we became lovers. And what a night that was--! I would never have believed Hiei could be that passionate, that tender. Or that willing to experiment . . .

"Kurama."

I look down at him. It's the first time he's spoken in quite some time. I smile tenderly at him. "Yes, Hiei?" I see him frown and hesitate and tighten my arms unconsciously. I don't like that look; it makes me nervous. He can't leave me now . . . can he?

"Kurama . . . why?" he asks.

"Why what?" I respond, confused. Did I do something wrong? Yet he doesn't look angry or hurt, just confused.

"Why do you . . . love me?"

I blink. It's the last question I ever expected him to ask. Why? Why . . .

It's true there's nothing that pleases me more than to have him writhing beneath me, crying my name and begging for release--unless maybe wrapping my legs around his waist and urging him on every way I know how. But that's not love. I've felt it too many times; I know the difference.

Because he's beautiful? No, that's not it, either. He is the most breathtakingly exquisite man I've ever known. I've always loved beautiful things. But that aesthetic enjoyment hardly explains the breathless and wonderful feeling that overtakes me every time I see him.

He's always been there for me, watched over me, as long as I've known him. We fight well together, a perfect pair, always knowing what the other is thinking. Yet I've had other partners--both in bed and out--who have done the same, been as perfect a match with me. I've left them all behind without a thought. But I know I could never leave Hiei.

Why, then? Why do I love him?

"I love you," I hear myself say. "Because you are the completion of my soul."

It's almost dawn. The ningen woman Kurama calls mother will come to wake him in another hour, yet neither of us has slept yet. I should get up and go, but I can't leave Kurama's arms just yet. It's the only place I feel--whole.

"Hiei," he whispers. I look up, my face solemn. He is smiling, those beautiful green eyes soft and gentle. It's a look I have seen only from him, and this one is mine alone. I wait. "It's your turn . . . why do you love me?"

Can he seriously be worried about that? He's Kurama, the greatest thief in Makai. He's had women and men both sell their souls to try to be with him. I'm just a Forbidden Child, unwanted by my own mother.

When I don't answer right away, he drops his eyes away from mine. He is worried. I sigh and press my cheek against his shoulder, considering.

He is exquisite, both as a human and as a youko. He is tender and gentle and kind, no matter which form he wears--to those he cares for. He's insatiable, and not just in bed. He always wants to know about everything and everyone.

He was the first to ever want to know how I felt about things. He always asks my opinion before doing things to or for me. He takes care of my wounds when I'm injured, and when he does, he always tells me what he's doing and why. No one else has ever done that.

He is the only one I feel I can trust with my life. I may trust Yuusuke and even Kuwabara to a limited extent, but Kurama is the only one I would ever show weakness before. Not even Yukina would I trust with what I have entrusted to my silver fox.

He is my life.

"I love you," I say suddenly into the quiet. Kurama jerks his eyes up to meet mine, startled. "Because you love me."

That answer seems to please him, and we occupy ourselves until dawn.