Beautiful Times

And the Firelight Dies

It was late. It was dark. Kurama was divinely warm.

It was the same night that Lyra had stormed out to the library and come back apologetic and seeking forgiveness. They had come to a compromise and spent the rest of the evening curled around each other in front of the fire. Lyra had fallen asleep sometime during the fifth or sixth chapter. When he noticed, Kurama had noted the page number and set the book off to the side with their empty hot chocolate mugs. 

For the past several hours, Kurama had sat with Lyra in his arms, thinking.

Now he looked down at the sleeping goddess in his arms.

He really never had any intentions of taking a human mate (or of looking intently for a mate of any race, for that matter). He knew it was conventional in the ningenkai to seek companionship and marry off, but it had never strongly appealed to him. He had his own family and eventually planned to return to the makai when his own attachments to the ningenkai had disappeared.

Then he was side-blinded by Lyra. She had waltzed right into his life and upended every single plan he had made for his future. He hadn't actually told her, but from the very first time she had come over to eat dinner with his family–dressed in his mother's clothing due to an unfortunate accident involving his mother, a stroller, an unfortunately placed mudpuddle, and dog hellbent on eating Lyra's shoes–he had been captivated. 

He had tried to fight it off at first. Told himself it was nothing more than a frivolous, trivial attraction. It was silly and his human biochemistry was simply looking for companionship anywhere it could find it. 

But she has just continued to pull him in.

And now he had her. The most beautiful, wonderful, passionate, gentle, perfectly flawed woman he had never hoped to find.

All of his stubbornness seemed so silly, all things considered.

With adoring eyes, Kurama leaned down and tenderly kissed Lyra on the forehead. He then gently repositioned himself so that he was lying down on the floor with Lyra resting beside him, yet still cradled in his arms.

He fell asleep, warm and comfortable, to the last molten flickers of the fire's dying embers.