InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Hate ❯ Hate 05 ( Chapter 5 )

Hate 05

 

 

The dragon Ryuukossei left her alone with her resentments and her fears, as well as the bitter tang of revenge in her throat. Izayoi didn't care what had brought him here, or why his hatred seemed to rival her own. She set herself to loathing the way a man set himself to a familiar path, one well-traveled enough to walk in utter darkness.

 

At dusk, the flap of her tent was shoved aside and two silent women visited her. Well trained to silence herself, Izayoi didn't comment as they began to prepare her bath. She turned her face away from them as if she were lady of this place, instead of captive and whore. She didn't speak to them and they would leave as soon as they were done with their work.

 

Izayoi cried out, her voice shrill and sharp when one of the women seized her. Her arm was nearly wrenched from her shoulder by the rough handling, her protests ignored as they stripped her body. Panicking, she fought back as she had never done before, finally catching one's chin with a small fist.

 

The side of her face exploded in pain and Izayoi found herself on the ground again, unable to move or even think. The youkai woman had struck her viciously and Izayoi cringed, covering her face with her arms. She was to be beaten; she had been beaten many times. The first was by one of the soldiers that had murdered her family. He had dragged her outside by her hair and kissed her, she had slapped his face in response.

 

He'd beaten her so badly that blood streamed from her mouth and nose, hitting her long after she'd stopped fighting him. Then he'd raped her and blood had run from other places as well, leaving her stunned, clutching what was left of her clothes to her ruined purity. It had only taken him two minutes to tear away her virginity and soil her with his seed, but she'd ached for days afterward, wearing her bruises like indigo and violet shame on her skin.

 

“Don't,” one of the women said, stopping the other from striking her again. “Humans are weak, you'll kill her. He wants her tonight.”

 

Rough hands lifted her by her armpits and Izayoi let her mind go away. She scarcely noticed as the women scrubbed her, cleansing away her filthy human scent. Afterwards, they rubbed her with oils to further mask her, making her sweet to youkai noses.

 

The women wrapped her in a blanket and half dragged, half carried her from her tent. Izayoi kept her eyes closed, not wanting to see the leers of the males who were watching. They knew what she was; they could tell by her scent that she had just been made presentable for their lord to fuck.

 

But she'd never been to his tent, not to the place where he ruled over his army. Her knees were shaking, realizing that tonight was meant to be something special, something different. He didn't stay with her after sex, instead only embracing her for as long as it took for him to come. For which she was grateful…most nights.

 

The inside of his tent was dim, only lit by sweet oil lamps and the rugs felt plush beneath her bare toes. Thick incense burned, filling the air with a rich smoke that made Izayoi's head spin. Even her hatred left her then, blotted out by the intoxicating scent. Her mind was floating somewhere far from her body, pillowed by clouds of ether.

 

They women clothed her in fine silks, layers of them until her body felt weighed down. She'd never seen such finery before. This was not clothing suited for a whore or even a courtesan of a noble lord.

 

It was worthy of a princess.

 

Then she was forced to sit, the priceless silks billowing around her as the women combed and plaited her hair. They pinned it back from her face with jeweled combs, drawing it up so the waves swung loose over her shoulders like twin banners of night.

 

Izayoi closed her eyes as they painted her face until her skin glowed like snow under silver moonlight. They tinted her lips and darkened her lashes with kohl until her eyes appeared as luminous pools. Finally, after a brief, tense discussion between her attendants, they carefully drew a narrow, rose-colored stripe on each cheek before painting a blue crescent on her forehead.

 

What was she supposed to be?

 

“Almost perfect,” a soft voice said, answering her unspoken question.

 

The women bowed as they left the tent, but the demon lord and his human girl hardly noticed. Izayoi tried to stand, stumbling a bit over the heavy hems of her kimono. Her head spun and she would have collapsed if he hadn't caught her. She was tingling all over, throbbing almost with some hidden fire in her blood.

 

He tilted her face up, a claw tracing the markings on her cheeks. She saw amusement in his smile, and contempt as she shuddered involuntarily at his caress. And in his eyes she saw a dark, seething lust that had nothing to do with who she was and everything to do with who he wanted her to be.

 

“Almost perfect,” he said again, his voice no more than a growl. Hard fingers gripped her chin, his breath like a furnace as he moved to kiss her. She could see his fangs glint, his golden eyes stained with crimson desire. And in the back of her mind, she saw a vision of what he wanted.

 

A silver lady who shone brighter than the stars, her hair like snow and a face so beautiful even poets could never do justice to her. She suddenly yearned to be near this woman, to hear her voice and feel the touch of her hand. Desire flooded her and Izayoi cried out, clinging to him helplessly.

 

“Tonight,” he whispered, his lips brushing hers. “Pretend to be her.”

 

 

 

 

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