InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Love's Smirking Revenge ❯ Been A While... ( Chapter 16 )

It was a typical scene for a Thursday night at Club Fuzen. Middle aged, upper middle class office managers were jockeying one another for prime spots around the overcrowded Roulette tables. Eagerly calling out their bids, they watched the wheels spin, crimson and black entwining, as their greedy eyes and empty wallets waited impatiently for the next big win. Their hopeful hearts rose high in their chests until it stuck in their throats. When the wheel shuddered to a stop they would cheer riotously and slap one another on the back in congratulations, as though they'd just completed a triathalon instead of got lucky at billiards.

 

 

This was the kind of place where Lady Luck was your precious maiden or an elusive, cheating whore who doled her favours out freely to every man but you. Some of the men flirted with her regularly, reaping the benefits of her kind affections. Others saw her only occasionally, others not at all. Generally the latter sort were the poor sorry bastards sitting in a far corner, mulling over a Scotch Brandy and trying to figure out how to tell their wives they were broke and had lost the family savings to a bad round of cards.

 

 

Somewhat removed from the frenzy of the tables was a well-dressed figure reclining casually against the bar. His Armani suit was dark, pitch black like the night, and his golden eyes were sharp and calculating as they swept the room. There was a certain air of importance that hung about him, or perhaps it was just conceit, but either way he seemed imposing standing there with a whiskey in one hand and a grim smile on his lips. He appeared to have an ear half-tuned to the balding, rotund little man sitting to his right. The regulars knew him as the manager of the establishment but he rarely showed himself around the club, preferring to stick to the back rooms where he could hide away from the noise and the heavy scent of alcohol, imported leaf tobacco and money that hung in the air.

 

 

He spoke rather quickly to the man at the bar in fervent hushed tones, most likely talking shop. Every so often he'd remove a well worn handkerchief from his pocket and dab it along his upper lip with a trembling hand. Considering this was a weekly ritual for the pair, his blatant nervousness didn't appear to lessen with the frequency of their visits. For his part, the man didn't appear to be particularly interested with what the manager had to say. He lifted his glass lazily to his mouth, took a sip and nodded to the man in a dismissive gesture before swallowing. He'd heard enough - business was booming and the cops were staying away - the rest of it was inconsequential. The manager departed with a shaky bow and slipped off to a back room out of sight.

 

 

Finally alone, he drew in a deep, appreciative breath and savoured the mingled scents of greed, hope and defeat that lingered in his lungs. This was what he came for. He found nothing quite as satisfying as watching from afar while hope was born and crushed in the same moment, or a dream built up from nothing then dashed to pieces. It was exhilarating and pathetic at the same time.

 

 

What fools they were, all of them, so driven by greed that they couldn't see past their wallets. He'd built an empire simply by exploiting the inadequacies and addictions of others. They came to him seeking escape from their mundane lives for just a few hours and he provided them with it. While they were in his club they were allowed to believe that the impossible was truly possible, that with just one lucky hand or one good spin they could walk out those doors a changed man, somehow better than they were when they entered.

 

 

It never happened of course, but they allowed themselves to believe it could and he wasn't one to dissuade them. In this world he was their god - elusive, omnipotent, omniscient and wealthy. They looked up to him, silently worshipped him as they feared him, and understood their place beneath him. There were few who tried to shake the harmony created by such an understanding. There was a mutual recognition of the hierarchies of station and class that existed in this a place, but every so often there was one who dared to broach the invisible boundary between he and them.

 

 

His eyes narrowed on one figure in particular. He sized her up with a calculating glare while taking a long, slow sip from his drink. She was beautiful and seductive, a temptress in every sense of the word. Her glossy black hair swept in loose curls over her left shoulder to tickle at the milky skin of her breast, ebony against snow white. Eyes and lips, both the colour of rubies, glistened in the dim lights and her mouth stretched into a smirk when she noticed his gaze lingering on her. After a few sly glances at him from beneath her lashes she excused herself from the gentleman to her left, who was too enthralled with his game of poker to give her more than a fleeting nod of dismissal, and made her way towards him with her cocktail cradled between her fingers.

 

 

Taking up residence on the chair to his left, she slipped one leg over the other and appraised him with a sultry glance. She was the kind of beauty most men in this type of establishment would pay upwards of a million yen to have on their arm for just one night. There was no denying her appeal, but he was not a man of mediocre calibre and she was well below his league.

 

 

Her lips lifted into a humourless smile and her eyes panned down his well trimmed designer suit - sizing him up by dollar value rather than physical appeal. It was the kind of smile that could kill a man a million times over were he weak willed enough to give in to its subtle temptation. It was the kind of smile she'd spent a lifetime perfecting and had no qualms using to get what she wanted.

 

 

“Hey there. Care to buy a gal a drink?” The sultry lilt of her tone matched the half-lidded bedroom gaze she sent his way and he inwardly sneered at her forwardness. It was pathetic really that she thought she had any chance at all, though that wouldn't stop him from toying with her. It'd been a boring night.

 

 

“Can't say that I care to, no.” He shot a pointed look at the half-full glass in her hand before dismissing her with a turn of his head. She seemed to take the blatant rejection in stride. After a well timed sip from her martini she laughed lightly as though she knew he'd been joking all along.

 

 

 

“Come now, you hardly look like a pauper,” she scoffed light-heartedly.

 

 

 

Slipping a curl between her fingers, she toyed with it a minute while she analyzed his cold expression and hard gaze. She seemed to be weighing her options, judging the odds like any seasoned gambler would. After some consideration she slid off her chair, set her drink on the bar and moved her body between his legs. While one manicured hand ran up his chest, she slipped the fingers of the other inside the soft wool lapel of his blazer. Her eyes promised all things suggestive when they stared hungrily up at him but he rebuffed her easily once more, turning away to take a sip of his drink.

 

 

Scoffing lightly at the slight, she rose onto her tip toes and pressed her mouth to his ear. “I promise I'll make it worth your while,” she practically purred before taking his earlobe between her teeth.

 

 

“If I wanted a whore I would buy one,” was his sharp reply.

 

 

After disentangling her fingers from his jacket, he slipped easily out of her grasp and stood up from his seat. He'd expected a better performance from her, something to keep his interest at least, but she'd put on a mediocre performance and turned out to be a complete disappointment. He'd never been one for mediocrity. Downing the last of his drink in one gulp, he slid the empty glass towards the bartender with a nod and casually made his way towards the exit. Like a well trained pet she followed him. She had a job to do after all - her employer had made sure of that when he'd hired her.

 

 

The stairwell leading down to the street was quiet and deserted. The rush of activity from inside was barely a murmur on the far side of the sound proofed door. He took a moment to straighten his jacket and adjust his tie before descending the stairs. The burly, tattooed guard he'd hired to guard the door offered him a respectful nod which he returned with a disinterested, fleeting glance. The sound of her heels clicking loudly against the concrete steps reached his ears just as he pushed the door to the street open. She'd seemed to be timing herself carefully so as not to appear too hasty or desperate; not such an amateur then.

 

 

Slipping into the alley that cut between his building and the unassuming Portuguese bakery that sat next to it, he fished a cigarette from inside his jacket and waited. It wouldn't be long now. He could already hear her heels on the sidewalk, their sure, steady rhythm heading in his direction. As if on cue she slipped into the alley behind him not a moment later, a crimson shawl wrapped around her shoulders to ward off the winter's sharp wind.

 

 

“You're not like the other men in there,” she observed and he cast a look of disdain in her direction. Sucking in a deep pull from his cigarette at his lips, he let the smoke linger in his lungs before exhaling slowly in her direction.

 

 

“What do you want?” He was quickly growing tired of her game. He much preferred when those beneath him cut to the chase. That way they took up as little of his time as possible.

 

 

Taking that her cue, she sidled up to him with lust and a certain hunger gleaming in her eyes. “Do you even have to ask?”

 

 

Her voice was husky from the haze of smoke that hung on the air inside the club and it shivered over him, caressing the animalistic parts of his psyche that wondered what was so wrong with wanting to bend her over and take her like a whore in the alley? Her fingers wrapped around the lapels of his jacket once more, stroking them slowly before she slipped her hands inside the warm space between his blazer and dress shirt to explore the taut body underneath.

 

 

Impatient and annoyed that she had the audacity to touch him at all, he watched her with a callous expression. After pulling in one last drag, he flicked the half-burned cigarette in his hand to the ground. He didn't give her any sort of warning before he fisted her dark hair in one hand, wrapped the other around her waist and forced her back against the brick wall of the club. Her surprised gasp at the unexpected jolt melted into one of satisfaction as he eased her head to the left and ran his lips along her exposed neck in a feather light caress.

 

 

Taking the rare opportunity to indulge his baser instincts, he breathed in her scent. The sweet, erotic smell of lust that clung to her skin made his head spin and for a brief moment he closed his eyes and let it envelop his senses and wash over him. For just a moment he pretended that she was another and they were somewhere far from the dank alleyway next to his club. It was a fleeting vision, one that ended abruptly when her hands boldly moved from caressing the taut planes of his chest and stomach to stroking the hard bulge that'd formed against his thigh.

 

 

“Come now Sesshomaru, even you must like to have a little fun every once in a while…”

 

 

Her sultry words were whispered hot and desperate against the shell of his ear. He opened his eyes and reality flooded back, jerking him quickly to his senses. He growled dangerously at her touch, a warning which she failed to heed. Frustrated with himself for indulging in her at all, he wrapped a hand around her throat in a vice grip and delighted in the half whimper, half gasp that he was able to extract. Her eyes grew wide with confusion and real fear. That blessed seductive emotion that quenched his thirst like no other. She was right to fear him.

 

 

Pulling her face close to his, he fixed her with a hard, uncompromising look that promised death and every measure of pain. “If I see you spying in my club again I'll tear out your throat.”

 

 

Threat levelled, he dropped her to the ground and casually strode to the edge of the alley. Behind him she dropped to all fours in the filth, coughing and hacking as the oxygen rushed back into her lungs. As an afterthought he turned towards her, with a dark smile lighting his lips.

 

 

“Kagura, you should know by now that I don't associate with trash. Pass the message along to your boss. He'd be wise not to test me.”

 

 

Ignoring the vile curse she levelled at his back, he abandoned her to the dark cesspit of the alley and her own devices. He didn't have the time or the patience to play such childish games with the likes of her. In his world there were those who were kings, and those who thought they were kings. The latter were nothing more than mongrels who only knew how to bay loudly at the moon. The confident cantor of his heels against the sidewalk resonated loudly down the deserted street. Here he was king and those foolish enough to cross him discovered what it was like to be crushed beneath his oppressive hand.

 

 

 

-----

 

 

A heavy sort of mugginess had descended over the warehouse, the kind that made it difficult to breathe and hard to keep a clear head. The pair sitting calmly across from one another made every effort to ignore its damp weight settling into their clothes and the thickness of the air in their lungs. Despite the fact that one of them had her feet tied to a chair and looked more than a little worse for the wear, they carried on as though it were a normal thing to have casual conversations in abandoned warehouses owned by the yakuza.

 

 

It was a rather odd scene indeed, anyone looking in on it would have thought so, and yet it didn't seem to faze them. Perhaps it had at one point, but not any longer. The threat of boredom was too real and there wasn't much else to pass the time besides keeping one another company. So they sat in their wobbly metal folding chairs, sucked back a few beers, and carried on a normal conversation as though it was the first weekend of summer and they'd just met at a neighbour's backyard BBQ.

 

 

Kesuke took a gratifying sip of his beer and sighed contentedly. Tipping the bottle towards her he nodded his head and lifted an eyebrow.

 

 

“So you a sports fan?”

 

 

Kagome swallowed a mouthful of the mercifully cold beer he'd given her a few moments earlier and set it down on her lap. Her fingers thrummed against the cool glass as she thought over his question.

 

 

“You mean as in baseball, sumo wrestling, kendo, what?”

 

 

He made a face and waved a hand back and forth. “All that stuff. You follow any of it?”

 

 

She smiled and eased her back against the chair. Her body still hurt like a bitch, especially her shoulder, but the beer in her empty stomach made her head feel light and dulled the pain somewhat. She could've been worse off, much worse off in fact. Her previously anti-social bodyguard seemed to have made a turn around. He wasn't such a bad guy really. Now that she'd had the chance to talk to him a bit she was willing to concede that, despite their situation, he was a pretty decent fellow. He seemed genuinely concerned about her well being and her situation. He'd even made an effort to keep their conversation light and pleasantly distracting so her thoughts didn't have time to linger on the inevitable conclusion of her captivity.

 

 

Giving him a sly look, she posed a question of her own. “Would you believe me if I said I was an avid baseball fan?”

 

 

Looking intrigued, he lifted an eyebrow and she raised her good shoulder in a half shrug.

 

 

“I've been a die hard Brooklyn Dodgers fan since I was nine.”

 

 

“The Dodgers?” he asked with a bit of a furrowed brow.

 

 

She laughed lightly, wincing slightly at the lingering pain that throbbed through her rib cage courtesy of two broken ribs. “You thought I was going to say the Yankees or Boston didn't you?” she teased with a genuine smile on her face. He shrugged indifferently but she took it at her cue to explain.

 

 

“My dad got me into the Dodgers. He was a huge Jackie Robinson fan. He used to say `that man did more to break colour boundaries in the States than all the rallies and protests combined.' I never really knew much about it before that, the whole segregation thing, but it seemed to me like he did a good thing.”

 

 

“I'd like to think I'm like him in some ways,” she reflected. “I didn't just become a journalist because it's what I love to do. I wanted to prove that it could be done - that a woman could reach the top in this field by skill and hard work alone.”

 

 

“Is it working?”

 

 

“I'm one of Asahi Shimbun's top journalists and I've only been there two years,” she offered. He made a curious expression - halfway between an impressed brow lift and a disinterested frown.

 

 

“So your Dad still follow the Dodgers?”

 

 

“No. My Dad's dead.”

 

 

“Sorry to hear that,” he apologized offhandedly. The response was as automatic as it sounded. For someone whose business was death by various measures it was something that no longer fazed him, a fact she was well aware of.

 

 

“Don't be,” she mused with a shake of her head. “He died when I was nine. So what about you?,” she asked, eager to change the subject to something light-hearted again. “Baseball fan?”

 

 

Her tone sounded a bit too chipper to his ears and he picked up on her discomfort almost instantly. It was getting easier to read her now, especially now that the alcohol was loosening her tongue and lowering her inhibitions. So family was a taboo topic, no problems there. He wasn't the type to pry anyway.

 

 

Eager to get back to baseball, he smirked and crossed his arms casually in front of his chest. “Yeah, but none of that Yankee garbage. I'm a true blue Giants fan.”

 

 

“No shame in that,” she conceded. “The Giants are a great team. You ever been to a game?”

 

 

“Tickets cost an arm and a leg,” he replied as though that should've been answer enough.

 

 

“Let's say you and I make a deal - you let me go free and I'll get you Giants tickets with a free pass to meet the team.”

 

 

He sent a questioning look in her direction. “And how you gonna swing that exactly?”

 

 

“I did say I was one of the top journalists at the Asahi Shimbun didn't I? If I want to meet the players to write a sports piece, I get to meet the players. All it takes is a phone call.”

 

 

Smiling he shook his head and set his beer on the floor. “You're somethin' else I'll give ya that. Still tryin' to wheel an' deal your way out of here. I think you've tried every angle in the book at this point.”

 

 

She waved off his insinuation with a casual flip of her hand. “So what'll it be?”

 

 

He shook his head again, this time in disbelief and swiped a heavy hand over his sweaty face. “As tempting as the offer is I gotta decline. Those passes won't do me any good if I'm dead.”

 

 

“Well I guess if you wanna see a game you'll just have to stay alive long enough for me to hold up my end of the bargain,” she quipped, unwilling to give up so easily. He responded with a short chuckle and she frowned in defeat. That time she was almost sure she had him. Freedom felt so close she could practically taste it, but his stubbornness was keeping it just beyond her reach.

 

 

It was hard to hold back an exasperated groan when he glanced away, signalling the end of their discussion. She filled the moments of silence that stretched between them by pondering various escape strategies. There many not have been many options left, but that didn't mean she was giving up. Kagome Higurashi was a survivor. Besides that, it'd be dishonourable to the Higurashi name if she let them take her down without putting up a good fight.

 

 

Lost in thought, she was surprised when he addressed her suddenly a few moments later. His voice sounded heavy, as though his conscience was being burdened by some oppressive weight. “Hey Princess, when alls said and done I just want you to know that it's nothin' personal alright?”

 

 

She lifted her eyes to catch his troubled expression and offered him a complacent smile. “Yeah, I know. I won't come back to haunt you from the grave or anything like that,” she joked half-heartedly but her smile faded rather fast when she realized that he was apologizing pre-emptively for having to kill her.

 

 

It was a sobering thought, one that had her stomach churning and her head reeling in dizzying circles. If he was already trying to clear his conscience did that mean that her death was inevitable? Since she still hadn't a clue why she'd been taken in the first place, the option had always remained open in her mind that somehow she'd find a way to talk herself out of this mess. There was also the fleeting hope that someone would arrive in the nick of time to rescue her lingering around, but as each day bled into the next that option steadily became less and less viable in her mind.

 

 

Her hands gripped the beer bottle in her lap tight to hide the fact that they were trembling and she met his gaze head on. His brow furrowed and drew low over his dark eyes. He studied her intently, his mouth hanging open as though he wanted to say something more. With a shake of his head he apparently decided against it and turned away. Thankful for the brief respite, she let out a defeated sigh and took a long sip from her beer to finish it off. She set it shakily on the ground beside her and slowly righted herself, mindful of her injuries.

 

 

“You know, all we gotta do is order a pizza and it'll be just like we're in college,” she observed with a pointed glance around the room.

 

 

“This place reminds you of college?” he retorted with a snort.

 

 

Her dark eyes travelled over their surroundings, from the algae coated floor boards to the rickety balcony that jutted out from a darkened doorway on the second floor and couldn't help but feel somewhat nostalgic. In truth, college living hadn't been quite so off the map, but it hadn't exactly been luxurious either. Still reminiscing about the `good ole days', she laughed lightly.

 

 

“Well I suppose college was a touch better but-,”

 

 

Her sentence abruptly dropped short and all hint of her beer-induced easy going mood instantly evaporated. With a deliberate blink she narrowed her eyes at the inky shadows behind the doorway on the second floor.

 

 

There's no way. My imagination was just running away with me, she reasoned, but logical thinking did little to quell the paranoia that was churning the beer uncomfortably in her stomach.

 

 

Confused by her sudden change in demeanour, Kesuke cast a curious glance over his shoulder but saw nothing worth taking note of. He looked back at her just in time to catch her shaking her head as if rousing herself from a waking dream.

 

 

“Sorry… What was I saying?” she asked with a sheepish smile.

 

 

She attempted to act nonchalant about the whole thing, but knew from the expression on his face that she'd failed miserably. In spite of herself her eyes lifted nervously to the second floor balcony and she breathed a minor sigh of relief when she saw that it was deserted.

 

 

It'd been just a brief flash in her peripheral vision, but for a moment she'd seen something that had shaken her resolve to its core. A small voice inside her head whispered that it was impossible, that there was no way he could still be alive, but that didn't stop her hands from trembling or the tight feeling of panic from strangling her throat. A hesitant glance at Kesuke confirmed that he hadn't a clue what was going on. Maybe it had been in her head then? Surely he'd know if-

 

 

The sudden sharp sound of slow, successive claps drew their attention instantaneously to an inconspicuous corner of the room. From the depths of the shadows at the bottom of the rusted staircase leading down from the balcony emerged a figure wearing a well tailored suit and a dark smirk on his lips. His hands continued to clap as he advanced towards them, ceasing only when his feet stopped a few feet away from where they sat. With mock empathy he looked from Kesuke to Kagome and put a hand over his heart before emitting a pained sigh.

 

 

“That was truly beautiful. I never knew you had it in your Yaguro. The whole `it's nothing personal' bit almost made me want to shed a tear.”

 

 

His expression darkened into something foul and terrifying and before either of them could react he'd struck Kesuke hard across the face with the blunt end of a gun, scattering him out of his chair. He hit the floor with a heavy `thud' and the man tsked with disapproval while shaking his head.

 

 

“Such disrespect,” he mused with a dark smile.

 

 

Kesuke's body came alive almost instantaneously. In a frantic rush of limbs he was standing upright bowing low before their new visitor. “Takeda-san, forgive me. I didn't know you were coming.” His words sounded hurried and breathy, so unlike the slow talking, lazy man from before. With a discreet gesture he wiped the blood from his split lip with the back of his hand and waited expectantly for orders.

 

 

The man he'd addressed formally as `Takeda-san' regarded him with a disapproving frown but ultimately decided to forgo further punishment. He gestured with his gun for him to rise and when he did so, he motioned towards the door. “Your services are no longer needed.”

 

 

Kesuke hazarded a glance at the girl who hadn't moved a muscle since Takeda-san revealed himself. Somehow it didn't feel right leaving her behind, but with the Boss's gun half-cocked and his temper already stormy he knew he wouldn't be forgiven another act of insubordination. Fists clenched at his sides, he silently repeated the mantra that kept him moving forward in situations like these - Think of Masari and Yuriko. You're doing this for them. Think of what will happen to them if you don't play along.

 

 

Despite those convincing words he couldn't help but feel disgusted with himself and guilt-ridden as he turned away from the girl's terror-filled expression and headed towards the door. Each footstep he took away from her resonated loudly in his ears. Freedom for him was just beyond the door, yet somehow he felt as though he was walking the last green mile. For days he'd been griping and moaning about wanting to leave, but now that the opportunity finally presented itself he found each step harder and harder to take.

 

 

What would happen to the girl once he was on the other side of that door? He didn't want to think about it, knowing all too well what the Boss was capable of. He couldn't brush aside the feeling that ate away at his chest, the one that made it feel like he was betraying her somehow. With a hand firmly gripping the cool metal handle of the door, he jerked it open and felt the first blast of the icy winter air against his skin.

 

 

He realized then that his vision of leaving had somehow always included her leaving with him. This ending didn't feel right. It was wrong, so very, very wrong but there wasn't anything he could do to change it. With a heavy heart and a head that hung low in shame, he slowly slid the door shut behind him and closed his eyes against the sound of the lock sliding into place.

 

 

She was strong, that much he knew, she might just survive, but he couldn't ignore the voice inside his head that told him he'd just sealed her fate.

 

 

----

 

 

On the other side of the large metal door, Kagome pulled in a slow, shuddering breath. She closed her eyes deliberately and said a silent prayer before opening them again, hoping that what she was seeing was just another vivid nightmare.

 

 

It's not possible… It's NOT possible…

 

 

Logic and reason both informed her that everything about this scene was impossible. The man standing before her couldn't be standing before her because he was dead and had been for nearly five years.

 

 

I buried you, she swore fiercely. You're not real!

 

 

Unfortunately those heartfelt assertions did little to quell the panic that tore through her when she opened her eyes and saw him staring back at her. Horror struck, she watching silently as he opened one side of his jacket and easily slipped his gun into its holster. Without taking his eyes off of her, he picked up Kesuke's disregarded chair and set it between them facing away from her.

 

 

“It's been a long time Kagome,” he began in a patient tone before straddling the chair so they were eye to eye. “How've you been holding up?”

 

 

With a casual air about him, he crossed his arms over the backrest and leaned forward to study her trembling form inquisitively. Her mouth moved and her throat swallowed as though she was trying to speak but no sound emerged. Tsking softly, he extended a finger and ran it along one of the bruises that coloured the pale skin of her cheek an angry shade of purple. She flinched instantly at the touch of his skin against hers and one side of his mouth curved upwards in a dark smile.

 

 

“You've been better I guess,” he observed with a hint of a sneer and sat back to let his eyes sweep over her battered body. Bringing his finger to his lips, he absently licked her sweat from its tip, savouring the taste of victory on his tongue. With a subtle shake of his head he frowned at her injuries in mock sympathy.

 

 

“That Kagura... She just doesn't know where to draw the line sometimes.”

 

 

Her wide dark eyes followed his every move as he leaned forward to rest his chin atop his forearms. He returned her gaze with cold, empty eyes that gave away nothing of his thoughts. Even when he smiled, dark and sinister though it was, the expression never reached high enough to penetrate those emotionless orbs.

 

 

At one time she'd found those eyes interesting, mysterious even, but there was none of that ignorance left to blind her now. His eyes looked dead in their sockets; they were dull and lacked emotion because he possessed none. For a sadist like him words such as mercy and hope meant nothing, while feelings like compassion and empathy were foreign and strange. She swallowed down the bile that'd risen into the back of her throat and with it the scream that wanted to tear out of her lungs. Screaming wouldn't help her now, neither would tearful pleas, prayers or begging for mercy. She'd tried all of that before…

 

 

Those dark, sinister eyes of his felt like they were penetrating into her very soul. They held her prisoner, paralyzing her to the point where she could hardly breathe, and yet she couldn't force herself to look away. He held a certain power over her, one she'd never understood. Even now, despite all the years that'd passed and the time she'd spent making herself stronger, it was no less than it had been on that night five years ago.

 

 

When he spoke the sound of his voice echoed in the back of her mind, stirring to life the memories and fears she'd worked so hard to suppress. A sudden shiver of fear shuddered down her spine and he drew imperceptibly closer, relishing in her palpable terror. When he spoke, soft, low and tauntingly so that only she could hear, the long buried feelings of panic and fear that only he could evoke were ignited and she whimpered in spite of herself.

 

 

“Kagome-chan, you know how in scary movies the bad guy has a habit of saying `it's nothing personal'?”

 

 

Her mouth fell open but remained silent but for the sound of the heaving, frantic breaths being pulled into her lungs. A pair of crystalline tears fell unnoticed from her eyes to trickle in twin streams down her cheeks. He watched their progression with rapt fascination until they dripped off her trembling jaw onto her lap. Then he smiled at her, looking utterly satisfied by the fact that he'd been able to wrench them from her so soon.

 

 

With slow, careful movements he leaned in and brushed his mouth against the shell of her ear before snagging her earlobe gently between his teeth. She couldn't stop the shudder of revulsion that ran through her at the touch of his lips on her skin and visibly winced when she heard his quiet snicker.

 

 

This is what he wants. Stop giving him what he wants! her mind whispered fiercely.

 

 

Willpower alone wasn't enough anymore though. It couldn't stop the tears coursing down her cheeks or the tremors that shivered through her frame. It couldn't stop her gut from churning or her chest from closing in so tight with fear she could hardly breathe. And it definitely couldn't stop the breath from noticeably hitching in her throat when his next words, whispered dark and foreboding against her ear, brought her world to a shuddering standstill.

 

 

“Baby, this is about as personal as it gets.”

 

 

------------

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed/recommended/voted for this fic. You guys are truly awesome :)

 

So a bit of a cliff hanger here (oh who am I kidding? This is a brutal cliff hanger!) but hopefully it gets you psyched up for the next few chapters. At least we have one big question answered - Kagome definitely knows who her abductor is. The question now is who exactly IS `Takeda-san' and how is he tied to her and Inuyasha?

 

I'm also tickled pink to note that LSR has been nominated for Best AU and Best Inu/Kag Romance in the Inuyasha Fan Guild Awards (IYFG)! Voting is taking place now so remember to go vote for your favourite fics if you're a member ;)

 

Thanks again everyone for your support and I'll be back soon.

 

Until next time…

 

~ Langus