InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Of Strings and Kevlar ❯ Haunts from the Past ( Chapter 23 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Selina MacCloveror 
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Angst / Psychological / Hentai / Drama / Comedy | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 04.03.2016 | Pages: 15 | Words: 9.6K | Visits: 793 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Angst / Psychological / Hentai / Drama / Comedy | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 04.03.2016 | Pages: 15 | Words: 9.6K | Visits: 793 | Status: Work In Progress
A/N: Once again,
just for the record, any opinions expressed by characters in this
fiction do not necessarily reflect my own. (I love Louisiana with
all my heart.)
***
The early evening air was warm, but not as
humid as it had been all week, hinting at the approach of some
much-anticipated milder weather. It had officially been autumn for
nearly two weeks now, but falling temperatures came slowly to New
Orleans. The breeze carried scents of rhubarb and sweet peppers
from his neighbor's garden, freshly-cut grass, tree leaves slowly
drying out and preparing to drift to the earth, and squabbling
birds in the young branches of his newly-planted live oak tree.
One such bird fluttered up and landed on his wrought iron patio table, chattering noisily. It was a starling, probably taking up residence in the nearby park. Annoying little things. It eyed him bravely from two feet away, cocking its head to the side as it analyzed his threat level. He watched the bird silently, bringing his sweating rocks glass to his lips and sipping the chilled scotch. He felt the sudden urge to snatch the bird and gut it, to sink his fangs into the scrawny little body, to feel the spurt of warm blood fill his mouth and tear through muscle and tendon, to snap the fine bones and spit out the feathers, to suck the brain out of the skull and use its little feet to pick his teeth.
But he merely sat, and watched as the bird finished its inspection and flew away, joining a cloud of others across the lawn as they swooped up and away to torment someone else.
The encounter added to the frustration he'd been feeling all week, and made him that much more thankful it was finally Friday. It would be three days now before he would see that bitch again, the whore who had so boldly injected herself into his place of work. He clenched his jaw, thinking back to when she had arrived the previous Monday.
“And this is Sesshomaru Taisho, the head of our Contracts and Legal Division,” Mr. Boudreaux said, breezing into the youkai's office. He gave Sesshomaru a hard look, a clear warning to watch what he said, and continued. “I understand you're already acquainted.”
“Yes, we go way back,” Kikyou said, smiling easily. She smoothed the black twill jacket of her skirt suit and winked brazenly at him, out of Mr. Boudreaux's line of sight. “Don't we, Sesshomaru?”
He sat motionless at his desk, staring coldly at the woman who thought much too highly of herself, and inwardly raged at the turn his life had suddenly taken with her reappearance in it. “Ms. Yamamoto,” he greeted icily.
Another warning look from Jack, and then he stepped out, and Sesshomaru knew he would probably be called into the HR Manager's office within the next twenty-four hours. Not surprisingly, Kikyou lingered in the doorway a moment, appraising him coolly, before sauntering away in her sky-high stilettos.
Three hours later, he was still fuming over the interaction from earlier when she waltzed into his office again, unannounced and uninvited. In his uncharacteristic moment of stunned silence, she boldly shut his door and seated herself in his leather guest chair without asking for permission. “Sesshomaru, please allow me to ease your mind,” she began seriously, her characteristic smirk gone for once. “I am not here for you. I told you as much on the phone more than two weeks ago.”
“I know why you're here,” he replied stonily, folding his hands on his desk confidently.
“Then you know this has nothing to do with you,” she said, sitting back in the chair and crossing her legs. He resisted the urge to look down at her exposed thigh.
“He won't take you back,” he declared, getting right to the point. “He's an idiot, but he's not that much of an idiot.”
Her eyes flashed at the insult to her ex-boyfriend, undoubtedly feeling some misplaced sense of duty to defend him, but she wisely didn't address it. “That's not your concern, and it certainly isn't your place to guess. I know him a little better than you, I think.”
“Doubtful.”
She sniffed haughtily. “Well, believe whatever you want. I just wanted you to know you have nothing to worry about. I won't jeopardize your career here with tales from our past.”
“We have no past!” he snapped, baring his fangs.
Kikyou gave him a tolerant look. “Really, Sesshomaru, you mustn't live in such denial. What we had wasn't anything special. One-night stands rarely are. But to deny it ever happened is just plain dumb.”
His eye twitched in irritation, the only outward reaction he would allow. As if he would ever forget his one night of drunken weakness that he still despised himself for. “It is of no consequence. A whore will have no impact on my life, professional or otherwise.”
She snorted, recrossing her legs. “I wasn't the only whore in that bar that night. You didn't need much convincing to follow me home like a lost little puppy.”
His vision bled red at the insult. “You got me drunk!” he roared, gouging his $4,000 desk with deadly claws.
“You got yourself drunk,” she replied smoothly, unperturbed by his behavior. “Did I hold you down and pour liquor down your throat? I couldn't even if I tried.”
Forcing himself to calm down, refusing to show this bitch any more emotion than he already had, he stiffly flattened his hands on his desktop, unlocking his jaw and slowing his breaths. “This meeting is over. Kindly see yourself out.”
She sighed, rising languidly to her feet. “Very well, Sesshomaru. I just wanted to reassure you --”
“You may refer to me as Mr. Taisho,” he corrected crisply.
Her eyes rolled skyward as she flipped her hand dismissively, opening his office door. “Sure thing, Mr. Taisho. See you at the water cooler.”
Sesshomaru sat in the remaining sunlight on his patio, gritting his teeth at the memory of that evil woman getting the last word in on him that day. Even worse was the fact that he remembered scenting Kouga on her as she sat across from him, as well as the resulting mild tingle of possessive jealousy that had run up his spine like cold water. There was no smell of sex, but they had certainly touched one another, even if it was just a handshake, and that was enough to make his hair stand on end. One drunken night of sordid sex did not a relationship make, but his instincts felt otherwise, and the scent of another man on her body--especially one as inferior as ookami youkai--made the primal side of him rear up.
This reaction disgusted him, and he once again cursed his weakness for ever letting the bitch talk him into sex to begin with. But she had found him at the bar that night, sitting alone as he had a few drinks to screw up the courage he had needed to tell his father he was thinking of moving back to Japan. His relationship with his father had not been as tumultuous as Inuyasha's had been, but the man was still cautious to show pride, or even approval, of his eldest son's accomplishments. It was only through his mother that Sesshomaru had learned that his father respected his successes in his career, if not in his marriage to the wind bitch. Kagura had been a blotch on an otherwise admirable resume of life choices, and despite his father's own indiscretions, he had rather judgmentally warned Sesshomaru to be careful with his career, since he had seen fit to ruin his marriage and perhaps couldn't be trusted to make the right decisions when faced with “real men” problems. But he had been happy with Sesshomaru's choice to stay in America because he had assumed it was for a high-paying executive position with a Fortune 500 company. Sesshomaru had never elaborated that he was actually a contract specialist for a rinky-dink publishing company in New Orleans. He was a glorified secretary. The money was still good, but the esteem was not to his father's standards, and he knew it. Worst of all, there was nowhere in the company for him to go, and he tired of southern American culture, with its casual overfamiliarity and redneck ways of life. Not to mention the ungodly amounts of butter and animal fat they put into their food, which wreaked war-like havoc on his digestive system.
No, he had grown weary of his job and his location, and sought to change both, but knew he couldn't do it without his father's begrudging approval. And so, back home on vacation, he had stopped by a bar out of town for some liquid courage. Though he would never admit it aloud (and would gut anyone who suggested it), there was one being in this world that even the mighty Sesshomaru would submit to, and that being was his father. The man was ruthless with his business associates, and if anyone failed to meet his standards, they were fired with haste. He expected the same obedience and efficiency from his sons, and if they disappointed him as well, they may not have been “fired” from the family, but they would be met with the wrath of a scornful father for sullying the Taisho name, a name he had worked tirelessly to build. Inuyasha was learning that the hard way, and Sesshomaru had no intention of repeating his brother's mistake.
He'd been on his third beer when she showed up, seemingly out of nowhere. He knew who she was; she was the bitch his brother was currently fucking, though she smelled suspiciously faint of him now. He pondered that for a millisecond before knocking back the rest of his beer, pushing his glass across the polished wood bar. “Another,” he demanded brusquely.
And then she had approached, as if she had a right to. “Sesshomaru?” she'd asked, genuinely surprised to find him there.
He'd shot her a glare, warning her to back off. She'd brazenly ignored him and seated herself next to him, ordering some fruity drink that almost made him roll his eyes. Her drink had arrived with his, and she'd held hers up in a toast before he'd even reached for his glass. “To your asshole brother,” she'd loudly proclaimed, drawing the attention of everyone in the bar. “May he fuck himself rightly and forget to use lube.” She'd followed that by slurping down half the drink in one breath.
He'd eyed her shrewdly, wondering about her intentions, but couldn't help picking up his frosted beer glass and joining in her mock toast. He wasn't sure what the hanyou had done to piss this bitch off, and he didn't care. But considering the mood he was in, when the opportunity arose to ridicule his foolish half-brother, he didn't see any reason not to partake.
The rest of the evening was a bit of a blur, but he did remember speaking to her at one point, even deigning to agree with her assessment of his priorities. “He must get it from his mother,” he'd slurred at one point before joining her in a shot of tequila.
Her hand had rested boldly on his thigh some time later, and before he could snarl at her to remove it, she'd leaned up and breathed in his ear. “He's nothing like you,” she'd whispered, her breath hot and smelling of drunken cherries. “You know what you're doing. You have your life together. You know how to be in control of your destiny.”
Her words snaked into his brain and further clouded his already buzzing thoughts. If he were just a bit more drunk, he might have laughed outright at how wrong she was at this exact moment, considering the reason he was even in this bar to begin with. Her observation, however wrong it was, had given him a false boost of much-needed confidence. He'd enjoyed the feeling for a brief moment, and Kikyou, probably sensing her victory, had taken the opportunity to glide her manicured fingers up the inside of his thigh to the member already twitching to life between his legs. “I bet those little piss-ants who work for you nearly shit themselves when you come around the corner,” she'd murmured into his ear. “They know a man in charge when they see one.”
It had been years since he'd allowed a woman to touch him so intimately, and the combination of alcohol, his self-pity, her words, and those wicked fingers squeezing his growing erection through his slacks had forced the common sense from his brain. He swallowed another shot as she continued manipulating him in every way, then motioned for the bartender. “I want to settle up,” he'd said, reaching for his wallet. If the bitch wanted to fuck, then he would give her the fucking of a lifetime.
Sesshomaru closed his eyes to the memory, not willing to relive the foggy images of that night. She'd manipulated him, all right, and now he had to live with the fact that he'd fucked a human woman in a colossal moment of weakness. The fact that she was attached to Inuyasha at the time complicated matters even further, and for one brief moment in time, he had feared his brother's reaction should he discover their illicit meeting, not to mention their father's wrath when he inevitably found out as well. But the bitch was foolish enough to actually want to be with Inuyasha, so he had allowed himself to relax, safe in the knowledge that she wouldn't confess their crime to the hanyou.
However, it remained a severe blow to his ego that he could have lowered himself to such a deplorable act, and whatever courage he had gathered to speak with this father had vanished by the morning after, when he lay on the rumpled sheets of the king-sized bed, panicking slightly at what had happened. She had left by that point, thank the Kami, but it didn't lessen his sin. He had dressed hurriedly and left the hotel, his brain uncharacteristically scattered even if his demeanor didn't show it. `I cannot ask to come back now,' he'd realized, maintaining a cool façade as he gracefully climbed into his rented car. `I will have to make do in that shit-hole of a city for now.'
And now, here he was, five months later, letting the scotch glide down his throat as he entertained thoughts of gutting the whore who had entered his life for the second time. She said she wasn't there for him, and he believed her, but the taiyoukai that lay within him simmered at the thought of her bedding any other man after he had taken her. These instincts disgusted him, but held sway over him regardless. And the scent of Kouga on her skin all week had done nothing to soothe his rumpled fur.
Of course, there were other factors at play for this possessive reaction.
`The baby….'
“Mr. Taisho, hello!”
He raised his head at the sound of the little girl's voice, nodding slightly in response as his dark thoughts lifted away like fog. His neighbors had a four-year-old girl named Rebecka, who was a nice enough girl, if not a bit annoying. She loved him for some reason, though he suspected it was his hair since she always wanted to touch it and was always commenting on how “pretty” it was.
Grumbling under his breath, he watched her run up to the fence separating their yards, giggling all the while. She stumbled once, falling to her hands and knees in the grass, but she shouted, “I'm okay!” and jumped up again. She made it to the fence without further incident and wedged her foot in the bottom rail, hoisting herself up to peek her head over the top rail, smiling toothily at him. “Are you having a good day, Mr. Taisho?” she shouted unnecessarily loudly from merely ten feet away.
He forced a fake grin for her benefit, nodding. “Yes, I'm having a good day, Rebecka,” he lied.
She giggled again, bouncing up and down a little where she stood on the fence, biting her bottom lip. Sesshomaru mentally sighed and put down his glass. “And how is your day?” he finally asked, giving in.
“I'm having a great day!” she blurted out, unable to contain her enthusiasm. “Mommy made lemon squares! Do you want one?”
“No, thank you,” he replied, suppressing a grimace.
Her face fell then, devastated at his refusal. He observed her crestfallen expression and bit back another sigh. “Yes, Rebecka, may I please have a lemon square?” he asked flatly.
She beamed at him again. “Yes! Yes, I'll go get one!” She jumped back off the fence, losing her balance and falling to her behind with a heavy thud. “I'm okay!” she shouted again, scrambling to her feet, and made a beeline for the house. A wild, giggling mess of skinny legs and whipping light brown hair.
Sesshomaru sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and awaited the inevitable return of the child with the treat. It would be hours before he realized the girl had distracted him from his brooding about the whore at work.
***
She arrived, but later than he suspected she would.
*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*
His attention slid to his apartment door, sensing Kagome on the other side. He stayed seated on his couch, pulling another long drink from his beer bottle, and hesitated for a moment. He had mixed feelings about her presence, but he knew he'd be a fool to think she'd let him sulk alone for very long. `I had to open my fat fucking mouth at dinner last week!'
She knocked again insistently, and he sighed. “It's open,” he finally called out, staring down at the bottle in his hand.
The door opened, revealing his girlfriend, who looked a bit miffed. `Great,' he thought sarcastically, taking another gulp.
“You've been avoiding me all week,” she began, stepping inside and shutting the door. “And now I see you're just sitting here by yourself, getting drunk.”
“Thanks for the summary,” he grumbled, not looking up at her.
He could feel her temper flare, and braced himself for an explosion, but none came. After a half-minute of tense silence, she approached and seated herself next to him on the couch, perched on the edge as if poised for retreat. “Want to tell me what's going on?” she asked in a voice much softer than he expected, though he could sense she was holding herself back.
He gritted his teeth, knowing he had indeed been avoiding her all week, as well as his other friends, and that he couldn't do it forever. But locking himself up in practice rooms and coming home to drink until he fell asleep had been much more appealing than facing her inevitable questions regarding his old man, so that was what he had done. But now it was Friday night, and she wasn't going to let him start the weekend without talking to her. A part of him was grateful to her for it, but another part of him just wanted to be left alone.
“Look, I get that you don't want to talk about this,” she said, reading his thoughts, “but you already know that I've been through something like this, too, and… and I know that not talking about it only makes it worse,” she finished quietly.
He swallowed thickly, still not looking at her, but knowing he needed to say something. “It's old news,” he finally settled on, and left it at that.
“It's not that old,” she argued, inching closer to him on the couch. “Not if you're beating yourself up like this.”
“I'm not beating myself up,” he lied, shredding the wrapper on the bottle.
“Come on, Inuyasha. I want to help you. If you're not ready to talk about it, that's fine. I can just sit here and be with you.”
“I don't need a babysitter, Kagome,” he snapped, his mouth going on autopilot.
She was quiet again for several seconds, probably a little stunned at his use of her given name, and he chanced a look at her face. She looked upset; worried, but not angry. It irritated him for some reason, and he slouched deeper into his seat, scowling.
She reached for his hand, the one still picking bits of wrapper from the beer bottle, and he let her take it and pull it onto her knee, holding it with both of hers. They were warm and soft, and his chest tightened inexplicably at her touch. “I know what you're doing. Don't push me away,” she whispered, threading her fingers with his.
His heart started pounding, and he looked at her again, suddenly scared and not knowing why. Was he pushing her away? Was he in danger of losing her, after all he had done to win her in the first place? The thought terrified him, making his chest ache more than the memory of his father's death had, and he swallowed the knot in his throat as he watched her watch him. Her eyes were wide and glistening, her lips slightly parted, the desperation evident on her face as she struggled to figure out what he was thinking. He had an abrupt rush of anxiety at the realization that she was scared of losing him as well, and he acted without thinking.
Lurching forward, he grabbed her face and slammed his lips against hers, hoping to reassure them both with the force of his kiss alone. She squeaked in surprise, but recovered swiftly and responded aggressively, snaking her hands up the back of his neck and immediately opening her mouth to him. He felt her fingers tangle in his hair, gripping it and pulling with an air of propriety he was quickly growing accustomed to, and he crushed her body to his to return the sentiment, losing himself in the feel of her, the taste of her. The kiss was vicious, desperate, and spoke less of sexual desire and more of something deeper that he knew was building between them, something he hadn't thought he would ever want again. The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying, and he buried his anxiety over it into the demanding press of his mouth against hers.
She moaned softly, unintentionally, and stroked her tongue against his canines, making him shudder. He felt the pull, the spell that she had cast on him, and as his hands ran up and down the length of her back, he knew that whatever hold she had on him was a real, controlling, possessive thing. This petite woman owned him, all of him, and he'd be damned if he could resent her for it. She was his light in the darkness, his salvation and his cure, and he suddenly realized without a shred of doubt that she was the reason the Kami brought him to Baton Rouge.
The scent of salt hit his nose, and he pulled back just in time to see the first tear spill over and run down her soft cheek. Taking a deep breath, he stayed his desire and swiped his thumb across her cheekbone, cupping her face. “Please don't cry,” he pleaded, looking into her watery eyes.
“I can't lose you,” she choked out, sniffling as another tear fell. “Not now. Not over something like this.”
He couldn't help but chuckle a little at the irony as he tucked her hair behind her ear. “Feh. You're not gonna be the one to lose me, girl. You don't have to worry about that.”
She read his meaning and grabbed his hand, holding it in both of hers. “I'm yours, Inuyasha. I'm not going anywhere, either. So stop pushing me away.” Her eyes flashed as she finished, still spilling hot tears and wetting her cheeks.
“I know. I'm sorry. Don't cry,” he said again, kissing her softly. She nodded silently, and he pulled her into a hug, holding her close. `She's still mine,' he assured himself, dropping his nose into her sweet-smelling hair. `But I shouldn't have ignored her all week.'
As if reading his thoughts once again, she pulled back a little and looked up at him, frowning. “Did you feel like you couldn't tell me?”
He sighed, scrubbing a clawed hand down his face. Where to begin? “It's not something I love to share,” he began lamely.
Her brows furrowed. “You don't think I understand that?” she asked peevishly.
“I know you do,” he said, and shifted so he was seated normally on the couch, keeping an arm around her shoulders like an anchor. He shook his head, looking for the words he needed to explain to her. “I don't want you to… I just, I feel weak. And I guess I don't know why.”
She rested her hand on his knee. “Do you think I'm weak?” she asked.
He balked. “No!”
“Then why would you think you're weak?” she tried to reason with him.
“Look, it's different,” he insisted, though he unconsciously squeezed her shoulders for support. “It's a different situation than yours, with different circumstances, and it's different….” `...for men,' he finished mentally.
“So tell me about it,” she begged him, then quickly added, “if you want to. Please, Inuyasha. I just want you to know that you can talk to me whenever you're ready. But don't push me away.”
He looked at her again, noting her clear brown eyes watching him closely, her fingers squeezing his knee comfortingly. His heart tightened, and once again, he heard something whisper in his mind that she meant something deep to him, something that he hadn't expected or been prepared for. Something that had been worth waiting for, worth all of the shit he'd gone through to get to this moment, in this apartment, on this couch, sitting with her. Something that he thought he'd had with someone else, but he knew now to be so much different from this. This thing, with this woman, this fiery, tenacious, beautiful woman, and how it would unman him if he were to ever lose it. How it would kill him.
The hell if he was going to risk that.
Taking a deep breath, he slowly let it out, gripped her shoulders a little tighter, and slowly put the words together. “My father died in June,” he said, and was briefly puzzled by how easy it was to say now. “He was mugged and killed by a lowlife piece of scum in midtown when he was out for a walk. The fucker got the jump on him somehow and demanded his wallet. That's what the witnesses said, anyway,” he added, staring blindly at the coffee table in front of them. “The old man refused, of course, and the guy shot him eight times. Eight times,” he said, shaking his head at the memory of the police report. “For a fucking wallet.”
“Oh, my God,” Kagome whispered, leaning into him.
“It was theorized the fucker knew who he was, that he recognized him, maybe,” he continued. “He was well known in the Tokyo business world, and his face was in the paper sometimes. My family has money.” He paused, glancing at her. “A lot of money. And people know it.”
Kagome dropped her eyes, her face unreadable, but she squeezed his knee again.
“So he died,” he said, and took another deep breath, preparing to face his true demons. “But that's not all.”
She looked at him again, waiting for him to continue.
“The reason he was out walking… the reason he died… is because of me.” He stopped a moment, the words catching in his throat, and gathered his thoughts again. “We'd gotten in another fight. An argument about me, and what I wanted to do. He hated that I was studying music. He had been hassling me a lot lately about it, but this was a pretty bad one.” He gritted his teeth. “He wanted me to `do something' with my life. To be more like him and Sesshomaru, basically. And then he brought up my ex, implying I was the reason we weren't together anymore.”
Kagome squirmed a bit, and he looked down at her, noticing her curiosity. “More on that later,” he growled, his blood boiling just at the thought of that bitch. She nodded, and he continued. “When he went there, I got pissed, and we went back and forth a few times. I mouthed off a little to him, and he smacked me a couple times, and --”
“What?!” she shrieked, horrified.
He shook his head, holding her tighter. “No love lost between us, wench. I loved him because I was expected to, and I can't say much more for him than that.” He kissed the top of her head, and her lips tightened as she bit her tongue. “It escalated, and I thought he was really going to lay into me, but he just walked out. To keep from killing me, probably,” he added, laughing humorlessly at the irony. “So he left. Went for a walk to cool off. It wasn't the first time it happened, but this was the first time I yelled back like that. I was scared for a minute. There was no way I'd be able to fight him off if he really wanted to do something to me.”
Kagome shuddered, burrowing into his side and snaking her arms around his waist, holding him tightly. “And then he was killed,” she concluded, her voice muffled by his shirt.
“And then he was killed,” he said, holding her tighter. He could smell her tears again, and he bit the inside of his cheek, finding himself more upset by her crying than the story itself. He pondered that for a moment, wondering why it was so easy to talk about it now, with her. The guilt was still there--it probably always would be--but a weight had been lifted as soon as he started the story, and that weight was solid and real. He literally felt lighter, more free than he had in months, and he knew who the cause of that was: the petite woman in his arms, crying for him, wetting his shirt with fat, hot tears for what he had gone through. `She feels the same for me as I do for her,' he suddenly knew, his brain a jumbled mess.
“I'm sorry,” she mumbled, and he didn't know if she was apologizing for his father's death or for crying. “I'm so, so sorry. That's awful.”
“It is what it is,” he said, repeating what he'd told himself time and time again over the summer when he didn't want to think about it. “There's nothing I can do about it now.”
“You blame yourself,” she observed, squeezing him.
Unsure how to respond to that, Inuyasha remained quiet, his thoughts darkening again.
“I understand why. But it wasn't your fault.”
“Feh. He wouldn't have been out there in the first place if I hadn't --”
“And Hojo wouldn't have gone speeding down my street if I hadn't broken up with him,” she interrupted, raising her head to look him in the eye. “Bad shit happens in life, Inuyasha. A lot of it. And it's not our fault. We do things and make choices and say what we say, and the dominos fall where they do. But there are other factors at play that aren't within our means to control. An evil man took your father's life. Hojo drove recklessly and ran a red light in heavy traffic. These are not things we have any say over!”
Inuyasha stared at her, dumbstruck at her emotion.
“And I know I'm being kind of a hypocrite right now, but you have to accept the fact that his death was not your fault. If you don't, the guilt will eat you alive from the inside out, and I hate the thought of that happening to you,” she continued tearfully. “I should know. I dealt with it for years. And I gave someone the power to use it against me.”
He growled, remembering that day in the parking lot in front of her apartment. `Fucking wolf. If I ever see him again….'
“Which he wouldn't have been able to do if I had done what I'm telling you to do now,” she said, running her hand down his rough cheek. “Despite everyone telling me it wasn't my fault, I just refused to accept it. And the toll it took on me was devastating. I won't let that happen to you, Inuyasha.” She paused, making sure she had his attention. “You knew what I had gone through. You knew it pretty early on; before our first date, anyway. You should have known you could talk to me about your father instead of burying it away and letting it haunt you.”
He frowned. “I thought about it, when we were at Parrain's and you asked me about moving from Tokyo. But I didn't want to dump that on you.”
Kagome sighed heavily, hinting at her frustration. “I know you want to shield me. You want me to know I can depend on you, to know that you'll protect me. I get it, I really do. But this is a two-way street, Taisho. I'm much more inclined to trust you with my feelings when I know you're willing to share yours with me. That includes your vulnerabilities as well.”
“Keh! I'm not vulnerable!” he argued, looking away petulantly.
“Okay, bad word choice,” she amended. He could almost hear her eyes rolling. “But you know what I mean. I know we've only been together a few weeks, but --”
“Three weeks today, officially,” he said, surprising himself that he knew so readily. `But it feels like I've known you forever.'
Kagome smiled softly, taking his hand again. “It's not very long,” she specified. “But I feel like this is real, more real than I've ever felt with anyone before. And if it is real, and if we want this to work, then you need to know you can talk to me about anything.” She tipped his chin toward her, making eye contact again. “You're hurting from this. Let me help you.”
His chest tightened at her words. He swiped his thumb across her cheek, feeling something deep inside him crack open, releasing some of the pressure that had built up there over the last several months. “You already are,” he whispered, not trusting his voice.
She fell into him, kissing him soundly. He held her tight against him and let her control it, knowing what this was and wanting her to know he trusted her. She pulled back before too long and dropped to his side again, hugging his middle and resting her head on his shoulder. He could feel her emotions rolling off her body, surrounding him with acceptance and a purity that was almost frightening in its intensity. Yes, she was helping him, and more than she knew. She was healing him from much more than the pain of his father's death. He distantly wondered if he'd ever work up the courage to tell her. `One step at a time,' he coached himself.
“No more secrets between us,” she said, keeping her head down. “We agreed to that, didn't we?”
He thought back to their conversation on her sofa, after getting the shit kicked out of him by that fucking wolf. “That was different.”
“Maybe. But if you're going to keep something from me, let it be because you're just not ready to share it yet. I can understand that. Not because you don't want to burden me.”
He nodded his assent, pulling her tight against him. They sat quietly, letting the silence wrap around their bodies as they comforted each other. Her presence, though he had been dreading it all week, was warm, solid proof that the Kami wanted him to be happy. He liked the idea of that, and allowed himself a small smile, thanking whoever was listening for sending this woman to his apartment tonight.
She looked up suddenly from the crook of his arm. “What about the guy? The guy who killed your father? Was he convicted?”
Inuyasha chuckled humorlessly, shaking his head. “He was caught and arrested, but he never made it to trial.”
“No?”
“No. Sesshomaru saw to that,” he said, a sliver of respect finding its way into his voice.
Kagome shivered then--probably an appropriate response to that news--and huddled back under his arm. More time passed in comfortable silence, the minutes ticking by. He idly wondered what his father would think of her, but he dismissed that thought almost as immediately as it had come up. She probably wouldn't have been good enough for him for the same reason Inuyasha wasn't, given her musical ambitions. That realization angered him more than what was probably logical, but he held her tighter anyway, wanting to protect her from the cynical judgment of a dead man.
“What about your mother?” she asked abruptly, looking into his eyes. “Is she alive?”
He shifted in his seat, his ear twitching. “My mother died when I was young. Cancer. I don't really remember her much.”
“That's horrible,” she said, frowning. Her eyes flashed suddenly. “Wait, so your father raised you by himself? It didn't sound he like was Father of the Year.”
“No, he and his wife raised me. Sesshomaru's mom. She treated me well enough, but I was never really hers, and she saw to it that I remembered that whenever I got out of line.”
“His wife? But your mom --”
“My old man cheated on his wife with my mom,” he explained, picking at lint with his claws. “She worked for his company, an accountant or something. They had an affair, and I was the product of it.”
She closed her eyes and didn't say anything else, probably not knowing what she could say.
“After I was born, my mom raised me until she was too sick to take care of me. I'm not sure when she was diagnosed, but she died when I was three. My old man took me into his home and had to tell my stepmom that I was his kid. The shit really hit the fan then, but she wasn't about to turn a child away. She wasn't that cruel.”
Kagome bit her lip. “It sounds like you don't know a lot about your mother.”
“All I know is what Nashi told me. She'd met her a few times at family functions put on by my dad's company. But he never spoke of her. Nashi thought that he might have loved her,” he recalled, his thoughts trailing.
“I find it odd that she stayed with him, honestly,” she said. “I mean, he did cheat on her.”
He shrugged. “That's just the way it is with youkai. Once they're married, that's it. There are rarely divorces. The few who do get divorced are disgraced,” he said, remembering the fallout after his brother's failed marriage. “It's considered shameful to split up. It means you're weak. Doesn't matter if your marriage sucks; vows are serious. More serious than they are with humans, anyway.”
She got quiet again, digesting all of the information he'd given her. Realizing he didn't know anything about her parents, he rubbed her arm a little more. “What about you? Are your parents still alive?”
“My mom,” she replied quietly, as if ashamed to admit it after hearing his story. “She's back in Kyoto with my kid brother. He starts high school next year. She calls every once in a while and nags me about not being in touch enough,” she said, then flinched against his shoulder. “Sorry. I shouldn't complain.”
“It's all right,” he said, and squeezed her, hoping to make her smile. “If she's as big of a pain in the ass as you are, I don't blame you for complaining about her.”
Her head shot up and she gave him a mock glare, trying to look mad and failing. “Watch it, Taisho,” she threatened, her smile breaking through.
He grinned, thankful he could cheer her up, even if it was just a little. “And your dad?” he asked.
Her smile fell. “He died when I was young, like your mother. But in a car accident.”
He nuzzled her hair. “I'm sorry.”
“Don't be. It was a long time ago,” she said. “I do have some memories of him, but they're faint now. He showed me something in a book one time, and I remember being really excited about it, but I have no idea what it was. And one time he was carrying me on his shoulders, and my mom was laughing from her rocking chair. Souta had just been born, I think. She was nursing him at the time.” She smiled softly at the memory.
He nodded, picturing the scene that she set. Kagome as a little girl, surrounded by two loving parents and a baby brother. He expected to feel jealousy, as he often did when he heard of such stories from other friends and girlfriends he'd known, but he was pleasantly surprised to realize it made him happy, knowing she had known something other than grief in her life. His reaction only confirmed his feelings for her, and once again, he smiled, holding her close.
“Are you okay?” she asked suddenly, squeezing his midsection.
“Yeah,” he replied, surprised that it was the truth. “You?”
She nodded against his shoulder. “Yeah. Thank you for telling me. I know it wasn't easy.”
“It was easier than I thought it would be, actually,” he said honestly, then hesitated before admitting, “You're the first person I really talked to about it.”
She raised her head, looking him in the eyes. “I get it,” she said, and he knew she meant it. “And I'm honored.”
He searched her face, tracing her cheekbone with his thumb, and looked for some indication that she knew how he felt about her, that she understood without him having to say it. He had never been great with words; they got him in trouble more than saving him most of his life. `How did we get here?' he asked himself for not the first time, running the back of his claw against her bottom lip. `How did we come this far in such a short time? What magic do you have over me?' He didn't know the answers, but he knew that she had become a necessity in his life, something he needed to survive, like water and air. But he didn't want to just survive: he wanted to live, and he wanted to do it with her by his side.
He noted the time out of the corner of his eye. “It's late. I don't want you driving home tonight.” He paused, making sure he had her attention. “Stay with me,” he said, not just meaning for the night.
She nodded, her eyes wide and serious. “I will,” she promised softly. Her small hand rose to cup his cheek, her sweet breath fanning his lips. “I will,” she said again, stressing her words more confidently, leaving no room for doubt that she understood his deeper meaning.
He smiled, relief flooding through his body at her answer. He felt the demanding need to kiss her, to seal whatever sort of pact they had just entered into with something tangible, something that was more than words; something that could be felt.
She beat him to the punch and kissed him instead, softly, gently, and pulled away all too soon. “We're a pair, aren't we?” she said, smiling sadly.
“Feh. Shit happens,” he said, but silently agreed with her. He felt a sudden determination to make sure nothing could ever hurt her again, his chest filling with hot fury at the thought of anyone causing her pain, intentional or otherwise.
“So we're done drinking for tonight, right?” she asked hopefully.
He shook away his brooding. “Yeah, I'm done. Are you hungry? I could order a pizza.”
“Not really.” She moved toward him again, and he automatically raised his arm to tuck her against his side. “I just want to be here with you,” she admitted softly, snuggling into him.
“Fine with me,” he said, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. He closed his eyes, and with all they had shared tonight, her body close and her scent in his nose, he felt more at ease than he had in years. Perhaps ever. `She's bringing me peace,' he realized, tightening his hold on her. She hummed in contentment and nuzzled his shoulder, her breath warm on his collarbone. `I can't lose her. No matter what happens -- I cannot lose her.'
She shifted slightly under the weight of his arm. “You never told me about your ex,” she mumbled sleepily.
His thoughts grew dark at the mere mention of her, and as much as he didn't want to lose this feeling he had right now with Kagome, he knew she probably wasn't going to let it go. Working his jaw tightly, he sighed heavily. “We dated for almost four years,” he began.
Kagome's head rose, suddenly fully awake. “Four years?” she asked, surprised. “Was it serious?”
He looked away uncomfortably. “We were living together, and….” `Don't hold back now,' he told himself, taking a deep breath. “And I was thinking of asking her to marry me.”
She blinked, her lips parted.
He trudged on, determined to get it over with. “We'd only been living together for a few months when I started noticing the change in her. I guess she didn't think I was really planning on staying in music, but she figured it out, and didn't like it. Kind of like my old man,” he added, gritting his teeth. “Her family was rich, and that was important to her. We started fighting a lot, about everything, really, but mostly about my music. It got nasty one night, and she left. Said she needed to `think things over.' I have no idea where she went, but she was gone for weeks. I assumed she went to her parents' house, but she wouldn't answer any of my calls, and when I went to their house to look for her, they wouldn't help me one way or the other.” He sneered. “I was never good enough for them, and I don't think it was just because of my music.”
Kagome put a hand on his chest, instantly calming him. He grabbed her hand and held it tightly, letting her touch soothe his soul. `She is good for me,' he realized again.
After a minute, he continued. “So I was just about ready to accept that she wasn't coming back when she showed up. I'll never forget it: she was bawling her eyes out, telling me what a mistake it had been to leave. But there was something in her scent that was different, and it took me a while to figure it out, but as soon as I did, she confirmed it. She was pregnant.”
Kagome reeled back in shock. “Pregnant? Was it…?”
“It wasn't mine,” he assured her, pulling her close again. “I assumed it was at first, just out of ignorant stupidity, thinking she would never have cheated on me. But then my brain caught up. There was no way I was the father: we hadn't had sex at all in the last month she was living with me, and she sure as hell wasn't pregnant when she left.”
Her eyes dropped at the mention of sex, clearly uncomfortable with the thought of him sleeping with someone else. There was nothing he could do for that, so he just held her tight and continued on. “Once I figured out the baby wasn't mine, I kicked her out. She tried to say I was the father, and I'm sorry, but a small part of me wanted to hit her. She cheated on me, and she had the fucking nerve to show back up and say I knocked her up. I would never hit a woman,” he stressed, noticing Kagome's quiet look, “much less a pregnant woman. I just couldn't believe what she was saying. She must have thought I was a fucking idiot.” He stopped again, feeling himself get heated over the encounter all over again. He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.
“Did you ever find out who it was?” Kagome asked softly.
“Feh. If I did, the fucker wouldn't be alive right now,” he spat disdainfully. “No, I didn't know, and now, it doesn't matter. She's out of my life. I kicked her the hell out, and that was it. I haven't seen or heard from her since. I don't know if she had the baby, and I don't care. She's not my problem anymore.”
She looked into his eyes again, probably wanting to make sure he was telling the truth. He let her look, having nothing else to hide. It was true: he was over it. The only thing he felt regarding her was pity for the poor bastard she was currently fucking, whoever that was. And he was sure it was somebody; a woman as beautiful as her didn't stay single. But as soon as the guy figured out what a bitch and a whore she was, he'd dump her, too, if he was smart. And then she'd find someone else to terrorize.
Kagome sighed, bringing his attention back to the present. “I'm sorry you went through that,” she said, apparently satisfied from what she found in her perusal. “She sounds horrible. When was all this?”
Inuyasha squirmed. “Right before my old man died.”
She closed her eyes, leaning her head on his shoulder again. “Inuyasha,” she said, sympathizing.
He drew strength from her touch. “It's part of my past,” he said, just now realizing that was true. `Maybe I can move on now. With you….'
“My problems seem pretty paltry compared to yours,” she mumbled, embarrassed.
“It's not a contest, wench,” he said, hoping to lighten the mood. “I don't have any problems now. I'm coping with my dad. Because of you, I think.”
She smiled, hugging his middle again.
“And Kikyou is a world away, making some poor sap miserable in Tokyo,” he finished, feeling no remorse whatsoever.
“I'm glad,” she said, a sudden edge to her voice. “It's better for her that way. I'd hate to have to mess up her pretty little face. And maybe her neck.”
He chuckled to himself, briefly allowing himself to picture that fantasy. “Keh. I believe you would.”
They sat in silence for several moments longer, and he allowed her heartbeat to lull him into a light doze, feeling completely at peace with himself. When was the last time he had felt like this? `Years,' he figured, breathing in her calming scent as his conscious mind started to slip away, just before her soft voice brought him back abruptly.
“Don't hurt me.”
His heart nearly stopped at her words, for reasons he couldn't understand. It took him nearly half a minute to grasp the meaning of what she had said, and when he finally did, he wanted to pull her into his body to protect her from the world. “I already told you once that I wouldn't,” he said, staring at the coffee table. “I swore it to you. You didn't want to believe me.”
She was quiet for a moment, probably thinking back to that fateful day in her apartment when he had laid his heart out at her feet, only to have her stomp on it and kick it away. It was a sore spot for him, but he consoled himself with the fact that she was his now, as well as the sobering discovery that she was afraid of him hurting her. The great irony of the situation was that she was the one with all the power over him; she just didn't realize it.
She shifted in her seat, scooting impossibly closer to him. “So make me believe you,” she challenged him, and closed her eyes.
Inuyasha kissed the top of her head, nuzzling her soft hair. “I'm working on it.”
One such bird fluttered up and landed on his wrought iron patio table, chattering noisily. It was a starling, probably taking up residence in the nearby park. Annoying little things. It eyed him bravely from two feet away, cocking its head to the side as it analyzed his threat level. He watched the bird silently, bringing his sweating rocks glass to his lips and sipping the chilled scotch. He felt the sudden urge to snatch the bird and gut it, to sink his fangs into the scrawny little body, to feel the spurt of warm blood fill his mouth and tear through muscle and tendon, to snap the fine bones and spit out the feathers, to suck the brain out of the skull and use its little feet to pick his teeth.
But he merely sat, and watched as the bird finished its inspection and flew away, joining a cloud of others across the lawn as they swooped up and away to torment someone else.
The encounter added to the frustration he'd been feeling all week, and made him that much more thankful it was finally Friday. It would be three days now before he would see that bitch again, the whore who had so boldly injected herself into his place of work. He clenched his jaw, thinking back to when she had arrived the previous Monday.
“And this is Sesshomaru Taisho, the head of our Contracts and Legal Division,” Mr. Boudreaux said, breezing into the youkai's office. He gave Sesshomaru a hard look, a clear warning to watch what he said, and continued. “I understand you're already acquainted.”
“Yes, we go way back,” Kikyou said, smiling easily. She smoothed the black twill jacket of her skirt suit and winked brazenly at him, out of Mr. Boudreaux's line of sight. “Don't we, Sesshomaru?”
He sat motionless at his desk, staring coldly at the woman who thought much too highly of herself, and inwardly raged at the turn his life had suddenly taken with her reappearance in it. “Ms. Yamamoto,” he greeted icily.
Another warning look from Jack, and then he stepped out, and Sesshomaru knew he would probably be called into the HR Manager's office within the next twenty-four hours. Not surprisingly, Kikyou lingered in the doorway a moment, appraising him coolly, before sauntering away in her sky-high stilettos.
Three hours later, he was still fuming over the interaction from earlier when she waltzed into his office again, unannounced and uninvited. In his uncharacteristic moment of stunned silence, she boldly shut his door and seated herself in his leather guest chair without asking for permission. “Sesshomaru, please allow me to ease your mind,” she began seriously, her characteristic smirk gone for once. “I am not here for you. I told you as much on the phone more than two weeks ago.”
“I know why you're here,” he replied stonily, folding his hands on his desk confidently.
“Then you know this has nothing to do with you,” she said, sitting back in the chair and crossing her legs. He resisted the urge to look down at her exposed thigh.
“He won't take you back,” he declared, getting right to the point. “He's an idiot, but he's not that much of an idiot.”
Her eyes flashed at the insult to her ex-boyfriend, undoubtedly feeling some misplaced sense of duty to defend him, but she wisely didn't address it. “That's not your concern, and it certainly isn't your place to guess. I know him a little better than you, I think.”
“Doubtful.”
She sniffed haughtily. “Well, believe whatever you want. I just wanted you to know you have nothing to worry about. I won't jeopardize your career here with tales from our past.”
“We have no past!” he snapped, baring his fangs.
Kikyou gave him a tolerant look. “Really, Sesshomaru, you mustn't live in such denial. What we had wasn't anything special. One-night stands rarely are. But to deny it ever happened is just plain dumb.”
His eye twitched in irritation, the only outward reaction he would allow. As if he would ever forget his one night of drunken weakness that he still despised himself for. “It is of no consequence. A whore will have no impact on my life, professional or otherwise.”
She snorted, recrossing her legs. “I wasn't the only whore in that bar that night. You didn't need much convincing to follow me home like a lost little puppy.”
His vision bled red at the insult. “You got me drunk!” he roared, gouging his $4,000 desk with deadly claws.
“You got yourself drunk,” she replied smoothly, unperturbed by his behavior. “Did I hold you down and pour liquor down your throat? I couldn't even if I tried.”
Forcing himself to calm down, refusing to show this bitch any more emotion than he already had, he stiffly flattened his hands on his desktop, unlocking his jaw and slowing his breaths. “This meeting is over. Kindly see yourself out.”
She sighed, rising languidly to her feet. “Very well, Sesshomaru. I just wanted to reassure you --”
“You may refer to me as Mr. Taisho,” he corrected crisply.
Her eyes rolled skyward as she flipped her hand dismissively, opening his office door. “Sure thing, Mr. Taisho. See you at the water cooler.”
Sesshomaru sat in the remaining sunlight on his patio, gritting his teeth at the memory of that evil woman getting the last word in on him that day. Even worse was the fact that he remembered scenting Kouga on her as she sat across from him, as well as the resulting mild tingle of possessive jealousy that had run up his spine like cold water. There was no smell of sex, but they had certainly touched one another, even if it was just a handshake, and that was enough to make his hair stand on end. One drunken night of sordid sex did not a relationship make, but his instincts felt otherwise, and the scent of another man on her body--especially one as inferior as ookami youkai--made the primal side of him rear up.
This reaction disgusted him, and he once again cursed his weakness for ever letting the bitch talk him into sex to begin with. But she had found him at the bar that night, sitting alone as he had a few drinks to screw up the courage he had needed to tell his father he was thinking of moving back to Japan. His relationship with his father had not been as tumultuous as Inuyasha's had been, but the man was still cautious to show pride, or even approval, of his eldest son's accomplishments. It was only through his mother that Sesshomaru had learned that his father respected his successes in his career, if not in his marriage to the wind bitch. Kagura had been a blotch on an otherwise admirable resume of life choices, and despite his father's own indiscretions, he had rather judgmentally warned Sesshomaru to be careful with his career, since he had seen fit to ruin his marriage and perhaps couldn't be trusted to make the right decisions when faced with “real men” problems. But he had been happy with Sesshomaru's choice to stay in America because he had assumed it was for a high-paying executive position with a Fortune 500 company. Sesshomaru had never elaborated that he was actually a contract specialist for a rinky-dink publishing company in New Orleans. He was a glorified secretary. The money was still good, but the esteem was not to his father's standards, and he knew it. Worst of all, there was nowhere in the company for him to go, and he tired of southern American culture, with its casual overfamiliarity and redneck ways of life. Not to mention the ungodly amounts of butter and animal fat they put into their food, which wreaked war-like havoc on his digestive system.
No, he had grown weary of his job and his location, and sought to change both, but knew he couldn't do it without his father's begrudging approval. And so, back home on vacation, he had stopped by a bar out of town for some liquid courage. Though he would never admit it aloud (and would gut anyone who suggested it), there was one being in this world that even the mighty Sesshomaru would submit to, and that being was his father. The man was ruthless with his business associates, and if anyone failed to meet his standards, they were fired with haste. He expected the same obedience and efficiency from his sons, and if they disappointed him as well, they may not have been “fired” from the family, but they would be met with the wrath of a scornful father for sullying the Taisho name, a name he had worked tirelessly to build. Inuyasha was learning that the hard way, and Sesshomaru had no intention of repeating his brother's mistake.
He'd been on his third beer when she showed up, seemingly out of nowhere. He knew who she was; she was the bitch his brother was currently fucking, though she smelled suspiciously faint of him now. He pondered that for a millisecond before knocking back the rest of his beer, pushing his glass across the polished wood bar. “Another,” he demanded brusquely.
And then she had approached, as if she had a right to. “Sesshomaru?” she'd asked, genuinely surprised to find him there.
He'd shot her a glare, warning her to back off. She'd brazenly ignored him and seated herself next to him, ordering some fruity drink that almost made him roll his eyes. Her drink had arrived with his, and she'd held hers up in a toast before he'd even reached for his glass. “To your asshole brother,” she'd loudly proclaimed, drawing the attention of everyone in the bar. “May he fuck himself rightly and forget to use lube.” She'd followed that by slurping down half the drink in one breath.
He'd eyed her shrewdly, wondering about her intentions, but couldn't help picking up his frosted beer glass and joining in her mock toast. He wasn't sure what the hanyou had done to piss this bitch off, and he didn't care. But considering the mood he was in, when the opportunity arose to ridicule his foolish half-brother, he didn't see any reason not to partake.
The rest of the evening was a bit of a blur, but he did remember speaking to her at one point, even deigning to agree with her assessment of his priorities. “He must get it from his mother,” he'd slurred at one point before joining her in a shot of tequila.
Her hand had rested boldly on his thigh some time later, and before he could snarl at her to remove it, she'd leaned up and breathed in his ear. “He's nothing like you,” she'd whispered, her breath hot and smelling of drunken cherries. “You know what you're doing. You have your life together. You know how to be in control of your destiny.”
Her words snaked into his brain and further clouded his already buzzing thoughts. If he were just a bit more drunk, he might have laughed outright at how wrong she was at this exact moment, considering the reason he was even in this bar to begin with. Her observation, however wrong it was, had given him a false boost of much-needed confidence. He'd enjoyed the feeling for a brief moment, and Kikyou, probably sensing her victory, had taken the opportunity to glide her manicured fingers up the inside of his thigh to the member already twitching to life between his legs. “I bet those little piss-ants who work for you nearly shit themselves when you come around the corner,” she'd murmured into his ear. “They know a man in charge when they see one.”
It had been years since he'd allowed a woman to touch him so intimately, and the combination of alcohol, his self-pity, her words, and those wicked fingers squeezing his growing erection through his slacks had forced the common sense from his brain. He swallowed another shot as she continued manipulating him in every way, then motioned for the bartender. “I want to settle up,” he'd said, reaching for his wallet. If the bitch wanted to fuck, then he would give her the fucking of a lifetime.
Sesshomaru closed his eyes to the memory, not willing to relive the foggy images of that night. She'd manipulated him, all right, and now he had to live with the fact that he'd fucked a human woman in a colossal moment of weakness. The fact that she was attached to Inuyasha at the time complicated matters even further, and for one brief moment in time, he had feared his brother's reaction should he discover their illicit meeting, not to mention their father's wrath when he inevitably found out as well. But the bitch was foolish enough to actually want to be with Inuyasha, so he had allowed himself to relax, safe in the knowledge that she wouldn't confess their crime to the hanyou.
However, it remained a severe blow to his ego that he could have lowered himself to such a deplorable act, and whatever courage he had gathered to speak with this father had vanished by the morning after, when he lay on the rumpled sheets of the king-sized bed, panicking slightly at what had happened. She had left by that point, thank the Kami, but it didn't lessen his sin. He had dressed hurriedly and left the hotel, his brain uncharacteristically scattered even if his demeanor didn't show it. `I cannot ask to come back now,' he'd realized, maintaining a cool façade as he gracefully climbed into his rented car. `I will have to make do in that shit-hole of a city for now.'
And now, here he was, five months later, letting the scotch glide down his throat as he entertained thoughts of gutting the whore who had entered his life for the second time. She said she wasn't there for him, and he believed her, but the taiyoukai that lay within him simmered at the thought of her bedding any other man after he had taken her. These instincts disgusted him, but held sway over him regardless. And the scent of Kouga on her skin all week had done nothing to soothe his rumpled fur.
Of course, there were other factors at play for this possessive reaction.
`The baby….'
“Mr. Taisho, hello!”
He raised his head at the sound of the little girl's voice, nodding slightly in response as his dark thoughts lifted away like fog. His neighbors had a four-year-old girl named Rebecka, who was a nice enough girl, if not a bit annoying. She loved him for some reason, though he suspected it was his hair since she always wanted to touch it and was always commenting on how “pretty” it was.
Grumbling under his breath, he watched her run up to the fence separating their yards, giggling all the while. She stumbled once, falling to her hands and knees in the grass, but she shouted, “I'm okay!” and jumped up again. She made it to the fence without further incident and wedged her foot in the bottom rail, hoisting herself up to peek her head over the top rail, smiling toothily at him. “Are you having a good day, Mr. Taisho?” she shouted unnecessarily loudly from merely ten feet away.
He forced a fake grin for her benefit, nodding. “Yes, I'm having a good day, Rebecka,” he lied.
She giggled again, bouncing up and down a little where she stood on the fence, biting her bottom lip. Sesshomaru mentally sighed and put down his glass. “And how is your day?” he finally asked, giving in.
“I'm having a great day!” she blurted out, unable to contain her enthusiasm. “Mommy made lemon squares! Do you want one?”
“No, thank you,” he replied, suppressing a grimace.
Her face fell then, devastated at his refusal. He observed her crestfallen expression and bit back another sigh. “Yes, Rebecka, may I please have a lemon square?” he asked flatly.
She beamed at him again. “Yes! Yes, I'll go get one!” She jumped back off the fence, losing her balance and falling to her behind with a heavy thud. “I'm okay!” she shouted again, scrambling to her feet, and made a beeline for the house. A wild, giggling mess of skinny legs and whipping light brown hair.
Sesshomaru sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and awaited the inevitable return of the child with the treat. It would be hours before he realized the girl had distracted him from his brooding about the whore at work.
***
She arrived, but later than he suspected she would.
*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*
His attention slid to his apartment door, sensing Kagome on the other side. He stayed seated on his couch, pulling another long drink from his beer bottle, and hesitated for a moment. He had mixed feelings about her presence, but he knew he'd be a fool to think she'd let him sulk alone for very long. `I had to open my fat fucking mouth at dinner last week!'
She knocked again insistently, and he sighed. “It's open,” he finally called out, staring down at the bottle in his hand.
The door opened, revealing his girlfriend, who looked a bit miffed. `Great,' he thought sarcastically, taking another gulp.
“You've been avoiding me all week,” she began, stepping inside and shutting the door. “And now I see you're just sitting here by yourself, getting drunk.”
“Thanks for the summary,” he grumbled, not looking up at her.
He could feel her temper flare, and braced himself for an explosion, but none came. After a half-minute of tense silence, she approached and seated herself next to him on the couch, perched on the edge as if poised for retreat. “Want to tell me what's going on?” she asked in a voice much softer than he expected, though he could sense she was holding herself back.
He gritted his teeth, knowing he had indeed been avoiding her all week, as well as his other friends, and that he couldn't do it forever. But locking himself up in practice rooms and coming home to drink until he fell asleep had been much more appealing than facing her inevitable questions regarding his old man, so that was what he had done. But now it was Friday night, and she wasn't going to let him start the weekend without talking to her. A part of him was grateful to her for it, but another part of him just wanted to be left alone.
“Look, I get that you don't want to talk about this,” she said, reading his thoughts, “but you already know that I've been through something like this, too, and… and I know that not talking about it only makes it worse,” she finished quietly.
He swallowed thickly, still not looking at her, but knowing he needed to say something. “It's old news,” he finally settled on, and left it at that.
“It's not that old,” she argued, inching closer to him on the couch. “Not if you're beating yourself up like this.”
“I'm not beating myself up,” he lied, shredding the wrapper on the bottle.
“Come on, Inuyasha. I want to help you. If you're not ready to talk about it, that's fine. I can just sit here and be with you.”
“I don't need a babysitter, Kagome,” he snapped, his mouth going on autopilot.
She was quiet again for several seconds, probably a little stunned at his use of her given name, and he chanced a look at her face. She looked upset; worried, but not angry. It irritated him for some reason, and he slouched deeper into his seat, scowling.
She reached for his hand, the one still picking bits of wrapper from the beer bottle, and he let her take it and pull it onto her knee, holding it with both of hers. They were warm and soft, and his chest tightened inexplicably at her touch. “I know what you're doing. Don't push me away,” she whispered, threading her fingers with his.
His heart started pounding, and he looked at her again, suddenly scared and not knowing why. Was he pushing her away? Was he in danger of losing her, after all he had done to win her in the first place? The thought terrified him, making his chest ache more than the memory of his father's death had, and he swallowed the knot in his throat as he watched her watch him. Her eyes were wide and glistening, her lips slightly parted, the desperation evident on her face as she struggled to figure out what he was thinking. He had an abrupt rush of anxiety at the realization that she was scared of losing him as well, and he acted without thinking.
Lurching forward, he grabbed her face and slammed his lips against hers, hoping to reassure them both with the force of his kiss alone. She squeaked in surprise, but recovered swiftly and responded aggressively, snaking her hands up the back of his neck and immediately opening her mouth to him. He felt her fingers tangle in his hair, gripping it and pulling with an air of propriety he was quickly growing accustomed to, and he crushed her body to his to return the sentiment, losing himself in the feel of her, the taste of her. The kiss was vicious, desperate, and spoke less of sexual desire and more of something deeper that he knew was building between them, something he hadn't thought he would ever want again. The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying, and he buried his anxiety over it into the demanding press of his mouth against hers.
She moaned softly, unintentionally, and stroked her tongue against his canines, making him shudder. He felt the pull, the spell that she had cast on him, and as his hands ran up and down the length of her back, he knew that whatever hold she had on him was a real, controlling, possessive thing. This petite woman owned him, all of him, and he'd be damned if he could resent her for it. She was his light in the darkness, his salvation and his cure, and he suddenly realized without a shred of doubt that she was the reason the Kami brought him to Baton Rouge.
The scent of salt hit his nose, and he pulled back just in time to see the first tear spill over and run down her soft cheek. Taking a deep breath, he stayed his desire and swiped his thumb across her cheekbone, cupping her face. “Please don't cry,” he pleaded, looking into her watery eyes.
“I can't lose you,” she choked out, sniffling as another tear fell. “Not now. Not over something like this.”
He couldn't help but chuckle a little at the irony as he tucked her hair behind her ear. “Feh. You're not gonna be the one to lose me, girl. You don't have to worry about that.”
She read his meaning and grabbed his hand, holding it in both of hers. “I'm yours, Inuyasha. I'm not going anywhere, either. So stop pushing me away.” Her eyes flashed as she finished, still spilling hot tears and wetting her cheeks.
“I know. I'm sorry. Don't cry,” he said again, kissing her softly. She nodded silently, and he pulled her into a hug, holding her close. `She's still mine,' he assured himself, dropping his nose into her sweet-smelling hair. `But I shouldn't have ignored her all week.'
As if reading his thoughts once again, she pulled back a little and looked up at him, frowning. “Did you feel like you couldn't tell me?”
He sighed, scrubbing a clawed hand down his face. Where to begin? “It's not something I love to share,” he began lamely.
Her brows furrowed. “You don't think I understand that?” she asked peevishly.
“I know you do,” he said, and shifted so he was seated normally on the couch, keeping an arm around her shoulders like an anchor. He shook his head, looking for the words he needed to explain to her. “I don't want you to… I just, I feel weak. And I guess I don't know why.”
She rested her hand on his knee. “Do you think I'm weak?” she asked.
He balked. “No!”
“Then why would you think you're weak?” she tried to reason with him.
“Look, it's different,” he insisted, though he unconsciously squeezed her shoulders for support. “It's a different situation than yours, with different circumstances, and it's different….” `...for men,' he finished mentally.
“So tell me about it,” she begged him, then quickly added, “if you want to. Please, Inuyasha. I just want you to know that you can talk to me whenever you're ready. But don't push me away.”
He looked at her again, noting her clear brown eyes watching him closely, her fingers squeezing his knee comfortingly. His heart tightened, and once again, he heard something whisper in his mind that she meant something deep to him, something that he hadn't expected or been prepared for. Something that had been worth waiting for, worth all of the shit he'd gone through to get to this moment, in this apartment, on this couch, sitting with her. Something that he thought he'd had with someone else, but he knew now to be so much different from this. This thing, with this woman, this fiery, tenacious, beautiful woman, and how it would unman him if he were to ever lose it. How it would kill him.
The hell if he was going to risk that.
Taking a deep breath, he slowly let it out, gripped her shoulders a little tighter, and slowly put the words together. “My father died in June,” he said, and was briefly puzzled by how easy it was to say now. “He was mugged and killed by a lowlife piece of scum in midtown when he was out for a walk. The fucker got the jump on him somehow and demanded his wallet. That's what the witnesses said, anyway,” he added, staring blindly at the coffee table in front of them. “The old man refused, of course, and the guy shot him eight times. Eight times,” he said, shaking his head at the memory of the police report. “For a fucking wallet.”
“Oh, my God,” Kagome whispered, leaning into him.
“It was theorized the fucker knew who he was, that he recognized him, maybe,” he continued. “He was well known in the Tokyo business world, and his face was in the paper sometimes. My family has money.” He paused, glancing at her. “A lot of money. And people know it.”
Kagome dropped her eyes, her face unreadable, but she squeezed his knee again.
“So he died,” he said, and took another deep breath, preparing to face his true demons. “But that's not all.”
She looked at him again, waiting for him to continue.
“The reason he was out walking… the reason he died… is because of me.” He stopped a moment, the words catching in his throat, and gathered his thoughts again. “We'd gotten in another fight. An argument about me, and what I wanted to do. He hated that I was studying music. He had been hassling me a lot lately about it, but this was a pretty bad one.” He gritted his teeth. “He wanted me to `do something' with my life. To be more like him and Sesshomaru, basically. And then he brought up my ex, implying I was the reason we weren't together anymore.”
Kagome squirmed a bit, and he looked down at her, noticing her curiosity. “More on that later,” he growled, his blood boiling just at the thought of that bitch. She nodded, and he continued. “When he went there, I got pissed, and we went back and forth a few times. I mouthed off a little to him, and he smacked me a couple times, and --”
“What?!” she shrieked, horrified.
He shook his head, holding her tighter. “No love lost between us, wench. I loved him because I was expected to, and I can't say much more for him than that.” He kissed the top of her head, and her lips tightened as she bit her tongue. “It escalated, and I thought he was really going to lay into me, but he just walked out. To keep from killing me, probably,” he added, laughing humorlessly at the irony. “So he left. Went for a walk to cool off. It wasn't the first time it happened, but this was the first time I yelled back like that. I was scared for a minute. There was no way I'd be able to fight him off if he really wanted to do something to me.”
Kagome shuddered, burrowing into his side and snaking her arms around his waist, holding him tightly. “And then he was killed,” she concluded, her voice muffled by his shirt.
“And then he was killed,” he said, holding her tighter. He could smell her tears again, and he bit the inside of his cheek, finding himself more upset by her crying than the story itself. He pondered that for a moment, wondering why it was so easy to talk about it now, with her. The guilt was still there--it probably always would be--but a weight had been lifted as soon as he started the story, and that weight was solid and real. He literally felt lighter, more free than he had in months, and he knew who the cause of that was: the petite woman in his arms, crying for him, wetting his shirt with fat, hot tears for what he had gone through. `She feels the same for me as I do for her,' he suddenly knew, his brain a jumbled mess.
“I'm sorry,” she mumbled, and he didn't know if she was apologizing for his father's death or for crying. “I'm so, so sorry. That's awful.”
“It is what it is,” he said, repeating what he'd told himself time and time again over the summer when he didn't want to think about it. “There's nothing I can do about it now.”
“You blame yourself,” she observed, squeezing him.
Unsure how to respond to that, Inuyasha remained quiet, his thoughts darkening again.
“I understand why. But it wasn't your fault.”
“Feh. He wouldn't have been out there in the first place if I hadn't --”
“And Hojo wouldn't have gone speeding down my street if I hadn't broken up with him,” she interrupted, raising her head to look him in the eye. “Bad shit happens in life, Inuyasha. A lot of it. And it's not our fault. We do things and make choices and say what we say, and the dominos fall where they do. But there are other factors at play that aren't within our means to control. An evil man took your father's life. Hojo drove recklessly and ran a red light in heavy traffic. These are not things we have any say over!”
Inuyasha stared at her, dumbstruck at her emotion.
“And I know I'm being kind of a hypocrite right now, but you have to accept the fact that his death was not your fault. If you don't, the guilt will eat you alive from the inside out, and I hate the thought of that happening to you,” she continued tearfully. “I should know. I dealt with it for years. And I gave someone the power to use it against me.”
He growled, remembering that day in the parking lot in front of her apartment. `Fucking wolf. If I ever see him again….'
“Which he wouldn't have been able to do if I had done what I'm telling you to do now,” she said, running her hand down his rough cheek. “Despite everyone telling me it wasn't my fault, I just refused to accept it. And the toll it took on me was devastating. I won't let that happen to you, Inuyasha.” She paused, making sure she had his attention. “You knew what I had gone through. You knew it pretty early on; before our first date, anyway. You should have known you could talk to me about your father instead of burying it away and letting it haunt you.”
He frowned. “I thought about it, when we were at Parrain's and you asked me about moving from Tokyo. But I didn't want to dump that on you.”
Kagome sighed heavily, hinting at her frustration. “I know you want to shield me. You want me to know I can depend on you, to know that you'll protect me. I get it, I really do. But this is a two-way street, Taisho. I'm much more inclined to trust you with my feelings when I know you're willing to share yours with me. That includes your vulnerabilities as well.”
“Keh! I'm not vulnerable!” he argued, looking away petulantly.
“Okay, bad word choice,” she amended. He could almost hear her eyes rolling. “But you know what I mean. I know we've only been together a few weeks, but --”
“Three weeks today, officially,” he said, surprising himself that he knew so readily. `But it feels like I've known you forever.'
Kagome smiled softly, taking his hand again. “It's not very long,” she specified. “But I feel like this is real, more real than I've ever felt with anyone before. And if it is real, and if we want this to work, then you need to know you can talk to me about anything.” She tipped his chin toward her, making eye contact again. “You're hurting from this. Let me help you.”
His chest tightened at her words. He swiped his thumb across her cheek, feeling something deep inside him crack open, releasing some of the pressure that had built up there over the last several months. “You already are,” he whispered, not trusting his voice.
She fell into him, kissing him soundly. He held her tight against him and let her control it, knowing what this was and wanting her to know he trusted her. She pulled back before too long and dropped to his side again, hugging his middle and resting her head on his shoulder. He could feel her emotions rolling off her body, surrounding him with acceptance and a purity that was almost frightening in its intensity. Yes, she was helping him, and more than she knew. She was healing him from much more than the pain of his father's death. He distantly wondered if he'd ever work up the courage to tell her. `One step at a time,' he coached himself.
“No more secrets between us,” she said, keeping her head down. “We agreed to that, didn't we?”
He thought back to their conversation on her sofa, after getting the shit kicked out of him by that fucking wolf. “That was different.”
“Maybe. But if you're going to keep something from me, let it be because you're just not ready to share it yet. I can understand that. Not because you don't want to burden me.”
He nodded his assent, pulling her tight against him. They sat quietly, letting the silence wrap around their bodies as they comforted each other. Her presence, though he had been dreading it all week, was warm, solid proof that the Kami wanted him to be happy. He liked the idea of that, and allowed himself a small smile, thanking whoever was listening for sending this woman to his apartment tonight.
She looked up suddenly from the crook of his arm. “What about the guy? The guy who killed your father? Was he convicted?”
Inuyasha chuckled humorlessly, shaking his head. “He was caught and arrested, but he never made it to trial.”
“No?”
“No. Sesshomaru saw to that,” he said, a sliver of respect finding its way into his voice.
Kagome shivered then--probably an appropriate response to that news--and huddled back under his arm. More time passed in comfortable silence, the minutes ticking by. He idly wondered what his father would think of her, but he dismissed that thought almost as immediately as it had come up. She probably wouldn't have been good enough for him for the same reason Inuyasha wasn't, given her musical ambitions. That realization angered him more than what was probably logical, but he held her tighter anyway, wanting to protect her from the cynical judgment of a dead man.
“What about your mother?” she asked abruptly, looking into his eyes. “Is she alive?”
He shifted in his seat, his ear twitching. “My mother died when I was young. Cancer. I don't really remember her much.”
“That's horrible,” she said, frowning. Her eyes flashed suddenly. “Wait, so your father raised you by himself? It didn't sound he like was Father of the Year.”
“No, he and his wife raised me. Sesshomaru's mom. She treated me well enough, but I was never really hers, and she saw to it that I remembered that whenever I got out of line.”
“His wife? But your mom --”
“My old man cheated on his wife with my mom,” he explained, picking at lint with his claws. “She worked for his company, an accountant or something. They had an affair, and I was the product of it.”
She closed her eyes and didn't say anything else, probably not knowing what she could say.
“After I was born, my mom raised me until she was too sick to take care of me. I'm not sure when she was diagnosed, but she died when I was three. My old man took me into his home and had to tell my stepmom that I was his kid. The shit really hit the fan then, but she wasn't about to turn a child away. She wasn't that cruel.”
Kagome bit her lip. “It sounds like you don't know a lot about your mother.”
“All I know is what Nashi told me. She'd met her a few times at family functions put on by my dad's company. But he never spoke of her. Nashi thought that he might have loved her,” he recalled, his thoughts trailing.
“I find it odd that she stayed with him, honestly,” she said. “I mean, he did cheat on her.”
He shrugged. “That's just the way it is with youkai. Once they're married, that's it. There are rarely divorces. The few who do get divorced are disgraced,” he said, remembering the fallout after his brother's failed marriage. “It's considered shameful to split up. It means you're weak. Doesn't matter if your marriage sucks; vows are serious. More serious than they are with humans, anyway.”
She got quiet again, digesting all of the information he'd given her. Realizing he didn't know anything about her parents, he rubbed her arm a little more. “What about you? Are your parents still alive?”
“My mom,” she replied quietly, as if ashamed to admit it after hearing his story. “She's back in Kyoto with my kid brother. He starts high school next year. She calls every once in a while and nags me about not being in touch enough,” she said, then flinched against his shoulder. “Sorry. I shouldn't complain.”
“It's all right,” he said, and squeezed her, hoping to make her smile. “If she's as big of a pain in the ass as you are, I don't blame you for complaining about her.”
Her head shot up and she gave him a mock glare, trying to look mad and failing. “Watch it, Taisho,” she threatened, her smile breaking through.
He grinned, thankful he could cheer her up, even if it was just a little. “And your dad?” he asked.
Her smile fell. “He died when I was young, like your mother. But in a car accident.”
He nuzzled her hair. “I'm sorry.”
“Don't be. It was a long time ago,” she said. “I do have some memories of him, but they're faint now. He showed me something in a book one time, and I remember being really excited about it, but I have no idea what it was. And one time he was carrying me on his shoulders, and my mom was laughing from her rocking chair. Souta had just been born, I think. She was nursing him at the time.” She smiled softly at the memory.
He nodded, picturing the scene that she set. Kagome as a little girl, surrounded by two loving parents and a baby brother. He expected to feel jealousy, as he often did when he heard of such stories from other friends and girlfriends he'd known, but he was pleasantly surprised to realize it made him happy, knowing she had known something other than grief in her life. His reaction only confirmed his feelings for her, and once again, he smiled, holding her close.
“Are you okay?” she asked suddenly, squeezing his midsection.
“Yeah,” he replied, surprised that it was the truth. “You?”
She nodded against his shoulder. “Yeah. Thank you for telling me. I know it wasn't easy.”
“It was easier than I thought it would be, actually,” he said honestly, then hesitated before admitting, “You're the first person I really talked to about it.”
She raised her head, looking him in the eyes. “I get it,” she said, and he knew she meant it. “And I'm honored.”
He searched her face, tracing her cheekbone with his thumb, and looked for some indication that she knew how he felt about her, that she understood without him having to say it. He had never been great with words; they got him in trouble more than saving him most of his life. `How did we get here?' he asked himself for not the first time, running the back of his claw against her bottom lip. `How did we come this far in such a short time? What magic do you have over me?' He didn't know the answers, but he knew that she had become a necessity in his life, something he needed to survive, like water and air. But he didn't want to just survive: he wanted to live, and he wanted to do it with her by his side.
He noted the time out of the corner of his eye. “It's late. I don't want you driving home tonight.” He paused, making sure he had her attention. “Stay with me,” he said, not just meaning for the night.
She nodded, her eyes wide and serious. “I will,” she promised softly. Her small hand rose to cup his cheek, her sweet breath fanning his lips. “I will,” she said again, stressing her words more confidently, leaving no room for doubt that she understood his deeper meaning.
He smiled, relief flooding through his body at her answer. He felt the demanding need to kiss her, to seal whatever sort of pact they had just entered into with something tangible, something that was more than words; something that could be felt.
She beat him to the punch and kissed him instead, softly, gently, and pulled away all too soon. “We're a pair, aren't we?” she said, smiling sadly.
“Feh. Shit happens,” he said, but silently agreed with her. He felt a sudden determination to make sure nothing could ever hurt her again, his chest filling with hot fury at the thought of anyone causing her pain, intentional or otherwise.
“So we're done drinking for tonight, right?” she asked hopefully.
He shook away his brooding. “Yeah, I'm done. Are you hungry? I could order a pizza.”
“Not really.” She moved toward him again, and he automatically raised his arm to tuck her against his side. “I just want to be here with you,” she admitted softly, snuggling into him.
“Fine with me,” he said, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. He closed his eyes, and with all they had shared tonight, her body close and her scent in his nose, he felt more at ease than he had in years. Perhaps ever. `She's bringing me peace,' he realized, tightening his hold on her. She hummed in contentment and nuzzled his shoulder, her breath warm on his collarbone. `I can't lose her. No matter what happens -- I cannot lose her.'
She shifted slightly under the weight of his arm. “You never told me about your ex,” she mumbled sleepily.
His thoughts grew dark at the mere mention of her, and as much as he didn't want to lose this feeling he had right now with Kagome, he knew she probably wasn't going to let it go. Working his jaw tightly, he sighed heavily. “We dated for almost four years,” he began.
Kagome's head rose, suddenly fully awake. “Four years?” she asked, surprised. “Was it serious?”
He looked away uncomfortably. “We were living together, and….” `Don't hold back now,' he told himself, taking a deep breath. “And I was thinking of asking her to marry me.”
She blinked, her lips parted.
He trudged on, determined to get it over with. “We'd only been living together for a few months when I started noticing the change in her. I guess she didn't think I was really planning on staying in music, but she figured it out, and didn't like it. Kind of like my old man,” he added, gritting his teeth. “Her family was rich, and that was important to her. We started fighting a lot, about everything, really, but mostly about my music. It got nasty one night, and she left. Said she needed to `think things over.' I have no idea where she went, but she was gone for weeks. I assumed she went to her parents' house, but she wouldn't answer any of my calls, and when I went to their house to look for her, they wouldn't help me one way or the other.” He sneered. “I was never good enough for them, and I don't think it was just because of my music.”
Kagome put a hand on his chest, instantly calming him. He grabbed her hand and held it tightly, letting her touch soothe his soul. `She is good for me,' he realized again.
After a minute, he continued. “So I was just about ready to accept that she wasn't coming back when she showed up. I'll never forget it: she was bawling her eyes out, telling me what a mistake it had been to leave. But there was something in her scent that was different, and it took me a while to figure it out, but as soon as I did, she confirmed it. She was pregnant.”
Kagome reeled back in shock. “Pregnant? Was it…?”
“It wasn't mine,” he assured her, pulling her close again. “I assumed it was at first, just out of ignorant stupidity, thinking she would never have cheated on me. But then my brain caught up. There was no way I was the father: we hadn't had sex at all in the last month she was living with me, and she sure as hell wasn't pregnant when she left.”
Her eyes dropped at the mention of sex, clearly uncomfortable with the thought of him sleeping with someone else. There was nothing he could do for that, so he just held her tight and continued on. “Once I figured out the baby wasn't mine, I kicked her out. She tried to say I was the father, and I'm sorry, but a small part of me wanted to hit her. She cheated on me, and she had the fucking nerve to show back up and say I knocked her up. I would never hit a woman,” he stressed, noticing Kagome's quiet look, “much less a pregnant woman. I just couldn't believe what she was saying. She must have thought I was a fucking idiot.” He stopped again, feeling himself get heated over the encounter all over again. He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.
“Did you ever find out who it was?” Kagome asked softly.
“Feh. If I did, the fucker wouldn't be alive right now,” he spat disdainfully. “No, I didn't know, and now, it doesn't matter. She's out of my life. I kicked her the hell out, and that was it. I haven't seen or heard from her since. I don't know if she had the baby, and I don't care. She's not my problem anymore.”
She looked into his eyes again, probably wanting to make sure he was telling the truth. He let her look, having nothing else to hide. It was true: he was over it. The only thing he felt regarding her was pity for the poor bastard she was currently fucking, whoever that was. And he was sure it was somebody; a woman as beautiful as her didn't stay single. But as soon as the guy figured out what a bitch and a whore she was, he'd dump her, too, if he was smart. And then she'd find someone else to terrorize.
Kagome sighed, bringing his attention back to the present. “I'm sorry you went through that,” she said, apparently satisfied from what she found in her perusal. “She sounds horrible. When was all this?”
Inuyasha squirmed. “Right before my old man died.”
She closed her eyes, leaning her head on his shoulder again. “Inuyasha,” she said, sympathizing.
He drew strength from her touch. “It's part of my past,” he said, just now realizing that was true. `Maybe I can move on now. With you….'
“My problems seem pretty paltry compared to yours,” she mumbled, embarrassed.
“It's not a contest, wench,” he said, hoping to lighten the mood. “I don't have any problems now. I'm coping with my dad. Because of you, I think.”
She smiled, hugging his middle again.
“And Kikyou is a world away, making some poor sap miserable in Tokyo,” he finished, feeling no remorse whatsoever.
“I'm glad,” she said, a sudden edge to her voice. “It's better for her that way. I'd hate to have to mess up her pretty little face. And maybe her neck.”
He chuckled to himself, briefly allowing himself to picture that fantasy. “Keh. I believe you would.”
They sat in silence for several moments longer, and he allowed her heartbeat to lull him into a light doze, feeling completely at peace with himself. When was the last time he had felt like this? `Years,' he figured, breathing in her calming scent as his conscious mind started to slip away, just before her soft voice brought him back abruptly.
“Don't hurt me.”
His heart nearly stopped at her words, for reasons he couldn't understand. It took him nearly half a minute to grasp the meaning of what she had said, and when he finally did, he wanted to pull her into his body to protect her from the world. “I already told you once that I wouldn't,” he said, staring at the coffee table. “I swore it to you. You didn't want to believe me.”
She was quiet for a moment, probably thinking back to that fateful day in her apartment when he had laid his heart out at her feet, only to have her stomp on it and kick it away. It was a sore spot for him, but he consoled himself with the fact that she was his now, as well as the sobering discovery that she was afraid of him hurting her. The great irony of the situation was that she was the one with all the power over him; she just didn't realize it.
She shifted in her seat, scooting impossibly closer to him. “So make me believe you,” she challenged him, and closed her eyes.
Inuyasha kissed the top of her head, nuzzling her soft hair. “I'm working on it.”
********************************************
A/N: Rebecka may be interpreted as my homage to
Rin (but she is not Rin).