InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Metempsychosis ❯ Denial ( Chapter 36 )

'We should probably get back to the house soon . . .'

Ashur ignored the musings of his youkai-voice, pulling Jessa a little closer, savoring the feel of her body, still holding his so tightly.

'Yeah, and we should probably pull out, too . . . I mean, you're pushing it, coming twice in those things, but three times?  You can't do it . . . It won't hold.'

'Shut up and let me savor this just a little longer,' he retorted.

His youkai voice heaved a disapproving sigh that he summarily ignored.

Jessa giggled suddenly.  He grimaced as the chain reaction shot straight to his cock.  "You're so clever, Ashur Philips," she murmured, her eyes still closed, her cheeks still flushed from their lovemaking.

He smiled rather vaguely, flicking the pad of his thumb over her still-swollen nipple, unleashing a riot of gooseflesh on her.  "You think so?"

"Mmm . . ."

He kissed her cheek.

She sighed, but it was a contented sound.  "What's that mean?" she asked suddenly, turning her shoulders in an effort to see his face, but she didn't move from the waist down—she never did, come to think of it, not if it meant that he would slip out of her . . .

He arched an eyebrow.  "What does what mean?"

"What you called me," she said, her already rosy cheeks darkening just a little.  "Amarat—something?"

"Amaterasu," he repeated.  "She is the Japanese goddess of the sun."

"Amaterasu . . ." She considered that for a moment, then smiled.  "I like that . . ."

"Mmm . . ." He tucked her a little closer, sheltered her as near to him as he could, allowing himself this lazy idyll, savoring the feeling of being so very close to her.

"So, if I'm your Amaterasu, what are you?" she asked.

"Me?  I'm nothing," he replied.  He felt her back stiffen slightly, and he tightened his grip before she could try to move away.  "I don't mean it like that," he said.  "I'm just not a god or a deity . . . But I can be whatever you want me to be for you."

She relaxed against him.  "Whatever I want . . .?"

"Yeah."

She let her head fall against his forearm again, snuggling against him a little more, savoring the warmth of his body, he supposed.  "Then . . . can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he replied, reaching up to stroke her hair, mesmerized by the rich color of the single strands, the way they lent her a feeling of shadows and light . . .

Jessa cleared her throat, seemed to be deliberating something for a moment.  "That woman in the restaurant," she finally said.  "Who . . .? Who is she?"

And just like that, the moment shattered.  Grimacing as he heaved a sigh, Ashur carefully withdrew from her, sat up with a scowl as he carefully pulled off the spent condom.

He didn't answer as he dug a hole and buried it, said nothing as he got up and strode into the water to wash himself off.  Turning his head just far enough to see her, he grimaced when she sat up, brought up her knees, wrapping her arms around her legs as her hair fell over her.

Even so, he took his time as he rinsed off before finally striding out of the water once more, before returning to her to sit down, to give her the answer she deserved, even if he really wasn't sure just how much of it he could stand to tell her . . .

"Her name is . . . is Hana.  She was my oldest friend—my best friend—my, uh . . .  my only friend—for a very long time . . ."

Jessa didn't seem at all surprised by his admission.  "But she . . . She's not anymore . . .?"

He shook his head.  "No, she's not.  Things happened, and . . ." Dragging his hands through his hair, he shrugged.  "Things I can't forgive her for, and I can't . . . I can't help the way I feel . . ."  He flinched, sighed.  "She—"

Jessa's hand on his arm cut him off, and when he glanced up, he saw the sadness in her gaze, felt it in her aura.  "She hurt you," she murmured.  "I'm sorry I asked . . ."

He let out a deep breath, stretched out on his side and pulled her down next to him.  "Don't be sorry," he told her.  "It's just a long, messed up story, and I . . . I wouldn't even know where to begin or how to explain it to you."

She nodded, tangling her fingers in his hair.  "Maybe you'll tell me someday," she said, managing a small smile that he knew was solely for his own benefit.

He didn't reply, but he kissed her: a gentle, sweet thing that she accepted for what it was, even as he heard the whispers in the back of his mind, the understanding that he was being a coward, that he was entirely selfish in accepting her acquiescence because it was easier than laying the truth out at her feet . . .

As they neared the edge of the tree line, Jessa stopped, tugging on Ashur's hand to draw his attention.  He turned to raise an eyebrow at her.  "Something wrong?"

She made a face, glancing down at her clothes—or lack thereof since she'd put her bra and panties back on, along with the sweater since it hung to mid-thigh, but she hadn't put the riding pants on again—they were still way too damp to even attempt it. Ashur wasn't much better, given that he no longer had a shirt since she'd burned it, and his pants were horribly rumpled and wet and basically ruined . . . Add to that, the disheveled hair—if his looked entirely unkempt, she didn't even want to think about the state of hers, and . . . She grimaced.  Well, they looked entirely suspect.

She shook her head.  "I can't take Stardust back to the stable—not when I look like this!" she grumbled.

He chuckled.  "What you look like?  Well, to be honest, you look like you've been well and truly fu—"

"Don't finish that!" she cut in, unable to staunch the blush that shot to the fore as she smashed her hand over his mouth.

He chuckled and pulled her hand down, kissing her fingers before letting go.  "Well, you do."

She groaned, and he relented, taking the reins from her.  "Can you sneak in through your balcony?"

She considered that and then nodded.  "But what about you?"

He shrugged.  "I'll tell them the truth.  You burned my shirt off, got me soaking wet, then had your way with me."

She gasped, but narrowed her eyes when she realized that he was joking.  "You're impossible," she grumbled as she started to stomp away.

He pulled her back, kissed her soundly, then swatted her gently on the rear.  "The coast is clear.  You'd better run now."

She spared a moment to cast him an entirely coy sort of look before breaking into a sprint, directly toward the balcony.

She didn't breathe until she'd reached the relative sanctuary of her room, but one glance in the mirror over her bureau made her groan out loud.  She still had bits of grass, tangled in her hair, and her face was flushed and fevered-looking . . . There was a wild sort of glint in her eyes, a few smudges of dirt, still staining her skin.  Dropping her clothes on the floor to deal with later, she hurried into the bathroom to shower.

The steaming water felt good, especially after the comparatively cold water of the pond.  Being a fire-youkai, she supposed, she felt those variances in temperature far more acutely than most others did—or so she’d been told.  In any case, she leaned back, let the hot water flow over her as she let out a deep breath, a quiet moan.

Just the memory of Ashur, of his hands, of his body, was nearly her undoing.  Running her hands up over her skin, she grimaced, willing away those thoughts before she ended up, trying to find another reason to closet herself away with him . . .

She sighed, reaching for the shampoo as she shook her head.  Just what was that man doing to her, anyway?  She was a lady, wasn't she?  Ladies weren't supposed to have sex on the brain like she did . . .

"He's ruining me," she muttered, but giggled a moment later.  'Well, if I'm going to be ruined, that's a bloody good way to go . . .'

'Your darling ma would be turning over in her grave if she could hear you now, Jessamyn O'Shea,' her youkai lamented.

'Hmm . . . That's Amaterasu, goddess of the sun, to you.'

Her youkai heaved a long-suffering sigh, and by the time Jessa had finished her shower and brushed her teeth, she was feeling much more like her old self again.

Since she felt like going out and training a little, she grabbed a pair of shorts and a slightly oversized tee-shirt, but grimaced when she tried to run a brush through her hair. Somehow, she'd managed to get a few more tangles in it than usual, and the resulting mess of it was more than she wanted to deal with.  Rifling through her drawers for a pair of scissors that she knew well enough that she didn't have, she heaved a sigh, dragging it all over her shoulder as she headed for the door.

She could hear the television in the living room, blaring out some cartoon or another, and she poked her head around the corner, smiling to herself when she spotted Kells, sitting on the sofa with a box of Chex cereal.  Not exactly the best meal, but she hadn't thought to make breakfast this morning before she'd taken off on Stardust.

But she had seen a pair of shears in the kitchen, so that's where she headed next.

She had just gathered her hair together and was ready to lop the length of it off, when a very loud curse made her turn as a pair of large hands yanked the scissors out of her grasp.  "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Ashur growled as he tossed the scissors on top of the cabinets that lined the wall, well out of Jessa’s immediate reach.

She wrinkled her nose.  "My hair's all tangled.  I was going to cut it off."

"The hell you will!" he retorted, looking like she'd just said the craziest thing that he could think of.

She rolled her eyes.  "It'll be back by tomorrow morning," she pointed out.  "It's easier to cut it off than to get a brush through it."

He snorted, crossing his arms over his chest—he still hadn't changed his clothes yet.  "Where's your brush?"

"In my room."

He grunted.  "Go get it.  I'll brush it out."

She made a face.  "Oh, that's insane.  It’ll take all day, ye ken?  Just give me the scissors."

"No."

"It'll take way too long," she pointed out again.

He wasn't impressed.  "I'm going to go take my shower, and then I'll brush your hair out for you, but you are not—not—to cut it off.  I forbid it.  If you do, I'll beat you."

“You forbi—Ye canno’ forbid it, ye idget!”

He rolled his eyes.  “Funny, because I just did.”

"It's hair," she snapped.

"It's mine," he snapped back.

"Ugh," she groaned, rolling her eyes again as she crossed her arms over her chest and collapsed back against the counter.  He spared her a long, narrow-eyed look before turning on his heel and stomping out of the kitchen once more.

"What . . . the hell . . . was that?" she muttered to herself.

A very feminine laugh behind her drew her attention.  "He loves your hair, Jessa," Manami said with a shrug.  "I do, too, as a matter of fact, but not quite like he does."  She set her bag on the table and started rummaging through it.  "Go get your brush.  I think have something that'll help . . ."

Against her better judgment, she did.  After all, she'd had her hair all of her life, and no matter what kind of serums or treatments her mother had bought or that she'd tried, she'd never actually found anything that truly helped if it got this tangled.  It always ended up the same way: with a huge knot of hair lying on the floor and a new mass of untangled hair in the morning . . .

Still, she was willing to try, she supposed, if it would appease Ashur . . . And if it didn’t work?  Well, then, she supposed she’d get to say, 'I told you so' . . .

By the time she reached the kitchen, hairbrush in hand, Manami was standing, rubbing her hands together as she gestured for Jessa to come closer.  "What's that?" she asked as she sank down in a chair.

Manami gathered her hair back and gently worked the concoction into the length of it.  "It's an herbal hair mask, specially formulated for youkai hair," she said.  "One of the Zelig's family friends makes it—Madison, her name is.  She has a chain of salons and spas.  It works miracles, I tell you . . ."

Jessa wasn't entirely sure she believed that, but she handed Manami the brush and blinked as the woman quickly managed to work the tangles out of her hair.  "Wow . . . I may have to get some of that," she allowed, picking up the jar and looking it over.

Manami laughed.  "It works on human hair, too, but it works best on ours . . . I've got another jar at home, if you want to keep that one."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded, handing the brush back to Jessa.  "Absolutely.  It'll look a little shiny for an hour or so, but once it dries up, you won't even feel it."

Pulling her hair over her shoulder, Jessa slowly shook her head.  "I can't believe it . . ."

Manami winked as she hurried over to wash her hands.  "I don't think there's a Madison's up here, so I'll send you a couple jars the next time I go in to have my hair done," she offered.

"Oh, how much are they?"

Manami waved a hand as she stepped away and retrieved her bag.  "I'll bill Ashur," she replied with a wink.  Slinging the strap of the bag over her shoulder, she started out of the kitchen, only to stop on the threshold to turn back once more.  "Jessa . . ."

"Hmm?" she said, reading over the ingredients.

Manami smiled.  "You're really good for him," she said.

Jessa blinked and bit her lip, unsure exactly what she ought to say about that.  Manami laughed and blew her a kiss.  "Tell Ashur thanks for his hospitality, but I really must get going.  Bye!"

A minute later, the sound of the front door closing drifted back to her, and Jessa sighed.

"Manami just leave?" Ashur asked, striding back into the room with a towel draped around his neck and a fresh pair of jeans on though he'd skipped the shirt for the moment.

"You’re wearing jeans?" she blurted before she could stop to think about it.  It was the first time she'd seen him wear something like that, and to be honest, she hadn't actually realized that he owned any.

He glanced down at himself then shrugged.  "It's Saturday," he told her, "and I've decided that I'm not working today."

She snorted.  "Can you do that?" she challenged quietly since she happened to know that the man tended to work himself to distraction, more often than not.

"And it's Kells' last weekend before preschool starts, so I thought we should do something with him."

"So, it's not going to be an, 'every Saturday thing'," she concluded.

He strode over, pulled her hair back, letting it run through his fingers.  "I have fantasies about this hair," he said, ignoring her statement as he brought a handful of her hair to his nose.

She turned far enough to peer up at him, her gaze narrowing suspiciously.  "What kind of fantasies?" she asked slowly.

He chuckled, but it held a very throaty, almost lecherous, kind of tone that made her blush and quickly look away.  "Get your shoes on," he told her, again ignoring her as he let go of her hair and stepped back, grabbing the towel around his neck and holding onto both ends.  "Kells!"

The boy dashed into the kitchen, bypassing his father as he threw himself onto Jessa's lap.

Ashur rolled his eyes.  "You want to go pick out a pony?"

Kells gasped and let go of Jessa in favor of hopping over to his father.  "A pony?  I can have a pony?"

Ashur nodded.  "I'm going to grab a shirt, and you’re going to wash your hands and face and put your shoes on the correct feet, right?"

"Yeah!" Kells hollered as he took off, out of the kitchen to thunder up the stairs.

She stood up and smiled at him.  "Are you going to get a pony, too?" she asked.

He shrugged.  "I may.  I don't know how often I'll ride it, but . . ."

"I could teach you," she ventured.

He made a face.  "I'm never going to be an equestrian," he told her.  "But it might be all right every now and then."

Her smile widened as he strode out of the room, probably to find a shirt, and she followed him.  For a day that had started out so badly, she really had nothing that she could complain about, did she . . .?