InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Serenade ❯ Duet ( Chapter 1 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Serenade

All disclaimers apply.

Author's Note: (Rewrite, 2004) The first chapter takes place some time before Inuyasha slices off Sesshomaru's arm, about five years before Inuyasha even wakes up, so he will be using both sets of claws for . . . stuff.
Enjoy!

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I: Duet




She was . . . exquisite. Slender, but not thin, her torso and every long limb traced with muscle, taut with strength. Her skin was pale, white as ivory in the moonlight, her hair a silver river flowing down her bare back. Her movements were so graceful, so fluid, he found himself entranced as she stretched her arms to the sky, flexing long fingers and sharp claws.

She suddenly went still, sensing his gaze, and turned to look at him. Her eyes were narrow, a dark, fathomless violet, surrounded by thick dark lashes and lined in purple, her features so delicate and yet so sculptured, as if carved from jade. He realized within himself the sudden desire to trace every line of her face, those high cheekbones and slightly full, blood-red lips, to part those lips with his tongue and touch the fangs he knew were inside. She would taste as sweet as she smelled, musky jasmine and moonlight combined.

The female youkai had little reaction to seeing him. She merely gathered her hair over her shoulder and wrung it free of water, murmuring so softly that only a demon such as himself could hear, "A beautiful night, is it not?"

Her voice was soft and lilting, almost musical, a delight to his sensitive ears.

"Yes," Sesshomaru agreed quietly. "Quite beautiful."

The night was the furthest thing from his mind as he said that, and from her smile, the slightest curving of her lips, she knew that.

She stepped up onto the shore, out of the hot springs, and reached for her clothing. From the leisurely way she began to dress in the expensive silk kimono, she felt no embarrassment under his probing gaze, and so he continued to appreciate every lucious curve of her body--with his eyes, if nothing else.

"Tell me," he began, "what is your name?"

She ran her fingers through her damp hair, removing the tangles, her face tilted towards the sky. "Sumire," she replied. Then she looked at him with the seductive violet eyes that had given her that name. "And yours?"

"Sesshomaru."

That slight smile touched her lips again. "Lord Sesshomaru. It is an honor." Her bow was slight, shallow, almost mocking, but in a way for which he couldn't blame her. She could likely both see and smell his attraction to her, and that gave her more power over him than any show of muscle could give him over her.

Among their kind, the inu youkai, mating was a delicate ritual. Once commenced, rules were few and far between, but beforehand, it was up to the female to decide whether or not she would accept a suitor. If she refused and a male dared to lower himself to take her anyway, he would forfeit his honor and the respect of his fellow demons. Not to mention the fact that none of the females of their kind would be taken without quite the bloody fight.

And so, as much as he desired her, he would wait for her decision, and hope it was in his favor.

Only for a woman of his kind, an inu demoness, would Sesshomaru allow himself to be forced to wait. They were so few and far in between, wild, beautiful, savage creatures who refused to be conquered, refused to be tamed. To have one was a privalege and he could think no differently of it.

Sumire turned towards the forest, tossing her hair, which flashed like silver fire in the darkness, and glanced at him over her shoulder. "If you wish to have me, my lord," she said, her night-dark eyes gleaming, "then you must defeat me, first."

An affirmation, and an invitation. In even challenging him, she was admitting her interest as well, for it would take little more than a simple negative to turn him away, if she so wished it.

Sesshomaru fought back a smile, allowing his pleasure to show only in the slightest narrowing of his amber eyes, and a twitch of a single brow. It was, perhaps, the most emotion he had shown in days.

"You would dare to challenge me?" She called him "lord" and so she knew of his exploits, his reputation. But it wasn't uncommon for females to challenge their suitors first, or have their suitors challenge each other. Only the best for any of their kind.

"The only youkai worthy to mate me must be strong enough to defeat me," she answered simply, turning to face him. "You will not find me easy prey, my lord." Sumire raised one hand and stretched her fingers, extended her slender, wickedly sharp claws.

This time, Sesshomaru did smile, the most miniscule curve of his lips. "I would not have it any other way."

The demoness laughed--a smooth, husky sound that fired his blood--then suddenly rushed at him, with all the perfect speed and skill of a youkai assassin.

Having seen the slight shift in her position that warned of an attack, Sesshomaru moved with blinding quickness to the right, and Sumire swiped only air with her claws.

But she recovered fast, and turned in midstep to slash at him again. One claw actually bit into the sleeve of his taori. He reacted with a similar slash, which she easily avoided, but it distracted her long enough for him to sweep to her left and slice into her shoulder with his own talons. There was no poison in his touch, for this fight was merely a game, and he had no need to truly wound her.

Sumire hissed softly and whirled to meet him, but he was already gone, high into the air. She followed, a vicious little smile revealing her delicate, catlike fangs.

And so the bout ensued. The demoness was quick, lithe as a dancer and well-aware of her body's abilities, able to execute maneuvers even Sesshomaru had not mastered. Even though his power was greater, he would need to actually catch her in order assert that power, and so the fight was mostly about speed, agility, and cunning.

But though his movements were simpler, he had more experience, and before long, was playing with her much like a hunter would toy with his prey. One moment, stroking her cheek with one claw, the next, sliding his fingers through her hair, drawing deep breaths of her scent, while she twisted and whirled and tried to catch him in the act, only to just barely miss.

It was perhaps the most enjoyment he had had outside of true battle in a long, long time. The night was sweet with a multitude of sounds and scents and he savored the thought of taking her under the cover of the stars.

Twenty minutes later, Sumire dropped to the ground on one knee, surveying him with her cool desert eyes. "You are as skilled as they say, my lord," she acknowledged, her breathing a little labored. "But I will not be taken so easily."

With that, she gestured gracefully with her arm, flicking her talons, and a stripe of violet split the night in his direction.

Sesshomaru had less than a second to avoid it, and he did, successfully . . . for the most part. A few strands of hair were not so fortunate.

The youkai below him laughed, then leaped up and assailed him with the slash of light again. He countered it with his own slash, and both were equal in power, cancelling each other out. The sound of energies meeting crackled ominously.

How clever of her; she had been hiding her true power all along. Toying with him as well.

The dog demon lord decided he had had enough of games. Manifesting skill he had before felt no need to use, he dodged her third attack, slipped through the air as swiftly and silently as death, and past her, saying softly, "I have tired of this battle, Sumire."

He knew she heard him, and wasted no time. In one calculated motion, he whirled, and his kick connected with the center of her back.

The move completely disabled her. With an arch and gasp of surprise, she fell, and hit the grass by the edge of the trees in a heap of silk and silver hair.

Landing beside her, Sesshomaru found that she was not injured--far from it, she was laughing. A soft chuckle escaped her throat as she turned over, stretching leisurely like a cat and draping her arm across her forehead. Her hair was in chaos about her, her kimono in disarray, baring one milky white shoulder and long, smooth leg. She smelled wonderful.

She was utterly irresistable.

"You are the victor, my lord." Sumire's smile grew wicked as she stood, sweeping her hair out of her eyes, which still glittered with challenge. "Yet can you claim your prize?"

Sesshomaru's eyes narrowed. In the next instant his hand was at her throat, firmly pining her back against a tree.

Her expression was cool, every line of her lovely face relaxed. He slowly applied pressure to his grip, until he could feel her pulse, and the rumble of the growl deep in her throat, but not tight enough to crush her windpipe. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, gently digging her claws into his skin, until blood flowed. The copper smell of it only served to heat his senses.

Her blood, from the minor wounds he had inflicted. Her skin, still traced with minerals from the spring. Her scent, rich with musk at the prospect of becoming his mate.

"You belong to me," he told her softly, barely concealing the growl in his tone.

There was that husky laughter again, and her violet, velvet eyes mocked him. "Not yet," she murmured. Her claws gently traced patterns on his flesh, leaving behind long red marks.

Slowly, he loosened his grip, let his hand drop. Lightly ran a single claw down the smooth skin of her throat, past her collarbone, to the center of her chest, which rose and fell with uneven breaths. It was a brisk, simple matter to slice through the obi that held her kimono shut.

He never let his eyes leave hers.

The silk parted, revealing the ivory slope of her belly and the subtle curves of her breasts. Now, he let his gaze drop to devour every shadow and angle of her figure, and though his expression remained cold, calculating, every part of him reacted with desire.

Sesshomaru reached out and slid his claws around her waist, pulling her towards him until her body met his. She was warm and cool at the same time, fitted to him almost perfectly, her skin as smooth as the silk kimono and far more seductive to the touch. Her sweet scent filled his nose, overwhelming in its poignance, and he felt the beast within coming to the forefront to take control.

The first thing the beast desired was her blood on his tongue.

A cut from their battle, almost healed, marred the smooth perfection of her shoulder. He lapped at it with his tongue, but it was no longer fresh. For some reason, that angered him. He clutched her with sudden ferocity, claws deep in her flesh, found an ideal spot in the juncture between her shoulder and neck, and bit down hard.

He heard Sumire gasp, partially in ecstasy and partially in pain, her long nails biting through his taori and into his arms as he licked at the blood he had drawn. Her taste was so intoxicating, drugging; he closed his eyes and drowned in it.

So long . . . how long had it been since he had indulged in the blood of a female? Too long. There was nothing quite as delicious, quite as fine, salty and sweet, setting his very soul aflame, and he knew he would either have her or tear her apart . . . or both. The bite made her rightfully his, and now he could take her as he pleased.

The kimono was a nuisance he soon disposed of, tearing it off her shoulders and letting it fall forgotten to the ground. She clung to him, her fangs making little marks on his flesh as she drew aside his taori for better access. The feel of her warm little mouth and keen bites on his skin caused him to unconsciously slice his claws into her back, drawing blood, and she reacted by fully sinking her teeth into his shoulder.

The pain he could easily ignore; the shock of being so insolently marked by a female was a another thing.

He pulled her away, his eyes narrowed into hers, which were bright with desire and, he realized, flecked with bits of silver that flashed in the moonlight.

She licked her full lips, removing all traces of his blood. "What?" she asked breathlessly. "Don't tell me you've never had a female mark you before."

"None have ever dared," he murmured, fascinated with her night-sky eyes, speared by stars. The females he had taken in the past had been so passive, submissive to the point of boredom to their youkai lord. To have one that fought back, retaliated . . . it was more exciting than anything else he could have imagined. The thrill of the prospect of taming this wicked youkai added sparks to the flame within him.

"I dare." Sumire laughed huskily and leaned forward to brush his lips with her tongue. "As I said, you will not find me easy prey, my lord."

Before she could move away, he threaded his claws into her hair and caught her lips with his own, holding her tightly in place so that she could only yelp in her throat as he tangled his tongue with hers and slit her lip with his fangs, delighting in more of her blood. He held the small of her back with his other hand in a viselike grip, and her defiant yet futile movement against him, bare-skinned and vulnerable against his taori, was immeasureably satisfying.

Or it was until she sliced her talons into his neck and pushed off the tree with such force that it sent them both tumbling to the ground, leaving her on top. She pined his shoulders and savaged his mouth in another brutal kiss while he tried to recover his wits.

Gods, but those pale taloned hands were quick; Sumire completely dismantled his shatsu without ruining even an inch of cloth, leaving him bare-chested and more than a little irritated. Sesshomaru quickly flung her to the side; though her ministrations were pleasurable, there would be only one dominant youkai in this coupling.

Eyes narrowed to glowing amber slits, he gathered her slim wrists in one hand above her head, pining her back to the grass.

"Such clever hands," he remarked, his voice a soft growl. The demoness grinned, baring her translucent canine teeth and flexing her fingers, though she couldn't escape from his grasp even if she tried.

He flexed his own claws and placed them at her neck, pressing them slightly into her skin in warning. She only continued to smile at him, dark eyes glittering as he drew his claws down her body, past her collarbone and over her full breast. She arched into his touch but he didn't indulge her, finishing his claws' path by continuing over her taut belly and long thighs, purposely skipping the juncture in between. Her scent was growing more aroused by the moment with his slow teasing, and it was his turn to smile smugly, watching her writhe with longing and impatience.

Deciding to torture her even more, Sesshomaru leaned down and kissed the hollow of her throat. Then to the space between her heaving breasts, feeling the vibrations of her pounding heart and murmuring against her scented skin, "And to whom do you belong, kotori ?"

"No one," she replied, struggling against him. "No one owns me, I am no one's prey."

"Really." He stroked the underside of her breast with a single claw, causing her to jump and emit a rough little growl of frustration. "Perhaps you would like to reconsider that?"

"Perhaps you would like to go chase your own tail!"

He nipped her slightly in reproach, and she jumped again. "Do not insult your lord, especially when he can tear out your throat without a thought."

"If I'd believed you were at all interested in my throat , I wouldn't have battled you in the first . . ."

Her words faded into a low moan as his mouth closed on one nipple, kneading it gently with his tongue before using his teeth as well. She arched into him, but he pushed her back down firmly. As much as he loved drawing this out and making her writhe, he could no long resist the succulent scent she exuded and instinctively searched for its source, leaving small red bite marks in a trail down the flawless skin of her abdomen.

By the time he released her wrists, he rendered her helpless again with a secret smile and a lap at her most intimate place, savoring her taste now even more than that of her blood.

He felt her freeze in surprise; then as he continued his feast, begin to arch and writhe and make the most delightful whimpering noises of pleasure and utter defeat. He dug his claws into her thighs to keep her still, but did nothing about her hands as they slid into his hair and kneaded his scalp with desperate fervor.

Sweet, sweet female. Sweet taste, sweet sounds, sweet scent. Hot and willing under his touch, his mouth. It was little wonder why the males of his kind were so fierce in defending their Mates, and little more then helpless puppies when their females flashed a smile and asked for attention or a boon of some sort. Sesshomaru knew that one day, no matter his conquests or his pride, he would have a Mate of his own to whose will he would bend, just to have her like this every night in their chambers, sighing his name.

Within moments of her peak he stopped and pulled away. He brushed his tongue over his lips to catch every last bit of her essence and smiled down at her slightly.

Sumire lay prone on the grass wrapped in only her silver hair, her eyes hooded and her skin flushed. "Bastard," she growled at him, though a tiny smile tugged at her lips. "You made me sound like a newborn pup."

His smile grew just a bit as he licked at his claws, removing remaining traces of her blood. "Do you still claim you are not mine?"

"Go to Hell."

"Defiant to the end. Though I suppose," he took her hand in his own and nipped at the side of it thoughtfully, "I would have it no other way."

She stroked the side of his face, her violet eyes burning. "Then cease your infernal games and satisfy us both."

"Time enough for that." Sesshomaru sat back against the tree, ignoring the protest in his throbbing loins at moving any further away from the female. He hadn't become a lord by allowing himself to be overcome by base desires. "Perhaps I'll take a quick run to stretch my legs . . ."

"I never imagined the Lord of the Western Lands to have such a sadistic sense of humor," said the demoness wryly, sitting up. "But it shouldn't surprise me at all."

She slipped into his embrace and kissed him, pulling at his lower lip with her teeth and drawing her claws down the planes of his chest and abdomen. Her stealthy hands searched for his arousal, but he quickly pushed them away, breaking the kiss and forcefully sitting her back on the grass.

The demoness stretched out on her belly and watched him beneath lowered lids as he removed the rest of his clothes, and he noticed the brief flash of surprise and appreciation in her expression.

"Magnificent," she whispered, then uttered a little yelp when he was down at her side a blur of speed, bracing her arms against the ground with both hands and prying apart her legs with his knee.

She threw her legs around his waist to accomadate him, pressing herself against his arousal and all but driving him mad with the feel of it. "I hope you aren't so quick in mating," she said softly into his ear.

He growled ferally, glaring into her heavy-lashed eyes. The violet, velvet orbs defied him, told him that she was something to fight for, to kill for, and that she wouldn't be won so easily.

He would see about that.

With a sharp, knifelike kiss that drew more blood from her lips and a soft growl from her throat, he thrust into her.

What happened after that was a blur of intense sensation and sounds and scents. She surrounded him, violated his senses with every bloody kiss and desperate slash of her nails, drawing deep lacerations in his back. He took her more roughly than he had intended, but she felt, smelled so incredible that all attempts at control were wasted. His very veins burned with blood that rushed like lava, scouring him from the inside out, and he couldn't stop biting, stop tearing, lapping what might have been every drop of her blood for all he cared and she cried out in a voice as wild and bestial as his own as they both collapsed over the edge together.

But it wasn't enough, it wasn't good enough to satiate the beast within, which still to rip her apart and bathe in her screams and entrails. He still agonized for more, but what it was he wanted he wasn't sure.

Lucid thought returned for Sesshomaru to find himself prone on top of her, eyes closed as he listened to her rapid heartbeat and rushing blood, her soft, almost feline purrs of contentment into his ear. For some reason he thought it so strange that they lay facing each other, instead of Sumire on her belly the way she was supposed to be . . . and he realized what their mating had lacked.

He brushed his tongue over her breast and turned her so that her back was facing him. Perhaps he moved too quickly, because she suddenly whirled and slashed at him, pulling away, her eyes pure violet without whites and wide with apprehension.

It was more instinct than intelligent thought that made him remember, but he recalled that within female inu youkais there were conflicting emotions when it came to mating: The deep-set desire to be taken from behind, and the warrior's instinct never to allow anyone at her back. Even the most timid female would react violently when her back was turned; it was an automatic response, as their kind were trained to make kills by biting the back of the neck.

She wouldn't let him behind her unless he could calm her down and gain her trust. Until then, she would fight him viciously.

He reached for her and took her by the wrist, dragging her to him. Facing forward, she didn't offer resistance, and he speared her throat with heated kisses and mild bites as she purred and melted into him. She was deliciously submissive, allowing him to pin her to ground, sliding her fingers through his hair in a grooming sort of way that made his skin tingle with pleasure.

Very slowly, he eased her onto her side, distracting her with caresses and gentle nips. Even as she began to tense, he soothed her with soft sounds in his throat that might have translated to, Be calm, be still. I will not harm you. Perhaps he could have used the actual words, but at this point, speech was a foreign, unnecessary thing.

Finally, she was on her belly, but not very pleased about it. Every muscle in her body resisted him, and she was struggling and making alarmed little noises that were like a cross between whimpering and snarling. If she remained so tense, mating again was going to be unpleasently painful for her, especially in this position . . . not to mention dangerous for him, since if he hurt her she was going to try to disembowel him.

It was quite the chore calming her. He lay his body lengthwise atop hers, entwined his fingers with hers in the grass, licked and nipped at the back of her neck and her ear, growled quietly and continuously in rough imitation of her purrs.

It took awhile, but at last she was relaxed, a silky little pup beneath him. He nuzzled her, going slowly still, though he could barely restrain himself with her pressed so invitingly against him.

He took her by the hip, careful to get a good grip with one hand while bracing the other on the ground. She wriggled in combined protest and eagerness, digging her claws into the ground as he finally slid into her for the second time.

It was a primal instinct, to take a female like this, deeply unbalancing and impossible to resist, and before long he lost all restraint. If their mating before had been wild, this one was outright violent; he sheathed himself as deeply as possible within her and sank his teeth into the back of her neck, harshly gripping her breast, and she snarled sharply and reached back to lacerate his jaw and neck with her talons. The pain was swallowed in fiery pleasure that went so deep it ripped their senses and evaporated their thoughts, unbearable and irrisistable.

When they climaxed for the second time, she screamed, and he roared with a deep-throated howl of triumph.



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"So, my lord," Sumire murmured, "what has brought you so far from your territory?"

Sesshomaru slowly opened his eyes, though not all the way, awakened from his slight doze. He still lay on her back, his claws tightly twined with hers on the ground and now he lifted his head to nuzzle her hair and breathe in her scent. "What concern is it of yours?" he asked.

"None, really." She shifted a little to make his weight rest more comfortably. "I was simply curious."

"I am searching for an heirloom of my father's," he told her, not knowing why he did, "a fabled weapon he hid from me before his death."

"Ah. And you left your home . . . and Mate . . . behind to fend for themselves?"

He immediately knew what she was getting at, and allowed himself a small smile as he answered, "Few would dare to invade my territory. And I have no lasting Mate, as you should know. The only marks on my body you made yourself." Youkais could immediately tell if another was claimed by smell and the sacred Marks on the flesh that never healed, and which could be made only by a permanent Mate.

"I know," Sumire admitted. "But it always does well to ask anyway."

"Do you have a desire to become Lady of the Western Lands?" Sesshomaru asked this with some quiet bitterness; rarely had he encountered a demoness who wanted him alone and not his lands. Power was often a blessing and a curse.

But the demoness with him now snorted derisively. "Hardly. My father was a powerful youkai, as well, who left me a large territory of my own when he passed. I am wealthy, young, and strong. I take what I want, and coerce nothing. If I desire you, Lord Sesshomaru, it is only you I want, nothing else."

Silence as he absorbed this. After awhile, he removed himself from her and lay on his back, staring up at the stars.

Sumire turned and lay her long-fingered hand on his chest, causing him to look at her. She was looking at him with those silver-struck dark eyes of hers that so matched the vault overhead. Silken strands of her hair fell around her face as she rested her cheek on her folded arm. "Does that surprise you?" she wondered.

Yes, it did, but there was no purpose in admitting it to her. "Only that a proud demoness such as you has no ambition," he replied instead.

She chuckled softly. "I have many ambitions. One is to find and slay the demon who stole my father's life." Her eyes flashed, and for an instant he saw the great inu youkai that was her true form in her gaze. After that, she calmed, and smiled at him. "Another is to Mate a youkai who will be my equal. I care not whether he is a lord or a peasent, as long as he heats my blood and challenges all that I am."

Sesshomaru looked away from her and back to the sky. He didn't understand the strange tightening in his throat, nor why his blood suddenly raced with more than simply the afterglow from their mating. He also didn't know why he asked: "And have you found him?"

At first, the demoness said nothing. Then she spoke, so lowly only his sharp ears could ever have heard her. "That is for him to decide."

Abruptly, he sat up, for some reason he couldn't comprehend anxious to get away from her and run through the sky. But without warning she pounced on him and threw her arms around him, pulling back down to her.

"I can't believe you howled!" She laughed, nuzzling the side of his neck. "No male has ever howled for me. I was so flattered."

Indignantly, he pried off her arms, though remained on the ground beside her. "I did not howl," he insisted, though he knew full well the sound he had made couldn't be called anything else.

"You most certainly did. I believe you frightened away a good portion of the forest creatures with that terrible noise."

He snorted, still indignant but mildly amused. "Not as many as you shocked into paralysis with that birdlike shriek of yours."

She bit her nails into his shoulder teasingly. "Go bite your own tail."

They talked long into the night about random, meaningless things: What creatures had the best-tasting blood, the impressive kills they had made, the earliest scents they could remember, the things they enjoyed, the things they despised, the things they wanted and the things they had. Meaningless, all of it, Sesshomaru was certain.

And yet he couldn't help but remember every word Sumire spoke and linger on the musical sound of her voice as they both finally drifted to sleep, entwined with each other like packmates after a long, thrilling hunt.



He woke some time before dawn. The sky had lightened to a soft grayish-blue shade and the stars were beginning to fade; a few birds were beginning to sing hesitant songs. He shifted a little, and looked down at Sumire as her long, warm, slender form did the same to accomadate him. She was curled into his side comfortably, one hand lax on his chest and her hair in silver chaos about her. She purred softly in her sleep, her expression content.

Sesshomaru looked at the sky for awhile, calmly reflecting on the events of the night before. Then he slowly sat up and slipped away from her so smoothly that she didn't even stir.

In minutes he was dressed, and combed his claws through his white locks to somewhat tame their disarray. As he covered the female youkai in her own kimono so that she wouldn't immediately miss his warmth, he inhaled her scent one last time, imprinting it in his mind. If he ever tasted even a hint of that musky jasmine smell in the air again, he would know it was her.

She would remain asleep at least until the sun was up, but it didn't sit well with him to simply leave her with no protection, vulnerable to the many lecherous demons that pockmarked the forest. He quietly called his riding beast to him; the huge, scaly, two-headed and muzzled creature came swiftly and silently, faceted eyes locked on its master for direction.

"Watch over her until she wakes," Sesshomaru told the demon. "Then return to the house."

The beast settled onto the grass not far from the demoness obediantly, heads up and alert for danger.

Satisfied, Sesshomaru turned to leave.

Suddenly, he paused. A throbbing on the junction between his left shoulder and neck caught his attention. Bemused, he pulled aside his taori and touched the spot, feeling the fang marks left by his midnight companion. It was already healed, but it still hurt ever so slightly.

The demon lord frowned. A bite wound that still throbbed . . .?

He looked at Sumire, still peacefully slumbering. Her hand unconsciously went to her throat, where the wound he had given her hours ago still showed pink against her fair skin. It would disappear altogether in a short while, as would his. But the fact that it was still there now held a signifigance that didn't hit him as hard as he had once thought it would.

They had almost Marked each other. However accidental it was, a dog demon never Marked another without good reason; it was not something to be taken lightly. If the wounds had remained fresh and unhealed for more than three days, then scarred, from then on, regardless of who else they bedded, the Mark would be a proclamation of loyalty to only one. A symbol of true Mates, if they so wished it.

Perhaps. One day , Sesshomaru thought more fondly than he wished to admit, even to himself.

When his trials were complete, he would find Sumire, and make her his Mate.

Until then, he would hold the memory of the taste of her blood close to his heart, which perhaps, one day . . . he would allow her to warm with her cunning smile and night-sky eyes.

One day.

And then, Sesshomaru departed.


When Sumire awoke, the sun had softened the sky to bright blue and she knew Sesshomaru was gone. She sighed, stretched languidly, and sat up, more satisfied than she had ever been before with the other males she had had. No, Lord Sesshomaru was unique among them all, as she had known he would be.

She glanced at the two-headed demon beast that crouched near, puzzled at its presence. Then a tiny smile touched her lips as she realized why it was there.

Such a sweet puppy, she thought. She waved a long-fingered hand at the beast, murmuring, "Return to your master."

It reacted accordingly, getting to its feet and loping away into the sky.

The demoness yawned, revealing her delicate fangs, and got to her feet, drawing her kimono around her. The garment was remarkably in one piece, though the same couldn't be said for her obi, but clothing could always be replaced. A night with a demon lord, a fierce, intelligent warrior and wonderful lover . . . yes, that was priceless.

She went back to the springs to bathe. As soon as she slipped into the warm water, she felt the wound on her neck start throbbing again, a ghost of a pain that made her smile fully.

Remembering his touch, taste . . . the delicious spicy, dark scent that filled her nose even now. He had been magnificent in every way, a beautiful yet deadly hunter with eyes that burned like molten gold and a body carved of white jade, seducing her with its lithe movements. And his smile, oh, that smile. So obviously rare, concealed yet so intense, as he spoke with her of little things that meant nothing to the world and everything to her.

His sweet growls in her ear, the feel of his teeth in her flesh, his howl of ecstasy as he brought her to heights of pleasure heretofore unknown . . . and it wasn't simply a night. Just as the bite that still pained her wasn't simply a bite.

They would see each other again, when their seperate missions were fulfilled, she was sure of it. And then . . . who knew?

"Lady Sumire, Mate to Lord Sesshomaru of the Western Lands," she said aloud, then laughed softly.

Yes, that had quite a nice ring to it if she did say so herself.


- to be continued . . . -