InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Sword of Supreme Conquest ❯ Chapter 13 ( Chapter 13 )

The air was heavy with the tension that lingers like a dense fog before a battle. Orders were barked, troops were moved, anxious mutters and apprehensive glances were passed between soldiers; amidst the organized chaos Sesshomaru paced restlessly in his tent. The structure was makeshift at best and smelled dank from sitting out in the rain, but given the circumstances it was a luxury. A frustrated growl sounded from the demon lord's throat. He paused mid-stride and pressed his palm against the desk littered with assorted maps and sketches next to him.

 

 

The situation was far worse than he'd first expected. The unenviable task of somehow thinking a way out of the mess rested solely on his shoulders. He cast a wayward glance at the pile of papers littering the desk and made a sound of disgust. Despite having poured over them dozens of times, the answer continued to elude him. He didn't have the resources to go into battle. Even with Tetsusaiga at his side, the enemy forces were too great in number. He'd been backed into a corner and his only way out was either to fight it out or negotiate.

 

 

He was well aware his pride would never allow him to stand down. He couldn't comprehend, let alone admit, that his enemies managed to have him at a disadvantage. Despite the odds stacked against him, he refused to crawl shamefully away like a dog with its tail between his legs. If it came down to it he would fight yet he realized all too keenly that his heart was not in it. It was someplace else, far away from the dank tent and the scent of fear on the battlefield; it was with her and it was weary. It was while pacing restlessly across the floor of the tent that he realized he lacked the strength to survive another battle, on the field or off.

 

 

He'd failed. It was not a realization that came quickly or easily, but over the months the quiet voice he pushed to the back of his mind steadily grew louder. It was the same one what whispered that the cold look in her eyes and the absence of her warmth was because he had failed her - as a companion and as a mate. He'd tried to ignore it at first, she's having a bad day; then deny it, but the truth was far too obvious to deceive himself any longer under false pretences. He was now stuck with the seemingly hopeless task of trying to fix that as well and the future didn't look promising.

 

 

The sheet at the tent's entrance rustled and Sesshomaru glanced warily upward. One of the Lieutenants bowed low to him before stepping one foot inside. “Sir!” he addressed curtly, “The General has requested I leave…this in your presence.”

 

 

Disinterested in what his General had to say at the moment, Sesshomaru abruptly directed his gaze at the papers in front of him and concentrated simultaneously on two very different battle strategies. The sudden change of scent in the air had his eyes lifting once more from the desk. They narrowed at the fluttering tent flap, signalling the soldier's hasty departure, before they fixed coldly on the “gift” in front of him. With a dismissive snort he turned away.

 

 

“You may leave as well.” His tone was cold and biting, begging no argument.

 

 

When he glanced up a moment later she was still standing there, eyes downcast and hand clenched around the fur mantle at her shoulders. Fixing her with a hard stare he addressed her once more, cool indifference colouring his every word. “I will not say it again.”

 

 

Her head of silver curls bowed respectfully low to him and her voice was gentle when she spoke. “Forgive me Sesshomaru, but I cannot leave just yet.”

 

 

Perhaps on a different day he would've simply walked away, but this day was different. Already worn to the breaking point he was feeling anything but magnanimous. Without warning he moved faster than any human eye could see and snatched her throat in a vice grip. Her eyes widened as the air was cut off from her lungs and as she stared fearfully up at him he took a moment to study his prey.

 

 

She was, by any definition, beautiful. Her silver hair, not unlike his own in colour, was curled and piled elegantly atop her head offsetting the light grey colour of her eyes. He stared at those eyes for a good minute, revelling in the near silence that surrounded him and the sheer euphoric pleasure of literally holding another's life in his hands. He'd felt powerless for too long and even if it only lasted a moment, it was good to taste that kind of control again.

 

 

With a sound of disgust he released her none too gently and threw her towards the door. He didn't have time to waste negotiating with whores from the enemy. If they wanted to negotiate they would've sent a man. By sending her it was obvious they were making a very public blow to his pride. Besides making him livid, her appearance told him one important fact - if the enemy was sending her then they too lacked the resources or manpower to fight. Either that, or they were relatively scared of the thought that reinforcements were on their way. They didn't need to know that the disgustingly small gathering before them was all there was left. For now at least, he'd accept their gift of time and peace of mind.

 

 

He waved a dismissive hand at the girl who remained obstinately by the door massaging he throat. “Unless you plan on dying today I suggest you leave.”

 

 

“So it's been that long has it?” Her voice was surprisingly strong for someone who'd just nearly been strangled.

 

 

Sayuri narrowed her eyes at the Lord of the West and straightened her back. He was exactly how she'd imagined him to be - arrogant, malicious, and sinfully beautiful. Considering her mission, she could do worse but she found it hard to believe he had trouble finding women to ease his needs. The sexual tension practically radiated off his body in waves and yet to look at him he appeared perfectly in control. The question she had to answer now was, just how thin was it?

 

“I'm surprised at you Sesshomaru,” she chided playfully as she slowly slipped off her mantle. It melted to the floor at her feet, a puddle of snowy rabbit fur. “Who'd have thought that the Lord of the West would deny his need to rut for so long? Just look at you! You're practically falling apart at the seams!”

 

 

“Woman I am losing my patience!”

 

 

His tone was harsh and his eyes avoided hers, feigning indifference. She knew better. It wasn't aloofness he was trying to hide in that golden gaze, it was his need. A man like him was capable of masking even his deepest emotions, but lust always found a way to shine through no matter how deep their resolve. She'd made a career of studying men; this Sesshomaru was no different from the rest.

 

 

Stepping forward, she skimmed her hands across the silken material at his waist. Her eyes gazed up at him from beneath a thick fringe of lashes before she lowered them discreetly and turned her head to the side, exposing her neck to him. She'd learned how to play men like him. They were like instruments to her - each one vibrated at a different pitch. She could put them all in tune once she had the right tools. For him, she would have to stroke his pride and play to the part of his nature that demanded submission and obedience.

 

 

She felt his cold gaze on her but did not miss the subtle way his body leaned forward without seeming to, so he could breathe in her scent. When he pulled away she played him again. “Tell me, how long has it been since you've had a youkai to satisfy your needs? A human body can't possibly survive our kind of rut…”

 

 

Sesshomaru felt his spine stiffen as the scent of the youkai filled his senses. Her words and her essence were the honey that soothed his very real need for release. It was taking everything in his power to fight the instinct in him that wanted take her at her words and rut with her in true youkai fashion. The woman was right. He'd never been that way with Kagome because human bodies didn't have the capacity to endure the pain that accompanied the act. It had never affected him before, but in the long months since their bed had gone cold the need had grown steadily more persistent until he reached the point he was at now. He, Sesshomaru, the demon who never lost control was a hair away from losing it completely.

 

 

Sinking his claws into her hair, he shook the pins loose and watched her silver curls cascade down across her shoulders. After a brief hesitation he slipped his fingers into her hair and held her fast while he brought his mouth to her neck. Tracing his lips down the length of her jugular, he breathed her in and felt his beast come to life. It wanted her. It could sense her pliancy and arousal and it demanded to be satiated.

 

 

His tongue flicked out of its own accord to taste the smooth skin beneath his lips and he revelled in it. A shiver ran down his spine as he grazed his fangs across the steady pulse beating beneath them. When she gasped and tensed at his touch his fingers ensnared her tighter. She'd wanted to play so now she was going to play by his rules. Fisting her hair in his hand, he forced her gasping mouth to his for a mercilessly bruising kiss that left no mystery as to his intentions.

 

 

oOo

 

 

The tent and the night were finally quiet. Sesshomaru lay across the small assortment of pelts laid out for him and gazed pensively at the ceiling. The cool air whispered against his bare chest, burning away the heat that continued to consume his body from the inside out. It was the first time in a long while he could remember feeling confused about anything.

 

 

One moment he'd been shredding the whore's clothes, hardly able to get her naked fast enough and the next he was shoving her unceremoniously out the door. His body still thrummed with unspent sexual frustration but for the time being it was manageable. What he couldn't understand was why, when the moment came to perform, he'd suddenly been unable to do so. It was as if a switch, somewhere in the back of his mind, suddenly flipped off and everything else followed suit. Though it'd frustrated and angered him at the time he was thankful for the brief reprieve now that he'd had time enough to reflect.

 

 

Lying alone atop his makeshift bed, his mind was able to focus on one thing - Kagome. The stunned surprise he felt at realizing what he'd almost willingly consented to could hardly compare to the revulsion he felt over it. Tonight had been the breaking point. If he didn't fix things now, their relationship would not endure, he was certain of it. Not only that, but it would be entirely his fault and he refused to lose yet another battle today.

 

 

Pushing himself upright, he began the tedious process of dressing himself with one hand. It was several moments before his final sword was slipped through the silken belt at his side. With squared shoulders and eyes set purposefully forward, he stalked out of the dank interior of the tent. He ignored the curious looks cast his way and the troubled expressions of his Generals. With his mind set and his resolve finally firm, he headed West to fight a more important battle - for the heart he'd left behind.

 

 

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Author's Note: Here's a little treat for my dedicated readers out there. This is a relatively short but brand spankin' new chapter featuring our favourite demon in white. Poor angsty dog. After some thought I figured a chapter like this was necessary between the last one and the next one. The road of unfaithfulness (or at least the temptation) runs both ways now. Plus, at least now you'll hopefully understand why Sesshomaru acts the way he does in the next chapter and it won't come so out of the blue. As always, I'd love to hear your reviews. Please let me know what you think!

 

Sayuri = “small lily”