InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Youkai and the Exterminator ❯ Chapter ThirtyFour ( Chapter 34 )

Chapter ThirtyFour

 

 

The air was dead, utterly silent as the youkai and the exterminator faced each other. His lip curled in contempt, how dare she challenge him? He had tolerated her defiance once before, at this moment he was not feeling that generous. A single snap of his youki and everything she was would cease to exist. He could erase her; burn her presence from the face of the earth.

 

And she knew it, he read it in her eyes behind the anger, she knew exactly what he was and what he was capable of.

 

She didn't back down, she didn't kneel meekly and beg for his mercy. That might have even worked, no matter how furious, he was still held by his mate's pleas. It had saved Hisuni's life, he had been pleased then to show his mercy, show the woman he was able to be touched by her words. That alone was the reason why the clanlord still breathed.

 

This human though, this puny, sweating, frightened lower form of life. This one he could kill and not think twice about it. It would be such a simple thing, contract the muscles in the hand, and drive the claws in deep. One quick shake and it would be over; the monk need not feel another second of pain, of fear or regret. He would not feel desire either, the demon lord could smell lust on the human's body, lust for his mate.

 

That alone was enough to drive him into a killing frenzy, one that would only be satisfied when blood smeared the grass under his feet and he no longer had to endure the stink of another man's hands on his mate's flesh. He could kill this one quickly, that was how he might demonstrate his mercy.

 

He could hear her breathing, her rapid exhalations as she stood stock-still and stared at him, that ridiculous weapon held high over her head. Didn't she know that something like her Hiraikotsu couldn't kill one of his bloodline? It took more than physical strength to defeat a daiyoukai.

 

And he was no normal demon, the blood of the greatest dog general ever born flowed in his veins, death itself stopped and bowed to him, to him! A mere woman, a human, a so-called exterminator had no chance of emerging victorious from a confrontation with this lord, the killing perfection that was this Sesshomaru.

 

She did not bend. She did not face him with fear or terror unlike so many others that he'd slain. Instead she faced him bravely, her courage staggered him, made him feel less than he was. He met the fire of her recrimination, her demand, and found himself bound by it. Impossible. He would not allow it. This male had touched his mate, laid his lips upon hers even knowing to whom she belonged.

 

Since when did he suffer the insults of humans? He did not. He squeezed just a little harder, enough to make panic rise in the human's face, a harsh labored gasp burst from his mouth. Was it worth it, the demon lord asked silently, staring into the dying creature's eyes. Was it worth giving your life to taste her? I want you to tell me.

 

"Sesshomaru," his mate's voice rang out harshly, he could hear the fury rising in her as she called his name. She'd called his name in passion once, not like this, not with hatred and resolve corroding the nightingale sweetness of her voice. He despised the sound of his name falling from her lips like a curse. He never should have allowed her to leave, he never should have thought about dismissing her.

 

His claim was laid upon her womb and he'd thought also her heart. He'd been a fool for believing humans to have the capacity of feeling as youkai did, the depth, the many colors of emotion and loyalty. Had she not betrayed him with her defiance, her insistence on going in pursuit of that abomination?

 

And still he wanted her, just looking at her standing there, so full of defiance and brave, stupid courage, he wanted her more than he'd realized possible. For all he'd dismissed her, punished her with his rejection, his body craved hers on an instinctive level. He felt a primal need to crush the monk's throat like an eggshell and go to her, drive her body into the ground with his, cover her with his scent and hear her screams of submission.

 

He thought she recognized it, how close he was to losing his control and doing things he would never be able to take back. The woman crouched, her arm tensing in readiness. He was waiting for the throw. The moment she loosed her weapon this male would die, he swore it to himself, holding her fast with his implacable gaze still golden, but tinged with red darkness.

 

She was sweating now, giving off the most intoxicating aroma of desperation, he could see the tremble in her thighs as she faced him. The indecision, the conflict. His child's blood mingled with hers and he could almost hear the baby's youki screaming out from the wrongness of its mother challenging its sire.

 

Slowly, his lips split into a predatory smile, fangs gleaming sharp at her. The monk was nearly unconscious now, hanging like dead prey from his claws. Another minute or two and he needn't bother with snapping his neck or tearing out his throat. Slow asphyxiation from the pressure of his grasp and gravity itself would do his work for him.

 

His mate twitched, pain suddenly filling her eyes. "Please," she murmured, looking lost and forlorn as a child wrenched from her mother. She was going to beg him for her suitor's life? He would laugh at that. It would please him to hear her ask.

 

He was wrong. She took a deep breath and cocked her elbow. "I beg you, don't make me do this."

 

His soul cried out at her tone and his eyes widened slightly. She wasn't begging for the man's life, she was pleading with him to not make her attack. Just as he was holding back and waiting for her move. It was...tearing her, he could sense it now.

 

Concern for her companion, yes. Righteous anger, yes again. But this exterminator loathed the thought of attacking this youkai. Just as she could sense his anger pulsing like a raging hot heart beneath his ribs, so could he sense hers. Her regret, her horror, the absolute commitment that would break her heart into pieces so small she might never collect them all again.

 

He was doing this to her. He was destroying her.

 

Abruptly, he pulled the youki back, banished the darkness to the pits of his soul where it bred. A light wind whispered over them, stirring his silvery hair, lifting the snow-white pelt he wore and making the silk rustle over his skin as softly as a woman's kiss. He had been born with a will of iron and the discipline to control himself had been hammered into him by his father, a man bent on seeing that his son had no master at all but his own conscience.

 

He called upon that will his father had forged into steel to make himself let go, let the white fingers unclench and drop the human before his mortal body succumbed in death. His mate's gasp of surprise and desperate rescue echoed hollowly in his ears. He felt as barren as a wasteland, empty and dry as a funeral drum. That was how it felt when he let the rage seep out of him, unsatisfied and wanting.

 

He turned from her, a pallid ghost in the bright morning sunshine, and a shadow on the face of all things mortal or vulnerable. His voice was cool, emotionless as he left her standing there. "Hell may take you both, exterminator. I care not."

 

Her snarl of fury stopped him, stopped him cold when he felt her anger crash upon him from all the way across the clearing. Sango slammed the edge of Hiraikotsu into the ground, burying the weapon deep in her wrath.

 

"Don't turn your back on me!" she screamed, her voice searing him like fire.

 

Sesshomaru didn't turn around, but he heard her charge at him, leaping over the half conscious monk like he was an obstacle not worth her time to consider. She pulled up short before reaching him, her breath hard and ragged.

 

"Damn you," she whispered. "How can you just forget me?"

 

Forget her? As if he could. It was impossible, even with all his power he knew that was something he would fail at. Forget her, he might as well forget the sun that rose every day, forget the moon that waxed and waned to her own rhythms. He might as well forget his own heartbeat; he would forget all else and live nameless under the sky before he forgot her. He didn't answer, instead he made himself move away from her, withdrawing silently into the trees.

 

Sango took a deep breath, cursed her rotten luck, and plunged into the forest after him.

 

oOo

 

Kohaku hadn't slept in two days. He managed to hide it from Makiko, but Rin suspected something, he was sure. The girl clung to his side more often than not, following him relentlessly as he wandered the fortress. He found it strange that he was allowed so much freedom. Wasn't he just a cast off human, coming to settle here at a youkai's fortress because he had no other choices left? Kohaku's days were long, empty of purpose and if he was lucky, empty of thinking as well.

 

He was tired but he didn't want to sleep, he stared at his bed at night, crouched in a cold corner of his room. That bed had become his enemy; it had become his opponent the same as the many demons he'd slain had been his opponents. He just didn't know why.

 

The nightmares were getting worse.

 

It was, he decided, not such an unexpected thing. After his sister had left, he'd felt the absence of her presence right down to his tattered soul. It made him sad; it made him angry, and at first Kohaku told himself that it was only anger and unrest that made the nightmares so strong. He hated being here among demons, he didn't care if they were kind or if they were cruel. He didn't care if his master was Sesshomaru or Naraku at this point.

 

He was a prisoner again and he felt the resentment creep like floodwater over his toes.

 

So he wandered, as restless during the day as he was sleepless at night. He knew it was only a matter of time before his body gave out and he nodded off. Kohaku wasn't looking forward to it, but in his short lifetime he'd managed to accept that things happened to him that he didn't want.

 

First he'd been bound by a shard that cut open his back, tore his soul wide open and gaping and let his will leak out like sand from a sieve leaving only those few grains that dusted the rim. Inside those grains was a memory or two, of his sister, of his father, of his life before Naraku. He hoarded them close, keeping them in his heart like a treasure he didn't want discovered. Another grain or two belonged to the recent past, when he'd thought that for once, it would all work out for the best and they'd get to be happy.

 

"Kohaku?"

 

He turned when a woman's voice said his name, his body obeying automatically whether he told it to or not. Makiko was standing there, a suspicious expression on her face as she narrowly watched her young human charge. He looked back at her placidly, his arms hanging limp and pliant at his sides.

 

"Yes, Makiko-san?" he asked politely.

 

She reached out a finger and tipped his face up, staring down at him with implacable dark eyes. "Why haven't you been sleeping?"

 

The boy twisted his face away from her. "I sleep fine, Makiko-san. Thank you for asking."

 

She blinked at him, catching the strange hitch in his tone. "Since when are you so formal?" the woman demanded. "I haven't got a polite word out of Rin for two days and now you're killing me with kindness. Tell me what the problem is."

 

The boy's eyes seemed a little over bright, she decided. Maybe a fever, maybe his illness returning? Makiko didn't like the idea of her young humans falling ill and moved her hand to brush Kohaku's hair back from his forehead. "Are you feeling ill?" she asked quietly.

 

Kohaku flinched away from her touch and Makiko felt the tiniest sting from his rejection. The boy sullenly dropped his eyes to the floor. "I am not sick. Please just leave me alone."

 

Makiko sighed. "Kohaku," she began, reaching for him. "If something is bothering you, I should know about it." Her words stopped when the boy ducked away from her touch, pressing his back against the cold wall of the corridor and looking like she'd tried to bite him instead of comfort him. She scented it then, heard it in his ragged breathing and rapid heartbeat.

 

Slowly, her hand fell away from him, dropped limp and useless at her side. "Since when are you afraid of me?" she whispered.

 

His eyes widened and Kohaku trembled for a moment, seized by the sensation of dread once again. "Don't touch me, demon," he hissed, stumbling away from her like she was diseased.

 

The youkai woman stood for a long moment after the boy turned and ran from her, ran from her like she was everything he'd ever been told to be afraid of. She was quite frankly stunned by his behavior and wished suddenly that Jano were in the fortress. He seemed to have an easier time talking to the boy, but Makiko honestly thought that she'd managed to gain some measure of trust from the abused human.

 

It made no sense and nothing good could come from this. She turned and walked away, finding the longer route to the kitchen so she'd have time to think.

 

Kohaku didn't know why he'd suddenly been so afraid of Makiko; the woman had shown him nothing but kindness. It was just that somewhere in the back of his mind, a red-eyed monster had appeared, eclipsing the sight of the kindly head of staff until he could no longer tell who or what he was talking to.

 

He just knew he had to get away from her as fast as possible. And he was tired, he was so tired and he knew he couldn't keep up the pretense very much longer. If Makiko suspected him, she was quite capable of throwing him over her shoulder and dragging him off to the infirmary. There he'd be confined to a bed until he couldn't fight the physical exhaustion of his body and gave himself over to sleep. He wouldn't let it happen.

 

Now he had a better idea of where things were in the fortress. Rin had shown him where most of the storerooms were, where he could find a place to be alone, undisturbed. Kohaku thought that if he went back to his room it would be too easy to find him when they came. He wasn't going without a fight, just because these demons had chosen to keep him didn't mean that he was going to play their game.

 

No, he was done with obeying others, he was done with letting everyone else rule his life.

 

The boy searched until he found what seemed to be a nice, out of the way storeroom. The inside smelled slightly musty, a guarantee that it wasn't used often. All he found inside was a few empty baskets, a few bolts of rough cloth that obviously weren't up to household standards.

 

He shivered, finding the darkest corner of the dark room and sat down with his knees pulled up against his chest. He was just tired, that was all. There was nothing strange about the way he was acting; Makiko didn't know what she was talking about. He just needed to be left alone.

 

Slipping his hand inside his yukata, he fumbled for the little glass bottle he'd stashed there. He didn't feel right just leaving it in his room where anyone could find it and take it away from him. And Kagome had trusted him with it. He didn't understand why, but she trusted him.

 

Didn't she know that he'd already betrayed everything he'd once believed in? Didn't Kagome understand that he'd been used, been made helpless by Naraku, made to commit atrocity after atrocity until his very soul shriveled and wailed in horror? Why would the priestess give him something so important?

 

Kohaku sighed and dropped his head on his arms. He closed his eyes, trying to picture her face in his mind. It calmed him, thinking of the young priestess. In his life, there had been far too few times he'd met someone as good, as pure, as kind. He would not fail her; he would keep the shard safe from the demons that wanted it. Even if they destroyed him, he wouldn't give it up without a fight.

 

Kagome-chan was counting on him.

 

oOo

 

Sango tore her way through the thick underbrush, wondering why it seemed to slow her down so much and him not a bit. Just another unfair advantage he had over lesser beings. Well, this lesser being wasn't going to go away, this lesser being had a few demands to make. She wasn't just some whore he'd shoved out of his bed and she hated that he'd made her feel like that.

 

Just as she hated that she still loved him, wanted him, and needed him so badly it made her blood boil. And he, in his infinitely icy perfection, didn't need her at all.

 

A branch dipped low and scratched her face; she hadn't been watching where she was going. Sango winced, pressing her finger against the gash, really too deep to be called a scratch. If she could believe Jano, this too would heal from her child's youkai blood. She looked at the blood on her fingertip and wanted to do...something. She wanted to taste it to see if she could tell the difference.

 

It wasn't such a strange thing, how many times during training did she nick herself with a blade and automatically stick the bleeding finger in her mouth to suck and soothe away the pain? Her tongue darted out of its own accord as Sango didn't have much to say about it. But the blood tasted normal, metallic and yet not, blandly tasteless for the most part.

 

Confrontation. What would she say to him? She was glad he'd let Miroku go, just like Sesshomaru to show up at the wrong time and misunderstand everything. Maybe seeing them together had just confirmed all the things he'd thought about her. She was only a mere human, turning to another mortal for the sake of comfort. Sesshomaru didn't need to be comforted; he didn't need anything at all.

 

Sango's eyes narrowed slightly as she pressed on, stumbling slightly over a few tree roots and low, tangled grasses. She wiped the sweat out of her eyes as she pursued her demon lover, wincing as the salt stung her scratched face.

 

Why was she even going after him? Sango didn't know, but she did understand that she couldn't help herself. Her legs carried her forward with no volition of her own, something inside her compelled, forced to follow him. If she were smarter, she would have stayed with Miroku, made sure her friend hadn't taken damage from his dangle at the end of Sesshomaru's malice. She should be supporting him, he who'd always supported her, tending his injuries and offering him comfort, considering that she was directly the cause of the attack.

 

Her teeth ground together, her lips pulling back in an almost feral snarl of anger. How dare that bastard attack her friend? He was the one who'd thrown her away, treated her like nothing, not even being the mother of his child seemed to matter.

 

And then he hunted her down and attacked the man who kissed her? When he'd already made it perfectly clear that he didn't want her all, then he'd shown up like death itself and damn near torn the monk's head off with one clawed hand. He was going to answer for that, by the gods, and answer for a few other things. Sango would show him she was no woman to be taken lightly. She was a demon exterminator and he was a demon. It was time for them both to act like it.

 

She stumbled badly as the trees seemed to part for her, finding herself in a small clearing. The morning sunlight fell brightly through the leaves, dappling the soft grass with patterns of darkness and light, constantly moving as the wind played games. He wasn't here, that surprised her. The instinct that had pressed her on evaporated, leaving her standing cold and alone, wondering about herself.

 

Sango blinked a few times, bewildered. Why did she suddenly feel like everything around her was moving so slowly? It was like all her senses; the ones augmented by her baby's energy, suddenly were muffled and snuffed. It was very disorienting.

 

She was nearly swept off her feet when the clawed hand touched her throat, pressing her back hard against him. Sesshomaru's voice hissed in her ear.

 

"Stupid woman, do you wish to die by my hand after all?"

 

Sango didn't hesitate; she planted her feet and surged against him, driving her elbow as hard as she could into his midsection. Her bones cracked painfully against his armor, not hurting him in the slightest, but she felt the fingers on her neck lighten momentarily. Enough for her to break away, panting hard and grabbing the hilt of her sword in her fist. He just stared at her, his face expressionless and no warmth in those golden eyes.

 

Sesshomaru tilted his head the side, a sweep of white hair falling gently over his shoulder. Like he'd never touched her with a hint of tenderness, like he hadn't made her scream out his name in passion, his voice came lazy and slow. "If you draw that weapon against me, exterminator, it will be the last thing you ever do."

 

Shaking, she held herself with all her will from doing just that. "So this is your true nature," she rasped. "I should have known from the beginning what you really were. You'd murder me even though I carry your child."

 

His mouth tightened, the delicate line of his jaw growing hard. "It is in my nature to punish a mate for her disobedience, I have shown you far too much tolerance as it is. I no longer desire to be so lax."

 

Sango laughed, her voice sounded harsh and strained even in her own ears. "I'm not your mate, remember? You cast me aside because I no longer amuse you. I had no idea demons could forget things so quickly."

 

"I forget nothing," he said harshly, almost growling the words. "It was you that forgot your place, woman. I made you my mate, gave you my child. Yet you defied me to chase after an abomination that is not worth the risk to your life or my child's life. You expect me to forget an insult like that?"

 

Insult? Sango hesitated; she'd never seen it like that before. She'd insulted him by leaving, by wanting to leave? By holding her vengeful anger against Naraku as more important that his wishes or the safety of her baby. Her head dropped forward, her hair brushing against her cheeks as the confusion boiled within her mind.

 

Go to him, the instincts said. Apologize, beg him to take us back, and don't leave us here without protection. We need him.

 

She shook her head hard, not liking the way something made her spine want to become jelly and give in. Sango raised her chin, her eyes glittering at him as the anger burst forth to consume her again. "You abandoned me, Sesshomaru."

 

"And you sought comfort elsewhere," he sneered. His hand gestured elegantly. "How faithless is a human heart that you'd forget me so quickly and seek another's arms? As I said before, I regret our union and whatever desire I may have once felt for you."

 

She paled slightly; his words were hurting her, digging at her. Good, he thought, pleased that he still had the ability to affect her. It would not be fitting for him to not inflict a similar pain as the one he'd felt when seeing her with another man's lips on hers. The woman's mouth trembled, tears starting to well in her eyes.

 

"It wasn't like that, Sesshomaru," she murmured. "Miroku is my friend, I don't feel that way for him."

 

Lying wench, he thought, his lip curling in contempt. He stepped closer, intimidating, threatening with all the menace he could project. "Your actions said otherwise. Tell me, is this friend of yours a fitting replacement for me as father to your child? Is that why you allowed him to touch you so intimately? I would see you both dead before I allowed my offspring to be raised by a human male."

 

Her eyes flashed, her back stiffened and Sango stepped back from him, repulsed. "Miroku would be ten times the father you're capable of being," she said, her voice sounding almost choked. "I would rather have my baby know a loving man for a father instead of cruel youkai like you."

 

Impossible. It was disgraceful that her words could burn him. How dare she suggest that a mortal like that could be more suitable than the child's own sire? The very idea made his eyes flash red with fury. She deserved to be struck down for her insolence, but even now in the grip of true anger, he made himself stay his hand. He had not yet fallen so low as to lash out at her in rage. She still carried his child, no matter how he desired to punish her, no matter what he threatened; he was not about to destroy what belonged to him.

 

"So," he said at last, calming himself with an effort. "I will leave you to your humans, Sango. When the child is born, I will come for it and you need not be concerned with its fate. You may then forget that you ever bore such a burden from me."

 

He turned to go, thinking that perhaps he'd said too much of his intentions. It didn't matter anymore.

 

"Bastard," she snarled, throwing the curse at him like a dagger meant for his back. "I'd never let you take my baby away from me."

 

"You do not have a choice," he said softly. "I have decided."

 

Sango felt madness coming on; her tenuous hold on her emotions broke at the idea of him taking her baby from her when it was born. Like she was unfit to raise his child, like she was damaged in some way. It made her sick and it made her furious and all the pain, fury and need exploded inside her, setting her afire and driving rational thought from her mind like hot summer wind fanning the flames of a raging wildfire.

 

She attacked him, screaming, throwing herself at Sesshomaru with a mindless desperation. Sango forgot that she carried a blade and tore at him with her bare hands, her own inadequate fingernails. Her hands ripped at his smooth hair, shredded into his soft silk garments.

 

Sesshomaru spun around at the onset on her fury, bringing his arm up automatically to ward off the blows. She continued relentlessly, trying to hit him, punch and kick. He held her back easily enough, moving out of her way when she came at him. Her eyes were the color of insanity and Sesshomaru found himself at a loss for what to do.

 

He made no move to return her attack, end this futile, mistaken affair for good. He was a pure youkai, he didn't have to endure this or hold himself back. Why not? Why should he not destroy her after all? She was his and she had defied him, attacked him. He didn't move against her, letting the woman's hands find his flesh more often that not, absorbing her blows.

 

Sango gathered herself and hit him hard in the face, still he didn't move. Her fury tore at him, rending his skin with her puny human claws, her tiny fists battering against his chest and face didn't so much as make him flinch.

 

Sesshomaru frowned under her assault, occasionally brushing aside her strikes with a perfectly timed motion of his arm. Her scent. There was something different about her scent.

 

He reached out quickly as she threw herself at him again, this time catching her and crushing her against his body. His face dipped close to hers as she struggled, her cursing almost incomprehensible, driven beyond speech. The youkai lord inhaled deeply, catching the human's altered smell and the whisper of a memory invaded his mind.

 

"You're going to that woman again, father?" a younger Sesshomaru said, his voice like a whip of his disapproval.

 

Inutaisho sighed, not looking at his son. "Yes. I don't need your approval, Sesshomaru. It's about time you remembered that."

 

"I remember that you abandoned your duties to go to her," the younger demon snapped, disgust coloring his tone. "The great Lord of the West at the beck and call of a human female. This is shameful, father. Am I supposed to bear the mockery of the court silently when you choose to neglect your rule in order to be at her side?"

 

His father paused, one hand resting against the frame of the door as he left the room. "She can't help it, Sessh. It's not an easy thing for a human to bear a daiyoukai's child. The youki in her blood can drive her insane if I'm not there to help contain it. I promise things will be easier once the baby is born and she has some control over her own body again."

 

"I suppose you will be bringing her and her bastard child to the fortress then," Sesshomaru said, his voice dripping with contempt.

 

Inutaisho's eyes flashed. "No. It would only endanger them both to be here at this time. Again, that's why I must go to her side instead of keeping her here. One of these days you might understand why, but I don't have time to argue with a spoiled brat. It is beneath you to act like this, Sesshomaru. I thought by now you'd understand there are many shades of honor and responsibility.

 

“Instead, you're still just a jealous child."

 

His father's words still stung him, stung his pride in the way that only Inutaisho had ever been able to do. And now he looked at the woman he'd chosen, yes, he had chosen her. Her face was contorted as she fought against him, a butterfly trapped in his fist. The pain and desperation in her eyes clawed at him like a thousand blades, each one cutting deep into his reserve.

 

Of course, the youkai blood would drive her insane without him there to soothe and calm it. How had he forgotten that? Now he understood why he'd been so angry, so unforgiving when she'd left him. Why it had enraged him to the point of rejecting her in turn. He was, indeed, every bit as foolish as his father had said.

 

Sesshomaru dropped his arm and let Sango free, not knowing if she'd retreat or attack again. The girl was shaking, almost falling over as he watched. Then her face came up and she ran at him, screaming like a mindless creature and flung herself at him, her blunt teeth buried deep at his throat.

 

He let her take him, drive him to the ground. The force of her attack toppled them once he relented. Sango came down hard on his chest, biting at him like a wild creature and Sesshomaru smelled his own blood. She was whimpering now, making small noises like a trapped animal fearing for its life.

 

Sesshomaru didn't like the sound; his mate should never have been driven to such a state. He had done it, he had done this to her, but he now understood how to help heal the damage.

 

Sango grunted when he suddenly turned them over, trapping her body with his. He curled protectively around her, not letting her move but restraining her with his hold. Her legs twisted and kicked against his, she kept trying to shove against the ground in order throw him off.

 

"Stop it," he whispered.

 

Her body stilled at his soft tone and he nuzzled her neck. "Don't fight me, Sango," he said, making his voice gentle. This was difficult; he could feel her heart fluttering against her ribs, her rapid breathing. Very gently, he pressed his fangs against the skin at the back of her neck and growled so softly that it was almost inaudible. He could feel the tension drain out of her and Sango sagged against his hold.

 

"Better," he murmured, licking her neck reassuringly. Now that he'd tasted her skin, it was almost impossible to stop himself from continuing. Wordless, she stretched so that he'd have better access to her, a low rumbling sound of pleasure coming from her lips as she pressed her body against his.

 

He could feel her arousal building and smiled into her throat in between lazy licks at her skin. She still wanted him, she needed him and not just because of the child's demon blood. She was still his mate, no matter what either of them said or tried to convince themselves.

 

Sango murmured as he rolled her over, wanting to see her face. Her eyes were still a bit dazed, confused but accepting as he touched her lips with the tip of a finger. Her tongue slipped out, moist and pink, to touch his finger and gently draw it inside her mouth. He watched, fascinated, as her lips enveloped his finger, the pressure of her tongue warm and soft. Almost shy, she nibbled at the tip of his claw and watched as Sesshomaru's face melted in an expression of pure desire.

 

"You make me insane," he whispered heavily.

 

Breathing a bit raggedly, he leaned close to lick at the sides of her mouth before touching her lips in a soft kiss. He regretted ever saying what he'd said, threatening her, his mate, like she were some kind of beast demon, some lower creature who didn't deserve better. Sango didn't answer, she was still too fogged by instinct to respond verbally, but her body knew what it needed from him. She pulled him to her with shaking hands, burying her fingers in his soft hair as she kissed him deeply.

 

It was probably the first time he'd ever felt such an overwhelming emotion, such a need to communicate with her. The words didn't come to his mind easily; he had never meant them as much as he meant them now. He might never have said them before at all, but now he breathed them with a tenderness and sincerity that astounded him with its depth.

 

"I'm so sorry I hurt you."

 

Her eyes were deep pools; he wanted to drown himself in them as she moved under him. Sesshomaru slid his hand under her clothing and cupped her breast in his palm as he kissed her throat. Sango's body arched against him, twisting as his thumb caressed her nipple almost roughly, pinching it into a hard point. Then he abandoned all pretenses at being in control and yanked the cloth away so his mouth could reach her breast.

 

She cried out, still wordless with need as he sucked hard on her skin, the rough texture of his tongue making her nerves raw with desire. She shook her head wildly, pressed her hands against him like she wanted to push him away, the sensation too intense to bear. He only brought his hand up again to stroke the other breast, leaving the tormented one and diving over to its twin.

 

Sango snarled at him, tearing at him now, still pinned by the greater weight of his body. She wanted him now, she couldn't be denied and she was angry with him for teasing her breasts while her body ached against him. Primal need was driving her instincts now, he was her mate, hers alone and she demanded him to satisfy this ache that was consuming her.

 

He moved away, reaching up to remove his armor and Sango pushed him hard, shoving him further back as she sat up in his embrace. His eyes glittered angrily, thinking perhaps that she would deny him. Sango could sooner deny breathing than she could deny her want of him.

 

Instead she met his gaze hungrily as she stripped off her own clothing, her warm body fairly glowing. Watching his face as the desire made his eyes sharpen and glow, she laid back submissively in front of him. Her arms spread out to either side and she raised her legs, letting her knees fall apart as she welcomed him, inviting him to come to her.

 

Sesshomaru was shaking, no other prelude to lovemaking had ever left him feeling so helpless, so caught in the winds of their desire. With a soft cry he fell upon her, feeling the moment shift as he sought her desperately. Now he was the one was stunned by instinct, now he was the one who couldn't stand being without her. His icy reserve had melted, forgotten and flowing like snowmelt down a mountainside. He couldn't make himself be gentle; he was far too gone for that, finding her body offering solace from the fire consuming his blood.

 

Sango's knees clenched hard on his hips, her hands raked down his back as she cried for him. He answered with whispers and soft moans, striving against her, shattering himself and being reborn with each thrust, each answering murmur from her lips.

 

Her human smell filled his nostrils and he welcomed it, gathered it close to him in pure possessive drive, owning it and reveling in the way her form matched and surrendered to him. He was slipping, he was falling, and all the anger that had closed itself around him was dissolving, breaking away with each white-hot burn of pleasure. Hungrily, he took her mouth with his even as their hips clashed in rhythm, barely able to let her breathe from the hot passion that ate at their bodies.

 

At last, he could bear no more and threw back his head, howling in release and burying himself so deeply inside her that her body shuddered in response. Sango shouted his name in exultation, her voice clear and pure, and her face streaked with sweat and tears. He spiraled slowly back to himself, holding her tight, clutching her like a desperate and lonely child needing comfort.

 

Her breath was harsh and ragged on his neck as he pressed her face against him, his hand tightening in her hair and he closed his eyes and let the peaceful sensation of their bond wash him away.

 

She was his mate. She was his.

 

He was hers. And a demon who would never let himself be owned, not by desire, not by demands, surrendered his will as the hands of a woman wandered lazily through his hair.