InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ You Are Never Alone ❯ Invidious Angels, Altruistic Demons ( Chapter 2 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

By: cu-kid

A/N: *sigh* I've re-written this chapter so many times now that I just don't even care anymore ^_^ I hope everyone likes it. As always, thanks to those who have reviewed (and to those who have just bothered to read ^_^). Again, if you see any mistakes feel free to tell me (or email me ^_~)...hmmm, I don't think there's anything else.

Oh yeah, a disclaimer: the words to the song do not belong to me...they are from the song “Devil Inside” by Utada Hikaru.

Enjoy.

Chapter 2

Invidious Angels, Altruistic Demons

~Everybody wants me to be their angel…~

They had talked about it the next day, Sango and Kagome. Kagome had woken up early, her head pounding, her mouth unpleasantly dry, had crept into her room quietly so that she wouldn't wake her friend, and had crawled into the shower. As she was drying her hair, she had noticed her window was open, had crossed over to it, placing her hands on the sill to lean out, tasting the spring air. Rough wood met her fingers and she had looked down to find shallow gouges on the edge of the sill. She turned her back on the window, eyeing the room, noticed that the desk was slightly askew, that the few papers and pens on it were now in disarray. Something felt…different in the room, as though there was another presence besides herself and the sleeping Sango -as though someone was hiding in the closet, listening to them, watching them. She had shivered slightly, had looked back out the window, watching the way the breeze rustled leaves, listening to the birds singing to each other.

“Are you okay, Kagome-chan?”

“No…yes.” Kagome had turned, smiling sheepishly at her friend who looked blearily back at her, and had shaken her head. “I just feel…like I've missed something important.”

Sango had narrowed her eyes. “Something? Or someone?” she had asked, crawling out of the bed.

Kagome sucked in a slow breath, something tickling at the edges of her senses, a taste in the back of her throat that she couldn't quite identify but seemed tantalizingly familiar nonetheless.

“I'm not sure.” She had looked around the room again searching for…something.

Sango gave her a queer look, had suddenly turned quite pale and had dashed for the bathroom. Kagome was certain that everyone in the house could hear her friend retching.

She was tracing the shallow grooves on the window sill when Sango returned, looking decidedly peaked.

“He was here, wasn't he?” Kagome had asked, softly, looking from the wood and out to the tree that grew a good ten feet away from the house. As soon as she had said it, she had felt certain that she was right. “He was here, came inside.” She turned to look at Sango. “Did you see him, talk to him?”

Sango had peered at her, seemed to come to some kind of conclusion, and, with a shrug, curled up on the bed, a pillow clutched to her stomach. “What do you want to know about him?” she had asked.

Kagome had shrugged at the question, hadn't been able to come up with anything at the time. Now though, staring out at the overcast day from her kitchen window, she found that she wanted to know everything.How he tasted, how he smelled, what he looked like when he slept, when he laughed, cried. How he looked when he jumped into a girl's window that he didn't even know...what he had looked like when he had seen Sango and not her. What those claws would feel like against bare skin…what it would feel like to be in the same room with him…alone…

She felt a sudden urge to know what it was like to move like he did, to jump from the window to the tree, even though she knew it was impossible for her. She wanted to see what it was like to move above the treetops, to look down on the world, to be free from everything below her, even for a moment. She knew it was unattainable, knew that she was as confined to the ground by gravity and her own lack of physical power as she was trapped by social standards of what was proper, polite, gracious…normal. She felt a sudden urge to break free of the restrictions placed on her by her family, by her status, by society…a wild urge that made her feel reckless, brash…

~Maybe there's a devil, or something like it, inside…~

Kagome grinned at the way the music reflected her thoughts, flicking on the living room light. She sang along as she moved around her apartment, bathing the rooms in light. The morning had started out sunny but had turned dreary; thick, grey clouds threatening rain but not doing anything more than drizzle. Despite the rather gloomy day, Kagome felt the corners of her mouth tug upward in a small smile. Something had begun to feel different in the past few days. She felt like a child on the eve of some great holiday -excited, expectant…anxious. Her stomach would twist at odd moments, giddiness running through her. The afternoon after seeing the inu-hanyou at the club, after hearing about his visit to her parents' house, she had caught a flash of white in the crowd on the streets of Roppongi, had nearly run forward to see if it was him. Sango had given her a look that was far shrewder than it should have been.

She put a kettle on the stove, thumbing through the mail that was lying on the kitchen table. She tossed most of it in the trash without looking at it before returning to a glossy paged magazine as she waited for her water to heat.

She had found this apartment in Asakusa a little over a year ago and had fallen in love with it. Tucked in the center of a maze of streets with no names, it was on the top floor and had housed an Australian couple who had gutted it and then renovated it. Light, hardwood floors graced every room in the house except for the kitchen, which had stone tiled floors that stayed pleasantly cool in the summer. One of the things that had attracted her to it was the way all of the screens that sectioned the rooms off could be opened so that the place turned into one big living area. The other was the large window with a ledge just wide enough for her to perch on in the living room that over-looked Senso-ji; a large temple that calmed her every time she looked out at it.

And then there was the bathroom. They had kept the bath and shower separate, as was traditional, and had played on the concept that the bath was for relaxing. It was a white stone, round affair that was nestled against the wall and elevated from the floor, accessible by two stone steps. Sunk into the raised area, it was large enough to hold three of Kagome comfortably. The facet was a flat piece of metal that projected a few inches from the wall so that, when one filled the bath, a waterfall was created. The Australian couple had placed skylights in the ceiling above it so that when the sun was out the water stayed heated and, on rainy days, Kagome could lie back and watch the water strike the rounded panes of glass and run in rivulets down the sides.

She had moved in, receiving protests from her father and approving smiles from her mother. She hadn't been able to sit under the watchful gaze of her father anymore, had started to feel claustrophobic in the large house. She still stayed with them occasionally -like two nights ago when Miroku had driven her and Sango there- but the apartment was the place she really called home. Here, she could walk around in a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt, could prop her feet on the coffee table, could sing to music at the top of her lungs -could even leave dirty dishes in the sink if she felt so inclined. And, even though it was smaller than her parents' house, Kagome didn't feel as though the walls were pressing against her, watching her, suffocating her.

The kettle started to whistle softly, tentatively, as though afraid to break into her thoughts. She curled up on the window ledge in the living room, waiting for the tea to steep before drinking it, trying to clear her mind of everything that had happened over the past few days as she gazed at the temple and the uneven horizon that was the city beyond it.

Looking back on it later, she would realize that it was the simple act of throwing away her tea leaves that was the catalyst for future events.

The wet herbs made a soft thump as they hit the newspaper in the trash can. Kagome turned to place her mug in the sink, hesitated and turned back to the trash can. Herb saturated water was running over a black and white picture, washing away the ink, smearing it. She pulled the paper out of the trash, furiously brushing off the clumped tea, trying to salvage what she could. She quickly scanned the article, her expression turning from a frown of incomprehension to a scowl of irritation.

It seemed that her soon to be fiancé had been photographed being intimate with another woman. No one of consequence, to be sure, but someone other than Higurashi Kagome-shi. Kagome looked at the picture and realized that she could only shake her head and feel sorry for Hojo-san. The woman bore a startling resemblance to herself, but, after studying it, it was obvious that it was not the Higurashi heiress.

And, while the fact that her future fiancé was cheating on her really didn't bother her, the fact that he was doing it with someone who could be even remotely mistaken as her grated on her nerves.

The phone shrieked through the apartment, making her jump slightly. She read the caller id, grinned a little before picking it up.

“I cannot believe that he would even take her out in public! And to flaunt her like that!”

“Hello, Sango,” Kagome said.

“Well, that just goes to show you that I was right all along. That…kusottare is no good for you. Ayumi, Eri, and Yuka be damned. I know that those three are his own personal cheerleaders, always trying to wheedle you into thinking that he's the best thing since…since…instant ramen! But this is just…just…!”

There was an unintelligible shout that Kagome couldn't understand.

“So, I take it you read today's paper?”

There was a pause from the other end and Kagome looked at the newsprint that was starting to curl and pucker from the moisture. “Why are you so calm about this?” Sango asked.

Kagome shrugged, remembered her friend couldn't see it, and said, “What should I get upset about? Hojo-san is digging his own grave, making himself look bad.”

“But now everyone is going to talk about poor Higurashi-san whose heart is being broken by Akitoki-san.”

Kagome rolled her eyes. “Yeah, poor me,” she said, dryly.

“You're not upset at all, are you? I mean, I know that you have only lukewarm feelings for him, but I would think that a woman on the verge of a very important engagement would be a little more…I don't know, pissed maybe?”

Kagome laughed. “You know my feelings toward Hojo-san. We make great friends, but anything more is just…unthinkable. Besides, he's changed since we were kids.”

“He's cuter now.”

“It's not just that. And I thought you didn't like him, Sango-chan.”

“I don't. But that doesn't mean I can't acknowledge the fact that he's nice to look at.” She paused again and then, “He's no Inuyasha-sama, though.”

Kagome's stomach flipped just hearing his name. She took a deep, calming breath, refusing to rise to the bait.

“Your silence speaks volumes, Kags,” Sango said, with a laugh.

Kagome opened her mouth to retort when a beep interrupted her. She pulled the phone away from her ear, looking at the name that popped up on it. “Let me call you back, Sango.” She clicked over to the other line, dreading this conversation.

“Hello, Daddy.”

On the other hand, maybe this was a good opportunity to convince her father that she and Hojo weren't the perfect couple, that there was more to a perfect match than money and heritage. Maybe she could, this once, get what she really wanted instead of what everyone else wanted for her.

Maybe she could make that jump after all.

~Devil, inside of me...~

She shouldn't have come here, not alone. She should have waited until Sango or one of her other friends were free to accompany her. She should have…

She should have at least called to see if they could come with her.

Kagome eyed the sign above the door, anxiety twisting her stomach into knots that she feared would never be untangled. With a deep, calming breath, she walked inside, pausing to let her eyes adjust to the low light. A slender, dark-haired woman approached her, smiling.

“One?” the woman asked, pleasantly.

Kagome blinked at her, not understanding. “Oh,” she said. “No. I was actually trying to find Miroku-san. Is he here today?”

The woman never lost her smile. “Yes. Would you like to sit at the bar while I find him?”

Kagome nodded, following the woman as she wove her way through tables filled with businessmen, friends, families, all out to lunch. The smell of the food made Kagome's stomach grumble slightly, reminding her that it had been a long time since breakfast.

The hostess pulled out a tall chair at the bar, gesturing for Kagome to sit, saying that she would be back shortly. The bartender asked if she wanted anything and Kagome ordered a Mimosa, suddenly needing something to calm her nerves, to keep her hands occupied so they would stop knotting around each other in an imitation of what her stomach was currently doing. She sipped nervously at her drink when it was placed before her, her eyes darting around the room every time someone moved. She forced herself to calm down. She was only here to thank Miroku-san. And, besides, he didn't know that she knew about him, that he was a co-owner of this place. Or that he had come through her bedroom window, looking for her. Or that she hadn't been able to stop thinking about him. She was just here to find Miroku…

You're going to hurt yourself, Higurashi, she scolded herself, scowling down at the highly polished wood of the bar. The alcohol had hit her empty stomach, was making her feel slightly fuzzy around the edges.

Something caught at her. A feeling, a momentary loss of breath -a pressure in the air around her that pushed against her skin- that made everything come sharply back into focus and made her look up. Light flashed from silvery-white out of the corner of her eye and, even before she turned, her heart started pounding against her ribs as though trying to desperately escape its bony prison. She was instantly caught like an insect in amber, unable to move under that brilliant gaze.

Oh kami, this was a mistake…

A man that she assumed was a chef was standing in front of him, talking to him in a low voice, hands clasped before him, eyes downcast. The inu-hanyou, for his part, was ignoring the man as he had done with the woman at the club, staring at Kagome with that unwavering gaze and looking…gorgeous. His black, button-down shirt was un-tucked over black slacks and contrasted sharply with his snow white hair, made his already radiant golden eyes scintillate. Far from looking odd with his rather punk-ish hair and earrings, he looked fiercely sleek, wild…omnipotent.

They both froze. Kagome was trying to just breathe again, a flush blossoming across her cheeks, her heart pounding and stuck somewhere between where it belonged and her throat -making inhaling more of a necessity and increasingly difficult. Inuyasha was blinking as though trying to make sure she was actually sitting there. Time slowed, moved sluggishly as Kagome's brain tried to kick-start itself again. She regained the breath that had left her lungs, felt her body slowly start to regain control of itself. He was disengaging himself from the chef, was making his way over to her.

It was because she was shy, she told herself. It was because the anxiety threatened to consume her, confused her, because she had never reacted to someone like this before. It was because when he looked at her that way she felt as though she was being…hunted -and, while the electricity zinging through her veins every time he looked at her was exhilarating, something inside of Kagome shied away. Warm sunlight was striking her face, blinding her eyes, a soft breeze filling her lungs as she escaped from the restaurant. She took one more deep breath before turning to walk away.

Oh gods…I forgot to pay…

Kagome paused mid-step and, with a sigh, turned back.

He was standing there, a small smirk curving the edges of his mouth, pushing the door open for her.

“Forget something?” he asked, softly.

“My…bill,” she said, inwardly wincing when her voice came out choked. Why did he have to sound like that -sexy and smooth, as though he was trying to seduce her? And why did she let it affect her so?

A large group of people leaving walked past them in the small space of the entrance, forcing Kagome to either step back outside or move closer to him. She chose the former, hoping to regain some of her composure before she had to face the inu-hanyou again.

“Kagome-chan!”

Dark eyebrows, like raven's wings, dove together in a frown above golden eyes. Kagome blinked at the irritated look on Inuyasha's face, one part of her mind trying to solve the riddle of the expression while the other part slowly recognized the voice behind her.

Her own face twisted into a scowl as she turned, saw Akitoki Hojo pushing his way through the crowd.

“Kagome-chan, I've been trying to get a hold of you for the past three days!” he said, maneuvering through a final group of people. He paused before her, slightly out of breath. Kagome wondered, vaguely, if he had run to get to her.

“Yes, I know,” Kagome said, distractedly. She could feel a prickle on the back of her neck, could swear she felt eyes behind her smoldering as hot as molten gold.

Hojo, who had no doubt opened his mouth to let go of a string of explanations, hesitated. Kagome thought he looked rather foolish standing there in the middle of the sidewalk, people walking around him as though he were a statue that had been inconveniently placed in their way.

“You…know?” He took a step closer to her. “Did you get my messages?” His face turned dark when Kagome nodded. “Why haven't you returned my calls?”

He had taken another step forward, had placed himself inside her personal space. Kagome took a step back. “Because, Hojo-san, I am not really interested in what you have to say. You have managed to embarrass not only yourself, but me and my family as well. I don't know who she was; I don't know what you were actually doing. And,” she added, cutting Hojo off when he opened his mouth, “I find that I don't really care. This may be for the best anyhow. I'm not sure that this,” she waved her hand in a vague gesture, “is such a good idea.”

He looked like a petulant child who, used to getting his way, was now suddenly surprised to find that someone was denying him. “This isn't the place to discuss this,” he said.

His hand around her upper arm threatened to bruise her. Kagome tugged backward in his grip, trying to release herself from his painful hold. “Hojo-san, let go of me,” she said, trying to glare at him effectively while jerking against his hand on her arm.

He steered them toward the crosswalk, seemingly patient as they stood on the curb waiting for the light to change. A muscle in his jaw twitched. Kagome was trying not to make a scene, trying to discreetly disengage herself from the determined man next to her.

“Let go,” she hissed, trying to pry his fingers from her arm.

Kagome went still for a moment when Hojo turned to look down at her. She had never remembered seeing him like this. When they were children, he had always been smiling, had always had something nice to say to everyone. Even as they grew older, he had kept his cheerful countenance, had never been anything but polite. Kagome had reluctantly agreed to consider an engagement to him after her father had managed to convince her that the match was in her best interest. Kagome had even managed to convince herself for awhile that marrying Hojo was a good idea. He was smart, good-looking, was well off in his own right, so he wouldn't be marrying her for her money. And besides, they were good friends. Her three friends from high school, Ayumi, Eri, and Yuka, were ecstatic -and just a little jealous. Sango -who Kagome had only known for a few years- had been against the idea from the beginning, for reasons she had refused to discuss until recently.

And now, looking into light brown eyes that had gone frighteningly dark with anger, Kagome had to admit that Sango was right. This was not a good idea. Something had changed in Hojo over the past year. He had become more serious, quicker to anger, didn't smile nearly as much as he used to. And when he did, it seemed strained, malicious. Dread started to curdle in Kagome's stomach like milk left too long in the hot sun.

She didn't care if people stared anymore. She was frantically trying to pull out of Hojo's grip, turning to face him, trying to push him away. His fingers sank into the flesh of her arm and tears pricked at Kagome's eyes, more from indignant anger than from the pain he was causing. She looked up at him as she struggled with him, felt a shiver of panic creep icy fingers down her spine when she thought she saw a gleam of madness in his eyes.

“Let me go, Akitoki-san!”

He jerked her forward, his face uncomfortably close to hers. “You are making a scene, Kagome-chan,” he said, fiercely serene.

“Stop calling me that,” she said. “You have no right-“

“Maybe not just yet,” he said, cutting her off. “But our fathers will see to it that we are wed within the year.” He looked down on her speculatively and Kagome froze, returning his gaze with a wide-eyed one of her own. He smiled grimly, leaned close to her and Kagome felt his lips graze along her cheek. “And if they don't, I will.”

Just as she resumed her struggles, Hojo's eyes went wide; a stunned travesty of her own expression. He was jerked away from her, his fingers clawing painfully at her arm in an attempt to hang on to her. At the same time, she yanked away from him, stumbling backward, trying to keep her balance. Her foot caught on something -the ground, the air…itself, she didn't know. She only had time to catch a flash of silver and amber as she felt her foot slide off the curb, as her ankle twisted at an odd angle while her body tried to keep itself upright. Kagome closed her eyes, waiting with ominous expectation the pain that was inevitable.

I can just see it now…I get run over and the newspapers read `Heartbroken Heiress Kills Herself.' Oh kami…

There was a bone-wrenching jolt that drove all the air out of her lungs in one painful expulsion of breath. She felt the concrete scrape across the palms of her hands as she flailed her arms to catch herself, felt something hard wrap around her waist like a steel band. She was aware of the air rushing past her face, through her hair, of something almost uncomfortably warm pressing against the front of her.

Everything went still. There was the faint murmur of voices. Kagome opened an eye to look around and was met with darkness.

I'm dead…

The warmth that had enveloped her pulled away slightly, the steel around her waist loosened. She inhaled -wondering that she could still do so- and a musky, woodsy scent filled her nose. Her eyes snapped open, adjusted slowly, and she looked up into twin suns that glowed in the dim light with concern. She sucked in a sharp breath at being so terribly close to the inu-hanyou, his arm around her waist, holding her to himself.

“You should be more careful,” Inuyasha said, softly.

She watched, fascinated, as his eyes flicked down to her mouth when she licked her lips. “Ari…Arigatou,” she managed. She turned away from his gaze, found that they were in a dark hallway. She could hear the muffled clatter of dishes and guessed that they were somewhere behind the restaurant.

“You're hurt,” Inuyasha said, suddenly. His eyes narrowed as though she had purposely kept this information from him.

Kagome's body lost the numbness that had taken over from shock, came to life again. She felt the palms of her hands burning, felt a sharp throbbing in her left ankle that matched the pain from where Hojo had been holding her. She twisted in Inuyasha's grip to look for a bruise on her arm, felt his firm body brush against hers, felt something sharp run lightly over the skin of her back where his hand was, and abruptly froze. She looked up at him again to see his eyes glowing under heavy lids, his lips slightly parted, and felt a rumble begin in his chest.

Oh, this was such a mistake!

She sucked in another breath. Silver glinted in the low light and caught her eye as his left ear swiveled toward her. Her injured arm forgotten, she reached up, hesitantly, to the appendage, the urge to touch it irresistible. Fur that was impossibly soft met her fingers, curled around them, and she watched as his eyes closed completely, as he leaned toward her hand. He pressed her against the wall, pinning her there with his body, lowering his head so she had better access. The rumble became audible, vibrated through her, causing a deliciously warm, tingling sensation to begin in her stomach. His head dropped farther, his nose pressing into her hair, the curve of her neck, as his hands wrapped around her waist, his claws pressing delicately into the sensitive flesh of her sides. Kagome's head dropped back and she let her eyes drift close when she felt his warm breath brush lightly across her skin. The reckless feeling was back and she found herself wanting, craving, to know what his lips would feel like on her. His chest pressed against hers and Kagome found that she couldn't tell if that was his heart pounding so fiercely or hers.

The bang of a door and the sudden flood of light made them jump guiltily apart. Kagome wavered where she stood and Inuyasha placed a hand under her elbow, steadying her. She gave him a grateful smile -wished she hadn't when he returned it with a knee-weakening one of his own. She glanced away, smoothing the front of her shirt, looking up at the approaching figure.

“Miroku-san,” she said, surprise coloring her voice as a light shade of pink colored her cheeks. The dark haired man looked at her with a knowing smile.

“Kagome-san. It's nice to see you again. More sober this time, I hope?” Her cheeks flared a more brilliant shade of red and he chuckled.

“Did I ever thank you for taking us home that night?” she asked, stepping slightly away from Inuyasha, trying, in some way, to distance herself from him.

“Yes. Several times. All were satisfactory,” he added, winking at her.

She wasn't sure she could turn anymore red, but it must have been possible considering the amused smile on Miroku's face.

“What do you need, Miroku?”

Inuyasha's voice was sharp, irritated. Kagome turned to look at him, wondering why he looked…annoyed.

“He's not mad at you,” Miroku whispered, loud enough that Inuyasha surely heard. “He doesn't like me implying that you and I had any kind of…intimate association.”

“Monk.”

Miroku merely smiled at Inuyasha's warning growl. “I was actually looking for you, Yasha. We need to go over the order for next week's menu.”

“It can wait.”

“Is there something more important you need to be doing?” the dark-haired man challenged.

“Kagome-san is hurt,” Inuyasha said.

“It's just a scratch,” she protested. She looked mournfully down at her hands, grimacing at the angry red on them, at the dirt that had embedded itself in the flesh of her palms. She shook her head and started to brush past Inuyasha, trying not to come into contact with him again. “If I may use the restroom in the restaurant, I will clean up and-“

She didn't even make it two steps away from him. As soon as she put her weight on her left foot, pain shot up through her leg, making her whimper slightly. Inuyasha's hand around her wrist was like a brand, searing into her flesh -a tingling sensation that was not completely unpleasant.

“Let me take you upstairs and look at your ankle,” he said, tugging her gently toward him.

Kagome shook her head. “No. I'll be fine, I'm sure,” she said. “I just twisted it a little.”

“You're hands are scratched up and you've torn your shirt,” he said, softly.

Kagome blinked, looking down at the front of her t-shirt. “No, I haven't,” she said, confused.

“He really means that he's torn your shirt,” Miroku said.

Inuyasha glared and Kagome's hands flew to the back of her shirt, feeling the shredded material there. She knew she should be appreciative; she knew she should just thank him and walk away. She knew that she was just reacting to what had happened with Hojo and that her brain was trying to compensate for the trauma it had just been through. But…

“You…you ruined my shirt!”

He turned a defiant stare on her at her accusatory tone. “I saved you from becoming road kill!” he said.

She returned his glare with a heated one of her own. “If you would have been polite enough to stay out of my business, I wouldn't have fallen!” she snapped, looking up at him. Standing next to him she found that she had to crane her neck to meet his gaze.

Inuyasha's eyes narrowed. “Yeah, it looked like you had everything under control.”

Kagome felt a muscle in her jaw twitch. “I did,” she ground out, through clenched teeth.

They glared at each other for a long moment. Inuyasha's eyes ran down the length of her exposed neck, the front of her shirt, something unreadable flickering over his face. He looked away from her, dropping his chin so that his bangs hid his eyes, and crossed his arms over his chest, his ears drooping slightly.

“Keh.”

He looked adorable and Kagome found herself hard pressed to hold onto her anger, but her eyes narrowed at the utterance. “Excuse me?”

“Kagome-san, we can, perhaps, get you cleaned up upstairs,” Miroku said, slicing delicately through the thick silence that hung between the hanyou and the young woman. Miroku stood behind her, placed a hand on the small of her back, steered her toward a door and gestured for her to go up the stairs behind it.

Kagome took a deep breath and nodded. She felt Miroku's hand slide down as she moved, felt it become uncomfortably low.

“Hands off, monk,” Inuyasha growled.

“I was only trying to-“

“Save it.”

Inuyasha pushed past Kagome, leading the way up the stairs. Kagome followed more slowly, looking back over her shoulder to find Miroku wearing an irreproachably smug grin.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she struggled to toe off her shoes, as she moved further into the apartment. He winced inwardly at the dirty dishes in the sink, at the bowl he had left on the coffee table this morning. The place wasn't even that messy but he suddenly felt like a slob, suddenly wished that he were a neater person. The trash was full of empty beer bottles and he pocketed a handful of pills that were lying on the kitchen table as he passed. He kept her in sight as he went into his bedroom, rummaging around in his dresser for something for her to wear. He found a t-shirt for her by feel, watching as she looked around with a small frown at the sparsely furnished and undecorated apartment. Inuyasha found himself wishing, probably for the first time in his life, that he was more like his half-brother. If this had been Sesshomaru's apartment, she would have been more impressed, he was sure

Inuyasha mentally shook himself. Why did he care what she thought? At best she would be just another lay. At worst…Inuyasha looked down at the article of clothing he was holding. At worst, he would never see his favorite t-shirt again.

“Here,” he said.

She looked over her shoulder at him, watching him with those dark eyes as he closed the space between them to hand her the shirt.

“Thank you,” she said, softly. Inuyasha nodded his head, leaned against the back of the couch where Miroku was sitting. She glanced up, neatly avoided his eyes, and looked around. “Um…is there somewhere I can change?”

He licked his lips, the sudden thought of her naked -or at least partially so- in his apartment wonderfully tormenting. “The bathroom is back there, through the bedroom,” he said, pointing.

Miroku chose that moment to pipe, “Or you could just change out -ow!”

Inuyasha was completely satisfied with the feel of his hand connecting with the back of his friend's head. Was that a faint smile he saw on her lips as she hurried out of the room? When she had disappeared, Inuyasha glared down at the violet-eyed man.

“Help me pick this place up,” he said.

Miroku looked around. “Yasha, there's not really much to pick up,” he said. “It hardly even looks like someone lives here.”

Inuyasha bit back a retort. “Give me that bowl,” he said, snatching it out of Miroku's hands when it was proffered. He walked into the kitchen, throwing dishes into the dishwasher.

He did it to keep his mind from the fact that she was here, that her scent was slowly finding its way from his bedroom and into the kitchen. His jaw clenched at that thought; her scent in his bedroom. His youkai started to burn inside of him, immensely pleased, images of animalistic rutting flashing through his thoughts.

Our bitch in our den.

It threatened to overtake him, but Inuyasha shoved the demon aside. Ours? He didn't even know her, for kami's sake!

What's to know?

His human side felt slightly nauseous at the overly delighted demon. The rutting was replaced by tender thoughts of being near her, of holding her close, feeling the way her body molded to his. His nose lifted into the air, twitching as he caught her scent again, and he moved to lean against the wall by the door of the bedroom. She was stronger than any drug he had ever forced into his body, made him nearly senseless.

Inuyasha suddenly rebelled against demon and human. Who was this woman that she could just literally waltz before him and instantly capture his attention, change everything about his life? He hadn't been high in almost four days, hadn't even felt the effect of withdraw; was unsure if she wasn't a replacement for the drugs. He nearly lost control every time he was near her, nearly came unglued anytime she turned those wide, almond shaped eyes on him. He still wasn't entirely certain what color they were. Black? Maybe dark brown?

“You look adorable!”

Inuyasha tried to feign nonchalance as he looked up, but he couldn't stop the smile that curved his mouth when he saw her.

His shirt was too big for her, but she did, as Miroku had said, look adorable. It was his favorite shirt, one of those that was well worn and soft and always comfortable. It was grey with the faded name of a band across the front. The hemhit her at the tops of her thighs and he suddenly wanted to see her in his shirt without those damn pants on. He felt something twitch in his stomach, the sensation moving lower to pool in his groin.

Kami. I'm as much of a lecher as the monk.

Kagome was frowning down at the piece of clothing she was wearing. She looked up, caught Inuyasha's smile and looked quickly away.

“I look ridiculous,” she said. “Could you throw this away for me?” She handed the tattered remains of the shirt she had been wearing to him.

Inuyasha's eyes narrowed. “You're limping,” he said, watching as she hobbled to the door. Her back stiffened and she tried to walk normally, wincing in pain when she put all of her weight on the injured foot.

It wasn't even a cognizant thought. He was instantly at her side, supporting her when she looked like she was about to crumple. His eyes partially closed when she leaned into him for a moment. It was like inhaling the purest opium into his lungs every time he caught her scent.

“I'm fine,” she said, rather unconvincingly.

“The hell you are.” He ignored her as she tried to wave him off, picked her up and threw her unceremoniously over his shoulder. Everyplace she came into contact with him instantly started tingling like soft jolts of electricity coursing through him.

“Put me down!”

“No.” He tilted his head away from her arm as she tried to hit him. She started kicking her legs and Inuyasha caught the left one, flipping the hem of her jeans up to look at her ankle. It had already started turning purple, ugly shades of green surrounding it, and had swollen to twice the size it should be. “You're going to sit with ice on this until the swelling goes down,” he told her.

“I have things I need to do today!” she shouted, grunting when he adjusted her position on his shoulder.

“Too fuckin' bad. You should have thought about that before you decided to play at dodging cars.”

“Put me down!”

Inuyasha's ears flattened against his skull, displeased with the volume of her voice, and he felt a fist on his back -reprimand for ignoring her. Miroku raised an eyebrow and Inuyasha grinned at him as he walked toward his bedroom.

“Maybe you should put her down,” Miroku said, wincing as he watched Kagome elbow Inuyasha in the back of the head.

“No.”

“You should listen to your friend, baka.”

Inuyasha made a tsking sound. “Such language from a lady,” he said. She pounded her fists against his back again. “That's enough,” he growled.

He reached up and swatted her on her ass sharply. He heard her quick intake of breath, felt her go as still as stone, and her scent quickly changed from biting anger to smooth arousal. Grinning, he maneuvered his way into the bedroom and dropped her on the bed. She bounced a few times, glaring up at him, raven hair spilling around her face and making the expression less effective.

He saw her muscles tense and shook his head, leaning over her. His hand nearly spanned her from shoulder to shoulder as he pressed her into the bed, just at the base of her throat. “Don't move from this spot, princess,” he told her.

When he returned with ice, she was gazing down at her ankle, making faces at it. Suppressing a chuckle, Inuyasha sat down next to her.

“Is that helping?” he asked.

“What?”

“Giving it nasty looks.”

The corners of her mouth twitched, but she refused to smile at him.

She's as ornery as you are.

“If you must know, yes,” she replied, looking up at him, her face lined with stubbornness.

“Well, glare at it while you hold this on it,” he said. He leaned over her to place the ice pack on the injury and she immediately hissed. “Sorry,” he said, softly.

“For what?” she asked, just as softly. She had leaned forward and her breath tickled the hairs around his ear, made it twitch.

Inuyasha physically froze while his mind shot off in a thousand random directions at once like lit fireworks skidding and bouncing along the ground. She was so close. He could taste her in the back of his throat as her scent invaded his nose like the smooth aftertaste of rich chocolate. It was as close to a perfect situation as he could get. Who would know besides him and her? He licked his lips, craving just a taste. And yet…

As her warmth reached out to him, so did something else, something that remained at the edges of his senses, flowed away from him when he tried to grasp at it. He closed his eyes, ignored the small, warm hand that covered his as he tried to capture what eluded him.

`You may be in as much danger from her as she is from you.'

Inuyasha's eyes snapped open and he jerked away from the raven-haired woman on the bed as though he had been burned, giving a small yelp that sounded, embarrassingly, like a dog who had just been stepped on. His ears swiveled back as Miroku poked his head around the door.

“What's going on?” the dark-haired man asked.

“You're…” Inuyasha glared at Kagome. “You're a priestess!”

She was staring at him, confusion in her eyes. “What?”

“You're a goddamn miko. You were trying to… purify me!”

“Inuyasha, I hardly think-“

“Shut the fuck up, Miroku! I know what I sensed!” He started to take a threatening step toward Kagome, felt her aura flare in response and stayed where he was. “Is this your idea of a fucking joke?” he growled. “Why did you really come to the restaurant today? Or to the club the other night? Is this a game that you play? Do you feel the need to entertain yourself with destroying youkai because your perfect existence is so boring?”

Confusion drained away with the blood in her face, was replaced quickly by fury that was accompanied by a dark flush across her cheeks. Her eyes nearly glowed with her anger as she scooted to the edge of the bed. She wobbled a little on her bad ankle, but refused Miroku's helping hand as she made her way to the door. Inuyasha sure as hell wasn't going to touch her again. She didn't say anything as she dropped the ice pack on the floor, as she struggled to pull on her shoes. When she straightened, Inuyasha took a wary step back at the deceptively serene look on her face.

“I have no idea what you are talking about. Thank you for your help. I'll return your shirt tomorrow,” she said.

Inuyasha sensed something else beneath her words, something salty and tangy, and instantly felt guilty about what he had said. He closed the distance between them, came to a halt a few feet away when she glowered at him over her shoulder.

“You don't know anything about me,” she said, her voice coming out in a low growl that was a close imitation of one of his.

The pack of ice smacked him in the stomach, making him double over and grunt in painful surprise that someone so small could chuck something so hard. The door slammed behind her and Inuyasha could hear her as she limped her way slowly down the steps.

“Well, you really fucked that up, didn't you?”

Inuyasha would have punched Miroku if he had had the breath.