InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ One Less Star, Book 1 ❯ Chapter 12 ( Chapter 12 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
Chapter 12 by CinnamonGrrl     Upon her return to the receiving room, three pairs of eyes swiveled in her direction and she couldn’t stop herself from blushing, even though she wasn’t embarrassed. She didn’t like being scrutinized so much.   Sesshoumaru studied her like that all the time, but it was just the one person then, and it was him. These demons were strangers, and dangerous ones at that. Not that Sesshoumaru were any less dangerous, but at least with him she could pretend she was confident he wouldn’t slay her... maybe.   And now she was babbling in her thoughts. Darn it. “I’m sorry for taking so long with the tea,” she said, carefully pouring tea into the lovely little cups. “We weren’t expecting guests.”   Takeshi nodded and reached for his cup. His lieutenants did the same only after he had taken a sip. He gazed over its rim at her, smiling a little. “You make fine tea, girl,” he said approvingly, sounding surprised that a human could manage it.   She blushed again. “Um… Jaken made that, actually. I’m not so good at cooking, unless it’s instant ramen.”   The smile turned to a knowing smirk. “I do not know of ‘instant ramen’,” he said. “Perhaps you will honour me by making some during my stay here?”   Kagome wondered if she had any cups of it left in her backpack. “If we have any, sure,” she agreed. “I’m not positive. Inu—someone,” she amended hurriedly, “might have eaten them all, already.”   But he had not missed her slip, and narrowed his quicksilver eyes at her. “Inuyasha, you were going to say,” he commented, and she nodded miserably. “How is the whelp doing? It has been a long time since I have seen him.” There didn’t seem to be any malice in his words, just curiosity.   Kagome goggled at him, unable to reconcile his immense resemblance to Sesshoumaru with his easygoing personality. “He’s… he’s fine,” she lied. “Trucking right along, you know how it is.”   The corner of his lips lifted a little, and she doubted she’d been able to fool him any better than she had his nephew. “I do,” he murmured, replacing his empty cup on the table, “know how it is.” She refilled the cup for him, then for his two soldiers.    “This is Yori,” he gestured to the one on his left as she poured for him, “and this is Masuyo.”   Masuyo had a short, flat nose and fangs so pronounced he couldn’t close his mouth entirely; his skin was covered with a sparse, tawny fur and his ears were almost like Inuyasha’s, fuzzy and triangular though they were positioned more toward the sides of his head instead of the top. His eyes were completely black, lacking both pupil and iris, and rested with unsettling weight on Kagome as she looked at him.   She was therefore quite relieved to turn her attention to Yori. Yori looked quite human in contrast, tall and thin, almost gangly, with short and spiky orange hair that contrasted sharply with his jet-black skin. The only thing beside his colouring that was odd were the long whiskers that sprouted from his face, three on either side of his nose.   “I’ve never met tiger-youkai before,” she ventured, “and I’ve met a lot of demons. Do you all keep to the North, then?”   Takeshi nodded. “We are happiest with our own kind.”   “It must have been… odd, when your sister married Inutaisho,” Kagome said then, warming to the subject. “But I can see now why Sesshoumaru and Inuyasha don’t look much alike, aside from their colouring. Sesshoumaru must get his looks from his mother.”   His smile grew. She wondered what had him so amused. Then Masuyo grumbled, “We sit and make idle chatter with a human. Why do you not merely slay her, my lord?”   Kagome’s brows drew together in a frown, and as usual her vexation got the better of her prudence. “You don’t have to be rude!” she said indignantly.   “Indeed,” Takeshi agreed, his right arm sweeping out to knock Masuyo in the head so hard the other demon tipped over. “We are but guests here.”   Masuyo hauled himself upright and glared viciously at Kagome before turning his gaze submissively to the floor when facing his master.   “My vassal is not known for his polite ways even among our own kind,” Takeshi told Kagome. She realized it was his way of saying he was sorry without actually coming out and saying the words, so she nodded. “But he has a point… why has Sesshoumaru not slain you, if you are neither wife nor concubine?”   Kagome felt her pulse speed up until the side of her throat was fluttering from the force of it. His emphasis told her she’d not fooled his sensitive nose, and she made a mental note to bathe thoroughly as soon as possible. Though she’d given herself a quick scrubbing between waking and bidding Sesshoumaru farewell, it clearly hadn’t been enough for youkai noses.   As for why else he kept her around… she didn’t want to reveal she was a miko, though Takeshi could probably sense her power. And it was, of course, out of the question for her to reveal the truth about Midoriko and Inuyasha and the Shikon and fate and--   “It’s just like you said before,” she replied with forced cheer. “We’ve had some bad luck lately, and Sesshoumaru was nice enough to let us stay here until we’re able to move on again.” It was the most peculiar concept ever, that Sesshoumaru would take pity on a hard luck case and be charitable, but then again, if she thought about it, he had taken in Rin, and what was that Takeshi had said about Jaken?   She’d have to think about it later. Right now, Takeshi and his lieutenants were standing, indicating they were about to leave. Belatedly, she stood as well, smoothing her hands nervously down her kimono.   “I, Takeshi, shall see to my soldiers now, and take my meal with them. But I shall return at nightfall.” He stopped at the front entrance, stepping easily into his shoes. “My room will be ready when I wish to retire.” It was not a question, or even a suggestion.   “Uh, sure!” Kagome replied, and watched as he stepped into the courtyard, striding with confidence to where his troops had already begun erecting tents. The largest and most luxurious stood head and shoulders over the others in the centre of the arrangement, and by it a cheery cookfire was already crackling away.   She shut the door, relieved they were finally gone, and slowly walked back to the kitchen, lost in thought.   Her stomach was in knots; she didn’t know how to behave with Takeshi. He seemed nice enough, but it would just be stupid for her to be fooled into thinking he wouldn’t kill her at the drop of a hat. And there was that worrying suspicion, roiling away in her gut. No, she wasn’t going to underestimate him at all.   She hated the idea of having his lieutenants in the house, especially with Rin around. She wished they’d never seen the girl; perhaps she could have pretended Rin wasn’t even there and hidden her in her room until they left.   Kagome sighed, and trudged off to erase any trace of her activities from the night before with Sesshoumaru from his room. Oh well, she thought with a mental shrug. Too late to do anything about it now.   Dinner was a sober affair for them, and at the first indication that Takeshi and his lieutenants were opening the front door, she shooed Shippo and Kohaku upstairs and made Rin go into Sesshoumaru’s bedchamber. She and Rin had cleaned their rooms thoroughly, removing any indication of the females who normally resided there, and she showed Masuyo and Yori up to them while Jaken led Takeshi to the sole guest room downstairs.   “That’s Jaken’s room,” she said nervously, wanting to make a point of letting them know that neither she nor Rin would be in the vicinity while they slept, “And Shippo and Kohaku share that room, there.”   “And where do you and the girl stay?” Masuyo inquired, leaning closer to her in the narrow corridor. His fangs, revealed in a hideous leer, gleamed in the light from her little oil lamp but his eyes remained flat, reflecting nothing, and sent a shiver of unease skittering up her back.   “Oh, we’ve got a nice place to stay, don’t you worry about us!” she chirped, trying to sound oblivious and ditzy.   “I wasn’t worried,” he said, inching closer, but Yori shouldered his way between them to enter Rin’s room.   “Go to bed, Masuyo,” he said, then added dryly, “alone.”   Grumbling, Masuyo shoved past Kagome to enter her bedroom and slid the door shut with a bang. Kagome blinked up at Yori and opened her mouth to thank him, but he turned and went into Rin’s room without a word.   “Oookay,” she muttered, and returned downstairs. She only halfheartedly listened to Rin and Shippo’s lessons, ignored Kohaku entirely, and shuffled them off to bed as soon as possible. She joined Rin in Sesshoumaru’s room as soon as the dishes were done, Jaken had been placated, and Kirara’s wound had been checked and determined to be fine.   Kagome washed in the bathroom and tiptoed down the hall toward Sesshoumaru’s room, hoping to get there before anyone saw her, but Takeshi popped his head out of the door of his own room just as she stepped a foot inside.   “The girl is already within,” he told her, as if she were unaware. “I must say I am surprised that you two share Sesshoumaru’s bed together. I had not thought him to be interested in one so young, nor in threesomes.”   Kagome was sure she was choking on her tongue; what else could that sensation be? “Glarble,” she said indistinctly, then cleared her throat and tried again. “No. No. No, we’re not… Rin… Sessh… I… No. We’re just staying there because your lieutenants are in our bedrooms.”   “Ah,” Takeshi said, but he was smiling again and she was sure he didn’t believe her.   “Goodnight!” she squeaked and darted inside, shutting the door tightly behind her. She quickly stuck up the ofudas she’d hastily prepared earlier, then made a beeline for the bed. Lying down, she stared up at the ceiling a long moment, head swimming and incredulous at the day’s events.   “This feels weird,” Rin said from the other side of the bed.   “I know,” Kagome replied, sighing. “It really, really does.” She was sure she’d be up all night, listening for every suspicious sound, but she’d underestimated how tired stress could make a girl. Before she knew it, she was sleeping, and her dreams were filled with demons and humans and one particularly vexing inu-youkai.   *        &nbs p;  *           *     Sango wondered, sometimes, if the shard were affecting her as well; she had trouble thinking of another reasonable explanation for her behaviour of the past week. As the days wore on, she was enjoying Inuyasha’s unprecedented displays of emotion and affection to the point of greed.   Allowed to express himself at last, free of his inhibitions and fears, Inuyasha was actually a rather delightful companion. He was certainly as touchy as usual— they’d spent much of their time together arguing after he’d snapped at her over something irrelevant or stupid— but he also seemed to be releasing his grudges more easily, and the first time she’d accepted his overture of forgiveness he’d hugged her so tightly she’d almost smothered.   He would talk to her for hours as they traveled, telling her about his youth and how he learned to fight, about jokes he’d heard somewhere, about practically anything.   Except Kikyo and Kagome; those two, he declared off-limits. “And I don’t want to hear about Miroku, either,” he’d snarl at her if she happened to mention the monk.   “But why?” she’d asked, baffled. “He’s your friend, too.”   But Inuyasha had gotten a strange, inscrutable expression on his face. “It’s just the two of us,” he said finally. “They’re not here, so we’re not talking about them.” And that was that.   Even more odd was how he gloried in being touched, as if he were starving for it—formerly, he’d shy away from most contact except for carrying Kagome on his back. Now, however, Sango found herself in contact with him almost constantly. It turned out he adored having his head stroked, and that enough of it would make him fall asleep. His favourite position to sleep in, when they weren’t stuck on a tree branch somewhere, was draped half-across her, his head on her chest and arms around her. Upon waking, he’d bestow upon her the loveliest smile, then rub his face against her breasts and doze for another few minutes before finally getting up.   For each one of these idyllic moments, of course, there were equal numbers of disquieting ones. A particular sticking point between them was the matter of the shards, both the one in Inuyasha’s neck and the joined mass of shards he’d stolen from Kagome. Sango learned to simply give up mentioning it.   But one evening, late after taking out another group of youkai left undirected after Naraku’s loss of his half of the Shikon, Inuyasha’s bloodlust was not sufficiently slaked. He waited until they were on their way once more, Sango on his back, and tossed a look over his shoulder at her that was replete with irritability and dissatisfaction.   “I’m surprised you stopped harping at me about stealing the jewel,” he commented, clearly itching for a fight.   “Actually,” Sango said in a moment of probably-unwise candor, “I’m glad you have Kagome’s half of the Shikon. It’s been purified, and I think it’s helping to prevent you from going completely over the edge.”   Inuyasha immediately stopped short, dumping her off his back and wheeling round to snarl at her. “Would you stop with that, already? I’m tired of your saying how crazy I am because of having this shard in my neck.”   Furious at being dropped on the ground, Sango surged to her feet. “And I’m tired of being dragged all over on a fool’s mission! We’ve been at this for a week now, Inuyasha, and we’re no closer to finding Naraku than we were when we began!”   “A fool, huh?” he ground out, shoving his face very close to hers. “If I’m a fool, then you’re a bigger one for coming with me all these years. I’ve never made it a secret what I was after.”   His eyes were a glowing, bright gold in the hazy afternoon sunlight, and there was high colour in his cheeks from anger and agitation. Sango felt her belly tighten in arousal at the sight of him, his body tense and wary. It made her even more furious, this strong and perverse attraction to him, and before she knew it her mouth was opening to say even more hurtful things.   “You’re even more of an idiot than I thought, Inuyasha, if you thought I came with you and Kagome to help you become a full demon,” she snapped. “I came with you for my own revenge. I won’t rest until Naraku pays for what he’s done to my family and the people of my village. It has nothing to do with you!” She infused the last word with as much scorn as possible, glaring defiantly up at him   Incensed, he glowered back until he seemed to notice something. First, his eyes narrowed in suspicion; then his nose twitched.   “What is it?” Sango asked, her anger morphing instantly into alertness; had he smelled or seen danger coming? The tension in her muscles shifted, and her hand hooked itself automatically into Hiraikotsu’s strap.   Inuyasha didn’t answer, seeming distracted; instead, he bent at the waist until his face was a mere inch from Sango’s. “What are you doing?” she demanded, tugging on a silvery lock of his bangs to get his attention.   His eyes flicked to hers a moment, and then he began to sniff her, first her throat, and then further down. “It tickles!” she exclaimed, stepping back in an attempt to get away from his snuffling nose, but he matched her retreat by advancing, step for step.   He pressed his face to the side of her breast by her armpit and she sprang away from him, swatting ineffectively at his head. “What are you doing?” she shrieked, alarmed and still cranky from their suddenly interrupted argument.   Inuyasha grabbed her upper arms, holding her still, and went to his knees before her, continuing to sniff down her body. “You’re… excited,” he mumbled against her belly, nuzzling his face against it.   Terror and longing shot through her, and she redoubled her efforts to be free. “Don’t be stupid,” Sango gasped. “I’m just worked up because of this fight we’re having.”   “You’re worked up, all right.” His nose brushed across her pubis, making her jump in his grasp, and then he grinned up at her, his pupils dilated. “You want me.”   “I do not!” she exclaimed, then squeaked a moment later when he buried his nose as deeply between her legs as he could manage.   “You do,” he insisted, rubbing his face shamelessly against her. “I can smell it.” He looked up at her once more, and she gasped to see that his golden irises were just a thin ring around his enormous pupils. “And it smells good.”   With his hands clamping her arms so tightly against her sides, Sango’s squirming to be free did nothing but press her body even more insistently against his face. He rubbed it against her over and over, and her hands came to tangle in his hair. She really meant to pull on it to tug his head away but somehow they ended up tugging him even closer, and now her pelvis was shifting forward, for even more friction.   His grin, when he turned his face up to her again, was pure satisfaction. “If you smell this good, I wonder how you’ll taste,” he commented, his voice raw, pulling her down to the ground before him.   His words sent a bolt of lust mingled with disbelief flying through Sango. He couldn’t mean to…! But it would seem he did. Sprawled back, propped up on her elbows, she could only watch and pant as he yanked her snug taijiya uniform off.   As the leather peeled off, cool air hit her perspiration-damp skin in a shocking caress, raising gooseflesh along her newly-bared limbs. There was no time for her to do more than acknowledge the sensation, however, because Inuyasha pushed her legs apart, and rose up on his knees between them. He looked positively feral as he stared down at her, his claws digging a little into the flesh of her hips as he grasped them.   “Sango,” he ground out.   “Inuyasha,” she gasped back, and then flung her head back on a violently inhaled breath as he lifted her up, jerking her hips up to his mouth until only her shoulders and head were on the ground. “Inu… yasha!” she cried at the first rough caress of his mouth between her legs.   He didn’t answer. Couldn’t, really, because he was far too interested in what he was doing to bother with a response. She was wet and hot, and when he had cleaned her of all traces of her juices his tongue dipped inside, eager for more of that musky, sweet-salty flavour. Her body was leaping and bucking in his grasp and her hands were scrabbling everywhere for purchase, finally settling over his own on her hips, clenching painfully tight as she strove against him.   And then Sango was shouting, crying his name as her body arched, taut and tight. Her flesh throbbed against his mouth, and his efforts were rewarded with a flood of more wetness, enthusiastically lapped away. She bucked, over and over, mouth open wide as she sucked in breath between shouts, and scarcely noticed when he set her on the ground once more, looming over her.   “I’ve never done this before,” Inuyasha said, an odd note of curiosity and wonder in his voice. Sango’s eyes flew open to see him fumbling with the ties to his hakama. His haori and yukata were already open, revealing the hard planes of his chest, and she couldn’t resist reaching out to smooth her hands over the hard muscles.   He groaned and quivered against her, grasping himself in one hand; then he was inside, and pain flashed through her. The haze of lust in her head faded abruptly, and her breath shuddered when he withdrew and surged inside her again.   “Hurts,” Sango gasped. “Inuyasha, stop. It hurts.”   Inuyasha’s voice, when he answered, was muffled against her shoulder and hair. “Can’t stop,” he growled. “Can’t.” He trembled, overwhelmed by the sensation of being buried within her body, and began moving himself in and out.   Once the rawness of the pain had faded into a vague red haze between her legs, Sango was aware of heat, and friction, and soon her hips were lifting toward him once more. Her hands moved restlessly over him, feeling all the parts she was not yet familiar with—nipples, buttocks, lips. He nipped at her fingers with his fangs, sucked them into his mouth, bit lightly at the flesh of her palm then laved it with his tongue, all the while featuring the same look of heartbreaking concentration on his face.   Sango’s arms came around him, her legs soon following, and she kissed him, hard, as if branding him with her mouth. He responded to her embrace with an enthusiasm that stole her breath, kissing her so thoroughly, pounding himself into her, and then he seemed to break. Short, staccato cries burst from Inuyasha and he convulsed once, twice, three times before slumping forward onto her.   When he had the strength to move again, he lifted his head and stared down at her, eyes wide with astonishment. He had taken this woman, taken her virginity as she had taken his. Something in his blood called to him, something wild, and it was all he could do to keep from leaping up and howling his ownership. Sango is mine, he thought with triumph. Mine, mine, mine…   He was looking at her so strangely, almost with a sense of pride. She knew she should feel remorse, or shame, or something other than this glorious, pleasured languor. Guilt, perhaps—guilt for betraying Kagome. But then, she thought rebelliously, there was never anything official between Inuyasha and her in the first place, and now with Kagome’s destined whatever-it-is with Sesshoumaru…   Then there was Miroku. So many times over the course of the years, she’d expected something from him. Some declaration of interest, of affection, of anything other than the superficial lust indicated by his wandering hands. When it hadn’t been forthcoming, neither had she. Any half-realized dreams of love with the monk had faded to bitterness.   But now, with Inuyasha, her affection was returned, even if his ability to do so was artificially induced. He shared himself with her completely, whereas Miroku still had many long years of his life locked away. Miroku used his charm as a mask, she realized, a mask to hide his true self just as Inuyasha had used bluster and gruffness.   For a moment, Sango lamented that it hadn’t been Miroku who’d been rendered so open and uninhibited; she’d longed for years to know more of him, to understand him better. But if there were one thing she was learning from all of this, it was that when things were fated to occur there was little point in fighting them. They were going to happen whether you wanted them to or not, and struggling against the tide would only end up in pain and disappointment.   Right now, she was feeling neither. Instead, there was this lazy, satisfied bliss, and it was all due to Inuyasha. Sango tightened the embrace of her arms and legs around him, inhaling the earthy scent of salt and sex. She had given him this moment, she thought with fierce satisfaction, she and no other. Not Kikyo, not Kagome. Her.   Inuyasha is mine, she thought ardently. Mine, mine, mine…     *         & nbsp; *           *     The next day was a tense one for all the inhabitants of Sesshoumaru’s house; the children were restless from being cooped up inside all day and Jaken did not cease his litany of objection to Takeshi’s presence for more than ten minutes at a time. By the time dinner was served, Kagome was ready to skip hearing the lessons for the night and go to bed.   It was then, of course, that Takeshi entered the house.   “I shall take supper with you,” he announced with a wide, beautiful smile, as if bestowing a considerable gift upon them all.   Kagome was silent, her exhausted brain startled that he would change his mind about eating with them after saying he would not. Thankfully, Rin’s manners were better than hers.   “You honour us, Takeshi-sama,” the girl piped, bowing low. Her fingers tugged briefly on Kagome’s sleeve, and Kagome bowed too, grateful for Rin’s intervention. She fetched another place setting and motioned for him to take Sesshoumaru’s place at the head of the table.   He seated himself with feline grace and waited for Kagome to serve him, which she did somewhat awkwardly, not being used to it. They ate in a slightly strained silence, with none of the small-talk that had characterized their meals with Sesshoumaru, and she found herself missing the dog-demon fiercely.   When the meal was over, the children removed the dishes and Jaken brought tea. His beak was set angrily, his gait was stiff, and he fairly tossed the tray to the table before stomping out again.   “The toad is secure in his place,” Takeshi murmured into his teacup, sliding his gaze to Kagome in complicit humour.   “Sesshoumaru-sama values Jaken as a faithful servant,” she replied stiltedly, hoping it didn’t sound too stupid.   “My nephew has ever been resourceful in finding worth that others do not see,” he commented, voice bland. Kagome nodded, too tired to try and figure out whether the veiled insult was directed at Jaken or Sesshoumaru or both.   The toad-demon entered the room again and stared pointedly at Takeshi. “It is late,” he stated. “I would like to clean the tea service and retire.”   Takeshi glanced down at the cup dangling from his long, lethally-tipped fingers, smiling into its contents. “And yet this Takeshi is not finished,” he said. “Surely the girl is capable of washing some cups, toad? Worry not. These duties shall not be neglected. Hie thee to bed.”   Jaken’s gaze met Kagome’s for a moment, and she was startled to see the question in his bulbous yellow eyes. Don’t leave me here with him, she begged silently, wishing telepathy was one of her miko powers.   But it was not, and there was little he could do besides sketch a desultory little bow and leave. Kagome turned slowly, reluctantly, back to Takeshi and tried to plaster a less apprehensive expression on her face.   “Join me,” he said, the barest lilt at the end of it making it seem like a request, even though she did not think it really were.   “Sure,” Kagome said, uncertainty colouring her voice, and busied herself with the pouring of tea to hide the sudden tremor of her hands. Takeshi’s presence seemed to fill the room, making her nerves jangle.   “You are afraid of me,” he commented after draining his first cup, setting it down on the table with a slight thump. His eyes were amused, dancing in the light from the oil lamps, and yet cool as glaciers at the same time. “Are you afraid of my nephew, as well?”   Kagome didn’t have to lie at all to answer his question. “Of course,” she replied, letting out her breath in a rush. “A person would have to be an idiot not to fear Sesshoumaru.”   He tilted his head to one side and smiled at her, pointed fangs glinting orange in the light from the oil lamps. “I am not afraid of him,” he said after a moment. “Does that make me an idiot?”   Oh, no! she thought. I walked right into that one… “No?” she replied, mystified and scared at the same time. Then her stupid, stupid mouth took over. “Yes. Maybe? I don’t know. I’ve seen a lot of demons, and none of them are as powerful as he is. Not even Naraku when he had almost all the shards was as powerful as Sesshoumaru with none, and just one arm.”   His head tilted slowly to the other side then, and his gaze turned from lazy to speculative. Kagome realized what she’d said and clapped both hands over her mouth in open horror.   “Ah.” Takeshi breathed the single syllable as if it were the long-sought answer to a secret. “So my suspicions were correct… you are the Shikon’s miko.”   There was no point in even trying to lie, so Kagome did the next best thing and said nothing, lips stubbornly clamped shut as she folded her arms over her chest and stared mutinously at him.   To her surprise, he burst into laughter. “You have got to be,” he said, composing himself after a time, “the most amusing creature I have ever met.”   “I’m glad you think so,” she replied sourly. She was furious at herself for confirming suspicions she hadn’t even realized he’d harbored. There was no telling what trouble that knowledge would stir up.   “Yes, most amusing,” he continued, and to her shock reached out to caress her cheek with the back of his fingers. She jerked away, but he hardly seemed to notice. “I am no longer puzzled by Sesshoumaru’s odd lenience with you. if the tales of you are true, you are a powerful entity indeed…”   His hand curled around the back of her neck, pulling until she was forced to crawl toward him on hands and knees if she wanted to avoid falling on her face.   There was a certain awful intentness on his features, and Kagome could sense a spike in his youki that boded ill for her. His eyes were heavy-lidded, beautiful lips parted slightly, and his eyes shone with a feral avidness that made dread streak through her, and confusion, too.   It was so odd to see that open, aroused expression on features she was so accustomed to seeing calm and blank. Alarming, too—no matter how Sesshoumaru had terrorized Kagome and her friends over the years, he was no rapist. It was shocking her almost to the point of tears to feel a fear for herself, for her body, correspond to that familiar face.   She forced herself to focus on the differences, instead—the russet brows and curved black lines slashing over his face, the eyes that were cool quicksilver instead of glowing, warm gold. Not him, she chanted internally. It’s not him.   Then, when their faces were just a few inches apart, he murmured, “And appealing too, for a human. No, I am not puzzled at all.” And he kissed her, his mouth immediately opening hers for the invasion of his tongue.   Eyes wide, Kagome tried to rear back but his hands gripped her arms and hauled her into his lap. Faster than her mind could comprehend, he’d spread her legs around his hips and locked one arm around her waist, holding her immobile for his kiss.            &nb sp;                         &nb sp;                         &nb sp;         Kagome was terrified. Never, ever had she been in such a situation. Blood pounding in her veins, breath coming in gasps, her first impulse was to call for Inuyasha as she had for the past seven years. A tide of anguish flooded her at the thought of him, pushing aside even her panic at the feel of Takeshi’s hand cupping her bottom, squeezing sensuously.   Then his other hand closed over her breast and she jolted in alarm, writhing as she tried to slither off his lap. He ended the kiss and leant back from her a little, his fingers rolling and pinching her nipple through her kimono and then smiling in satisfaction when it pushed hard against the fabric.   “So responsive,” he said in a low, caressing voice, and switched hands so he could do the same to the other nipple, “but so naïve. Do you not realize what all that wriggling has accomplished?”   She froze, because there against her, hot and thick and hard, was his erection and she knew that if she didn’t get away from him soon he was going to take her. And a tiny, horrible part of her mind—the part now filled with real-life experience of exactly how amazing sex could be, the part interested only in feeling good—was wondering if that would be so bad, after all. He tasted good, smelt good, felt good, and looked enough like Sesshoumaru to make her mouth water.   But he wasn’t Sesshoumaru, and that was the problem. He was just a pushy jerk from the North who thought she was there for whatever he wanted to use her for.   “Let me go,” she ordered, and began to gather her purification powers. “I’ve let you do whatever you wanted because you’re Sesshoumaru’s uncle, but if you don’t let me go I’ll kill you.”   “Will you?” Takeshi looked delighted at the prospect. “I beg you, please try.”   Kagome struggled harder to be free again. “I mean it! I’m not joking!”   His lips caressed her throat. “No, I didn’t imagine you were.” His hand burrowed between her legs, rubbing her firmly, and her traitorous pelvis gave one hard push back at him before her terror asserted itself once more and she began to glow.   Everywhere he touched her, his body began to smoke, and with a cry of pain he pushed her away so hard she flew across the room to land against the shoji with a thump, tearing the paper when her elbow went through it.   He stood there, cold fury clear on his face, and stared at his charred hands. Kagome cringed, but when the seconds passed and still he did not leap on her and rip her apart, she opened her eyes to find him watching her with that same crafty look he’d had before.   “You said you would kill me, and yet you did not,” he commented, and that damned grin appeared again. “Misplaced mercy, was it?”   “You are so creepy!” Kagome burst out, unable to contain the revulsion he gave her any longer. Her skin felt like it was trying to crawl right off her body.   “Or perhaps it is because my nephew so closely resembles me,” Takeshi mused, ignoring her outburst. “I am not averse to your pretending I am him, if you would prefer it.”   Kagome gawped at him. “It’s not because of mercy or… or anything else,” she told him. “I don’t like killing anything if I can help it.”   “Really?” He seemed baffled by such a sentiment. “Have you felt that way always, or is it a recent development?”   “Oh, I don’t believe this,” she muttered, hand to her forehead. “I’m not going to let you study me. I’m going to bed.”   At his pleased expression, she closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “With Rin.”   Now he looked positively gleeful.   She despaired, anger and frustration and disgust all jumbled together in her mind in a big, messy tangle. Face burning, blinking back tears, she left the room in a hurry, leaving him there laughing at her.