InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 7: Avouchment ❯ April 10, 2066 ( Chapter 75 )

~~Chapter 75~~

~April 10, 2066~

 

~xXxXxXxXxXx~

 

 

“I have to admit that I was a little worried that you'd come to your senses and stole away before the ceremony started.”

 

“Wh-what?” Griffin stammered, casting Isabelle a suspect glance as he fought valiantly to keep from fidgeting as they stood side by side, accepting a steady stream of well wishes and congratulations directly following the quiet little ceremony that had bound them legally for the rest of their lives. Regaining a modicum of his composure, though, he grunted and leaned toward her slightly, close enough to whisper in her ear. “That damned cousin of yours told me that you had done that.”

 

Smiling at his disgruntled tone, she squeezed his forearm and giggled softly. “With the florist?” she asked quizzically, arching an eyebrow to emphasize her question.

 

Griffin snorted again, his cheeks pinking just a little. “The caterer.”

 

Her laughter spilled over as she hugged her father and mother. Kichiro smiled warmly as Bellaniece dabbed at her eyes with a pristine white handkerchief embroidered with her father's initials in the corner, but her smile was genuine as she gently clasped Isabelle's face in her hands and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “You look beautiful,” she whispered, her usual dulcet voice breaking slightly, taking on a husky tinge of emotion that shone in her deep blue eyes.

 

“Of course she does,” Kichiro chided, giving his mate a quick hug. “She looks like her mama, doesn't she?”

 

“Stop hoggin' the bride,” a plaintive growl cut in moments before Isabelle gasped, drawn into a firm hug by her grandfather, InuYasha. “You treat her right; got it?” he demanded, staring over Isabelle's head at her new husband.

 

Griffin's jaw clenched, and he nodded once. “Yeah, don't break her,” he grumbled, grasping Isabelle's arm to gently draw her away from InuYasha and securely against his side once more.

 

“Welcome to the family,” Kagome greeted with a polite bow, “and just ignore him, please. His bark is much worse than his bite.”

 

“Keh! Says you, wench,” InuYasha complained, rolling his eyes.

 

“Outta the way, old man,” Ryomaru cut in, shouldering his sire aside. With the goofy grin that Isabelle knew so well, her uncle leaned down to kiss her cheek then tweaked her nose for good measure. “Kami, that damned dress is so big, can't barely give you a decent hug.”

 

“It's a wedding dress,” his mate, Nezumi interjected, poking Ryomaru in the ribs. “Now stop trying to wrinkle her, why don't you?”

 

His answer was a silly yet completely endearing grin. Nezumi shook her head but laughed as she pushed her mate along to shake Griffin's hand.

 

“Ah, Isabelle, you look lovely, as always,” Attean Masta—Griffin's best man—said with a charming smile as he kissed the back of her hand.

 

Maria kissed the air near her cheek and smiled. “Make sure you keep Osezno in line, no?”

 

“I will,” she assured the woman.

 

Griffin wrinkled his nose and snorted indelicately. “She's the one who needs watched,” he muttered under his breath.

 

Maria laughed and tugged the groom down to kiss him, too, sparing a moment to wipe the lingering lipstick from his cheek.

 

“If you should require any advice on adjusting to the married life, feel free to call,” Attean quipped.

 

“From a guy who buys his mate appliances for Christmas? I'll pass.”

 

“Oi, Bitty! Finally found someone who can put up with you?” Morio Izayoi remarked when he and his mate reached the couple.

 

“You found someone willing to put up with you, and Isabelle's a far sight nicer than you are,” Meara Izayoi teased.

 

Morio grinned unrepentantly, kissing Isabelle and then Meara's cheeks in turn. “I'm not that bad!” he protested.

 

“Yes, you are,” Mikio Izayoi said, casting Isabelle an endearingly shy smile as he fiddled absently with his twitching ear. “Congratulations, Bitty. I hope the two of you are really happy together.”

 

“I don't know about happy,” Gunnar remarked, stopping just behind Mikio and Morio with his date—a hawk-youkai who Isabelle had never met before—beside him. The woman didn't do much more than paste on a somewhat perfunctory smile—a polite expression normally reserved for people one didn't know very well. It only served to amuse Isabelle. She was gorgeous, of course. Isabelle wouldn't have expected any less from a woman whom Gunnar chose to spend any length of time with, and while she was also certain that she was absolutely the epitome of refined, she could also sense a certain aloofness in the woman, too.

 

“Congrats, Isabelle . . . maybe I'll sing for you later,” Evan Zelig offered as he shook Griffin's hand and winked at his cousin.

 

Sebastian groaned, having overheard Evan's proposal, and he gave Isabelle a warning look. “Don't let him,” he warned with a shake of his head.

 

Isabelle only laughed since she remembered the song Evan had chosen to dedicate to Bas and Sydnie at their wedding.

 

“Maddy sends her best wishes,” Evan went on with a very charming, very boyish sort of grin. “She had some things going down in Los Angeles, so she couldn't make it.”

 

“Tell her thanks the next time you talk to her,” Isabelle replied.

 

“Absolutely!”

 

“Oh, wow . . . that dress looks even better in person!” Jillian Jamison squealed as she threw her arms around Isabelle. “I hope you're as happy as Gavvie and I are!”

 

Gavin chuckled despite the hint of a blush that had crept into his cheeks. “Congratulations, and, um . . .” Trailing off, he offered Griffin a rueful little smile. “Good luck.”

 

Griffin grunted as Gavin clapped him on the shoulder and moved away. Isabelle couldn't resist leaning up on her toes to whisper in his ear, “Good luck, huh? You know, maybe you and I could slip away so that I could see what I can do about that . . .”

 

He frowned and shook his head, obviously not understanding her meaning. “Don't you want to . . . get lucky, Dr. Marin?”

 

“Jezebel!” he hissed under his breath, pinning her with a completely adorable, if not wholly chagrined, sort of look.

 

“Isabelle . . . Dr. Marin. I trust that you'll keep this one on a relatively short leash?”

 

Isabelle smiled brightly, leaning up to kiss her great uncle's cheek. “You know, my leash is just fine,” she commented as her smile widened. “Though you may want to shorten Mamoruzen's. Seems like he's been getting around a bit too much, if you ask me.”

 

Sesshoumaru didn't bat an eye despite the quick glance he cast his grandson, who was currently leaning down to listen to whatever his date du jour had to say. “She is not his mate,” he remarked evenly, as though that statement was more than enough for him, as far as the subject of his grandson's behavior was concerned.

 

“And if she were, then I would imagine that he would be the happier for it,” Kagura, Sesshoumaru's mate, interjected as she hugged Isabelle, her silken robes still as gorgeous as Isabelle could remember. “I've heard a great deal about you, Dr. Marin,” she went on, turning her attention to the bear-youkai. “I am honored that you have chosen our Isabelle to mate.”

 

Griffin looked a little uncomfortable with what amounted to high praise. He nodded and cleared his throat but remained silent as the couple moved away to talk to Ben Philips, who had just stepped outside.

 

Isabelle drew a deep breath and flipped her skirt out of the way as she turned to face her new husband. Decked out in his ceremonial clothing—he'd told her a few days before that he hadn't worn it in centuries—there was something wholly unsettling about the visage he presented. Far more regal, almost unapproachable, he seemed, and yet . . .

 

And yet in the same conversation he'd told her that those moments in his life that he considered to be nightmares all began with these clothes. So why had he smiled just a little as he'd gently ran his fingers over the ornate embroidery on the right shoulder of the pitch-bat garb? Why had he shrugged and said that wearing it for their wedding would be fine, maybe even the right thing to do? Staring at him in the early spring sunshine as the scent of flowers and the crisp breeze floated off the ocean, maybe she understood. `If one good memory can erase a lifetime of bad ones . . .' she mused as her smile widened just a little. `A thousand smiles for every tear . . . a thousand lifetimes for every lost soul . . . I promise you, Griffin . . . I promise.'

 

“Why do you look like the cat that ate the canary?” Griffin asked, his eyebrows drawing together in a mock frown as he carefully regarded her.

 

She laughed. “Dance with me?” she asked, tilting her head to the side in an almost coquettish way.

 

“I-I-I don't dance,” he muttered then grimaced. Shifting his eyes to the side, he seemed as though he were trying to decide something. “M-maybe one time,” he allowed. Bending his arm, he started to extend it, only to draw it back a couple of times. Finally, and with a long, draw-out sigh, he turned slightly and stuck his arm out, bent at the elbow and cleared his throat. “Don't make a habit of it.”

 

Curbing her laughter, she slipped her hand under his elbow, intercepted his nervous glance as he licked his lips and started forward.

 

The band that Isabelle had hired stopped tuning their instruments as their leader spoke in hushed tones to Kichiro. After a minute, the conductor nodded, and Kichiro stepped over to the black baby grand piano and sat down, sparing a moment to adjust the microphone that was affixed to the instrument.

 

He tapped it a couple of times to test it then cleared his throat. “If I could have everyone's attention, please . . . I'd like to take a moment to thank you all for coming today to celebrate my daughter's marriage to a fine man.” He paused here and smiled, but it seemed to Isabelle that the expression was wholly for her. “Baby Belle, I'm proud of you. You've grown into a . . . beautiful woman . . . Griffin . . . today and tomorrow and . . . forever after this, she'll be your wife, and I know you'll love her and cherish her, but from the moment she entered my life, she was and always will be my little girl.”

 

She couldn't stop the tears that filled her eyes, spilled down her cheeks as Griffin pulled her close, as he shuffled his feet, dancing with her to a song that her father had played for her so many times through the years. A vicious stab of bittersweet emotion dug at her heart: a sad sort of sweetness when she remembered the evenings spent cuddling on her father's lap while her mother read her stories or brushed her hair even as a burgeoning sense of absolute completeness cosseted her in the gentlest form of Griffin's arms around her. Still, the words of the song that she knew so well tugged at her heart in a simple but beautiful way, and when he reached the last verse, Kichiro's voice faltered for a moment as he sang . . .

 

“'Butterfly kisses, with her mama there,'

`Stickin' little white flowers all up in her hair,'

`“Walk me down the aisle, Daddy; it's just about time,”'

`“Does my wedding gown look pretty, Daddy?” “Daddy, don't cry,”'

`With all that I've done wrong, I must have done something right,'

`To deserve a hug every morning, and butterfly kisses,'

`I couldn't ask God for more, man, this is what love is,'

`I know I've gotta let her go, but I'll always remember,'

`Every hug in the morning, and butterfly kisses . . .'”

 

“You're not leaking, are you?”

 

Her weak laughter mingled with tears sounded completely pathetic in her ears. “No,” she lied then sniffled, attesting to her little white lie.

 

He sighed. “You're supposed to be happy today,” he reminded her, sounding rather disgruntled.

 

“I am,” she replied, smiling up at him despite the tears that continued to course down her cheeks. “I love you.”

 

He winced then sighed and shook his head. “Then don't leak.”

 

She stared at him for a long moment then slipped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly as her laughter mingled with the last poignant notes of her father's song.

 

 

~xXxXxXxXxXx~

 

 

“Disgusting.”

 

“You think so?”

 

“You don't?”

 

Bas Zelig grinned as he slipped his hands into his pockets and stared across the sprawling lawn at his cousin, Morio, who was carrying a very plentiful bouquet of mismatched flowers gleaned, Bas was certain, from his mother's beautiful flowerbeds that accentuated the Zeligs' back yard despite the myriad of blooms that had been brought in for Isabelle and Griffin's wedding. “I don't know . . . seems harmless enough to me.”

 

Gunnar Inutaisho grunted, flicking a nonexistent bit of fuzz off the pristine white sleeve of his ceremonial garb. “No man should ever be caught dead bearing flowers,” he scoffed.

 

“Flowers have their uses,” Evan Zelig piped up as he stopped beside the two.

 

Gunnar snorted. “There is something profoundly disturbing about the idea of killing off something for no good reason,” he maintained, crossing his arms over his chest in a stubborn display.

 

“Spoken like a man who doesn't get nearly enough pussy,” Evan shot back with a saucy grin.

 

Bas rolled his eyes and opted to ignore his sibling since he knew well enough that Evan was just trying to irritate them.

 

“Must you spew your vulgarities around more polite society?” Gunnar asked rather dryly.

 

Evan's grin widened. “Watch and learn, Gunnar. Watch and learn.”

 

“He really ought to have been neutered at birth,” Gunnar muttered half under his breath.

 

“Maybe, but Mom kind of likes him, so what can you do?” Bas deadpanned.

 

Sydnie sauntered over and slipped her hand under her mate's elbow. “The ceremony was beautiful; don't you think?”

 

Bas smiled down at her and nodded. “Yeah, it was,” he agreed. “I think ours was better, though. Must've had something to do with the bride . . .”

 

“Bite your tongue, puppy!” Sydnie chided with a shake of her head. “It's bad form to belittle the bride on her wedding day!”

 

Bas chuckled and kissed his wife's cheek. “I wasn't belittling her,” he argued. “She looks pretty, sure. I've just always thought that you were prettier—personal opinion, of course.”

 

She seemed pacified enough by Bas' compliment and subsequent explanation, but her smile faded only to be replaced by a thoughtful frown as she watched Evan. “What's he doing?” she asked as the man in question stooped to cut off a few long stemmed flowers from the copious raised flower gardens.

 

“It's Evan. It's hard to say,” Bas replied with a shrug.

 

“Hmm,” she intoned with a slow nod. She watched Evan's antics for another moment before turning her crystalline gaze on Gunnar. “The white is too pristine,” she remarked at length but only after giving him a very cautious once over.

 

Gunnar's lips quirked in a small grin, and he raised his eyebrows. “Is that so?”

 

“Yes,” she stated with authority. “It doesn't suit you.”

 

He chuckled. “My humblest apologies, puss. I didn't get to choose. Dance with me, Sydnie.”

 

“Watch your hands, Gunsie,” Bas warned though he didn't try to stop them.

 

Gunnar shot Bas an entirely insincere grin as he closed his hand over Sydnie's fingers on his elbow. “I watch them all the time, Bas-tard.”

 

She giggled but let Gunnar pull her off toward the open area that had been set with a portable but beautiful hardwood surface for dancing. She had to admit, however grudgingly, that she had been caught slightly off guard when she'd first seen Gunnar, turned out in his finery. She'd grown too accustomed to seeing him in normal clothing—or as close to normal as Gunnar Inutaisho was like to be, anyway. Something about the ceremonial clothes, though . . . It lent a certain aloofness to the already untouchable man, and while she certainly could appreciate that unnamable quality, she had to admit that she much preferred the lopsided grins and understated shyness of her mate.

 

Still, Gunnar, in her opinion, was as good as one of her own, and that being the case, she'd been hard pressed not to introduce his date for the occasion to the sharp side of her tongue, especially when she'd caught one too many of the woman's sly smiles, the tepid sort of expression that stated quite plainly that she thought herself to be of far more import than she actually was.

 

Turning her head, she pursed her lips. Easy, it was, to find the woman, even in the crowd of guests that mulled about the yard. She was standing with Gavin and Jillian: the prior looking entirely bored while the latter was having some sort of discussion with the hawk-youkai who had accompanied Gunnar to the wedding.

 

“You know, isn't there an unwritten rule that guests at a wedding should not wear the same color as the bride?” she asked at length, taking an obvious jab at Gunnar's date and her simple white dress.

 

Gunnar's chuckle was something that Sydnie felt under her hand that rested on his shoulder though she didn't hear it. “Is there?” he countered mildly and without asking for clarification since he didn't really need it, anyway.

 

“Hmm,” she uttered, unimpressed by his show of nonchalance. “I doubt that she chose to wear that because of the occasion as much as she chose to wear it to match you . . . So what is your hussy's name? I must have missed it.”

 

Gunnar rolled his eyes—an affectation that Sydnie didn't see—but his smile widened indulgently. “Now I know that you were standing with Bas when I introduced Candace.”

 

“Candace,” Sydnie echoed in a tone that left little room for interpretation as to what, exactly, the cat-youkai thought of his date. “Sounds like a stripper.”

 

“Put your claws away, puss,” he admonished though his tone lacked any real censure, “and she's a child psychologist—hardly a hussy or a stripper.”

 

“Six of one, half a dozen of the other,” Sydnie insisted, waving her hand in a completely dismissive sort of way. “I'm feeling a bit hungry. Maybe I'll have her for dinner. Where do you keep finding them?” Sydnie lamented with a drawn-out sigh.

 

“Now, Sydnie, if you'll recall, I tried to steal you away from Bas . . . a few times, but you chose him, so . . .”

 

She wrinkled her nose. “If I could have had two puppies . . .”

 

“I'm not that big a proponent of sharing,” he commented lightly.

 

“Oh? And your . . . Candace? Are you really going to tell me that she only makes herself available to you?”

 

“What she does when we're not together is of very little interest to me as long as I'm the one she's thinking of when we're together.”

 

Sydnie smiled, her eyes flicking coolly over the hawk-youkai, who was watching the two of them with avid interest that she barely tried to hide. “Looks like someone is jealous,” she commented.

 

Gunnar turned his head to see what Sydnie was talking about, his eyes brightening for a mere moment before he concealed whatever he was thinking. “She knows better,” he mumbled, more to himself than to Sydnie.

 

Sydnie sighed but held her tongue. She knew well enough that Gunnar just could not tolerate any sort of possessiveness in the women he dated. `Too bad for you, Candace,' she mused, shifting her gaze away. `You're as good as gone . . .'

 

 

~xXxXxXxXxXx~

 

 

“I don't know . . . I don't think it's a good idea, Morio . . .”

 

Morio Izayoi grinned, rolling his eyes at his uncle's dubious tone of voice. “Aww, why not? Isabelle would think it was funny . . .”

 

Nodding slowly as he fiddled with his left ear, Mikio Izayoi considered it. “N-no-o-o-o,” he finally drawled. “Bitty might think it's funny, but I really don't think her mate will.”

 

Unfortunately, Morio's grin only widened. “The old man said that Uncle told him that Griffin needs to lighten up a little, so what's the harm?”

 

Mikio shook his head, jerking his hand away from his twitching ear when he intercepted his mother's concerned glance. If he weren't careful, she'd march right over, slap a hand on Mikio's forehead, and send him off to lie down before he could protest—or even blink. “The harm is that Dr. Marin is . . . well, he's huge, and while I might think that you getting laid out on your ass is funny, I don't think that you would.”

 

“Aww, the bigger they are, the slower they are . . . Just look at Bas, will you?”

 

“Maybe, but when Bas does hit you, you complain about it for days, and Marin-sensei is nearly as big as Bas,” Mikio pointed out.

 

That statement seemed to take a little of the wind out of Morio's sails. “All right; all right. You win,” Morio conceded with a shake of his head and a very distinct pout. “No water balloons . . .”

 

Mikio relaxed just a little, pacified with the knowledge that Morio wasn't going to declare war on anyone in the guise of good fun. Isabelle caught his eye where she swayed with in her grandfather's arms, and he nodded slightly, unable to staunch the timid little smile that surfaced on his features when he noticed not for the first time that she really did seem to sparkle. Hair caught up in a simple but elegant arrangement of curls that cascaded down her back, glittering with a myriad of tiny seedling pearls that had to have taken hours to arrange, he couldn't help but think back about the years that had passed, of watching the girl who had been little more than a tangle of long arms and spindly legs as she'd grown up, changed into the rosy cheeked, bright eyed woman who he had traveled around the world just to be silent witness to her marriage.

 

“You know, the old man doesn't look too thrilled,” Morio remarked, shaking Mikio out of his reverie.

 

“Papa?” Mikio asked with a slight shake of his head.

 

“Yop.”

 

Mikio's gaze shifted over the crowd. It didn't take long for him to locate his father in the fray. The bright red fire-rat clothing that he wore stood out dramatically, and coupled with the fact that he was standing beside Sesshoumaru looking entirely put out by their proximity, Mikio wasn't surprised when InuYasha's expression darkened at something that his uncle had said.

 

“Grandma looks lonely,” Morio decided, clapping Mikio on the shoulder as he started to walk away.

 

Mikio sighed and shook his head, not surprised to see Morio sneak up behind Kagome, only to grasp her sides and swing her around in a wide circle. He whispered something to her that made her laugh, and with her hand pressed over her mouth to staunch her amusement, she let Morio drag her off to the dance floor.

 

“Sometimes I swear I should be jealous.”

 

Mikio started and turned in time to see Meara, Morio's mate, as she approached. Bright silver eyes trained on her mate as he engaged Kagome in a ridiculous dance, she smiled and let out a soft little sigh. “He really loves his family,” she went on at length.

 

“Yeah . . . he does,” Mikio replied, nimble fingers toying with the left ear twitching nervously atop his head.

 

“Isabelle looks beautiful,” she ventured, lifting the single purple crocus to her nose as a gentle smile touched her features.

 

“Well . . . brides are supposed to, right?”

 

“Maybe . . .” she demurred. “Yours will be, too, of course.”

 

Shuffling uncomfortably at the sudden shift in the conversation, Mikio schooled his features blank and gave what he hoped was a nonchalant shrug. “Ma-maybe.”

 

Meara shook her head slowly and sighed. Mikio winced inwardly, knowing that she'd seen right through him. She was a little spooky that way . . . “Since my husband's preoccupied, I don't suppose you'd care to dance with me.”

 

“I don't . . . don't really know how,” Mikio stammered.

 

Meara threw her head back and laughed, her thick mane of auburn hair cascading down her back in ribbons of velvet, shining in the sunlight. “Then I'll be sure to teach you!” she insisted, grabbing Mikio's arm and dragging him off to dance.

 

 

~xXxXxXxXxXx~

 

 

“So when are you going to marry my sister?”

 

John Troyer coughed and smiled despite the hint of pink that tinged his cheeks as she shook his head, sending the neat length of his low hanging, light brown ponytail over his shoulder in the process. “Alexandra isn't nearly as fond of that word as I am,” he admitted with a shrug and without missing a step as he turned Isabelle neatly in time to the classic waltz that was playing. “I guess I'm not really at liberty to answer that.”

 

Isabelle nodded, using her thumb to fiddle with the loop of ribbon that wrapped around her finger to keep the train of her skirt out of the way while she danced. “I'm sure that you'll convince her,” she teased with a quick wink.

 

John heaved a dramatic sigh and shrugged. “It's not for lack of trying on my part,” he replied easily enough. “Anyway, I must say, you look absolutely gorgeous,” he went on.

 

Isabelle rolled her eyes but smiled. “Don't think that I don't know that you're just trying to change the subject,” she pointed out.

 

He grinned, his dark green eyes glowing mischievously. “Is it working?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

He chuckled. “Griffin . . . he's the quiet sort, isn't he?”

 

“I suppose you could say that,” Isabelle allowed. “He's lived a long time.”

 

John nodded. “So I gathered. You know . . . I always wondered what it'd take to tame you.” He paused to chuckle again. “Can't say that I ever imagined a guy like him to be the one to do it.”

 

“Oh?”

 

He shook his head, but his smile didn't fade. “As long as he makes you happy,” he remarked.

 

“And he does.”

 

John stared at her for a long moment then nodded just once. “Good.”

 

The song drew to a close, and John pulled her close into a firm, friendly hug before he stepped back and bowed. “I wish you all the best, Isabelle—or should I say, Dr. Marin?”

 

Her laughter lingered in the air as her sister stepped up beside her and gave her arm a quick squeeze. “Why don't you take a break from dancing and spend a minute with me?” she teased, maneuvering Isabelle away from the dance floor toward the table where the champagne fountain had been set up. Taking two upturned crystal flutes, she filled them both and offered one to Isabelle.

 

“I saw that you actually got Grandpa out to dance,” Isabelle remarked between sips of her champagne.

 

Alexandra shot her an impish grin and shrugged. “He's too uptight for his own good, don't you think?”

 

Isabelle nodded. Of course, InuYasha had danced with her one time. That was rather to be expected, she figured, but it had amused her to no end to watch as Alexandra had managed to coax the surly hanyou into compliance, and in Isabelle's opinion, that alone had been more than worth the price of admission.

 

“I imagine that we'll be attending another wedding soon, won't we?” Isabelle asked casually, her gaze flicking over her sister in a frank and rapt sort of way. “Would that be in Japan or in Australia?”

 

Fussing with the airy sleeve of the pale pink silk dress that Isabelle had chosen for her, Alexandra studiously averted her gaze. “John and I haven't really talked about it,” she allowed at length.

 

“Isn't he your mate?”

 

Alexandra's dark blue eyes shot up to meet Isabelle's before skittering away once more. “We haven't talked about it,” she stated once more.

 

Isabelle shook her head. Alexandra and John had been dating for years, from the time they'd met in college. Still, if she wasn't ready to discuss it, then there wasn't really anything anyone could do about that, right?

 

“Tell me something,” Alexandra went on casually.

 

“Tell you what?” Isabelle countered with an arched eyebrow.

 

Alexandra laughed, her expression taking on a devilish sort of glow. “Is there a difference?”

 

“A difference in what?”

 

Alexandra laughed and set her champagne flute aside before grasping Isabelle's arm and leaning in close. “Between regular sex and mated sex!”

 

Isabelle laughed and hugged her sister. “There is a world of difference,” she replied, her smile taking on a gentler light. “When you love someone—really love someone . . . it's beautiful.”

 

Alexandra didn't look entirely convinced, but she nodded as she tucked an errant strand of golden bronze hair behind her ear. “You mean, like dandelions and roses?”

 

“No,” Isabelle drawled, shaking her head. Dandelions . . . they were common and they were regular, but that wasn't exactly what she was trying to say. “More like . . . day and night. At night, you can only see shadows and shades of darkness. During the day, you can see . . . well, everything.”

 

“Griffin's your daylight.”

 

Isabelle nodded. “Lexi . . . isn't John yours?”

 

She didn't get a chance to answer as Bas and Gunnar strode toward them. “Come on, Izzy,” Gunnar remarked, grabbing Isabelle's hand to drag her off to dance. “I haven't gotten a chance to dance with the bride yet.”

 

“Care to dance, Lexi?” Bas asked, offering his arm with a raised eyebrow.

 

“Won't your kitty try to skin me?” she couldn't help teasing since she knew as well as anyone that Sydnie Zelig did not like to share her man.

 

Bas grinned, dispelling the overall sternness of his normal expression. “She makes allowances for weddings,” he assured her.

 

Lexi laughed and threaded her hand under Bas' elbow, allowing him to lead her off to dance.

 

 

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A/N:

`Butterfly Kisses'written by Bob Carlisle and Randy Thomas. Copyright Bob Carlisle, Randy Thomas, and Polygram Music Group, LTD.

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Final Thought from Isabelle:

Married …

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Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Avouchment): I do not claim any rights to InuYasha or the characters associated with the anime/manga. Those rights belong to Rumiko Takahashi, et al. I do offer my thanks to her for creating such vivid characters for me to terrorize.

 

~Sue~