A/N: Hello again. Lord, it always seems to take me a short eternity between updates. Sorry guys. Anyway, as you may have guessed, actually getting the story out of my brain and onto paper has become a sickeningly slow process. I need to make sure I work everything right so that things will all fall together in the end and its becoming incredibly, nail-bitingly meticulous. Besides, life has been super crazy lately. But here you have it: the next chapter. As always, I'm not satisfied, but then again it'll probably be a cold day in hell before I am. Please review for me? I'd really, really appreciate it. By the way, there isn't much of Inuyasha of Naraku in this chapter, but just wait.

Snapping his powerful jaw, the resounding clack of fangs enough to send lesser creatures scampering into the bushy green undergrowth, Sesshomaru tossed the tightly corded muscle of his neck upward, rolling broad shoulders back as he released a thunderous howl. Quickly whipping his gaze down with a scratchy bark, the inu snatched up the miniature doll along with a fistful of mucky sod, the glands of curled fingertips immediately oozing a neon toxin, turning the thing to chips and shavings. Yowling once again as blazing eyes tore across the tree line, the beast felt foamy slobber begin to lather his curled lower lip. Had his rational mind been present he would have realized that his vocals, his yaps and snarls and bays, had slapped every lesser youkai within a ten mile radius powerfully enough to send then sprinting in an attempt to stretch their distance from him. While the younger females would roll and yap and whimper in their heat and the males normally drew the long, lazy growls of predators, the inu breed was not known for being overly vociferous. If any member of their clan was incensed enough to be heard, there was almost always the certain promise of blood.

Having caught much of her toppling weight on a sore wrist, Kagome swept anxious perspiration from her tan brow, her grass stained palm drawing a sticky line. Practically choking on a mixture of shock and her own pasty, white saliva, she felt as if her pulsing heart had been yanked right up from the pit of her stomach on a snappy bungee string and made to wedge and loop itself intricately about her vocal chords. Bulging eyes quickly swiveling back and forth between the fist-sized wooden totem that had hit the soft ground and an incredibly feral looking dog lord, she found she could very literally see the remnants of her captor's dark aura sizzling away at the tips of her own pink bubble. Immediately feeling as if some rib-crunching pressure had been lifted from her chest, the miko shivered as goose pimples broke out across her flesh in waves. Biting back hot tears as raw memories of her stay stormed her, the sound of strained masculine grunts and that dark, rolling chuckle tickled her ears. Swallowing in what seemed an umpteenth attempt to keep from regurgitating the previous night's meal, she looked at Sesshomaru. Stranded somewhere between gleeful relief at his very successful, very succinct rescue strategy and debilitating fear of the violent predator that had been awakened, she could do little more than gape.

Burnt, near crazed with the knowledge that his prey had escaped him, Sesshomaru panted heavily, almost manically. Never in his life, even in his puphood, had he ever forfeited a catch and that his first should be the filth that dared handle his intended so familiarly churned an already volatile temper. He wanted to pluck the fool's eyes from their wet sockets for seeing, painfully peel the flesh from his fingers for touching, carve away the bastard's nose for scenting his bitch. Cursed now with the knowledge that another male entertained thoughts of shoving his snout and thrusting his manhood between his bitch's soft thighs, he gnashed his teeth to shake a string of dangling slobber. Dangerously close to losing himself completely to the boiling blood that swished about his brain, Sesshomaru found his subconscious tickled by the soft whine of his female.

Swinging about with a few pops and cracks of his strained spine, he took in the tiny, trembling form that seemed to be waddling away from him like a crab. Easily scenting the panic and fear wafting from his little bitch, he tersely bit off what was meant as a reassuring growl. The complex cogs of his mind almost visibly shifting from ruthless predator setting to obsessively concerned mate mode, Sesshomaru approached his female in sturdy strides. Blood hued eyes tracing carefully over the jumping, twitchy muscles of his skittish female, instincts dictated that he drop to his knees and approach the flighty bitch on a less intimidating level. The swift, scared thrum of her heart coupled with the wet tang of salty tears slowed his hunched advance. She was frightened, not particularly of him he knew, but bitches often tended to be weak-minded creatures unable to discriminate in such situations. Gaining enough ground to make a slow reach for her lower leg, he examined the tanned flesh with a critical eye. Though he did not pick up the metallic iron scent of seeping blood, he cupped and kneaded and surveyed each inch of exposed flesh all the same. Taking note of several rather vicious looking purplish patches, he gazed down at the girl who now lay prostrate underneath him.

Weakly raising a small hand to clumsily wipe the moist trails from her flushed face, Kagome smiled up at the beast that seemed to tear and root through her mind with penetrating ruby eyes. Taking in the more pronounced markings set across his brow and high cheeks, the small strings of saliva dripping from blade-like incisors, and the more snout-like set of his nose, she sighed in relief. Even knowing that most unfortunate enough to broker such a close encounter with the Tai ended up as a gutted, bloody heap, she somehow couldn't help but throw her arms up around his neck. Hanging about him like a toddler clinging to its mother, she pressed her face into the silky cloth and cool flesh of his shoulder. She had never been so happy to see anyone, not even her previous would-be hero Inuyasha. And while confusion seemed to cloud her mind, tiny question marks popping up across the surface of her brain, she chose not to think about it.

Issuing a deep, throaty growl of masculine approval Sesshomaru momentarily allowed his little mate to burrow her small nose into the hollow of his shoulder. It was only appropriate for her to clamp herself tightly about his muscled torso, to try to sap from him some sort of quiet, calm resolution. And though he lent his comfort willingly, the inu lord also acknowledged the fact that a former battle field, even one devoid of caked blood and rotting organs, was not the proper place to coddle a simpering mate. Slowly raising himself to his knees, a strategically placed hand molding the clingy, pliable body to his own, Sesshomaru stood. Cradling his precious cargo to the flat of his chest as tenderly as he could with a single arm, he called the foggy, white wisps of his cumulous beneath the soles of his boots. It was even before they'd reached a decent altitude for travel that sensitive, elfin ears picked up the girl's light, purring snore.

Having become increasingly more lucid as their hours of sky sailing drew on, Sesshomaru finally felt his more logical faculties return from their brief vacation, locking firmly and insistently back into place. Almost immediately the foul stench of the hanyou's spent spunk jabbed him in the back of the stomach, clogging his throat and nostrils most unpleasantly. The moment they arrived at the hall she would scrub the odor from herself; he could certainly excuse a few bloody, rashed abrasions if it meant peeling away the infected layers of flesh that had been smeared in seed. Even the slightest separation from him now would prove inexcusable. She'd have to pad along properly at his heels, never venture beyond the stretch of his golden gaze. His constant watch seemed a necessary measure to assure her safety and would most hopefully be balm enough to soothe some of his frayed nerves. Touching down lightly on his private balcony the silver inu came to a most disconcerting realization that he'd never cared so deeply for the continued existence of another. He'd never imagined himself so irritated at one's absence or pacified by their simple presence. Such thoughts had not previously struck him and he did not wish to examine them now.

Shaken awake rather abruptly, numb fingers swiping and rubbing away at bleary, blue eyes, Kagome took several wobbly, fumbling steps before catching her escort's slow stride. Popping her jaw down with a soft yawn, she wriggled her upper arm in a weak attempt to jostle pushy, leading claws. Frowning with a very childish unpleasantness at being quite literally marched into the world of the waking, the priestess shot a sour glance at the grumpy canine dragging her along. Grunting at the rather unexpected push of a neatly folded kimono against her tender bosom, she swiftly realized that the tight squeeze of fingers about sore muscle had been released briefly, and almost immediately resuctioned. Now much more awake thanks to the aches and outcries of taught, spasming tendons, the priestess found herself being tapped and shuffled toward a familiar, heavy door. White, foggy steam seemed to crawl and curl from beneath the portal of damp wood, the thick clouds nearly scalding the flesh of her cheeks as she was deposited and promptly abandoned. Taking a minute to survey the rounded door that thumped shut behind her inu, she sighed and began to strip.

He'd herded her into the washroom, a large brass tub full of sloshing, sudsy water already planted amongst a field of basins, soaps, and oils. Relatively sure this was a none too subtle statement to rub the spider hanyou's scent from her slender figure, Kagome slipped into the hot water without protest. Overlooking the rather foul implication his behavior seemed to be chasing, the priestess set to work scratching and scrubbing out the stench with a rough-bristled brush. Soaking the coarse hairs in lavender oil, she washed between each finger and toe, vigorously running across every inch of her body. But it was only after having traced the irritated flesh with a soft, sopping cloth that she realized how terribly she'd ripped away at herself. Having practically skinned herself alive with something akin to a brillo pad, she rolled her eyes at her own idiocy before standing with a small wave of cooling water.

Rubbing herself as she tiptoed, dripping, back over to the silky bundle she'd been smacked with, the huffing miko found the cool air caused an awful burning as it batted against her raw flesh. Yanking and clawing her way into the elegant outfit with a recently established familiarity, she rubbed the excess water from her hair with a dry cloth. Folding the damp fabric into a neat square and plopping it onto a patch of dry stone, she grasped the handle of the billion pound door and swung into the main bedchamber of the west. One hand combing through the thick, moist tangles atop her head, she caught sight of a very agitated Sesshomaru, looking for all the world as if he'd been staring down the dark wood door since the moment it clicked shut behind him.

Honeyed orbs sweeping the soft lines and damp patches darkening the light kimono he'd provided, Sesshomaru watched as wet, clumped tendrils of midnight hair painted the sky blue silk a queer navy. Tilting his chin back, nose poised to catch a whiff of his little mate's natural perfume, he found himself quite dissatisfied, a small frown tugging upon one side of his thin lips. Though the hanyou's unique odor had been diluted greatly, he was subjected to a slightly dizzying assault of strong body oils and hard, tallow soaps. Narrowing icy amber eyes he let his displeasure be known with a low rumble of objection. Deciding that there was much his bitch was to answer for, he spoke. "You left this Sesshomaru."

Eyes near bulging from her skull, lips flapping wordlessly, Kagome stared at the demon like he'd sprouted a second head. What the hell did he mean 'left' him? It wasn't like she'd packed her bags, went on a vacation, and had forgotten to mail him a nice, tropical postcard. No. She'd been kidnapped, scared senseless, and felt-up by a total slime-ball. "I left you? I left you? I wasn't the one who got all hormonal and stomped out of here like a two year old! But, you know, you're right just like always Sesshomaru. Naraku just dropped by to say hi and silly me, I jumped into his arms and suggested we run away together for the rest of forever! Yeah, that's what happened! That's how it went! Do you even realize how stupid you sound sometimes?"

Silently grinding the needle-tips of pearly incisors, Sesshomaru felt a good portion of his carefully tethered patience slide. Sucking down the few dribbles of blood that had managed to leak from his pink gums without any outward indication of facial movement, he lashed at the yapping bitch with his eyes. The witless female had thrown blame on the table, a subject he found impossible to broach without some sprinkle of volatility. Exposing his tender-pawed, large-mouthed bitch to a world without his claws or brawn had been a mistake. He, Sesshomaru, did not make mistakes. The impression of his own idiocy left bubbles of fury, hot and toxic, simmering and bursting in the empty pit of his stomach. Had it been any other creature, youkai or human, that had placed his female in such peril he would have shredded them, perhaps roasting them alive in a stew of their own excretions. As plain as it all seemed, his regal pride could not yield near enough to basket the responsibility. As a lord he was perfection, reining supreme and without flaw. To accept blame would call into question his ability as both alpha and mate. As his bitch she was obligated to remain where he placed her. It was her duty to greet him upon his return with sparkling eyes and unguarded reverence. He fed himself the idea that she had disappeared. It had been she who failed him. "Bitch, you left this Sesshomaru."

Yeah, it stung a lot more the second time and Kagome was pretty much at the end of her rope. "What is it exactly you'd like me to say here? Should I turn on the waterworks and plead for your forgiveness or would you rather I scrawl out profuse apologies in my worthless, human blood? You'll excuse me if I don't fall ill and claw at myself in my misery. Right now I really don't give a damn if you think I poisoned the town well much less hopped off on a stroll! It just doesn't matter! You are absolutely intolerable! If there was a biggest, most egocentric jerk on the face of the plant award, it'd be yours!" Okay, maybe a bit juvenile, but what sort of ammunition can one scrounge up when facing off with a near omnipotent demon lord?

Gnawing whatever unsavory meat he could from the words she tossed him like some brittle bone, the inu found himself slurping up the jellied marrow of her insults. He was both unused to and overly riled by the things she'd thrown at him. Whatever her words had meant, Sesshomaru found his mind reflexively burrowing underneath them, plucking some instinctive meaning from the girl's crowing. She discounted his opinion, made clear the limited influence he held over her. She was rejecting him, rejecting his claim and his protection. Snarling at the curt dismissal, the blunt bash to his manhood, Sesshomaru showed the bitch his fangs. It was every female's dream to suckle a strong male's pup under those same watchful eyes. He could provide, feed, and guard. He was the master of his breed, the prince of dogs and still the female found him wanting. No. Pink glaze flashing over his heated vision, he snapped his jaw. She was his. She belonged to him. She would not leave him. Scraping together enough of his mind to offer her a reply, he spoke. "You would do best to keep your silence bitch or this Sesshomaru shall gladly free you of that flapping appendage you deem a tongue. While you may prefer whoring yourself to the hanyou to the presence of this Sesshomaru, your opinion is of no consequence."

It was as if all the cold fury that had been foaming and churning in her chest had been funneled out, slopping and puddling pathetically about her feet. Any papery-thin walls she'd been able to erect between herself and her time with the hanyou were torched without a moments notice. Clubbing back that green about the gills feeling the topic gave her, she choked around the sensation of a full, pink grapefruit being wedged within her throat. Chewing nervously upon her sore bottom lip with all the trepidation of a beaten dog, she momentarily turned her eyes away, not wanting him to see the tears rimming behind thick lashes. Once again beaten about the ears by a swarm of fast-paced memories, she balled her hands by her sides. Not for one moment had she ever considered that the ever dignified Sesshomaru would wallop her so far below that belt. Instantly remembering the comfort she'd found sniveling and snotting in his arms, the priestess's mortification was magnified by a zillion. Slowly turning her back to him, she hissed and berated herself for her idiocy. She'd been an absolute moron to think for even one moment that he'd understand. This was Sesshomaru.

Immediately aware of the sloppy, overwhelming grief ripping through the thick air, an incredibly riled inu lord tensed ever so slightly. Despite the fact that he was bristling, his hackles raised, he cocked his head like a true canine, wondering if he had not perhaps misstepped with his last words. He would not deny the simple fact that his jibes had been meant to unravel the tiny female, to give her a good, painful kick back into her proper place. Growling, exasperated at her ultra-feminine sensitivity, he sipped upon the fact that his instinctual need to dominate verbally as well as physically seemed to have struck his bitch upside the snout in a very serious way. Still, chewing past the irritation of his newly skinned conscience he assured himself doubly that every word spewed from between his thin lips was nothing less than the unadulterated truth. He flatly refused to be sorry. To be sorry meant to be wrong and he, Sesshomaru, was very rarely wrong. Guilt itself was a heaping pile of fruitless idiocy he'd always avoided with a haughty flair, a miserable arena for the weak. Fury temporarily distilled as rational analysis of his bitch's behavior brushed over his mind, cooling the boiling pockets, the inu unknowingly gathered his silver brows. Despite the rather heinous and incredibly symbolic nature of the girl giving him her back, he found himself strung up by the thick, heady perfume of her hurt.

As the maintenance and well-being of a female had never before been his primary concern, Sesshomaru found what knowledge he did have of the gentler, pup-bearing sex either secondhand or instinctual. Of course he could manage anatomically speaking, understood the significance of strong seed and a hot womb. He knew of the development of a pup, the growth of tiny claws and teeth in the stretched sack of a mother's stomach and the nutritious milk that plumped a females breasts. What seemed to evade him were the practices spoken about in the circle of mated males. Yes, he'd been given advice as to handling bitches, even overhead some of his bonded guards discussing various tactics of control. It was what to say and when, how to calm and how to convince that baffled him. Social situations had, even from the early years, been of little importance to him. He'd never given two tails as to what his peers thought of him so long as they minded his authority. But having a mate was different. If only silently he would admit that his female's unhappiness, in turn, displeased him and cultivated some form of regret. He could never apologize, for such things were undoubtedly beneath him. But he could perhaps make some form of amends with physical comfort.

Smoothly scratching out the distance that had been stuffed between them, Sesshomaru clipped his single set of clawed, willowy digits about the circle of the miko's upper arm. Applying some added degree of pressure to the fluttering muscle, he wordlessly pasted the girl to the hot, hard board of his chest. Willing her partial relaxation with a soft, rumbling growl he knew would send odd tingles through her flopping stomach, he hoisted her upward like a sack of dry, white field rice. Slathering on every inch of patience he could scrape from his insides, he fought not to pinch or nip at the girl. Her refusal to relax into his hold irritated him supremely. If he wished to offer his comfort then she was obligated to accept it fully and thankfully. Alerting her to his agitation with a more throaty push from the depths of his chest, he sat the both of them down upon a cushioned, high-backed chair, first knocking away a stack of curling yellow parchment with his foot. It seemed she was set on wriggling from his hold. Expressing his annoyance with a quick snap of his jaw, he glared down at the jerking miko.

Knocking her head backward in a rather lame head-but, a full blow just hard enough to bat a few flashing, brightly colored stars across her field of vision, Kagome decided to momentarily chuck in the towel. Wondering if there was any way he could possibly twist that proverbial knife he'd speared into her back a bit more, she fought to keep herself from coming apart at the seams. It wasn't just what he'd spat back at her, though that did constitute a healthy portion of it; strangely, it somehow mattered to her that he'd been the one to say it. Gumming through the bizarre, nauseous feeling that had sprung upon her, her thoughts somehow swiveled and swerved back to her big-mouthed, furry-eared friend. Sure, Inuyasha had nabbed just about every opportunity that ever crawled past him to showcase to childish insensitivity and more than half of the time she wanted to stomp his big, dumb hanyou head into the dirt. But this wasn't like that. At least squabbling with Inuyasha she had the comfort of knowing that he was, for lack of a better word, a fat-headed moron that didn't process half the junk that came out of his mouth. As much as his words hurt, she counted on the fact that his temper ripped to shreds the filter between his moth and his brain. Sesshomaru was different. He wasn't anywhere near the vicinity of stupid and had never been known to say things he didn't absolutely mean. Bantering with Inuyasha was like playing a game where she once in a while contracted a brush or bruise; fighting with Sesshomaru was like a full out war where every other blow seemed near fatal.

Rocked back from her hurricane of thought by yet another soft, placating growl, the miko snagged her sapphire orbs or the warm, honeyed set boring down on her. For a second, she thought her mind was going to implode, turn to a soupy mix inside her skull and possible drain out her ears. No, she didn't claim to 'speak' Sesshomaru or even be able to battle on as a half-assed translator, but there was something in his eyes. He would never say he was sorry. Probably sooner do his own dental work with a hack-saw, but it was there. He seemed to be relying on her and the golden specks of his penetrating gaze to translate. Dropping her chin, allowing the weight of her head to lean against the support he offered, she sighed. She was still pissed. She was still hurt. She still felt like curling up in a corner and bawling her eyes out. But she was tired. So much had happened in the last 24 hours and she didn't have the energy to maintain the level of sheer fury she knew she should be feeling. She wouldn't call it forgiving him so much as letting the whole thing go.

Relaxing ever so slightly from the posture any finishing school graduate would kill for, Sesshomaru took a small cue from his mate, allowing his gaze to dethaw a bit. While he could still sense the oily tension dancing about her slight frame, it appeared she'd been momentarily trumped by her exhaustion. Bobbing past the remaining hot spots of his own temper, he allowed the contact to soothe his finicky beast. The thing had been roused by the intensity of his ire, primitive nerves still strung taught from its earlier ventures. It wasn't in the mood to be back-talked and had offered its all too familiar suggestion of bopping the bitch over the head and dropping her onto their sleeping mat. Forcing the creature back onto its haunches, muffling its angry rumbles, he looked down the girl perched on his lap. Kami forbid if their pups turned out to be such troublemakers he'd have his own nails gnawed down to the quick. Trying to reroute his thoughts in an effort to skim the information he'd originally sought, the inu made a more subtle attempt to wring it from his bitch. "You will tell this Sesshomaru of your time with the half-breed, bitch."

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Standing, shins submerged in the biting, icy belly of a foamy stream, Inuyasha swept calloused feet over the smooth bed of pebbles beneath the waters. Nude, providing any passing critters with a lovely view of his smooth backside, he started to scrub at himself, freezing splashes and rough claws painting his flesh of nice shade of cherry. Earlier, he'd peeled off his dirt-smeared hakamas, crunching them into a ball and dunking them into the stream. Letting the current tug away at the dark, orangey streaks, he'd slapped the sopping fabric over a warm rock to dry.

Scratching and scrubbing carelessly over the low bones of his defined pelvis, the demon accidentally batted at his erect, flapping member. Not even a numbing plunge seemed to be able to wrestle down his aroused organ. Fisting the thing with a rough tug, heat pooling about his tip in a splotch of angry purple, he strangled the heavy shaft with curled digits. Thrusting upward into the fleshy tunnel of his palm, he snarled. He'd grown into his first heat decades ago, felt compelled to slather the inner walls of worthy female with his seed. But the idiot pup had done nothing, instead tickling half-assed jets of infertile semen out to paint their claws and the forest floor.

Choking the stiff flesh of his manhood, he imagined the warm, wet sheath of his female squeezing him. She'd be on all fours in the traditional inu receiving position, her hot pink folds and the slight jiggle of her ass begging him to plunge into her. He'd tease her until she was sobbing, rubbing and grinding himself against her until his shaft was dripping with her honey and she was hoarse with her need. He'd insert the head of himself, torturing her with a rhythm of shallow, brushing thrusts until he could no longer keep himself from stuffing her, tearing through her maiden barrier with a powerful surge of his hips. Growling, aware his thrusts were becoming more erratic, Inuyasha clenched his fist, milking from his raw cock long, thick streams of cum that momentarily rested atop the water before being swept away. Squeezing the last, few painful drops from his deflating tool, he rinsed himself again, turning his mind to other things.

He couldn't trust his bitch to come to him. The fact chewed at him, curdling in the pit of his stomach like sour milk, raking and itching beneath his skin. Scowling as he splashed back over the warm soil bank, squelching the black mud between his toes, he slammed his legs back through his starchy, sun-dried hakamas. Ignoring the dirty smears he'd already managed to swipe across the baggy bottoms, he barked at a pair of greenish birds that thought to land in one of his trees. The strongest bitches, he knew, were always obstinate in hopes of finding a powerful mate; but the girl was simply making a nuisance of herself. She was acting like an idiot pup with her apparent refusal to trot her way back to him. Ungrateful bitch. He growled. He'd fed her from his kills, taken innumerable blows and slices for her, stoked fires to keep her frail human bones from icing, snarled and scrambled to assure her safety from that wimpy wolf, even taken to watching a kitsune cub. Did she not notice all he scraped and worked and saved for her? Either way, it was not an open contract. If she failed to assume that she would eventually take up a permanent residence at his side, it was no concern of his. Rumbling, he stalked back to their newly completed den. She was his. He was ready. Now, all he had to do was snap her up.

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Further south, where the stony foot of a spectacularly crooked peak sunk into a dip of swampy, paddy marsh, a stout, unnoticeable crack hid a sweltering, cave-like hollow. Which, in turn, hid an agitated, ruby-eyed hanyou. Squishy, rotting moss, greens and browns and grays, carpeted the floor like some reeking, watery throw, sponging up the fat, brownish drops plopping from the low ceiling. Lounging back across the damp weave of vegetation, arms folded behind his head, Naraku sipped on the hot, wet air. Some mixed brew of ungodly humidity and slick perspiration having plastered the purple fabric of his haori to the surface of his pale chest, he noted offhandedly that the moisture had matted his hair nastily against the low cut of his jaw and sloping shoulders. As practiced as he was at creating functional doubles, it still sapped him of a large amount of energy. He infused as much of his self as possible without twisting out an actual, tangible connection. Thus, he'd known the exact moment the dog ground down his handsome totem. It hadn't taken long.

Clawing and gnawing his way up the steeped ladder that was the youkai hierarchy, Sesshomaru had truly earned his place as prince of dogs, nipping now at the hind haunches of his great and terrible father. Boasting the strength of an entire cardinal army and nearly flawless tactical reasoning, he was the epitome of his breed. Though disposing of the inu had undoubtedly been discussed, his peers seemed to have deemed it a suicidal undertaking. And normally it would have been had he, Naraku, not been who he was. Still, sending the canine scuttling to the underworld, tail curled between his legs, was, at present, impossible. He was simply not powerful enough to stand toe to toe with the slobbering, wet-nosed mutt. The admission itself was painful, like plunging searing needles into his eyes or carving out the contents of his chest like slippery, seedy pumpkin guts. But it was also conditional. He could remedy the situation. Years ago, slathered in cool, gritty ointments, all applied generously beneath thick, white strips of fabric bandage, he'd had the same thought. He'd made an offering of his melted and twisted flesh, selling his mangled corpse as demon fodder for the chance to return as a hanyou. He could always start by reabsorbing his spawn, recollecting the extensions of himself. Rubbing his chin, the half-demon grinned. Yes, there were always, always ways to become more powerful. Especially if one was willing to sell the flesh and char the soul.

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By the time he'd finished sponging up the last of her weak, watery words, allowing her chin to drop as she was raked back into the realm of dreams, Sesshomaru was livid. Needing some sort of outlet for his bubbling temper before he reduced the entire palace to a mountain of chalky pebbles, he'd tucked the girl carefully between the crisp silk of his sheets and thundered out through the court greenery where he knew his guards to be running their daily drills. Eying the nearest line of coughing, sweat-slicked pups stumbling in their piss-poor stabs at stage combat, he mentally plucked a trio of limp-limbed hare youkai from their midst. Herding his victims past the view of their quavering companions, his sensitive nose was battered with the strong odor of urine. One of the long-eared, saucer-eyed cottontails had obviously relinquished control of his bladder in his sheer terror. Even the juicy, green blades beneath his feet seemed likely to slip back under the soil as the torrent of his fury exploded over them.

Thoroughly unappreciative of the sour fumes, he moved to de-bone the perpetrator first, sharp claws burrowing straight through the boy's hot gut and slipping painfully through to the other side. Wrapping a merciless fist about the string of spine tickling his palm, Sesshomaru yanked the entire boney, strip through the demon's gouged stomach, tossing a handful of sloppy, bloody intestine down with it. Severing the swiftly paling head from its post before the carcass thumped to the ground, he rounded on the second rabbit. Noting with no little disgust that the weak-stomached twit seemed to have spewed his morning meal, leaving the undigested chunks to dribble down the plane of his bare chest, he cut away the boys' left arm, allowing the twitching appendage to roll through the weeds. The idiot screamed like a bitch pushing through pup. Yanking away limbs one by one until the guard was no more than a lifeless, blood-soaked torso, he brought his foot down powerfully over the fool's chest, grinding his ribs to dust. Dissecting his next victim just as meticulously, separating the young man from both of his ballooned lungs, he glanced back at the remains. The small circle was doused in crimson, pink hunks of organ and flesh smashed between thick streams. Instinctually he noted that if his bitch hadn't been cursed with such a weak human tract, he would have insisted she down the yellow bits of liver for nutrients.

Smoothly leveling a blood-stained hand around his amber eyes, Sesshomaru clicked the razor lengths of his messy claws together indifferently. Allowing a splurge of neon toxins to burn away the sticky paint, he locked his gaze upon a half-circle of thick-trunked sakura trees. Immediately lunging across the grass to burn down and uproot the monsters with his immense strength, he quickly processed the boughs, leaving only splinters and several smoldering slices of timber. Rage mostly appeased, the degree of destruction enough to de-bristle his beast for a few moments, he directed his attention to the storm of color biting at his peripheral vision. Staring down the patch of plump, colorful poppy heads that burst to his left in stalks of yellow and orange, buds that seemed to cheerily insist upon infesting the west, he called upon his poison whip, taking the blooms off with a single swing. Before the last silk petal fluttered to the ground the lord felt a tingle skip across his chest, the magic of his ancestors alerting him that his female had stirred inside their chamber. Wishing to be present before she managed to swim back to consciousness, he took off.

Dragging a stray sheet over her mussed bush of black strands, Kagome tried desperately to sink back into the gooey abyss of unawareness. There was just something about waking up that left your morale a pathetic, pulpy mess. Pulling sluggishly at her sore set of leaden limbs, she fought past the last of that miserable, absolutely pancaked feeling. Years of experience speaking to the fact that the whole process could be made ten times less painful if she were to strip away her snuggly padding in a single sweep, much like tearing back an adhesive bandage or diving into a chilled swimming pool, the miko quickly shoved off her toasty shield. Determined to rattle herself awake before that fluffy mountain of goose-pillows managed to lure her back into the folds of her nest, the priestess rubbed away at sleepy eyes with curled fingers. As straight-laced and old-fashioned as the resident lord seemed to be, she'd give him one thing: his mattress was a whole mushy pile of heaven. Scooting toward the edge of the squidgy futon rolls, totally oblivious to the snaggled, lumpy mess that was her right foot cocooned in blankets, the little priestess made to stand, whipping one leg over the side of the bed. As was to be expected, with one leg splayed awkwardly out behind her like some bizarre mermaid tail, the girl toppled over herself, swiftly heading from what would have been an extremely painful and terribly bloody face-plant. Flailing arms instinctively bowing themselves about the silky pillar that seemed to have sauntered in her direction, she exhaled, resting her cheek against the warm surface she'd suctioned herself to while she caught her breath.

Looking down at the lopsided, cherry-shaded miko currently tied around his lean waist, the great inu growled softly. One silvery brow curling upward, climbing the pale hill of his regal forehead, he assessed their position as sensibly as he could. Obviously his clumsy little bitch hadn't intended to bear-hug his groin or pillow her cheek against the swiftly inflating bulge between sturdy thighs. But nonetheless his member jumped at the attention, the neglected organ twitching within the confines of his silky trousers. He'd not satiated himself sexually since he'd first laid eyes upon her years ago, instinct and honor both beating away the idea of any sort of frustration-venting romp with another. He refused to indulge in any other female. That being said, his sac had been swollen for months, ready to coat the womb of his chosen female in its sticky paste. But truly, there was nothing to be done for it. Despite his beast's suggestions that she simply rub a load from them with that dainty little hand of hers, he knew she was far too unstable to be approached with such a licentious proposition. Instead, exercising an unimaginable amount of self control, he gently peeled the priestess from his waist, righting her and sliding a pace back before his resolve shattered.

Smacking a palm across her face with a humiliated clap, smothering herself in darkness, the miko wondered if maybe just this once she could be swallowed up by a giant hole in the ground. She'd just performed an Olympic caliber nose-dive straight in the great and terrible western lord's junk! The mortification was almost physically painful. Needing some fresh air before she suffered a total system melt-down, she cleared her throat. Kami, the feudal era really had ruined her for city life. Avoiding eye contact completely, wringing the hands she had just managed to drag away from rosy cheeks, she prayed he wouldn't make things any more awkward than they already were. If that was even possible. "I, uh, think I'll just…uh, go outside for a little bit. Nothing like a good walk to get the blood pumping!" Okay, she officially sounded like an idiot.

Well aware of his female's embarrassment as having grazed his sexual organ, the inu slipped his eyes closed briefly. Although some portion of him wished to remind his bitch there was no shame in physical intimacy between mates, he instead nodded. It was something he would address later. "This Sesshomaru shall escort you."

Shooting off a strained smile, hoping to scrape together what little was left of her dignity, Kagome shook her head. Either he was intentionally tormenting her of the oaf really didn't realize she was trying to get away from him. "Uh, no. Thanks, but I'll be alright on my own."

Agitation brushing itself thickly across his high brow, Sesshomaru found a sticky, irritated growl painted to the back of his pearly fangs. Already sapped of his daily portion of patience, he tossed his foolhardy little female a short, stern glare. Only mere hours ago she'd done such a spectacular job of proving herself as defenseless as a newly birthed pup, one that had yet to crack open its tiny eyes and suckle from its mother. Surely she didn't expect him to acquiesce to such an absolutely absurd request when she'd just been snapped out from under his massive paw? Despite the knowledge that she found much comfort in the crumbly earth and lush trees, protective instincts chained him to his position. Should she so desperately require solitude, there was much to be found between the western walls. "You shall either be accompanied by this Sesshomaru or abstain from the outing completely."

A familiar, furious red once again creeping across the bridge of her nose and spilling down past tan cheeks, Kagome jabbed at him with a glare of her own. Blue eyes bubbling over with exasperation, knuckles white and back straight, she bit off a short, ridiculous-sounding growl. Of course it would just be too much to ask for the pushy bastard to give her a few minute to privately wallowing in her overwhelming humiliation. He just couldn't miss that! "Listen here buddy, I'll go wherever I want to go whenever I want to go without being tailed by you or your stupid goof-troop of guards! This might be somewhat of a shock to you, but I'm a big girl! I can handle a little stroll through the daisies, alright?"

Unmoved by the tiny tantrum, the dog lord lanced the petulant bitch with his icy, amber gaze. Why were bitches such disagreeable creatures? "No. You will be remaining inside the fortress."

Rerouting his thoughts, determined to keep a swiftly escalating temper from unraveling into thin strands of frustrated rumbles and snarls, Sesshomaru tossed his head to the side. Peering past the ripple-blown glass of his balcony doors, he noticed the fuzzy, orange sun beginning to dip into a sea of pinks and purples. He sighed. Plucking from the back of his mind one of the chores that had been knocking about, the great inu conjured up a mental image of what he imagined his horrific pillars of paper work must look like. Although such an undertaking may leave his temples in bruised, plum-colored bumps, it seemed a brilliant avoidance tactic. Whatever discussion there had been upon their current topic was closed. He'd given his last word.

As dizzying as all the ink and quills and parchment would be, it would save him a good quarter hour of his bitch's sharp, flapping tongue. Besides, it might also serve to preserve the lives of the rest of his military company. No use in dicing up an entire regiment just to vent frustration. Throwing a glance back over at the foot-tapping, narrow-eyed miko, he clicked his teeth. There was no way she could be shut up in the study with him. Not only did he fear that rivers of blood would soon thereafter spurt from his pointed ears, their sensitive drums battered to nothingness by an endless barrage of complaints, but more over, her whimpering was not conducive to productivity. Nothing would be accomplished. As a lord he had innumerable duties; and while his obligations as a mate always came first, he was more than astute enough to handle both. Perhaps in a few centuries, when his reputation was as formidable as his late father's, he could concentrate solely on his mate and pups. As much as he enjoyed the spark and crackle of her aura nipping against the edges of his own, there was no guarantee that he'd be able to restrain himself from peeling out that waspish tongue and tacking it to the wall like some sort of catch or crest.

Several thick doors and a good hundred strides opposite his study, there seemed a perfectly suited, comfortably furnished chamber. Nothing of particular value was housed in the hole, no heirlooms to be shattered or tapestries to be shredded should any howling tantrums shake her. No real purpose, or at least none that ever struck him, had been designated in its construction; all the excess space webbed between the floors and past the cellars had become more of a spectacle than anything else, a symbolic grandeur portrayed by the palace's sheer size. While he understood the necessity, he found no instinctual appreciation in the mass. True, a male's den, its size and position, was a reflection of both status and power, a direct representation of its inhabitant. However, the inability to patrol each nook and hollow grated upon his territorial conscious. Although he'd clearly spread his scent, marking the immediate boundaries of courtyards with the strong odor of his urine, smothering each individual chamber in his fur and musk was out of the question. Aside from that, the thought of hoards of servants crawling through his den very much unsettled him. Luckily, most knew better than to catch his attention or graze his sight.

Several long minutes later, comfortably situated at his cherry-stained desk, Sesshomaru momentarily allowed pale lids to dip over the sharp amber of his gaze. What would have been an absolutely debilitating migraine for any normal, low-bred ningen tapped away annoyingly at the back of his skull. Dragging the girl through the halls had been as much of a chore as expected, holding her at an elevated arm's length, twig-like appendages jerking and curling wildly. Hm. It often crossed his mind that she should've been birthed as a pristine-blooded youkai bitch. She hissed and spat and clawed with the best of them and he held no delusions she'd not strike him if given the chance. Snapping his eyes open, he reached for the nearest scroll. He needed to get to work. As of late, nothing had been going as planned. Half a dozen doors down, a hot-headed, red-faced miko was having exactly the same thought.

Jiggling the heavy, iron door handle about impatiently like some sort of demented tambourine, a red-faced miko gave the thing a kick for good measure, half expecting cartoon steam to start shooting from her ears. He'd actually locked her in! That high-handed, self-righteous, bat-brained jerk had actually locked her in! One minute she'd been slowly frying him with her death-ray stare and the next she was being swept down the hall like some disgusting, smelly laboratory specimen. Scowling at the thick wooden slab that was keeping her from storming out there and strangling her prey, possibly throttling him until his eyes popped from his skull, she growled. Resting her forehead against the door, palms pressed flat against the wood, she closed her eyes. In between short fantasies of filleting the demon lord over an open fire to make a nice Sesshomaru-steak and chaining him to a million pound anchor at the bottom of the ocean, she somehow ended up with the bizarre thought that she might have been overreacting. It all seemed a little extreme didn't it? Just a little bit ridiculous? Allowing the muscles in her shoulders to droop, a heavy sigh slipping past her lips, she pushed away from the door, sliding a few paces before stopping again. She was too emotionally exhausted to maintain any proper level of rage and…Sesshomaru was just being, well, Sesshomaru.

The thought was actually more disturbing than it sounded, something akin to being run over by a derailed subway car. Maybe it wasn't such a miraculous discovery considering the circumstances or, she huffed, maybe it was. But either way…she liked Sesshomaru. Maybe even more than liked? Plopping herself down into a lumpy, high-backed chair, the crushed red of its fabric darkened under a thin blanket of grey dust, she began to gnaw away at the stubs of her nails. Pulling her knees up under her chin, she swept her tongue across slightly chapped lips and gave herself a nice knock across the head. This was ridiculous. Battling the anxiety-induced rolling and clenching of her empty stomach, Kagome ran a shaky hand through thick, damp raven tresses. Somehow, somewhere, in between all the verbal clobbering and silent glares, she'd become attached. It was the only way she could explain not being totally and irrevocably infuriated. Did she like him more than she thought she did? Oh, this was so wrong. And so ridiculous.

Sesshomaru was nothing she'd ever wanted in a guy. It wasn't that he wasn't attractive enough, because he was…just not in that rugged, mountain-man, Davey Crockett way Koga and Inuyasha pulled off so well. His hair wasn't matted with twigs or feet caked in mud. His clothes weren't stained with two week old sweat and his jaw didn't have that square, cereal-box angle. Actually, she'd always considered the dog lord more 'pretty' than 'handsome'. And his ego was just…massive, like one of those huge, colorful helium blimps that moseyed around over Tokyo flashing ads for some new store or drug. And complimenting him, Kami, it was like feeding the beast. It was a wonder that his handsome silver head hadn't exploded from all the swelling.

And…and…he wasn't even funny! And she'd always, always, always pictured herself with a man who had a sense of humor. No, not spring-loaded peanut can, googly-eyed glasses, or balloon animal humor…she wasn't looking for a red-nosed, squeaky-shoed clown…just someone who wasn't afraid to be a little bit of a goofball. He'd be silly, light-hearted, maybe even throw in a lame knock-knock jokes here and there. But Sesshomaru, well, it was like he'd been born without a funny-bone or lacked the ability to compute anything that was less than one hundred percent serious. The way he walked around scowling one was inclined to think that his whole face would shatter into a million little pieces the second he cracked a smile. The day she head him laugh, actually laugh, she feared the shock might send her into an irreversible medical coma. In retrospect, he was just generally infuriating. He always had to be right. There were no compromises. He was a horrible listener and an ever worse communicator. He treated people like dirt. Hell, the man was so emotionally constipated she was surprised his bowels were still in tact!

Tossing her blue gaze past a rather large window toward an inky purple sky speckled with short puffs of cloud, she bit at her lower lip. Sesshomaru…there was just something about him that kept her from rendering a verdict of total asshole. Maybe it was because he cared. It was…nice to be at the top of someone's priorities, not coasting in at an easy third behind some inanimate jewel fragments and an unfortunately animate corpse. Maybe it was unfair to be so critical of Inuyasha's 'Things I Must Do/Obtain' list, it was his life after all. She'd just decided a long time ago that she wasn't going to sit on her butt and bat her lashes while he chased after this, that, and the other thing. To her hanyou friend, she'd always be a bargain brand miko, a two-for-one package deal with his old flame Kikyo. He couldn't stop sizing her up to the older girl even if he wanted to. And she'd forgiven him for that. Again, she sighed.

Maybe she was enamored by the fact that Sesshomaru seemed to really want her, Kagome, and not a fistful of jewel shards or a reminder of another life. What could he possibly gain by pursuing her? The man had everything. He didn't need her. But it meant something to her that he wanted her. Maybe it was because she felt she knew him more than most people did. It didn't take a genius to see when he was being indifferent or callous, but it took a practiced eye to see when he was being affectionate. And that made her feel sort of special. Comparatively speaking of course, based upon all the killing and gutting and sneering she'd observed, he was a regular bucket of sunshine and rainbows around her. Maybe it was because he made her feel safe, wanted, at home somehow. Maybe it was because he sent that special tingle from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair.

Nudged from her mental nest by a cool breeze hissing through the window, Kagome froze. Instantly she slapped away the large, sappy grin that had somehow plastered itself across her features, at the same time squashing all the tiny butterflies fluttering about in her tummy. Panic constricted the muscles of her throat, made her breaths short and eyes well with salty tears. She couldn't like Sesshomaru. It couldn't happen. She…couldn't deal with that. One inu brother had been enough to send her heart through the shredder and she was absolutely, totally, completely positive that she couldn't handle it again. She'd barely made it out alive the first time. Climbing out of her seat, she paced over toward the window, wringing her hands. She needed to leave. A wry smile strained across her face. She'd just gotten over being ready to auction off her left arm to be back at the castle and her she was willing to hack off her right to be rid of it again. Ironic, really. Looking back at the door she decided it might as well have been made out of solid lead. The window it was!

Leaning far enough out over the thick, dirty stone ledge to inspect the matted mess of green and yellow vines crawling up the sides of the building, she rubbed her chin. Convienient? Yes. Safe? Well, no, not particularly. Something told her this was one of those things that looked a bazillion times easier in TV land. Sucking in a shaky breath, the priestess slowly slipped one leg over the edge, followed by the other. White-knuckled hands still clenching at the sill, both feet firmly embedded in the mattress of roots and moss, she closed her eyes. She was going to die. She was going to die a very painful death. Slowly inching down the over-matted marble, she found she had to stop several times and close her eyes and try to shake of the dizziness. She was dead sure her blood pressure was through the roof. By the time she made it within three feet of the ground, her sore muscles melted from the tension, sending her crashing down on her back. Groaning, now plastered with wet grass, Kagome crawled to her feet. And wincing, with a few muttered curses, she set out to get as far away from a certain demon lord as humanly possible. Little did she know she was skipping off straight toward a very familiar, dog-eared hanyou.

A/N: I'll reiterate for you, that was like pulling teeth. My own. With a pair of pliers. Ugh. Anyway, there you have it. Please, please review for me.