Bound by Corruption by BelovedStranger

Taste of Passion

AUTHOR'S NOTE: 

Word Count: 3,683

KAGOME COULDN’T SEE the ground as she fell.

A blessing or a curse?

Time seemed to slow even as her thoughts accelerated. Would she have preferred to watch as the ground hurdled closer or remain as she was—oblivious—before splattering in a broken heap? Regardless, death awaited her. Any second. Each moment more precious than the last. Each stretching on to eternity, while speeding by far too swiftly. Watching death’s approach could have been worse, but this not knowing when death would claim her held Kagome in frightful suspense.

Impact startled her.

With an oomph, she smacked into something unwieldy, yet softer than dirt. And warmth. Arms held her securely before shifting her, one supporting beneath her knees, the other going around her back. Kagome found herself cradled against a wide, solid chest. A heady scent infiltrated her nose. Intoxicating. One she recognized. A deep, masculine voice murmured through her mind, soothing.

I have you, aijin.

Her eyes sprang open, staring up at her savior. Her tormentor. “Sesshomaru.”

He continued to speak to her telepathically. Intimately. You are safe. I would never allow any harm to come to you.

His nose nuzzled against her cheek, and Kagome was foolish enough to take comfort in his tenderness. Her mouth was dry, her heart pounding with how close to death she’d come. How helpless she’d felt, unable to do anything to prevent it.

The pleasure of your voice, tickling across my mind, is indescribable. Speak to me again as you did. Let me hear you. Let me feel your voice.

Kagome blinked, then blinked again, only to blush, then cringe, realizing what she’d done. The only thing she could do, she defended inwardly, as though she were her own accuser, damning her for an action she knew should not have done. There’d been only one who could save her, but fear had constricted her throat, preventing her from speaking out loud. Instead, a name had reverberated through her mind. A desperate plea.

After that first time, after watching her home burn, she’d told herself she would never willingly communicate with him so intimately. Refused to deepen the bonds that currently bound them together. How easily desperation made a liar of her.

How natural it felt to reach to him to save her. She shouldn’t, yet time and time again, she made the same mistake, relying on someone she could never truly trust.

And yet, he had answered. When she needed him, he’d never failed her. Despite all rational, gratitude softened her towards him.

You saved me. Again, she said, tentatively giving in to his request by using their blood link. It was far easier than she thought it would be. Than it should have been. Just how tightly were they bound?

Whenever you are in need, I will come, Sesshomaru vowed.

Kagome knew it for the lie it was. They had a month together. Less even. Afterward, she’d never see this inugami again. Why did the thought trouble her?

Kagome stared into amber fire from inches away. Sesshomaru regarded her with the softest expression she’d ever seen from him, as though he truly cared. But he didn’t, right? Why was she doubting his feelings for her when his intentions were, oh, so clear?

Abruptly, attraction sparked between them, different this time. Gentler. And she found herself reacting to it, relaxing against him.

Will you? Her vulnerability manifested, and like a child, she reached for the comfort she sensed radiating from this powerful figure who held her. He was strong. He would protect her from any threat.

Pitiful. Weak. Inferior.

Kagome flinched at hearing the inner voice of self-reproach. Her own.

“There is no cruelty that cuts more deeply than the cruelty we direct towards ourselves.” Kikyo’s words, spoken so long ago. Meant to soothe, to teach, but which failed to console.

Familiar insecurities pressed in on Kagome. Smothering.

Her fists clenched on her lap. Defensive—sensitive, she inwardly asserted that she didn’t need protection. Least of all from Sesshomaru. She was not helpless. She was strong. Capable. And no matter how many times the inugami kept her from physical harm, she must never forget that Sesshomaru wasn’t safe.

We are connected, you and I, bonded together closer than any conventional ties.

Ignorant to her thoughts, Sesshomaru’s words disarmed her. They should horrify her—and they did, but there was comfort in them, too. They made her feel not so alone—and she was alone. Her home was gone, the villagers either dead or scattered, and her obaasan—

Then there was Kikyo. Missing.

Loneliness was an insidious disease, metastasizing slowly yet inexorably, seeking to consume her heart. Kagome had never been alone before, and—subconsciously—she found herself clinging to this inugami, to this sense of security that she knew was insubstantial as smoke.

Sesshomaru’s head was descending. Ensnared by the softness in his eyes and the lies she told herself, Kagome tilted her head back in silent encouragement. This claiming was unlike before. Though no less consuming, this kiss was tender. When his tongue stroked along the seam of her mouth, she opened to him, shy but sure. Sesshomaru’s tongue staked a bold, slow claim, stroking along Kagome’s—when she tasted iron.

Blood?

Yes, aijin. Taste your revenge.

Kagome jerked back, breaking the kiss to stare up at him, unblinking, seeing what the shadows had hid. The mark of his carnage. Almost black in the darkness of night, crimson splattered across the left side of his face, speckled across his mouth. Lips she’d kissed. Willingly, eagerly. As the horror of that realization began to settle in, Sesshomaru didn’t allow her to escape. Swooping down, he recaptured her mouth. Pressing harder. Delving deeper. Devouring.  

The arms around her tightened, drawing her closer. A cage. Combating with the inugami’s unique scent was the stench of death, reawakening flashes of memory, a bombardment of unrelenting nightmares that were all too real. Desperate, Kagome reached up blindly and yanked on Sesshomaru’s hair. The silken strands nearly slipped through her fingers, so soft were they.

An animalistic growl startled her. Feeling the vibration rumble from Sesshomaru’s chest, she knew it came from him. A sound that should have sent her survival instincts screaming instead caused an electric shock through her whole body, where it centered between her thighs. Causing a throbbing ache.

Confused by her response, Kagome gasped for air when Sesshomaru finally lifted his head after a particularly rough yank. She doubted she’d caused him any real discomfort, but she thought he might be angry by her rejection, but the raw lust staring back at her made her gasp. That look scorched her, intensifying the burn in her core.

What’s happening to me?!

Only when Sesshomaru responded did she realize she’d had the thought so strong, she’d projected it to him.

“Heat. Desire.” His voice was a sinful rasp, rough and deep. It sent shivers down her spine. Holding her as tight as he was, he felt her response. “You want me. You can’t deny it. And I—” A rough exhalation. “—want you. Here. Now.”

He tried to kiss her again, but she averted her face. Undeterred, his hot lips trailed liquid fire down her neck.

Kagome moaned, the secret place between her thighs twitching. “You’re wrong! I don’t want you.” Passion thickened her voice, making a liar of her.

Sesshomaru heard it. Challenged her.

“You lie.” Sharp fangs bit at the lobe of her ear, earning him another gasp. Of pain. Of delight. “I can scent your need. Let me ease you.”

She wasn’t completely sure what he meant by that, but she understood enough. Kagome jerking her head side-to-side and shoved against his face. “Stop! I am not doing…this with you!”

“Aijin—”

“What is wrong with you?” she raged. “We’re surrounded by the men you just murdered! You’re covered in their blood. And you think I want you to touch me?” The very thought was ludicrous!

Her body damned her.

“I know you do,” he asserted with a sharp glare. “I can smell how wet you are. Or will another lie fall from your deceptive lips? Do so,” he warned, “and I shall prove otherwise.”

Suddenly, Sesshomaru let go of her legs, before shoving her against the trunk of the tree she’d fallen from. Roughly, he spread her thighs with a press of his knee. Then he cupped her. Intimately. Kagome stiffened. With her knees spread around his powerful thigh, her borrowed, and far too short, yukata parted. Rather than take advantage, she felt the rough linen against her tender folds. Her yukata. The only barrier between her and his palm. Somehow, his touch was even more devastating than had he cupped her without any impediment, because now, that was all she could think about.

The burn deep in her core intensified. She had to bite her bottom lip—painfully—to stop herself from making even the smallest sound.

He crowded her, hot breath whispering next to her ear. “Tell me you feel nothing.” His voice was hard, cruel, but his caress was gentle as he rubbed his fingers against her, releasing the tortured gasp she’d tried to hide. “Tell me you are not now dripping wet. Do so, and I will not be held accountable for what I do next.”

The threat should have frightened her. Instead, it thrilled her.

What did he mean?

As though hearing her traitorous thought, he answered, “Think of it. My hand on your cunt.” He ground his palm against the nub of her sex, eliciting another strangled gasp. Shocking! Tantalizing. “But without impediment of clothing.”

It was all she could think about.

Kagome gaped at him, scandalized. He treated her as one might a loose woman with no morals. Infuriating! And—shamefully—erotic.

“Tell me,” he insisted on a snarl when she remained silent too long. “Lie to me.”

She felt a finger curl, pressing against her opening even through the rough material of her clothing.

All at once, desire unfurled, wild and fierce.

Kagome cried out. Spine arching, her hips swiveled into his expert touch without conscious thought, only instinct. She needed. She needed! Madness.

Her fingers clenched around his muscular shoulders on a breathless cry. “Alright! Fine, I was lying! Just…stop.”

She felt it, his sudden tension. Against her hands where she held onto him and along the cage of his body that crowded around her. Suddenly, his hand stilled against her, making her ache for the friction. So much so, she very nearly disgraced herself by rubbing against him in frantic want.

“Are you certain you wish me to?”

No. “Yes!”

“Another lie.” His tension released as a pleased purr vibrated against her throat, his lips tracing a path along the erratic beat of her pulse. She shivered.

“No, wait! I’m serious! Don’t do this. Not here.”

“The dead bother you.” It wasn’t a question.

She answered anyway. “Yes.” And yet, a part of her wanted him regardless. The way he made her body sing was incredible, his power over her frightening.

When he removed his hand, she was both grateful and disappointed. The latter annoyed her.

Sesshomaru kissed her cheek. “One day soon, it won’t matter. On that day, you will welcome me after we’ve slaughtered dozens. Painted in the blood of our fallen, you’ll welcome me. Demand that I take you.”

Leaning back, his eyes issued a dark promise. Kagome felt her own widen, appalled at the picture he painted with such vivid detail. He couldn’t be serious? But she feared he was.

Sesshomaru set her down, before stepping away from her. She should feel relieved but wasn’t. Instead, she felt bereft, her body making demands she didn’t understand.

“Come. Your vengeance is not yet complete.” Then he was walking away, towards the bandits’ helpless leader.

The forest was pitch black, dusk having completely fallen, and the dirt path was enshrouded by shadows. Still, when Kagome turned towards the wounded man, she prayed Onigumo hadn’t seen their shameful intimacy. Approaching reluctantly, her face burned with the knowledge that with every step, she was made obscenely aware of the slickness between her thighs. She shouldn’t care what this criminal thought of her. Onigumo was the worst humanity had to offer, yet her mortification, her shame, did not diminish.

THE ONNA WAS an enigma, Sesshomaru reflected.

She’d shown more ruthlessness when he’d killed the despoiler back at the lone hut than she did now, with her enemies lying scattered at her feet. Earlier, she’d condemned a man by her silence. Now, her silence condemned him.

Ungrateful, little—

His irritated thoughts stumbled to a halt, his steps faltering as comprehension dawned. He frowned, recalling the expression Kagome had worn earlier that afternoon as he’d forced her to watch him strangle a man to death. Displeasure tightened his muscles when he was forced to admit that he’d seen no hint of satisfaction lurking in the depths of her eyes. No malicious twitch of the lips.

Her eyes, so expressive, had revealed her righteous anger over an atrocity witnessed. Sesshomaru had understood her desire to right a terrible wrong, but he’d, also, glimpsed uncertainty. Her doubt. Sesshomaru couldn’t understand her hesitancy to condemn a man she loathed, stranger though he’d been. To not wish to savor his suffering. Or relish in his death. Kagome’s grief over the unknown woman’s demise had been genuine, as had the anger he’d seen directed towards the depraved man, but there had been no true malice.

Even now, after he’d gifted Kagome the sweetest of nectar, the taste of vengeance, the onna dared reek of sadness.

Was she feeling sorry for the bandits’ fate?

Her response confounded him. Surely, she was brimming with unquenched wrath. Or, did she not care for the loss of her village? The death of her grandmother? Had he been mistaken? No, he’d witnessed her anguish, her anger, at all that had been taken from her. Why then did she not yearn for revenge?

Her lack of bloodlust angered him, but it was her remorse that infuriated him.

Why he felt so strongly, he refused to contemplate. Such thoughts led to doubts, and Sesshomaru was above reproach. Only his own opinion of himself mattered, and he would be damned if he allowed an insignificant miko cause him to question his actions or the choices he’d made.

Because, if he was wrong and she was pure… Ridiculousness.

“So, you’ve returned. I thought perhaps you had abandoned me.”

Sesshomaru raised his brow at Onigumo’s nerve. Had the blow to the back of the ningen’s head damaged his faculties? Ningen were weak. A knock to the head could so easily incapacitate them, permanently. “We have unfinished business.”

“Come to kill me, daemon?” Onigumo gazed around Sesshomaru, the faint moonlight revealing the shadowy figures of his fallen men. “I should have known you were no man. Your strangeness sets you apart. That hair of yours, like an old man’s, and those ridiculous markings, easily mistaken for a painted whore.” Onigumo scoffed.

Sesshomaru’s silver brow ticked at the ningen’s audacious daring. Unbeknownst to this vermin, Sesshomaru’s tresses and daemon markings were outward symbols of his proud lineage, passed down from his great and terrible father.

Onigumo didn’t wait for a reply, answering himself. “No, it is not my death you seek—at least, not yet, or I would have been the first to die. What do you want from me?”

Before Sesshomaru could reply, the onna took a small step forward, speaking quickly. “We just have a few questions to ask you.”

Sesshomaru frowned at her interference.

“If you sought to ask nothing more than ‘a few questions’, such innocent curiosity would not warrant my injury or the death of my men.” Pain tightened his voice, while sweat beaded Onigumo’s brow on a face far too pale. Despite the agony he was surely experiencing, his mind was surprisingly sharp, as was his perusal.

Sesshomaru watched as Onigumo’s dark, blue-green eyes travelled up and down the onna, before staring a little too long at her bare legs. A growl built in the back of his throat, but he was swift to bite it back before it could emerge.

Unaware of the danger, Onigumo continued. “A human travelling with a daemon. How interesting.”

“Last eve, you destroyed the miko’s village, slaughtered her loved ones.” Onigumo’s attention returned to him. Good. Sesshomaru grinned in relish as he said, “Tonight, blood has been answered in blood.”

Onigumo regarded Kagome more intently. “A miko?” He chuckled darkly. Or tried to. The sound was more a groan of pain than amusement. “Bloodthirsty little thing, aren’t you?”

The onna turned a swift glare on Sesshomaru, to which he ignored. No doubt, she hadn’t wished for her occupation to be revealed. In some ways, he understood her far too easily. Miko were seen as beckons of light, and with Sesshomaru’s revelation, that bright light was now stained in blood, proclaiming to this warlord that they weren’t so different. Miko. Bandit. Each had a heart as black as any youkais’.

A criminal’s opinion shouldn’t matter, but—when she’d glared at him—Sesshomaru had seen the venom in Kagome’s eyes. Her shame.

She cared. She cared a lot.

His grin widened. Her fall from grace was delicious. It hardly mattered that her disgrace was witnessed by one soon to die. Before long, everyone would see her for who she truly was. Immoral. Corrupt. Just like the rest of humanity. His amusement at her expense was doused by a flicker of his earlier doubts. His grin slipped.

Oblivious of Sesshomaru’s internal war, Onigumo boldness continued. “Fascinating choice in travelling companion, miko. How did that come about, I wonder?”

Had the vermin no fear? Or had he a death wish.

“The only questions that will be answered are mine,” Sesshomaru stated, warned. “Do answer with care. Your response will greatly determine your fate.”

Onigumo lacked the proper difference to Sesshomaru’s superiority, but the ningen would learn. Painfully.

“Tis to be torture before death? I have a better idea. An exchange. I give you the information you seek, willingly, and you allow me my life.” Onigumo spoke with such unconcern, Sesshomaru was once again contemplating the damage the human had taken to his head.

“You are in no position to bargain, human.” To enforce his point, Sesshomaru nudged the warlord’s shattered knee none too gently.

The onna cringed at Onigumo’s agonized howl.

“Sesshomaru, please. Was that really necessary—” Kagome began in a tortured whisper.

“Silence, miko.”

Onigumo stared up at the onna through pain-filled eyes. “Miko, why do you stand by and allow this beast free reign? Or has he spoken false and you are of the dark order?”

Her denial came swift and sharp. “I am no dark miko!”

“Forgive me,” he gasped, hands hovering over his mangled limb, “but I currently fail to see the difference.”

Kagome looked away, the stench of her guilt strengthening. Her response further enraged Sesshomaru.

Onigumo was a marauder. Her grandmother was dead—because of him. Her village was burned to the ground—because of him. She should be happy that Onigumo suffered, ecstatic that vengeance was hers. Why did she refuse to take it?

“You’re wrong.” A tortured whisper. “I want only to find my sister.”

Determination blazed in her eyes as she turned back to Onigumo. “Before you came to my village, you’d attacked the neighboring town my sister had been visiting. Survivors say you took captives. Was one of them a miko?”

Then she gasped, looking around frantically. “Where are your captives?”

So consumed by the anticipation to exact the miko’s revenge, and thereby bask in the slaughter—together, Sesshomaru had failed to note the obvious. The bandits had come, but no captives followed in their wake.

Her attention returned to Onigumo, her voice filled with anger as well as fear. “Where is my sister? She would have been dressed in our traditional attire, and her resemblance to me is strong.”

Sesshomaru saw the calculated gleam spark in Onigumo’s eyes. And something more. The glimmer of male interest Sesshomaru had noticed earlier returned as Onigumo regarded the onna.

His miko.

Before the ningen could speak, Sesshomaru warned, “Answer only. No more propositions.”

The human shot him a spiteful glare, but Onigumo wisely heeded him. Pity. Sesshomaru would have enjoyed forcing the information out of him

“No. Had there been a miko, I would have been made aware. As for the others, they were sent away to be sold.”

“You’re lying!” Kagome yelled. “She was there! What have you done with her?” In her agitation, she took a step towards Onigumo.

“Ah, so you are to have a hand in my torture, miko?”

Kagome flinched back. “No! I—I only want the truth.”

Sesshomaru had scented the truth on the bandit, but he did not inform the miko. Not when Onigumo needed to be shown his place, and punished for looking at what belonged to him. Cracking his knuckles, Sesshomaru flicked his wrist. His claws emanated a glowing green light and two darts shot outwards, embedding into Onigumo’s right shoulder, burning through armor and cloth, into flesh. His screams of agony rang through the night, pleasing the darkness Sesshomaru harbored inside himself.

Sesshomaru stared down his nose at the squirming warlord with outward dispassion. “Wrong answer.”

“Goddammit, I’m telling the truth! There was no miko in that village!”

“Sesshomaru…what…what did you do?” Kagome stared at the melted armour, her nose scrunching at the scent of burnt flesh.

He decided to entertain her question. “Acidic poison. Worry not, aijin. The concentration was greatly muted. He will not die.”

Then Sesshomaru pointed a single finger at the bandit’s injured leg, and one sliver of light shot through Onigumo’s thigh, flesh sizzling.

“For gods’ sake, stop! I’m cooperating! I never saw a priestess. If she were dressed in traditional attire as this miko assures, I would have been informed! Perhaps she fled in fear, abandoning her home and family. Or maybe, she wasn’t in the village to begin with. All I know is that she. Was. Not. Present.”