Bound by Corruption by BelovedStranger

Collared

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Word Count: 2,888

SESSHOMARU STARED DOWN at the drenched onna, a frown pulling the corners of his mouth. She was wet, and not in the pleasing way from earlier. No, the shadows were too cool, the rain too chilled. The onna was freezing. He could see a concerning, bluish cast on her too kissable lips.

Unaware that his thoughts mirrored her own, he finished dressing without delay. Then he was beside her and pulling her against his side, as though his body heat could bleed through layers of soaked clothing and combat against the continual rainfall and warm the small woman beside him.

He was reminded of how weak she was. How human.

She could die if he did not take her somewhere dry and warm her. However, the thought of ridding her of her sodden clothing appealed to him on a deeper level. It was more than survival. It was a primal need. Lust tightened his abdomen, sending an answering quickening to his groin. As if he wasn’t soaked through by the merciless rain. As if he hadn’t just spent inside this onna. Multiple times. His body yet responded to her nearness, craved her.

Ignoring his wayward urgings, Sesshomaru flared his youki. Kagome’s reiki was quick to answer, surging against him with burning heat. Though she struggled to rein back her energy, he felt a measure of her control when her purification didn’t start burning him in earnest in an attempt to obliterate his very essence.

Her appalling ability to master her powers should have repelled him, filling him with disdain. Instead, he took her fault in stride. She would learn. He found himself far more indulgent towards her glaring flaws now that he knew what a gem she was. Her unblemished soul was his to protect—to corrupt. Without actually blackening that enchanting white light, of course. What had he of an ugly stone when he could have a diamond?

Underneath her struggles, he could still sense her unease. He tightened his arm around her. “Do not be afraid. You will be safe so long as you remain by my side.”

With far too much trust, Kagome nodded. “Right.”

A thought rose, unbidden. When would she learn not to trust in him? How many times had he abused her, taken advantage, manipulated her? She was aware of some—not all—of his scheming, enough to damn him in her eyes. Yet here she was, leaning towards him, on his strength, entrusting him to protect her from the unknown he was about to thrust upon her.

With a final surge of youki, he opened a portal. He heard Kagome gasp. Glancing down at her, he saw her enrapt gaze on the oval of light that pulsated gold and white mixed with jagged shards of green and purple, sapphire and burnt orange.

With the retreat of his youki, he felt her reiki abate. “Come.” He pulled her forward, giving her little choice but to obey, and was inordinately pleased when she stepped closer to him before they entered the portal; together. 

One moment they were on the mortal plane, the next, the spirit world. Without having to look, he knew the portal closed behind them, sealing them in.

He felt Kagome’s tension. And her curiosity as she eagerly stared around her, head swiveling right then left, then right again. Sesshomaru didn’t slow in his stride, forcing her along. He’d taken them to the outskirts of a booming marketplace, in an area designated for portal travel so as not to disturb the busy streets—or accidently kill another by the sudden appearance of a portal. With such volatile energy, weaker daemons would parish just by being too close to the rift between planes.

Entering the bustling market, Sesshomaru lead Kagome to a wooden walkway that lined the many shops on either side of the dusty street, keeping himself firmly between her and the daemons, as well as the many carts racing along the road. The walkway was packed, but the crowd kept clear of him, recognizing power when they saw it, recognized him, and heeded the danger of getting too close. Some even braved the busy street to get out of his way, his long strides taking him through the winding paths.

All of the pedestrians were either formless spirits or daemons. Not a ningen in sight—save for his miko.

He saw the multitude of youkai through a human’s eyes. Three eyed vendors screamed their wares, reptilian creatures slithered in and out of the shops, creatures with wings either walked on two legs or flew through the air, and there were many strange, white robed figures wearing noh masks that walked through solid objects. Many of the daemons milled about without a hint of glamour, revealing their monstrous forms. Few were as he was, able to take on a humanoid form without the need of a false glamour.

His form alone bespoke of his power. Only the weak were unable to transform from their monstrous form. The sight of them was grotesque. In contrast, the few that were like him were beautiful, and yet, their very flawlessness set them apart from any human, for no ningen could ever reach a daemon’s ethereal elegance in form and feature. He knew many humans who were incapable of even discerning between the males and females when faced by such perfection.

The air was clear, but it was filled with daemonic energy, and soon, he felt the return of the miko’s battle with her reiki.

If their wet dishevelment wasn’t enough to garner attention, the fact that he had a miko in tow, at the heart of their civilization, would. There was no hiding what she was. How many evacuated the walkway to evade him or the miko, he mused with dark amusement despite his displeasure of her inability to blend in.

The miko’s lack of control was an impediment. His patience from earlier evaporated when he felt a sting along his palm he had around her hip. “Miko.”

“I’m sorry! I’m trying.” He heard her desperation, the effort it took to stop her reiki from flaring around her in blind protection against the negative energy around her.

Sesshomaru realized his folly too late. With an impatient growl, he formed his cloud beneath their feet and raced towards a different destination than he’d first had in mind.

When they descended from the air, he stepped quickly into the shop. Jewelry lined the displays. Necklaces, bracelets, rings and much more. The shop’s bright light made them sparkle and shine in an array of different colors. Every gemstone known to man was on exhibit.

Sesshomaru went passed the tables without a glance at the treasures. If he’d wanted to, he could have purchased the entire store’s wares without a dent in his family’s wealth. He had eyes for one display. Situated at the very back of the shop, he stopped before a glassed cabinet, eyeing the trinkets within.

“You have a good eye, my lord. Which of my wares of enchantments would you be interested in, hmm?”

Without even looking at the proprietor, Sesshomaru’s gaze landed on the silver band of a simply crafted, yet no less elegant, torque. The metal was rounded in a delicate ring and engraved with arcane symbols, and at its very center was a pure white crystal, its clear surface capturing the light in an array of sparkling hues. The centerpiece powered the magic of the spell engraved along the thick band of the necklace.

His nail clacked against the glass, impatient. “This will do.” Until he could have one especially crafted for his gem, his pet.

One corner of his lips curled upward in a satisfied grin.

The torque was a means to aid the miko in her struggles with her reiki, but it could, also, signify hos ownership. Such an outward display was unnecessary. His mark of possession was more than sufficient—and yet.

When he himself placed the torque around Kagome’s delicate throat, the sight enflamed him.

His miko was his. Collared.

KAGOME STARED INTO the looking glass, fingering the large diamond uneasily. She could feel the magic tingling along her senses. “Are you certain this is necessary?”

Glancing at Sesshomaru through the mirror, the air was sucked from her lungs at the flare of heat in his. Her knees went weak. She trembled. Heart pounding, she looked away.

Though unexpected, his ardor was not enough to completely eradicate the understanding that she needed the gift. She grimaced. The cloaking spell would not only conceal her aura but help her control her purification. Without it, she’d still be in the grips of a losing battle.

The very air was oppressive, saturated with youki. Had Sesshomaru not acted as he had, her reiki would have flared out of control, striking against anything that dared come near. How many would have suffered? How many would have died, their very being purified until there was nothing left?

When had she ever hesitated to purify a daemon? Now, she was surrounded by them, evil pressing in on her from all sides, and here she was, trying to protect them from her.

The irony was not lost on her, and yet she winced all the same. Her lack of control was a sore spot for her. She glanced at Sesshomaru. Had she hurt him? Did he judge her?

Like the people of her village had? Like her family?

If her reiki had caused him any harm, Sesshomaru made no mention. Her inadequacies as a miko had been on full display for all to see, including him, shaming her into silence.

The inugami stood just behind her, his strong presence tempting her to lean back against the strength of his chest even though she didn’t deserve his comfort.

“Will that be all, my lord?”

While Sesshomaru finished their transaction with the proprietor, it was on the tip of her tongue to return the gorgeous ornament. Without even knowing the price, she knew she could never be able to afford such a priceless gem and artifact, but prudence made her bit her tongue. Without the torque, she would be unable to travel through the spirit realm without losing control, and she couldn’t let that happen. Not if she wanted to find her sister, and soon.

Against everything she’d been raised to believe, to never trust a youkai, she trusted Sesshomaru to keep his word.

Even though he’d left you once before?

He came back, she refuted the inkling of doubt. 

Her ears perked with Sesshomaru’s response of crediting the price to the Lord of the West.

He was a lord?! A daemon lord?

She stared at the inugami in undisguised curiosity, then in dawning horror. Just who was he? This man, this daemon, was a stranger to her, yet she’d given him the most precious thing a maiden could give a man: her virtue. Kagome felt sick and it had nothing to do with the chill that had settled into her bones from wearing her wet clothing for too long.

When Sesshomaru signaled for them to leave the jeweler’s shop, Kagome obeyed without a word. Though she kept close beside him, they did not touch as before, and strangely, she yearned for his nearness. Even just to hold his hand, but she didn’t dare.

She didn’t know who he was, and the uncertainty placed a chasm between them, impossible to cross, no matter how close they were physically.

Though her mind tormented her with this new revelation, Kagome could not hide her curiosity. She stared around them with rapt attention. She could still sense the youki around her, like a poisonous miasma, but her reiki remained dormant. Harmless.

Just to be sure, Kagome sought the light that was always within herself, and felt an answering warmth. Her purification was still there, ready to act, but this time, at her will. The wonder of her newfound control while wearing the torque paled under the humiliating reality that she required the aid. She might as well have been one of the many invalids she’d nursed over the years, helping those unable to help themselves.

Was that how Sesshomaru saw her? Incapable? Lame?

Lost in dismal self-reflection, the novelty of the daemon market escaped her. As they moved through the streets, she didn’t see what was in front of her, her attention inward. It wasn’t until Sesshomaru placed his large palm at the small of her back, guiding her into another shop that awareness returned. Looking around, she found herself surrounded by yards and yards of fabric in every hue imaginable, varying from the simple to the extravagantly designed.

She spoke without thought. “Why are were here?”

“How may I assist you?”

Kagome turned towards the source of the unknown voice. A beautiful woman stared back at her. With eyes glowing a teal blue-green and fangs peaking from her lips when she smiled, Kagome knew the female was a daemon. Daemoness? Elegantly dressed, Kagome tried not to shuffle her feet at her own disheveled appearance. 

She all but forgot her embarrassment when Sesshomaru began ordering the shopkeeper around like he owned the place. Or, like he was a lord.

Kagome followed meekly when she was guided further into the shop. She stared down at her wet, mud-stained garments, knowing it would be the last time she wore miko apparel for a while. It was doubtful a market of youkai sold the traditional red and white ensemble of her trade, and yet, Kagome wasn’t upset about the prospect. Ever since witnessing Kikyo in a compromising position with a man—a hanyou, she corrected, a change had begun working in the back of her mind. Opening a new pathway if she chose to continue down its uncharted path. To what end?

The thought was scary. Exhilarating.

Did she want to be miko? There was no question. It was in her blood. But did she have to adhere to tradition? More telling, did she even want to? Where had these rules that bound miko heralded from? By who’s order had they come to be made manifest?

Why were these answers unknown?

If her life was to be lived in a certain manner, shouldn’t she know why and by whom?

In a matter of minutes, readymade garments were picked out for her, and she was ushered behind a wide screen to change. She breathed a sigh of relief when Sesshomaru didn’t follow her, allowing her privacy. A prick of consciousness stabbed her.

What must the owner of the shop think of her, alone with a daemon? A male. She’d taken a bath and was drenched from the rain. Surely, the daemoness couldn’t scent their recent activities? Just the thought sent a flood of embarrassment through her, but Kagome couldn’t allow her discomfiture to take hold. She changed with haste, least the ethereal daemoness came to her aid, thinking she required assistance in dressing in a simple haori and hakama—or if Sesshomaru dared to help. 

Though a part of her was sad and guilt-ridden to discard the red and white garments with a wet spalt onto the floor, knowing she’d never be able to return the garb to the kind, elderly miko who’d loaned them to her, having given the clothes to Kagome from her own deceased daughter’s possessions, Kagome could not prevent a sigh of relief when they fell away from her clammy skin. She dried herself with the thick towel she’d been given with quick motions before adorning the new, clean, more importantly, dry clothes.

There was a large, oval mirror for her to check her appearance, and Kagome couldn’t prevent a small gasp of surprise. Her nagajuban was white, the sleeves revealed by the slits in her black haori just below the shoulders and at the wide collar. Her hakama matched her nagajuban, the snowy fabric a sharp contrast to the obsidian haori. It did not escape her notice that she was dressed as the mirror opposite as the inugami, yin to his yang.

Though she was grateful to have the freedom of movement to be given garments similar in style as her traditional miko wear, confusion pinched her brows. Even her obi matched the gold of Sesshomaru’s. She fingered the fabric around her waist, deep in thought—until the inugami called to her from just beyond the screen. His shadow was large, imposing.

Feeling unsure of herself and where she stood with Lord Sesshomaru, Kagome went around the screen for Sesshomaru’s inspection. Other than a nod of approval, she could not discern his thoughts and felt disappointment at his lack of response. Was he pleased? Had it been his idea that they dress so similarly?

She noted that he was no longer in rain-soaked clothes, not realizing that while she’d changed, so had he. His garments were the same, white haori, with a black nagajuban peaking underneath with matching black hakama, synched with a golden sash that held his two swords at his left hip.

With more words of charging to the Lord of the West, Sesshomaru was once more ushering her from the store and through the market. As they walked, she nervously fingered the torque at her throat, mostly hidden by the collar of her haori, knowing it would become a habit the longer she wore it.