Content Warning: From here on out, some chapters have dub-con scenes.

Chapter Five

The Thief of Bliss

The first thing he became truly aware of was the unfamiliar sensation of breathing—drawing air into his lungs and releasing it again was something he had not felt in such a very long time.

Oh, how many lunar cycles had he lingered here, waiting to be found?

He understood this man, this . . . Taisho Sesshomaru. From the moment his essence had collided with this man's body, the demon began delving through his mind.

He had observed these people, unable to do precious little else, waiting to discern who was in a position of power and authority over these other humans. He had found that the more he focused on that person, the more he was able to slowly build himself within this Sesshomaru's shadow. Yet, not until that girl had joined this man by the earthly remains could the blessings on his precious, consecrated jars could be enacted.

Thoughts coursed through his mind at lightning speed as he raced to comprehend things essential to this moment. The rush of information he absorbed from this man's mind was exhilarating, yet a little alarming—his kind did not seem to exist for these people. That was a problem he would need to think his way around, fast.

He returned his immediate attention to his host.

This Sesshomaru was fluent in languages the demon had never heard . . . Japanese? French? Latin? And what, in all the bloody planes of existence, was English? It sounded like a mish-mashed bastardization of other, older and more refined languages. He grasped this man's history, his personal ties . . . his position of high standing within a formidably intelligent community.

The demon felt he should be more enraged. According to this man's mind, his people—his followers—had forgotten him. They had seen to his final wishes and then simply . . . disappeared, leaving him to stew, to mentally rot and fester here.

But he could not. He found his anger tempered by his host's natural inclination toward being calm and collected. That might prove infuriating all on its own.

Mere seconds had passed between that first breath and this moment as he pulled himself to sit up, opening his eyes. For the space of a few heartbeats, he was awestruck by the girl before him. Her irises were blue . . . none of his people had borne coloring such as this.

Another quick sift through this Sesshomaru's thoughts showed him what he needed to know about her. That only around her did this man show even a hint of a smile; only around her did he gain the ability to laugh at himself.

He had become aware that she was—notably against her will—possibly growing infatuated with him. However, unlike those other, silly females who looked at him in such a manner, from her he found he did not quite mind.

To start, that he admired her intelligence and intuitive nature, and that was the reason he did not find it bothersome might she have developed a crush—what a very odd word one should use to mean such a thing—on him. Or that he found himself so at ease in her presence only because they each seemed to understand the way the other thought.

Just a little earlier this very night did Sesshomaru realize that, for a hair's breadth of time, she appeared the perfect fit for something he understood was wholly missing from his life . . . . He grasped that, should he choose to act upon feelings he thought he was developing toward her, he could jeopardize her future. Due to this understanding, alone, these realizations had been slammed into a far, cramped corner of his mind so fast his cognitive processes barely had time to register that he had such thoughts toward her, at all.

He was protecting this girl on an instinctive basis. The demon gave a mostly humorless inward chuckle at that. How sweet.

He was acutely aware of her closeness, of the sound of her rushed and panicked breathing. He could smell her skin, the unnatural but sweet perfumed scent of her hair. He spared a moment to look down at himself.

Long, silvery locks draped his shoulders. His hair had been black as pitch during his time. He raised his hands, flexing slowly fingers that were tipped with fine, sharp claws.

He already knew his face bore the markings with which his people had adorned his tomb. That—as with his strangely muted and detached temperament—was a product of merging his soul with a body already inhabited by one. He touched his fingertips to one ear, curious, and repressed the urge to let out a small sigh of exasperation and utter a sound like hmph.

What a very odd noise one should make.

He looked, again, to the girl with the night-sky-colored eyes not far from him. After all this time waiting, a female so close made him realize he so very, very . . . hungry.

Kagome didn't know what to make of the situation as she watched him examining his own hands, and hair, and ears as though they were all alien to him. She was unfamiliar with the feeling of utter cluelessness, and in absolute dread of the notion that she just might be helpless. Maybe, she hoped fiercely, this was still the man she knew.

"P—Professor?" she ventured finally, her whispered question barely audible.

Those bizarre golden eyes blinked slow as he returned his attention to her. She got the oddest impression that he was consciously registering her speech.

After a moment, the thing before her said, "Yes, Kagome?"

She fought not to go wide-eyed even a little; fought not to gulp. Kagome? This was not Professor Taisho. Maybe he was testing her, checking to see if she understood what had happened. And she did—only a little, but it was enough, she was sure. No way in hell was she about to let him know that, though. The demon had actually been a demon . . . such things actually existed.

And she had no choice but to dwell on that—and feel shocked about it—later.

"Are you alright?" she asked, forcing out the words.

He nodded, his entire demeanor level and detached. She'd seen Professor Taisho like this before, around others, but not with her . . . not recently, anyway, now that she noticed it.

"I am famished." His voice came out in a low, emotionless monotone, but something about it seemed to whisper across her skin like a soft, heated breath.

She shook away the feeling as best she could. Her body shifting gears so fast—going from chilled with fear to warm and wanting to respond to his very presence in the space of a single heartbeat—was unnatural. The urge was so shockingly primal that it scared her.

That he could do that to her just by speaking only increased her dread and sense of helplessness.

Forcing herself to her feet, she nodded emphatically as she spun on her heel and started for the chamber's entryway, trying to hide that she was unclipping her walkie from her belt. She didn't know who she was going to reach or what she would say, but she had to get out of here. She had to find someone to put between her and this thing.

She turned her head, calling over her shoulder, "I'll run back to camp and get you something, then."

"Where are you going?" Kagome heard as she set her head straight, again.

He stood in the entrance. There'd been no sound; no indication, at all, that he'd even moved a muscle to cross the chamber.

She froze in her tracks at his sudden appearance, accidentally losing the grip on her walkie. The device clattered loud against the temple floor, and she was too unnerved to even work up a cringe at the echo that followed.

For anything to move that fast simply wasn't possible!

A tiny voice in the back of her head told her that if she paid just enough attention, she might hear the sound of her psyche slowly fracturing. This couldn't be happening—she had to be losing her mind. If she wanted anything to make sense ever again, temporary insanity was the only explanation.

She tried her best to stay—at least visibly—calm, to not let him see her fear. "You, um, you said—"

"I said . . . ." He took a step, Taisho Sesshomaru's naturally long stride closing the distance between them with ease. "I am famished."

This time Kagome couldn't stop the hard, painful gulp that went down her throat as she stared up at him. "I—I know, that's why I said I'd go—"

He shot his hand out, snatching her wrist. In a single, smooth motion, he spun her and pulled her back against him.

His voice remained calm and detached as he lowered his head, pushing her hair away and over one shoulder, so his lips brushed against her ear ever so slightly as he spoke. "I am aware that you know who and what I am, little priestess."

Terror edged around her brain like acid in odd contrast to her awareness of how warm and solid his body was against hers. She was at a complete loss for what to do. She couldn't outrun him—he'd just proved as much. She couldn't overpower him—Sango could take her in a fight, her thirteen-year-old brother could take her in a fight, hell, her pudgy ball of a cat Buyo could probably take her in a fight. She didn't remember enough of her grandfather's rites to subdue him, somehow.

As far as she knew, there was only one way to be rid of him—she knew his story. But he'd just called her priestess. He was speaking her language; he'd called her Kagome. Didn't that have to mean Professor Taisho was still alive in there, somewhere? She hoped and prayed that it did. The only way to be rid of this thing would be to kill it . . . .

To kill Professor Taisho.

Her eyes drifted closed, trapping fearful tears beneath her lids. "Please," she whispered, aware that her voice shook a little. "Please, don't. I am not a sacrifice for you. I don't want to die."

"I gain more from your continued existence than I do from your death," The Thief said, muttering his words as he lifted a brow.

While he was so hungry it hurt and would love nothing more than to drink her dry, he grasped that in this new world, he no longer had the freedom to exist as indulgently as he once had. Gorging himself on any woman he wanted was simply no longer an option. He would have to get by on scraps.

Distasteful, yet far better than starvation. One does what one must to survive, he reminded himself. This was the opportune moment to test the boundaries of her affections for this man Sesshomaru.

"I will not take you as a sacrifice, little priestess," he said. Pausing, he slipped his arms around her and pulled her more firmly against him, his warm breath whispering over her throat, his lips brushing her ear still. "But you will present me an offering."

She once more felt the irrational, unwilling change in her body's reaction to him. That little voice in her head told her that this was Professor Taisho's body The Thief was using.

Maybe, if she could pretend, for just a moment, that this was—no!

"Like hell I am," she replied, her voice barely a thread of sound and she wished she could have at least sounded as brave as she'd intended those words to come out.

"You will comply with my need of you, or I shall find myself forced to destroy this Sesshomaru."

Her eyes snapped open and she couldn't help turning her head, letting the back of it roll against his chest as she look at him. Leaning down as he'd been, she found herself face to face with The Thief.

"What?" That had to mean Professor Taisho was still in there! "You can't! Not—not without destroying yourself, right?" She nearly jumped out of her skin at the feel of him tugging on her shirt, pulling up the fabric for his fingers to slowly trace up her abdomen.

A frown played at the corners of his mouth. "I do not intend to destroy his being. Though I am only sharing this form, I am as subject to self-preservation as any creature. If you will not make offerings for me, then I will have to go to others for sustenance in this form."

Even though this wasn't really Professor Taisho, she felt a little burning jab at the notion of this thing using the professor's body to be with other women.

"I understand that his reputation in your society—your Academia—would suffer greatly, were he to become known as a womanizer, I believe is the correct term?"

Kagome felt another tight, painful clenching in her chest at his words. Being a bastard in any regard was hardly against any laws or regulations, but no one would want to work with him, his colleagues would shun him—all for fear that associating with him would be viewed as condoning such behavior.

It would ruin his career and that, she knew, would destroy Taisho Sesshomaru.

He continued to drag his fingertips upward until they reached her breasts. She sucked in a shocked gasp at the feel of his claws raking, delicate, over her nipples through the thin cotton of her bra.

"You're not leaving me any choice," she said in a bleak mutter.

After a few moments the soft bits of flesh had hardened into tight little points beneath his touch and he slipped one hand away, back down over her ribcage and abdomen. He unbuckled her belt as he said, "Such was my intention. Fear not, for now I shall sate myself on but a morsel."

She noted in a detached corner of her mind how odd it was, that even as his claws continued to stroke over her breast, even as his hand undid her zipper to begin creeping into her panties, his voice was still so utterly blank, so empty. She closed her eyes, turning her face away from his as she felt his fingertips parting her gently.

Another gasp tore out of her throat as those fingers entered her.

"You will calm yourself," he said, his voice smooth as he made the demand. "I am truly attempting to make this simple for you." He withdrew his now-damp fingers from her and slid them forward until her hips jerked involuntarily.

She bit deep into her bottom lip as he rubbed the tips of his fingers over the sensitive little bead of flesh he'd found there. She didn't want this to feel good; she didn't want him to make her like this. As though he sensed her stubbornness, he dropped his head to drag his teeth and tongue along the pulse in the side of her throat and rolled his hips forward, pressing himself tight against her.

His stroking fingers worked faster and she shuddered at the feel of him on her—he was already hard. Inexplicably, it was all she could do not to move back against him. She couldn't entirely banish the idea that this was the Professor. She knew it wasn't him, but that his body cradled hers . . . that Professor Taisho was rocking his hardened length—unbelievably warm, even through their clothes— against her bottom.

She was still fighting him a little. He had to nudge her over the edge. "All you need do," he murmured softly, weaving his hunger into his voice, "is come for me, little priestess."

For just a moment, Kagome lost touch with her fear, but it was long enough. She found her hips moving of their own volition—rubbing herself harder against his fingers, rocking against the solid length of him behind her.

A tingling warmth was beckoning to her, forcing her muscles to go taut and he moved his head to bite down on the back of her neck, sucking just a bit savagely on her skin. His hand at her breast grasped roughly now and his fingertips rubbed faster, working that precious little bead of flesh in rapid circles that had her moaning behind clenched teeth.

The orgasm washed through her and she couldn't help crying out. Her hands gripped his forearms to steady herself as she raised up on her toes, every inch of her tense with it. She wasn't prepared for the delicious warmth dancing and spiraling through her body.

There was a low, indistinct sound like a hungry growl behind her. She tried to cling to it, to remind herself of what was really happening, but another warm, tingling wave crashed through her, forcing reality away from her, again.

As her orgasm began to ebb, she found her hips rocking in time with his motions, once more. His fingers moved over her still, guiding her through the sweet, shuddering aftershocks as it ended.

That was it, right? Please, that had to be it, she thought, mournful as her mind regained control of her body. She felt a deep self-loathing that was equal parts used and as though she'd somehow betrayed Professor Taisho, even as her body trembled pleasantly in the wake of—what was so very unfortunately—her first orgasm.

He withdrew his hands and she immediately stumbled away from him on unsteady legs. Kagome spun on her heel to face him as she righted her clothing in quick, angry movements. His eyes were . . .glowing. The expression on his face—that face that didn't belong to him, she reminded herself—though still markedly reserved, gave a hint that looked as though he'd shared in her climax.

"My name," he started in a murmur, pausing long enough to slip his fingers into his mouth, those glowing golden eyes closed for a moment as he savored the taste of her. She was a virgin? What a pleasant surprise, though he wondered with a dim sort of amusement if her precious Professor Taisho Sesshomaru was aware of that. "My name was Nah Rah Ku. I am aware you understand what this means."

"The Thief of Bliss," she whispered, her tone hollow and lifeless as she replied around the painful lump forming in her throat. She would not cry in front of this thing.

He nodded, slow and deliberate, as the glow in his eyes began to fade. "I find that I do rather like this new name, this Sesshomaru. It is what you will call me."

Her lips trembled and she folded her arms tightly around her body to keep from physically lashing out at him—he could probably tear her limbs from their sockets without breaking a sweat. Wasn't that the sort of thing demons were capable of? "B—but that name isn't yours."

He glanced down at himself and then gave a small, unconcerned shrug. "That argument is a matter of semantics. I kept my word, I took from you but a morsel of sustenance. Continue providing me with such and your Taisho Sesshomaru will be protected from my machinations—of which, I assure you, I am quite capable."

This was the reason the tale had done him no justice, she thought dully. The Thief of Bliss was cruel, manipulative and selfish. She wondered—she hoped—this was why his people had forgotten him. Perhaps after his death, the affect he'd had on them had worn off and they'd realized what a wretched, downright evil, being their precious Nah Rah Ku really was.

Cold settled in the pit of her stomach as she forced a nod. "I don't doubt that."

"You will make my offerings, then?"

She understood that even though he'd posed the statement as a question, it wasn't—she was well aware that he knew he had her backed into a corner. With another forced gulp, another fight to hold back tears, she gave a small, stiff nod.

What else could she do? Who could she run to about this? She knew the answer, but still it hit her like a brick to the side of the head. She couldn't do anything. At least she wasn't insane; she hadn't imagined what just happened. Yet, as much as she prized her mind, that thought offered precious little comfort.

A sudden flash of light shone from him, like she'd seen in the whirling ashes.

She found herself staring into familiar, if mildly confused, amber eyes. Though, even in this, she found no relief—inside him somewhere, The Thief still lurked. Kagome felt the tears she'd been fighting the entire time welling in her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks any moment.

Professor Taisho glanced around the chamber. Arching a brow, he pointed to the shattered wall and then the place on the floor where he'd been laying before. He couldn't recall what happened next, or how he came to stand at the entrance.

He lifted his gaze to her, but one look at her expression had concern overriding his confusion.

"Higurashi?" the professor said, stepping up to her and cupping his hand against her cheek. "What's wrong?"

"Professor . . . ." She tried to clamp down on the tears working their way into her voice. "I don't . . . know. I—I can't . . . ." She was going to say she couldn't tell him, that she didn't know how to explain it.

Before she could really work out what to say, however, that confused look flooded back into his eyes. He squared his jaw, and she remembered, fear slamming into her all over again, that The Thief had tasted her.

Once more, his eyes roved the area, much more uncertain now, before bringing his gaze back up to hers. "What happened? Why do I, um . . . ?" He paused, and she knew already he was looking for a delicate way to phrase his question, but then his eyes went cloudy, rolling upward.

"Professor!" she shrieked as he collapsed.

Kagome was frozen. She wanted to go to him, but she was wary, terrified The Thief was taking over, again.

She watched him for several, painfully long breaths, but when there was no change—when the face she stared down at remained unmarked and he still lay unconscious—she lowered herself beside him on shaky knees.

Her fingers felt numb and icy as she checked him. His pulse thudded, dull and slow, under her touch. At last, the tears spilled down her cheeks as she snatched up her walkie and ran, heading as far out and up into the tunnel as she needed until she could get a transmission to someone, anyone at camp.

Sango had insisted on going with the small crew that accompanied the team's RN—their on-site doctor had backed out at the last moment, too late to postpone the excavation and leaving them to scrape by with who they could find on such short notice—and had dragged Miroku along, as well. When they got to the chamber, she found Kagome sitting on her knees with Professor Taisho's head cradled in her lap. Her friend's blue eyes were ringed with a bright red that Sango knew had little to do with lack of rest.

"What on earth . . . ?" Miroku said in a hushed tone, nudging his chin toward the shattered wall when Sango looked over at him.

The destruction was a startling thing to see, but she couldn't pay attention to that, just now. Kagome was nodding to something the nurse was asking as he bent to examine the professor. Now that help had arrived, the girl shuffled to her feet, stepping away from them by the time Sango reached her.

"What happened?" she breathed the question, turning on her heel to follow Kagome through the chamber and out into the temple corridor.

"I don't really know," Kagome said, numb as she let the lie fall from her lips. "We were talking about the translations and the visual anomalies and we were examining the wall, and then it just . . . came down." Kagome sniffled, hugging herself tight as Sango threw a protective arm around her shoulders. "I . . . we thought everything was okay, until the professor collapsed."

She stopped her carefully edited explanation right there. Kagome really didn't know what happened, but if she tried to elaborate any further, she would have to actually start lying. Given how terrible a liar she was, Sango was bound to know something was up, which would drive her to riddle Kagome with questions until the girl spilled everything.

Then Sango would have her committed.

"That's crazy." Under any other circumstances, Kagome would have giggled at Sango's choice of words, given her own thoughts a mere split-second ago. "I'm so sorry, Kags. If I hadn't had to see Miroku tonight, you wouldn't have been here and . . . I don't know, maybe this never would have happened."

Kagome gave a lifeless nod as they climbed down the stairs toward the shore. "I just hope Professor Taisho's okay."

"I'm sure he'll be fine, Kags."

They continued descending the steps in silence and started across the shore to the tunnel.

"You know what?" Sango felt it doubly important to reassure Kagome because of the feeling she was getting. Not a feeling like something was happening between her friend and their professor—taboo and possible legal complications notwithstanding—but she had noticed them looking at each other just a touch differently as of late, when they thought no one else was paying attention. The type of thing they probably weren't even aware of, themselves.

"Hmm?" Kagome's brain felt fuzzy.

Trying to keep pace with Sango, she only blinked hard a few times to clear her clouding vision. She couldn't understand why her limbs felt heavy and sluggish, like they were useless things just weighing her body down.

Well, she thought ruefully, at least it distracted her from what had happened in the temple.

"It's most likely just exhaustion or like . . . malnourishment, dehydration. I swear, he probably works in his sleep, when he actually gets any. He's just about the only person here getting even less sleep than y—" Sango broke off into a panicked shout as Kagome collapsed right out from under her arm, "Kags!"