Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha

Summary: After years apart, a chance encounter leads Koga to believe the gods have finally blessed him with a second chance. He wasn't going to mess it up this time. Kagome would be his woman.

Rating: M

Moon Mother

Chapter 1 - Reunion

0

Balmy summer heat weighed heavy against Koga, illustrious Wolf Prince of the East. Oppressive and thick, the midnight air remained stagnant as he moved silently through the forest, stalking his prey. Rivulets of sweat trailed down his neck, traversing his collarbone, before being absorbed by the layers of silk kimono that suffocatingly clung to his tanned skin. With a clawed hand, he wiped the sweat from his brow, pulled at the collar of his kimono in an unsuccessful attempt for reprieve from the heat, and crouched low in the underbrush. Carefully, he tucked the billowing excess fabric of his hakama between his thighs, trying not to catch it on the prickly bush he hid behind. Damn this silk, always getting in the way.

A cacophony of cricket song reverberated between the dense trees. The buzz of fireflies flittered past his ears. Far away, the hoof falls of a small heard of deer (four adults, three fawns), the trickle of a crisp spring, the rustle of leaves as a wood mouse skittered to its den, the flap of an owl's wings soaring through the moonlight, and the continuous hum of the various flora resonated at a frequency only few yokai could hear, all mingled together creating a symphony of forest song.

Unbound obsidian locks cascaded over his shoulder as he tilted his head, scenting the air. They were alone; his prey was close, blissfully unaware an apex predator was lurking nearby. Koga watched intently as the massive, bestial weasel yokai uprooted the soil under the bushes and inelegantly scarfed up unearthed grubs and insects. Koga smirked at his luck. Weasel yokai pelts fetched a high price due their soft, cloud–like texture. The meat was too stringy for his tastes, but his pack loved the delicacy, and the bones and teeth made strong weapons and tools. The assembly earlier this evening with the other yokai nobility of the Eastern Lands had turned unexpectedly abysmal. It was sheer luck he scented the beast on his way back to the den. Bringing home this prize would soften news of his failure, and a good hunt always invigorated his spirit.

Koga checked once more that his yoki was tamped down, having drawn it in at the beginning of the hunt, not wanting to alert the prey to his presence. He shifted his booted feet under him, ready to leap: muscles tensing, fangs and claws elongating, cobalt irises glowing. Anticipation thrummed through his veins. Silent, in a flurry of blue silk, he launched forward.

As he leapt, three things happened simultaneously, and all hell broke loose.

First, his troublesome silk hakama caught on the prickly bush in front him. The rip of the fine silk shredded through the night, echoing in the trees, causing the weasel yokai to immediately perk up and set its beady eyes on him.

Second, the force of the silk ripping, changed his trajectory just enough that he was now launching off to the side of the prey instead of head-on.

Third, an electric zing of purifying power that involuntarily made his teeth gnash together rushed by him, right where he would have been had his wardrobe malfunction not thrown him off course.

Warning bells blared in his skull. Koga flipped himself over mid-air and landed right before the weasel yokai. The prey collapsed, instantly lifeless. A purifying arrow lodged so deep within one eye socket, the tip had obviously sunk into the brain.

Before Koga had a chance to compose himself and evaluate the situation, something small and heavy ran full force into his back and his yoki, though intentionally drawn in before, now felt like a barrier kept it from rising. Frantically, he tried to conjure the Goraishi, but his yoki merely spluttered in response.

What the fuck? What the fuck?! His mind screamed repeatedly.

There had been no one else in the area, he was sure of it. He sensed no reiki, scented no humans, and yet, here was one – a dangerous one – binding his powers and knocking him unceremoniously to the ground.

A feminine huff blew past his ear as the two of them landed in the moss and dirt, his elbow unintentionally, but gratifyingly, smacking his attacker's ribs. Thick locks of his own hair tangled his face, blocking his vision. In the space between breaths, he attempted to scent his opponent, hoping to ascertain something, anything, in who this was and how to fight them, but he could smell nothing from this human. Even winded from the jab the human was quick, he thought, as lithe arms wrapped his throat, increasing pressure on his windpipe. The attacker's legs attempted to bind his together to keep him from moving. Luckily, Koga was quicker, even without the added benefit of the long-gone Shikon no Tama shards. In a blur of movement, he and the attacker went tumbling through the underbrush, one over the other, grappling for the upper hand.

While Koga's pack no longer ate humans, they had no qualms about killing them when necessary, when the pack's own protection and survival were at risk. And in this case, his survival was imperative. Claws effortlessly sank into flesh, drawing hot, slick blood across his palms. A gasp escaped his opponent at the pain, but it did little to deter their fervor. Whoever this was, they were well-versed in grappling fighting. Occasionally, they'd land a reiki-charged punch to his head or torso that scorched his clothing and blistered his skin, and still somehow prevent him from doing much more than barely using his claws.

Desperate, he opened his eyes to glimpse through the mass of his own gnarled obsidian tresses, but the dirt and forest debris caught within the tangles scratched his cornea. In the back of his mind he decided this was the last fucking time he wore his hair down. Never again.

The urge to howl for his pack was innate and overwhelming. Pack scouts were always strategically placed throughout the Eastern Lands. Especially on nights like tonight when "lordly" negotiations had the potential to devolve into all-out battles for rank. Ripe with anticipation the wolves waited: ready to send and receive any message he required, ready to jump into any fray, to sacrifice their earthly forms for his success. If he called for them now, they would come.

But for this?

This fight?

He was Koga! High Prince of the Yorokuzo Clan and all Eastern Wolf Tribes, united together under him, the true Alpha. His brute strength, swift speed, and unmatched cunning were without compare and the envy of those who sought to oppose him! Few yokai could best him in an all-out fight these days, let alone those of his own pack. Time and again he'd proven that.

Somehow this human was getting the best of him. If he survived—when he survived, he corrected—and word spread how he had nearly lost his life to a human… he'd lose his title, his lands, his brethren. Everything he'd fought for centuries to protect.

No. The choice was made long before he came to it. The prince could not call his scouts.

Dying by human would be the perfect, shameful end-cap to this dreadful evening.

Frustrated at his circumstances, Koga snarled loud and fierce.

The attacker snarled right back. It sent a jolt of recognition through his body.

That was… unexpected, and somehow familiar… A human— a holy person —snarling?

The two of them ceased their tumbling, and Koga landed, by virtue of luck, on top of his opponent.

"This is my kill!" his attacker growled, low and distorted with exertion, but definitely a woman's voice. It bounced around in his head as he played it back over and over. That voice… In his surprise, she once again got the best of him, using her hips to flip them over, gripping him with her thighs. Hair still painfully in his eyes, he blindly jostled the hold onto her body. With a grunt, her arm slipped free. He felt her wriggle as she maneuvered to grab a hold of something in the dirt.

Once again, akin to the arrow, the fierce crackle of holy power appeared. The force of it knocked the wind out him. The strength was unimaginable. Even without the seal on his powers, his yoki wouldn't have even had a chance to rise against it. His skin shrieked as if being pulled apart layer by layer.

In that moment a crashing wave of scents him: the newness of spring, melted snow, wildflowers blooming in the mountain breeze, petrichor of heavy rains. They coiled deep within his sinuses, making him lightheaded, dizzy, and giddy despite the searing agony of imminent purification.

Koga knew this scent.

In all his centuries and all his travels, Koga had only known two humans with this scent, with this much power to their names. One, whose scent was tainted with clay, ash, and grave dirt. That one was long-since dead. And the other… the other was…

"K-kagome?" He managed to force out through the reiki crushing his lungs.

As if the monk's kazaana had opened, all traces of the woman's reiki was instantly sucked away. The magnificent, tantalizing scent vanished with it.

Stupidly, his gripped loosened. The attacker leaned back, sitting roughly on his abdomen, thighs twitched against his waist.

"Koga?"

Unbidden, his heart stuttered, stopped, and tumbled into a rapid staccato. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be real. The amount of times he had imagined…

Frantically, he perched himself on one elbow, struggling with removing his tangled hair from his face. Blood, dirt, and forest debris found home within his locks, smeared across his face. The woman – Kagome? his heart ached – remained still upon his lap. Finally free, he snapped his eyes open.

It was her.

Bright sapphire eyes that seemed to glow under the moonlight. Impossibly long eyelashes curled skyward. Cropped ebony hair pulled high and tight into a small tail, strands too short to stay within the tie brushing her chin. Bangs ruffled and drenched with summer sweat. Rosy, flushed cheeks, once round in their youth, were thinner now. Fast breaths escaped her full, pink lips. Captivated, he watched a bead of sweat roll down to the corner of her mouth mesmerized by the smile lines he found there. She was older, yes, and she had changed, but it was her.

His mind was a flurry of thought. Kagome. Kagome. You left. My mate. Where were you? You were gone for so long. Why'd you leave? You left me. Kagome. Why'd you leave me? No one told me where you went. They were lying. My mate. What's going on? Liars. You left. But one phrase kept repeating on top of it all, over and over like a mantra, She's back! She's back! She's back!

The seasons had been kind to her. She was still as beautiful as ever – still breathtaking, powerful, terrifying, and benevolent – so like the goddesses of wolf lore. A deep ache bloomed inside his chest, tendrils of it burning through his abdomen and limbs, seeping into his fingers and toes and the tips of his ears. Claws flexed instinctively against her thighs, the sharp edges catching the rough fabric of her hakama.

Time apart had clearly done nothing to dampen his feelings for her.

Uncontained happiness bubbled up inside him at the thought.

To the full and heavy moon, he had prayed for her, mourned her absence, begged and bargained the gods for her return.

Waiting…

Waiting…

Waiting

Finally, she was before him.

Solid.

Tangible.

After all this time.

My mate

My…

But she wasn't really. Not in any sense that mattered to anyone but him: he never got a chance to court her in the ways of the wolf, to prove his worth as a lover, partner, and future parent, to irrevocably fulfill his claim and make her his, and for her to do the same.

The happiness from moments became ice in his veins.

Koga stared in earnest at his long-lost woman.

But, Kagome was not returning his gaze.

She was staring unabashedly at his chest.

Shaky fingertips traced along the edges of his kimono lapels. She gripped the layers of fabric in a tight fist, tugging it. The brush of her knuckles on his skin sent skittering shocks across his chest. Sapphire eyes widened marginally.

"You're wearing clothes!"

Forgetting everything that was on the tip of his tongue, everything he had waited ages to say, Koga snorted, "Only when I have to."

Mouth agape, breathing heavy, the miko flicked her gaze to his.

"Where's your tail?"

"It's… hidden."

Dark, sculpted brows furrowed. He tried to push more words from is lips to explain, to question, to beg for answers, but the connection between his brain and tongue kept stalling. The woman shifted on his lap, studying his face. It took everything in him not to react outwardly to her proximity. He hoped his face had remained impassive, even though a pleased groan burned unvocalized in his chest, and his eyes fought to roll back into his skull.

"I didn't recognize you. Your yoki…" she trailed off, cocking her head to the side. The movement, thankfully, brought his attention to her other hand, still raised in the air for her attack. A stick was gripped within her palm, as if wielding a mighty dagger.

Koga felt his eyebrows raise, stunned. "Were you going to purify me with a stick?"

"Oh!" Startled, Kagome looked at her makeshift weapon, as if she'd forgotten it was there. "I-I don't know; I was winging it." As she dropped her arm, her fingers loosened their grip. The stick rolled out of her hand to the ground. Triggered by gravity, continuous streams of blood snuck out from the hem of her sleeve. They ran down her wrist like water and dripped off her fingertips, staining the moss below.

Panic shot through him.

"Shit, Kagome. You're bleeding!" Koga exclaimed as he pushed himself up to a full sit, unintentionally pushing her back. Ignoring how close they were now – mere inches between them – and the sensation of her hips now firmly on his, he reached for her wrist and pulled her shredded, blood-soaked sleeve up past her elbow. Four long, deep gouges ran parallel along her forearm, clearly made from his claws.

"Shit," he said again.

"Huh," Kagome sighed more than spoke, not at all phased by the amount of blood escaping her body. She didn't make a move to stop the blood flow. Instead, she remained staring at the wounds as he ripped off his top, ornate kimono and used it to stem the bleeding.

Words tumbled out of his mouth, tripping over each other in his haste. "I'm so sorry! I-I didn't know it was you, Kagome! I couldn't smell you. I would have never… Shit."

There was so much blood.

Koga tore his eyes away from his now-soaked kimono, intent on assessing her other injuries. Guilt bloomed heavy beneath his ribs and squeezed his heart like a vice. His stomach rolled into knots as he aggressively swallowed down the bile threatening to rise. Blood bloomed on her opposite shoulder, oozing down the front of her kosode. Along her ribs blood seeped through the once white fabric. Her priestess hakama were shredded, but the scratches on her thighs seemed minor in comparison.

Good fucking going, asshole, you almost killed your long-lost mate!

Koga forced his wide eyes back to her face. It was pale, but gave no indication Kagome felt any of the pain from her wounds. He panicked once more as blood began to seep out of her nose.

"I didn't hit you in the nose, too, did I?"

"What?"

"Your nose. Did I break it?"

Thick, calloused, and clawed fingers reached out to her, compelled by the blood that had suddenly appeared. It ran steady from her nostrils to her lips and chin. The miko flinched away from his hand. He tried not to take the reaction personally. Thighs once again twitched against his frame – a torturous reminder of their current position.

"Oh. No. That's just… it's… normal…"

Koga found that response to be a little odd. And what was fucking normal about this? About all of this? What was normal about almost killing and being killed by your chosen mate after endless seasons apart? What was normal about her disappearing suddenly without a word? What was normal about not being able to scent or sense a goddamned thing from a person who's every nuanced scent was once completely ingrained in your memory?

As his mind whirled, he watched Kagome, entranced by her eerily calm demeanor. She touched the blood from her nose with her free hand, bringing it down in the small space between them. Moonlight reflected off the dark red substance as she slowly rubbed it between the pads of her thin fingers as if contemplating it, before wiping the liquid unceremoniously on her kosode. Without another glance, she tilted her head back in an effort to stem the flow.

That was… weird, right? He asked himself. A chill ran down his spine. It gave him the creeps. This whole encounter gave him the creeps. Few things set him on edge: the birds of paradise were one, Kagura's Dance of the Dead was another. Oddly, this unexpected encounter with Kagome was on its way to becoming one of them. With as much blood as there was, with as achingly close as he was to her, he should be able to scent it – scent her – should be overwhelmed by it, but all he could smell was the ever-growing scent of death from the weasel yokai and the usual forest aroma.

"I have first aid supplies in my backpack."

Kagome waved over to a thick copse of trees, not too far away. She rocked back on her heels and stood up in one smooth motion. Koga gracelessly followed after her, doing his best to keep proper pressure on her arm, while trying to get his feet under him and not trip on the dangling shreds of his hakama. Ironically, he realized, this position was a mockery of his once usual, hopefully-romantic but unintentionally-arrogant, greeting to her when they were both younger, foolhardy, and naïve.

A slender, pale hand reached out to the back of his neck, and the speed of its movement nearly startled Koga. The rustle of thin paper reached his ears moments before the seal on his yoki abruptly disappeared. A sutra, his mind supplied. Yoki surged in the release briefly and settled into a low, sustained thrum.

"Sorry about that," Kagome murmured, almost too low for him to hear. Reiki sizzled and the fine paper disintegrated between her fingers. Sapphire eyes poured over the already healing blisters from her reiki. "Sorry about that too."

"You have nothing to apologize for," he responded. He on the other hand…

Suddenly, Kagome's hand found his on her arm and attempted to pushed it away. Reiki zapped across his fingers, skittering across his hand and up his arm. More confused than anything, he loosened his grip. A hiss escaped her lips as they exchanged his pressure for hers. Reiki still flickered against him, and he wondered if she shocked him on purpose. Regardless, it made his now free yoki flare in response. Even though just moments before he had been almost purified by the energy, his yoki recognized it as a powerful match befitting of an alpha female. His yoki liked it. He liked it. The sensation settled in his bones and pleasantly hummed beneath his skin. He couldn't recall being this pleased by the presence of her reiki before. In all honesty, his hackles had always ruffled when her powers were released in their battles in the past. And yet, this was vastly different.

Koga's self-satisfied smirk at the thought was immediately taken over by a scowl, however, when Kagome began to move in the direction she waved to moments before. Head tilted back, she shuffled her feet along the uneven forest floor. A booted foot caught a tree root, but she righted herself quickly.

"What are you doing?" Koga snapped, more aggressive than he intended.

"I'm grabbing my bag."

"No, you're not."

"Yes—"

"You can't even see where you're going!"

"Then why don't you get it for me?!"

Kagome's response was snippy, petulant, and demanding, as her body whipped back towards him. No woman had spoken to him like that quite some time. Not since she, herself, had on the many occasions they crossed paths fighting Naraku. The first time being when she once slapped him on the mountainside after declaring his claim. How thrilling it was to be challenged again! The miko may be different in many ways now, but her gall was still alive and well.

Despite the pleasure in her impertinence, he was reluctant to follow her… suggestion.

No, he wanted to say. No way in hell I'm taking my eyes off you. Terrified that the moment he turned around, she would disappear from his life once again. The wolf prince remained quiet, still, and observant.

"Koga?"

Face still pointed at the canopy, her sapphire irises moved in his direction, glaring at him as best she could from the corner of her eyes, brows furrowed in frustration.

It was not like she could retrieve it herself, and he literally just yelled at her for trying to do so, what other options were there? He'd be back in a blink of an eye, he tried to convince himself. Surely, she wasn't that fast, was she? She couldn't just vanish into thin air, again, right? Reluctantly, Koga stepped away. The weight of her gaze followed him into the trees.

The bag was easy enough to find – worn and covered in patches, but still bright yellow and large beyond reason. It shouldn't have surprised him that the bag, also, was without scent, but it did. What the fuck was going on? He studied Kagome through the trees. Fireflies winked in and out of sight around her. The waning full moon light, dappled in beams that danced across her lone form, making her look almost inhuman.

Heavy footsteps paused as a thought came to mind. Where were her friends? Surely, after an injury like the one he gave her the mutt would've barged into the fray – brandishing his sword and hollering until his throat was hoarse. However, Koga sensed and smelled no others nearby. Although Kagome's peculiar appearance made him doubt his usually infallible abilities, Koga had to conclude she was here alone. Edo was nearly a full day's journey from here. Had she traveled that far by herself? Where was her ever-present, boisterous, and foul-mouthed hanyo? A surge of jealousy ripped through him for the one bastard who undeservingly received all of Kagome's affection, who knew where she went when she vanished from existence, who refused to share with him her location, who taunted and goaded him while he searched the far corners of Nippon for any trace of her.

But now she was here. With him. No trace of the half-breed in sight or sound or scent. That alone gave the prince hope that Kagome remained unmated, and that his claim, once announced on a rocky mountainside, endured.

Koga placed the bag at her feet. She swallowed hard, and the sound rumbled in his ears. Cobalt eyes snapped to the expanse of her throat, bared so perfectly to him as she stared at the canopy. Sweat, almost iridescent in the moonlight, glistened against the darkness of night. If he looked close enough, he could see her heartbeat thumping in perfect rhythm, just under her skin. What he wouldn't give to drag his fangs across her pulse…

"What do you need?!" He blurted, a poor effort to distract himself from himself when she wasn't immediately forthcoming with directions.

"In the larger pocket you'll see a small cloth bag. That has all my supplies in it." Grateful for something to distract him, he dug through her pack. The pouch was easy enough to find. "I need two of the small square cloths inside and the washcloth underneath. Roll the squares into a point."

The miko didn't say please, he noticed. It bothered him. Not because Koga expected or demanded niceties, especially not from her, but because it was strange for her not to include them. It had been many, endless summers since they last saw each other, he reminded himself, he couldn't expect her to remain the same as she had been. Obviously, time had changed her. He'd be a fool to believe otherwise. Time had changed him too.

Deftly, he did as asked, and held the cloth above her face so she could inspect his work. Kagome nodded in approval, but a small, frustrated whine escaped her throat. The noise shot straight to his heart.

"Um… Can you… Do you mind…?"

"Do I mind", what?

Thoughts once again spiraled chaotic and unfettered.

Do I mind endeavoring to recreate that sound you just made? No, I don't. Do I mind catering to your every whim? Do I mind cleansing the blood and dirt from your body like the goddess you are and I the humble, grateful servant? Do I mind kissing you until you're weak in the knees and breathless? A phantom weight of her hips on his, her thighs twitching against his waist, passed over him. Do I mind, one day, spending hours pleasuring you, worshipping every inch of your body until you no longer remember your name?

The answer was always going to be a hardy "no". He'd never mind doing anything for her.

Brain obviously not functioning at full capacity, he had no clue what she was asking, but given their circumstances, he was fairly confident it had nothing to do with what images just flashed through his mind.

"W-what?" The wolf prince stammered breathless, tongue almost too heavy to move.

"This is so embarrassing..." Kagome sighed. "I need you to…stick it up my nose?"

That… that was not what he expected. Her arms were still braced against her torso, one hand continued applying pressure to her injured arm with his soiled kimono. Of course, she wouldn't be able to do this herself. He was happy to do this for her, thankful for the opportunity to show her that he could be gentle and tender after the debacle that just happened. And while, Koga, High Prince of the Eastern Wolves, was an enemy to be reckoned with, Koga, Loving and Potential Mate, was just as fierce when it came to necessary care and attentiveness.

Half expecting any one or all of her conspicuously absent friends to come barreling into the clearing and ruin this opportunity, he took a moment to scent the air once more.

Alone.

Unable to trust his voice, Koga simply stepped towards her in answer, just close enough for clothing to brush and skin to tingle. A good head taller than her, he comfortably leaned over her short stature. Cobalt met sapphire, and Kagome's breath hitched.

Once again, he lamented the absence of her scent. She was affected by him, yes, but how? Scent always gave him a detailed map of emotion. Hers had been seared into his memory the moment he whisked her off to his den long ago. How he longed to compare what he knew then to who she was now. Was she happy, angry, sad, aroused, offended? Or it wasn't any of that, and she was she simply choking on her own blood? How could he navigate the situation properly without knowing? Not having scent to rely on was akin to running blind.

Kagome's small, pink tongue darted out and licked her bloodied lips. He was hypnotized by the movement, and Koga's mouth suddenly became so dry. Though half her face was covered in blood, sweat glistened over her summer-heated skin, inky bangs plastered to her forehead, all of it smeared with dirt, moss, and covered in twigs, Koga couldn't help but acknowledge how absolutely stunning she was. His chest tightened, sucking his breath away. With utmost care, a clear dichotomy of his earlier unintentional treatment of her, he cradled the back of her head. Clawed fingertips slipped through her short tresses, grazing her scalp. Only for a moment, her heart picked up speed. A fang dragged across his lip as his mouth settled into his signature smirk.

"You've cut your hair."

"I did," she agreed, avoiding eye contact now. "A month ago."

The smirk grew into a full smile. He forgot about all her odd turns of phrase, and found the he missed them. Koga didn't know what a "month" was, exactly, but given the context, he assumed it was a measurement of time.

"It's different, but it looks good on you." She'd be beautiful no matter what she did with her hair.

Koga couldn't tell if she appreciated him noticing the change in her appearance, but there was one thing he knew about women, and it was acknowledging changes were valued. The miko continued to look away even though his proximity made it difficult. With all the gentleness he could muster, he placed the cloth in her nostril, plugging it firmly to prevent leaks.

Of all the reunions he had envisioned upon rediscovering Kagome, Koga could confidently say nothing in this entire scenario featured in a single one of them. Then again, he thought, she had always been full of surprises.

Wordlessly, he repeated the process for the other nostril.

"Water?" She croaked as he stepped away.

Exhaustion and pain flickered out of her sapphire depths before being hidden away. She peeled the spoiled and sodden silk kimono away from her wounds, gasping as she did so. It dropped to the forest floor with a wet splat. A weary, strangled smile graced her bloodied lips. The wolf prince dug through her bag for the metal canteen she so often carried long ago and used it to dampen the other clean cloth from her kit before handing it to her. With heavy gulps she drank half the bottle. The water cascaded down her chin, picking up fresh blood, splashing onto her kosode, and Koga fought the overwhelming urge to lick clean the trails the water left. He busied himself with her pack once more, face flushed, as she wiped the excess away with the back of her hand, smearing her face more. Stiff fingers exchanged the bottle for the damp cloth he held. By the time Koga had unwrapped the dressings, Kagome had cleaned away most of the blood on her forearm.

Grabbing the wrist of her injured arm between his careful fingers, Koga inspected the angry, raw, and seeping wounds, baffled to find that the bleeding had already slowed considerably. Reiki sparked along the marred edges of her skin. Power pulsed against his fingertips as it stitched her body back together. He twisted her arm, looking at the other gouges, all four covered in dancing reiki. He guessed the wounds on her shoulder, ribs, and legs were the same as well.

"I never knew reiki could do that." Koga commented, hiding none of his awe.

"It doesn't, usually." The lilt in her tired voice amused and proud. "It can't on its own. I had to train it with yoki in order for the reiki to learn how. It's not nearly as effective as what yokai can do, but it cuts my healing time by a quarter, and the scars are minimal."

Koga was, once again, baffled. Reiki and yoki were opposites on either side of a raging, ancient war that spanned millennia, possibly longer. A fathomless balance between the dark and light. That she was able to train with yoki, to learn from it—that there had been a yokai other than him willing to be so intimately close to her reiki with the risk of being purified instantly—was mind-boggling. Had it been the mutt? Koga almost snorted aloud at the thought. The dog-faced whelp didn't have the required patience for that kind of training. Perhaps the two-tailed neko? She had quite a bit experience with spiritual beings from following Midoriko after all. Absolutely not the kit; he was far too young and weak to temper the volume of her reiki. Koga resolved to ask her later if he got the chance, perhaps she'd be inclined to share her secrets.

"It's definitely slowed the bleeding," he agreed, "but it hasn't stopped."

If he were to put the bandages on now, they'd bleed through before they were done dressing the other wounds. Remembering something Kagome herself had mentioned in passing once (but wormed itself into his memory and grew like a parasite nonetheless) about human first aid: wounds left open and uncleaned were prone to infection. Infections killed humans more often than not. Imagined images of Kagome dying fitfully from fever had chilled his bones then and now. Eyeing the wounds again, he made a decision. The circumstances were less than ideal, even with the help of her reiki. There was one tried and true way to stop the blood flow and keep the wound sanitized, but he wasn't sure if she'd balk at the idea or accept.

"If I… Would it be alright…" he sighed, warring with his instincts. You're Alpha for kami's sake. Just spit it out. "The wounds will heal faster if I seal them. I'd have to—"

"Lick them?" Kagome cut in, her voice missing its previous lightness.

"Uh… yeah?"

She knew about this technique? Koga didn't know why her knowledge surprised him. Being the accomplished miko she obviously was, she probably knew a plethora of things about yokai and their practices.

"May I?"

Reluctance flashed across sapphire eyes, and her lips pressed each other into thin lines. For a moment, he swore she'd say "no". Mentally, he prepared himself for the potential fight that laid ahead of them, confident he'd win, but not without some effort. However, Kagome surprised him with a shaky, sullen voice.

"Dive in."

It was an unenthusiastic acquiescence, but she gestured her arm towards him all the same.

Before she had a chance to change her mind, Koga swiftly dipped his head down to her forearm, tongue dragging along the cuts he regretfully made. A gasp slipped past her lips at the contact, heart stuttering momentarily, before picking up its steady beat once again. While he couldn't scent her at all, he certainly could taste her. Blood oozed into his mouth like warm syrup, exploding across his taste buds, reiki sizzling pleasantly against his tongue. Yoki rose again in response, dancing with her power across her skin. Koga wanted to drown in the taste of her – heavy with iron, light notes reminiscent of plum wine, the same wildflowers that were so prominent in her scent, drifted in and out of existence with the petrichor of her reiki. It went straight to his head, making him woozy with want, intoxicated in the essence of her. Something long forgotten swirled heavy and tempting in his abdomen. With every fiber of his being, he forced himself not to react the way he wanted, capturing a moan in his throat before it could be vocalized.

Don't be that asshole. Don't be the pervert who gets off on this. Keep your shit together. Think healing thoughts. He repeated over and over. She's been gone so long, you idiot, don't fuck this up now.

As he continued sealing her wounds, he noticed something else too, something nuanced in her blood. It was so faint he almost missed it, so similar to the night they were in he nearly overlooked it, but he realized now it was a constant undercurrent: the ghost of cedar sap. Scrunching up his nose in distaste, Koga wasn't sure if he liked it. The flavor didn't compliment her like the others. But it was so faint, he could ignore it.

With one last swipe of his tongue, he pulled away, and began to wrap her forearm with the dressings. His ears stayed trained on her heartbeat and breaths. Aside from that first reaction, they were remarkably steady throughout the process. More so than his.

"I thought you'd be more squeamish about this." Koga commented. He chanced a look at her face, and immediately wished he hadn't. Kagome's eyes were hard and guarded, jaw clenched tight, staring at her now-wrapped arm. He knew that look. He'd seen it on his members of his pack before, but never on her. The face of someone desperately trying not to remember. It was unnerving.

"This isn't the first time I've had my wounds licked clean."

Kagome's voice was as steady as her heart, but he could tell it was a mask all the same. He wondered briefly who she was talking about but was distracted by Kagome conspicuously looking over his shoulder to the weasel carcass behind him. The poor beast long forgotten in all the commotion.

"Look, I don't mean to be rude, but can you hurry it up? I'm on a deadline."

"Sure, sure," He said, agreeing while having no clue what "deadline" meant. Koga was prideful, but that didn't mean he wouldn't admit his short comings around those he trusted. "I don't know what that means."

"What?"

"Dead-line?" The word felt foreign on his tongue.

"It means I'm on a time limit, in a rush, running out of time—"

"I understand now, thanks. We should take a quick look at your shoulder and ribs first, though? Then we can hurry up."

Without preamble and, surprisingly, zero concern for her modesty, Kagome pulled her kosode open and let the fabric slide off her shoulder, down to her waist.

Koga swallowed hard. Once, during the quest for the shards, he glimpsed her strange chest garments drying at camp. It had been oddly shaped, deep blue and shiny, and he was half expecting her to be wearing one now, but there was nothing more than a simple binder common among the human women in the villages. A sarashi, if he recalled correctly. He chastised himself for being disappointed.

Focusing on the task at hand, he checked her shoulder first. The cuts were deep, but not as much as the ones on her arm. Knowing now that this form of healing made her uncomfortable, he briskly licked them clean before dressing them. The gashes on her ribs, just above her waist, had stopped bleeding and her reiki seemed to be taking care of it well, so he skipped sealing it, merely pouring water over the wound to rinse out the dirt his claws left behind. He made quick work of the bandages and pulled her kosode back in place.

Koga didn't even have a chance to step away before she rushed to her pack. Determined, she dove into the expanse of her bag. After a moment of rummaging, her hand emerged with an elegant and elaborately decorated sheathed tanto.

A bolt of fury laced through Koga. Before he thought better of it, the words were already out of his mouth. "What the hell, Kagome? You had a tanto, and you didn't think to have it accessible?"

"I wasn't planning on having to fight anything other than the weasel, okay?"

"No!" He responded aghast. The miko's recklessness was something he had always equally admired and dreaded. So similar to that damnable half-breed, running head-first into battle with little-to-no self-preservation. He always worried that it would get her seriously injured or killed, and it seemed like she still hadn't learned that lesson. "Not, 'okay'! You could have been killed. I could have killed you. And you had something that would've protected you against me or other yokai in your bag this whole time?"

"Well, it's good I didn't have it on me, because you'd be dead otherwise," Kagome snapped back. She tossed the wet wash cloth at his face. He caught it effortlessly. "Clean yourself up; your face looks like a murder scene."

As she stormed over to the weasel carcass, reiki crackling in her wake, he fought the urge to tell her to look in a mirror. But they weren't children, and there were more important things to discuss.

"I'd rather me be dead than you!"

"Neither of us are. Spare me the lecture. And, if I recall correctly," she whirled to face him, sapphire eyes sparking, holding her index finger and thumb near each other, "I was this close to vaporizing you. So, who could have killed whom, hmm?"

Koga had to admit she had a point. Recalling their fight, and her considerable ability, he allowed himself to ask one question that had been plaguing his mind since they reunited.

"How did you learn to fight like that?"

"Lots of practice." The deflection of his question did not go unnoticed. Gesturing to the weasel, she continued, "I would really appreciate your help skinning this thing."

With effort, she pushed the beast on its side. A clear and crisp shink of a sharp blade rapidly unsheathed rang through the night. The sound of flesh being sliced open reached his ears, and the smell of blood and decay weighed heavy in the air. Though injured, the miko's movements were precise and practiced. Clearly, this wasn't her first time cleaning a kill.

Moving forward, Koga examined the weasel yokai, appraising the arrow that had deadly accuracy. The one that almost killed him. A chill skittered down his spine, followed by an intense wave of desire. He'd chosen his mate well; he knew this back when she first helped his pack fight the birds of paradise. This kill only reaffirmed that the miko could protect herself, fight for herself, the pack, and any future young they may have when she accepted his claim. She was lethal, and it made every nerve ending sing for her. She was lethal, and he loved her, craved her, for it.

"Nice shot." Was all he said.

"Thanks. It was my last arrow, too. Ran into a murder of crow yokai on the way here. They slaughtered the fucking horse."

Another bolt of fury ripped through his chest.

"Your last arrow?!"

"Don't lecture me!"

Face pale, and maybe a little green, Kagome steadfastly ignored the wolf prince's glare, and focused on the task at hand.

Koga drew a long, centering breath through his nose.

"I don't want you to take this the wrong way, Kagome, because you demonstrated earlier you are more than capable of protecting yourself – you've clearly picked up some impressive skills in the time since I last saw you – but where is Mutt Face?"

Kagome shot him a nasty glare, reiki spiking so much it almost had him take a step back, before snapping, "Don't you dare call Inuyasha that!"

"Whoa, Kagome." Koga held up his hands in immediate surrender, secretly annoyed she still so vehemently defended the hanyo. "I'm sorry. It just slipped out." He corrected, "Where are your friends?"

"They were busy." Her acerbic tone grated like crunching metal in his ears. "And this is a time-sensitive matter, I couldn't wait for them."

Usually vibrant, sun-kissed skin definitely had a sickly pallor cast upon it now. Koga respected her fervor in completing the task and defending the half-breed despite her queasiness. For humans, the smell was always the worst part of any kill, and while her nose wasn't anywhere near as sensitive as his, she obviously was affected. In contrast, for him, and yokai like him, devouring a fresh kill while the blood was still warm was the finest, most exhilarating experience of the hunt.

Shooting him a pointed look, she spoke, "Are you helping me or not?"

Spurred into action, he stripped off the rest of the silk layers of his kimono. Being shirtless offered little relief from the heat, but he no longer felt suffocated, and it would prevent him from getting any more of his clothing drenched in blood and gore. Obsidian locks plastered to his back and chest, glued there by sticky sweat. Kagome shot him a look out of the corner of her eye, but didn't comment or object at the state of his undress. Although some color seemed to return to her cheeks. Quickly, he scrubbed his face with the cloth she'd hurled at him earlier, then he got to work skinning the pelt. The flesh was still warm underneath hands as deft claws worked with precision.

"Why the rush?"

"A group of boys in my village were poisoned. I need the pelt in exchange for the antidote Daimyo Hojo Ujimasa regulates."

Everything fell into place for him then: why she had been so reckless by diving into battle unarmed, why she fought him tooth and nail for the kill, why she so readily risked her life to claim a seemingly insignificant yokai. She was trying to save the human cubs of her village. He should have known. The only reason she ever did anything so stupid, even when they were fighting Naraku, was because of a deep, ingrained responsibility to help others.

While admiration for this unique, compassionate woman bloomed, a low, menacing growl escaped him over her situation. He knew the plant she spoke of well. Koga, unfortunately, had dealings with the Hojo clan for the very same antidote. A once prominent plant that proliferated throughout most areas of Honshu was an often sought after antidote to poisons and venoms, used between yokai and human alike. The wolves had used it for centuries before Ujimasa capitalized on the growing need. "Regulates" was putting it nicely, "hoards" was more appropriate. At Odawara castle, he cultivated his own crops, charging outrageous rates and asking for near-impossible tasks in exchange. The daimyo ordered his men to spread far and wide burning all crops not his own, raiding and pillaging the villages that defied him when trying to grow their own in secrecy. The wolves, like many yokai clans, hadn't been quick enough in gathering seeds and plants for their own purposes, not expecting a single human and his soldiers to be successful in a near-complete eradication of an entire species in a matter of a few summers, but they were woefully incorrect. Villages deep in the Western Lands had seemed to be the only areas left unscathed. Koga only needed one guess as to who was responsible for that.

Under her breath Kagome muttered, "It's a big fucking cosmic joke."

"Why's that?"

Frustrated, she let loose an impressive growl.

"I'd love nothing more than to steal his store of seeds and burn his crops to the ground!"

It didn't pass his notice that she avoided answering him yet again.

"Send him on a wild goose chase for just barely enough to save a dying boy, let alone three. Give him a taste… of his… own… medici—"

Kagome paused in her work, hands shaking, suddenly somehow more pale than just a moment ago.

"Hey, you okay?" Koga wiped his bloody hands on his tattered hakama before touching her arm and studying her face. "You don't look so good."

Abruptly, she stood up, knocking his hand away, and managing to get a few steps between them, before vomiting onto the forest floor. Instantly, Koga found himself by her side, pulling the ends of her short, ebony tresses away from the line of fire. Well, this was something he could smell. He begrudgingly wished the cursed absence of scent had extended to puke as well. The acidity of the bile burned his nasal passage, stinging his eyes. Breathing through his mouth and keeping his eyes averted, he rubbed slow circles on her back. The wolf prince always had a strong disposition, but when it came to the sounds of her heaves, his stomach twisted in sympathy.

"Kagome?"

"S-sorry… I th-think I'm… okay," She said straightening up, shooting him a tentative smile. Her face grew pale again, and she hunched over once more, emptying her stomach. Bile mixed with blood from her nose bleed splashed on the hems of her hakama. The groan that followed was weary, distraught, and defeated. "Gross."

"Kagome?" Koga tried again, swallowing down around his own gag reflex, thinking on the faint cedar sap flavor in her blood. "You're not poisoned too, are you?"

"N-No… I-it's the s-smell…" Breaths huffed out fast and heavy as she wiped her mouth with the one unbloodied sleeve of her kosode. "No matter how many t-times I've done this I still get s-squeamish." The tinkling laugh that followed was hollow.

Cobalt eyes narrowed to slits, she seemed confident she wasn't poisoned, but he wasn't about to let her illness progress under his watch. The likelihood that her body was probably also in some form of shock from her injuries could also be aggravating the situation.

"Sit down for a bit. I'll take over."

"No, two are faster than one, yeah?"

The damnable woman was always so stubborn, but that was one reason that attracted him to her in the first place.

"Don't worry about it, I'm quick."

"But—"

"Kagome, rest." The Alpha in him emerged, it seemed, for the first time tonight, finally on some solid footing since the lords' assembly.

"I'm not an—"

"Go sit down or I will make you sit down." Conviction made his voice deep and demanding, leaving no room for argument. One clawed hand pointed to an area covered in moss, towering cedars surrounding it. If there was one thing he knew how to do, it was to take care of his own.

Lithe fingers tightened around the tanto hilt. Leather creaked under the assault. True to form, Kagome wanted to fight him on it, but her extremities were shaking so fast she was almost vibrating, and she could no longer hide the fatigue that blanketed her face. The resolve in her eyes weakened, but it wasn't enough for him. Moving a step closer, he towered over her small frame, yoki rising against her weary reiki, pressing for dominance.

"Kagome…"

"Fine," she hissed. "But I do it under protest!"

Koga waited patiently until she took a seat, far away from where she lost her stomach, dragging her massive bag behind her. With his boot, he flicked dirt over the puddle of vomit, hoping it would dampen the smell. Barely.

A tentative, tense silence filled the small gap of trees they occupied, only broken by the sound of claws rendering flesh as he expertly worked the pelt. Hiding his concern for her, Koga studied his long-lost miko through tangled bangs.

The miko hunched over, head laying on her knees, as she leaned against the trunk of a young cedar. The roots almost cradled her as she rested. Face still pale, but she didn't show signs of puking again. He listened as her breathing even out, and within moments, she was asleep.

Even though he had touched, maimed, caressed her skin, tasted her blood, felt the unequivocal burn of her reiki, this whole encounter felt entirely too surreal. Unable to trust his own senses left him doubting her presence before him. He'd hallucinated her before: in the spaces between dreams and reality, in spirit-fueled stupors that left him hungover for days, and once when he was healing from a near total leg amputation not long after he learned of her absence (that one had been the most torturous illusion). The conjured images had always felt so tangible.

Could this be another?

Wasn't it more likely that he was still at the Eastern Lord's shiro, attending the assembly, drunk off his ass, and drowning his sorrows on demon-brewed spirits and opium? Maybe this was one elaborate, substance-induced trip…

If this was an illusion, he thought, his mind would've strayed towards debaucherous situations as it usually did when it involved her. It definitely wouldn't have made her vomit her guts out, or insight him to shred her to pieces in self-defense, or have him skin a lesser yokai instead of ravishing her in the moss-covered forest floor.

Pernicious claws flexed against the slowly cooling muscle of the weasel carcass. Digging into it – feeling the flesh give way to his fingers, blood oozing between each appendage – certainly felt real enough. The oppressive summer heat, the moonlit night, the forest's palpable hum – felt real enough. That one glorious moment when her scent filled his sinuses, cloying and brisk – felt real enough.

Questions tripped over themselves once again, clamoring to be released, but even in sleep she looked so defeated and somber, so tired and ill, he couldn't bring himself to ask any of them. This discussion had the potential for a long evening, and it was already nearing midnight. Lives of human cubs were in mortal danger, and from his experience with the Hojo clan, the daimyo wasn't going to make leaving with the antidote easy, even if her set task had been completed. Odawara Castle was many ri from here. If she walked back to the palace (which would be the case since she mentioned her steed had been slaughtered by the crow yokai) in her current state, then to her village, it'd take too much time. And, inevitably, the cubs' lives would be forfeit.

Resolute, the wolf prince came to a decision. The miko was his woman, and by extension all those under her protection were also his to protect. He'd help her finish this quest. Swifter than any horse, he would ferry Kagome to her destinations, make sure she acquired the antidote, and hopefully temper Ujimasa's penchant for cruelty and manipulation. If she refused, he'd insist – not only to help those of her village but, he shamefully admitted, to selfishly spend more time with her: ask his questions, learn her past, finally have an opportunity to perhaps fall into her good graces once again, and begin the courting process.

The pelt was skinned in record time, and Koga licked his hands clean of the blood and gore, grimacing at the pungent flavor of weasel. Reluctantly, he shrugged back into the clingy silk layers of his kimono, tucking them back into his already repairing hakama. The embroidered outer kimono Kagome had used to staunch the blood flow had dried and cleaned about half of itself. He bunched it in his hands, fine demonic-spun threads catching on his numerous callouses, before bringing it to his nose, taking a long, ardent inhale. Koga hoped for some semblance of her scent, but it was still as vacant as before. A frustrated growl vibrated through his chest as claws pierced the fabric, rending it. His gaze landed on the miko and swore he would get to the bottom of this mystery once the cubs were out of danger. Finally, he dressed in the outer kimono. All his clothing would be repaired long before they made it to the palace; he would look somewhat presentable when addressing the daimyo, at least. One of them should be. Koga hadn't seen a change of clothes in her bag, and giving her his own clothes would lead to too many harmful questions and assumptions about her reputation by the daimyo.

Out of habit, he howled a long, four-note call to his scouts to retrieve the yokai carcass for the pack. Kagome startled from her position at the sound, heart thundering in his ears. Koga was by her instantly, pelt in hand.

"Sorry, Kagome. I didn't mean to scare you." She looked utterly dazed, so he continued for clarification. "I just called for my pack to get the kill. You're not using the rest of it right?"

Sapphire eyes finally settled on his cobalt, and she seemed to register what was happening. Her panicked breaths shortened, heart rate slowed.

"Take it." She paused. "I fell asleep?"

"Yeah, you knocked out right away."

"How long?"

"Not long."

"Did I…" Teeth gnawed on her lower lip, and Koga found he couldn't look away. "Could you smell me?"

Dark brows furrowed at her question. Of course he couldn't smell her. He'd been trying to all night to no avail, except for her bile, which he had avoided. Burning questions seared through his mind, reaching for his lips, but he remembered the human cubs and forced it back.

"No. Why?"

"Nothing," she said, waving him off. "It doesn't matter."

Furry roiled in his gut, hot and sharp. Of course it mattered! He wanted to smell her. Wanted to revel in her scent, sift through her myriad emotions, cataloguing each and every one. He would kill to have her scent cling to him once more, to arrive at his den for all in his pack to know that his woman had returned! That their Alpha had found his mate, finally get the council of elders off his back! He was so close to pressing the issue, but she was already unfurling herself, ready to head out.

Petite hands braced themselves against the tree for support as she rose. Koga reached out to help her, but she deliberately moved away.

"Thanks for this," she said, as she pulled the pelt from his arms and shoved it into her pack.

"You don't have to thank me. I'll always help you, Kagome."

She seemed determined to avoid his gaze as she closed her pack and lifted a strap to swing it onto her shoulder. Koga swiped it out of her hand. In a blink, the pack was resting comfortably on his shoulders. A flash of irritation crossed her tired features.

"What're you—" But she never finished her question. Eyes rolling back and body suddenly limp, she pitched forward into Koga's chest. Strong arms immediately wrapped around her small form, keeping her from hitting the forest floor. By her heart rate and breathing pattern, the wolf prince could tell she had merely passed out from exhaustion. It wasn't anything more serious, and she would wake soon. The rest would be good for her to recharge her depleted reiki. If she had been traveling nonstop all day and night like he assumed, he was surprised she had stayed awake and vigilant for this long to begin with, let alone aware enough to fight multiple yokai in one night. Looping one arm under her knees and the other behind her back, he gathered her into his arms.

Taking only a moment to savor the soft weight of her in his arms, his claws flexed minutely against the rough fabric of her miko garb, nose burrowed in her hair, and his cheek dragged against the soft tendrils there.

Koga's heart ached.

The gods had finally blessed him with a second chance, and he wasn't going to mess it up this time. Kagome would be his.

He secured her snug against his chest, and set off in a flurry of wind towards the seaside castle Odawara.

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Author's Notes:

Kagome might seem OOC, but there is a reason! Trust me.

It's been years since I've written fic like this, and I've always abandoned them. I'm determined not to do that this time!

I doubt future chapters will be this long (this one was 19 pages), but, what the hell, things could change!

I'm not entirely pleased with this chapter, I had so many points I wanted to hit, but I'm going out of town, and I didn't want to look at it any more.

Thank you for reading, and I'm looking forward to your thoughts!