First Comes Marriage

Chapter 15: The Royal Dinner

After hearing Kagome's request, Sesshōmaru visibly recoiled. He leaned back onto the driver's seat, moving slightly away from her. Kagome bit her lower lip and waited, knowing such request would not be easy for him to understand, let alone accept.

"I know where he lives," he admitted, his voice eerily quiet. "I have discovered it for a while now."

He did not look at her and merely stared blankly at the dashboard. "Sometimes, before coming home, I drive to his apartment building and wait inside the car, contemplating if it should be the day I end his life. And—" He chuckled mirthlessly, rubbing a fist against his temple. "By gods, I want to."

Kagome nodded. She had a feeling he was doing something like that. There were nights when, after parking the car in the driveway, he did not get out from behind the wheel. It was as though murder was on his mind, and he truly considered going back out there.

"The Queen wishes to see you replace her as the next King," she told him gently. "She believes no one else better suited to usher yōkai and those of yōkai blood into a better future." She placed her hand on top of his. "And I think so too."

"I do not know much about the qualifications of a yōkai King," Kagome continued. "But I am guessing… a clean, unimpeachable record would be one of them. There is no place in your future for a personal vendetta."

"Being King, carving a better future for my kind… I used to care about such lofty ambitions," he told her. "Perhaps I should still care. But… whenever I recall what he had put you through, I no longer do. All I care about is to see these hands steeped red in his blood."

Sesshōmaru sighed. The way he rubbed his temple showed her how much this matter had troubled and exhausted him. "I feel… I could flick him on his forehead— Just a little flick, and his brain would scatter all over the wall behind him. Do you know how it feels to have this enormous power to end his life, and still… could not?"

"I have no doubt you can kill him. Very easily. But… at what cost?" Kagome asked. "Even in death, how many more lives will he continue to ruin? Will you sacrifice everything you have worked for, rob future generations of your wisdom and leadership? And…"

She squeezed his hand. Almost instinctively, he opened his so their fingers could intertwine.

"What about… our children?" She asked. "If and when they arrive, will they not benefit from the world that their father envisions?"

At the mention of their children, he finally looked at her. His golden eyes had darkened into molten amber, filled with unspoken pain. He looked so genuinely perturbed that it was all she could do to not reach out and take him into her embrace.

"But— how else do I…" He paused and turned his head away. "How else do I prove my love for you, Kagome, when my instinct urges me to hunt him down, kill him, and lay his head at your feet?"

Ah. Sometimes, living together in this modern world amidst their sophisticated surroundings, she lost track that underneath his elegant, aristocratic exterior, he was a yōkai through and through. In her disregard for his true self, she expected him to accept her choices for independence – be it emotional or financial, despite his ingrained desire to provide and care for her. Now, once again, she expected him to abandon his innate nature and act in a way that leaned too far towards being human.

An eye for an eye. That was the yōkai law, as Lord Raikō had once said.

She reached out to cup his face and turn his head so that his golden eyes were upon her once more.

"You've already proven it," she said. "On our wedding night, when you placed my needs and my well-being above yours, you've proven your love for me. And since then, you have proven it time and time again. No one ever cared for me the way you do. What use do I have for proof of blood and gore when I have no doubt?"

The flicker in his golden eyes revealed his inner turmoil, but he did not utter one word.

Gathering her courage, she shimmied over to his side. It was not easy to maneuver inside the confines of the car, yet she went for it anyway. His eyes widened, and he sucked in a breath of surprise. But instead of denying her, he opened his arms and helped her climb onto his lap.

They were face to face. Her nose was merely inches away from his.

"I know my request is a selfish one," she whispered. "I understand how difficult it will be for you to let go of your vengeance when it is against your yōkai nature. But I know this is the right path for us. You've built a beautiful life for us, Sesshōmaru. Now, all I want is to share it with you, and continue moving towards a beautiful future. With you."

She grazed his cheek, traced his markings. She felt him trembling at the touch of her hand, but she did not stop.

"Leave him in the past where he belongs," she pleaded. "And just be… with me."

He gazed into her eyes for a few moments without speaking. Then, slowly, he lowered his face to her chest; his forehead pressing against her shoulder.

"After the incident in Mount Hamasaki," he said, his voice slightly muffled by her clothing. "Raikō was hell-bent on finding and killing those thugs who attacked you and harmed Ryōta. I… lectured him on why he could not do so. How naïve I was. How foolish."

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. The suppressed rage made him tremble as she continued holding him to her chest. It took a while before she finally felt the tremor subsided.

"Kagome. Because you asked me not to, and because I am also eager to share this life with you, I will not pursue that scum. But." Here, his voice slipped down an octave or two.

He lifted his head and stared at her with eyes that reminded her of a lethal predator. His pupils had transformed into black slits. "If he ever comes nosing around and threatens your safety, or the safety of our children, I will not be held back by any promise. Is that understood?"

Here, she knew he would not take no for an answer. Here, she knew he would be within his rights as a male, partner, and father to protect what was his.

She swallowed. "Yes, Sesshōmaru."

The deathly ferocity in his gaze softened and mellowed when he heard her acquiescence, and he returned to being the Sesshōmaru she knew as her husband. For a moment, they stared at each other in silence, soaking up the closeness of each other's bodies. He was the first to move, and it was to rub his nose against the side of her neck. Instinctively, she tilted her head up, giving him more access. His lips ghosted over the side of her neck, brushing against the expanse of sensitive skin, making her shudder pleasurably.

"Cashmere and vanilla," Sesshōmaru said against her throat, piercing the haze of pleasure that clouded her mind.

"Come again?"

He chuckled, his breath warm against her skin. "That is what you smell like to me," he clarified. He scented her again. "Cashmere and vanilla. Do not ever change it."

He lowered his head, buried his nose between her breasts and inhaled. The low rumble of appreciation from deep inside his chest struck a chord inside her. His hands swiped along the curves of her hip as he held her tight against his groin. She could feel him: rigid and ready underneath her. She clutched the soft yarns of his sweater, vibrating with excitement and want.

What was this feeling, this utter yearning? It was an unbearable desire to be one with him. To be filled by him, split open and hollowed out to the core.

They remained locked in an embrace inside the car for a long time. His forehead pressed against her bosoms; his arms cradled her body as she perched on his lap. Then, like all tempests, it passed, the lust gradually mellowing out into the simple comfort of holding and being held.

It felt wonderful, she thought, to simply be with him like this. Her history was exposed and, she sincerely hoped, was well on its way to disappearing into the ether of the past. The present was the warmth in his embrace. And the future, she thought as she stared into the golden eyes of her husband.

The future was for them to discover together.

And, three weeks later, the royal dinner was upon them.

Kagome had turned their bedroom into the mission central to get ready. Even though it was a Saturday, Sesshōmaru still worked. He looked nonchalant throughout the day, busy working as though it was a day like any other. So when 4 o'clock rolled around, and she happened to catch him still in his study, she sent him a quick text.

Are we still leaving at 5?

A few moments later, he replied:

That is the plan.

She put her phone down and gazed at her reflection in the mirror. At noon, a team of— well, experts, had arrived to assist her in getting ready for the evening. Nails, hair, make-up, dress, everything. She felt like she was a bride in one of those extravagant fairytale weddings she had seen on TV: primped and polished in anticipation of the biggest, most important day of her life.

They had gathered her hair, twisted them into one thick braid, and threaded pearls through the locks. The dress was everything she could ever dream of. After three fittings and three alterations, it moulded to her body perfectly. The off-the-shoulder neckline flattered her décolletage. The ice blue silk shimmered under the light, and the silver lace trimmings were as delicate as a butterfly's wings. As planned, the skirt had been draped and pleated directly on her body during the first fitting to achieve the most flattering effect for her figure. On the small of her back, where the layers of fabric had been ruched and gathered, sat the fabric rosette decorated with pearls at its centre.

Smoothing her hands down the corseted bodice, she exited the room. Gingerly, she descended the stairs, holding up the skirt of her gown so that she would not accidentally trip over the hem.

The sight of him standing at the foot of the stairs, waiting for her, stopped Kagome in her track.

Sesshōmaru wore a white suit. A three-piece white suit with black embroidered waistcoat and silver buttons, and a black silk tie that he fastened with military precision. Unfettered by any glamour, his thick pelt was draped over his shoulder, adding allure to his entire appearance. Simply put — no one wore white like he did. On another male, such an ensemble would have looked beyond preposterous. But on him, the effect was nothing less than breathtaking. Heart-stopping.

She released the breath she had been holding. When he lifted his gaze and smiled at the sight of her, something happened to her chest. It hurt, and she was not entirely sure it was because of the lack of oxygen.

When she finally reached the bottom of the stairs and they stood in front of each other, Kagome gave in to her first inclination. She balled her fingers into a fist and punched him in the chest.

Sesshōmaru let out a huff of surprised laughter.

"You have no business looking like that," she told him, her tone unreasonably irate. "When you've only spent… what? Like an hour to get ready?"

"It was more like forty-five minutes," he said, the corners of his lips twitching as though he was holding back a smile.

"And meanwhile, it took a whole team of experts five hours to get me to look like this. It is so unfair."

"But, Kagome." He inched closer to her. The mottled shadows of daylight's end deepened the golden colour of his eyes into a shade that was both sultry and thrilling. "You look so beautiful."

As they stood in front of the windows, their bodies illuminated by the light of the dying sun, he touched her cheek and kissed her.

Somehow, that one kiss had the power to loosen up the knot she had carried in her stomach for weeks. She gasped, the pleasure from his lips and the tip of his tongue singeing every nerve ending. There was restrained passion in his kiss, but the hand he placed on the small of her back was gentle. With the knuckle of his index finger, he tilted her chin upwards to angle her mouth just so.

She was still thrumming with the after-effect of his kiss when he pressed his lips against her forehead and whispered:

"I regret that we have to leave."

If Kagome were honest with herself, she felt the same way. But, they had already sent a card to confirm their attendance. Cancelling at the last minute seemed like a gross offence to the Queen.

When he released her, she reached for her midnight blue velvet cloak. "Shall we head out?" She asked.

"Not quite yet." He laced his fingers with hers to stop her, then led her towards the mirror in their foyer.

"I have something for you." He took a two-tiered pearl necklace from his pocket and draped it across her neck.

"Jewelry as a gift," he murmured as he fastened the gold clasp on her nape and stared at their reflections in the mirror. There was vague self-deprecating humour in his voice. "It is very unoriginal, is it not?"

"It's beautiful," Kagome said, her fingertips feeling the smoothness of the pearls. "And I love it, original or not."

The design of the necklace was simple, but it suited her and complimented the dress perfectly. She felt like crying — probably would have, if she cared nothing about the make-up which the artist had painstakingly applied onto her face. Sesshōmaru did not know how long it had been since she received a present from someone who wanted nothing in return other than her own happiness.

"Thank you, Sesshōmaru," she said, blinking several times as she stood on tippy toes so she could press her lips against his cheek. "I will cherish it always."

He looked pleased that she had accepted it without protest.

… …

Although the exterior of Kaiyō Palace looked like an excellent example of Japanese architecture, the interior was very much influenced by European design. There were inlaid wood and marble floors, intricate wall panelling, plush furnishings, and crystal chandeliers that spread their warm glow to every corner. Large cut flower arrangements diffused wonderful floral fragrance throughout the rooms.

Sesshōmaru and his mother took her in hand and, after first paying their respects to the Queen, introduced her to the numerous lords and ladies that made up the entirety of the yōkai court. Most were kind, though a few maintained their rather chilly dispositions. Kagome was unsure if it was because of their yōkai nature, her human blood and middle-class background, or the fact she was a new member amongst their rank, or a little bit of everything.

Sesshōmaru and Lady Kochō had prepared her for this royal dinner for the past three weeks. She had received brief introductions to the different members of the yōkai nobility, and a crash course on yōkai etiquettes. As her husband had predicted, Lady Kochō had requested Kagome to be seated beside the Prince at the dinner table. The seat on her other side, however, would be given to someone named Lord Mamoru.

"He is a simpleton," Lady Kochō had commented rather unkindly the other night when they had been at her house for dinner after completing her final dress fitting.

"He is not a simpleton," Sesshōmaru countered, giving his mother a warning look. Then, to Kagome, he said: "He is a renowned musician, though he has been on hiatus for several years due to personal reasons. It seems my mother has forgotten that Lord Mamoru's decision on how to live his life is not under examination here. He is a decent male, and a good ally for those who are Pro-Assimilation. His mate is human as well."

The royal dinner would commence soon. Until then, the guests were congregating in the grand hall. Sesshōmaru linked his arm with hers and introduced her to Lord Mamoru and his mate, who looked evidently pregnant. They were both musicians — she was a concert pianist while he played the cello. The lady looked so young, so Kagome was surprised to learn the pregnancy was her fourth and that she was over three hundred years old.

The mysterious Prince, whom Kagome was most curious about, was not present throughout the cocktail hour. He had not arrived even when dinner time was announced. No one paid it too much mind, it seemed. They even moved into the dining room to start the dinner without him.

The longest table Kagome had ever seen, covered with pristine white cloth, stretched out beneath three massive crystal chandeliers. Tall arrangements of dusty pink roses, purple winter peonies, daffodils, and eucalyptus dotted the tablescape amidst the gilded charger plates and the crystal glassware.

"Most likely, his last surgery of the day ran late," Lord Mamoru kindly explained as he helped Kagome sit down at the table and saw the seat on her other side was still empty. "Worry not. He will show up sooner or later."

It was certainly understandable, Kagome thought as she took a spoonful of the first course: a creamed winter vegetable soup topped with a dollop of crème fraiche. If he had a patient lying open on the surgery table, he should not leave to go to dinner, no matter how fancy or important it was.

About twenty minutes into the dinner, just as the first course was taken away, the Prince finally arrived.

He made his apologies and paid his respects to the Queen first, as was proper, before he made his way to his seat. As soon as the Prince sat beside her, Kagome realized: his yōki was something special. Every yōkai had yōki coursing through their system, and Kagome was familiar with the feel of that energy. Most yōki was hot, like a zap of electricity. Sesshōmaru's felt like that too, like a powerful current that crawled upon her skin.

But the Prince's yōki had a calming effect that was not unlike her own power. Like the gentle waves of the ocean washing up on the shores. It was a curative, healing energy that was different from any other yōkai she had ever encountered.

"Apologies for my tardiness, Lady Kagome," he said as he settled in his seat. "How rude of me. I was held up at the hospital."

"No apologies necessary, Your Highness," Kagome said, still reeling from the first taste of his energy. "As you can see, we have just started dinner."

The Prince smiled a gentle smile. Like all yōkai, he appeared much younger than his actual age. He looked like a man in his early forties with a handsome, unlined face and one of the bluest pairs of eyes Kagome had ever seen.

"I am glad to finally make your acquaintance," he said. "When I heard of your nuptials, I planned to go and congratulate you and your husband in person. But, alas, I have not had the pleasure, until now."

"We've not even been married for two months, Your Highness. It is not yet too late."

They conversed about a wide range of topics, from the current museum exhibitions to the medical research he focused on, the female yōkai infertility. Knowledgeable, yet humble and without the pompousness one would expect from someone of his status, he was an excellent conversationalist.

But, soon, she turned to the topic she really wanted to discuss: her husband.

"Have you known my husband since he was very young, Your Highness? Sesshōmaru said—" Kagome hesitated. "He said you taught him about yōkai anatomy and other valuable knowledge that helped him become a skilled fighter."

"Your husband is very modest," the Prince replied. "He was bright, even as a young pup. Extremely intelligent and in possession of vast knowledge for someone his age. By the time he came to me, he was already well on his way to become an exceptional warrior."

After a brief pause, he added: "His honoured father had made sure of that."

His father. Kagome's fingers tightened around the flatware she held in her hands. Even as a teenage girl in the feudal era, she had the inkling Sesshōmaru's relationship with Inu no Taisho was wrought with tension. The whole Tessaiga and Tenseiga business was a tangled mess, in which it appeared Sesshōmaru had not always been dealt a fair hand, particularly in the way his father had dealt with the bequest of Meidō Zangetsuha.

"I do not know much about swordsmanship, Your Highness, so forgive my ignorance," she said. "Is a study of anatomy important to winning a battle?"

"One can be as sloppy as the worst butcher, but as long as enough damage is done, the enemy will fall sooner or later," the Prince said. Then, he smiled. "But Lady Kagome must have noticed: Lord Sesshōmaru strikes with precision. He does not inflict unnecessary pain even on his worst enemies. It is one of his best qualities as the finest master swordsman in the lands."

It had been a while since she last saw her husband in battle, aside from the incident in Mount Hamasaki, but she had been in too much turmoil at that time to witness his glory. Still, she knew the Prince was correct. Sesshōmaru fought efficiently, with little to no wasted movements. He was not one to prolong his battles and always aimed to dispatch his foes with the utmost expedience.

Kagome looked up to glance at Sesshōmaru. He sat far away and was in a deep discussion with the lady on his right. Then, as though he sensed her eyes on him, he shifted his gaze to meet hers. A slight smile curled upon his lips. Kagome lowered her head to hide her own smile. It was evident that her husband shone brightly even while amongst his peers. His appeal went beyond physical attractiveness and excellent taste in outfits.

"After he made his request," the Prince said, bringing Kagome's attention back to their conversation. "My first question was why he wanted to acquire in-depth knowledge of the yōkai anatomy."

The dragon Lord smiled a little before he continued. "He said… it was because he wanted to give them a good, honourable death."

Thinking back, it was not a relationship that should never have begun. Perhaps, he should have sent the pup away and never looked back. But Sesshōmaru was the spitting image of Kōcho, especially at that age, and he couldn't stop the immediate affinity for this curious child.

"You want to give them an honourable death even though they are your enemies?" The Prince had asked. Back in those days, he was known as Shinsui, the Dragon Lord of the Eastern Seas, a renowned healer and a secret weapon of warmongering yōkai generals. "Even though their objective will be to kill you in battle?"

The pup had stared at him so intently with those round golden eyes, hesitating before he answered.

"Everyone fights because they believe in something, don't they? Even though we are on the opposing sides, even though those beliefs differ from mine. To them, they are true and valid. So I think… that deserves a good death. A clean death."

The Prince had been stunned. Compassion was not known as a common trait amongst yōkai. Once upon a time, he had similar ideals himself before the wars — and his role in them — altered him irrevocably.

"I debated long and hard before I decided to take him under my tutelage," he said to Lady Kagome. "There were many considerations. I was most concerned about how it would affect his relationship with his father. But, faced with such a thirst for knowledge, I could not refuse."

"How it would affect Sesshōmaru's relationship with his father?" Kagome repeated. She looked down on the half-consumed food on her plate, recalling the tidbits that her husband had told her during their dinner at the restaurant a while back. "He did mention… an incident that resulted in burnt books and records you had lent him for his studies."

She caught sight of the sorrowful smile on his lips, though it disappeared within the blink of an eye.

"What happened was all due to my oversight," he said quietly. "I should have notified Inutaisho of his son's desire to learn. Perhaps then, the General would not have found it so underhand. But in the end, I overstepped, and Sesshōmaru paid the price."

Paid the price…?

There was melancholy in the way the Prince spoke of the past. It was not unlike the expression Sesshōmaru held at the restaurant while talking about his mother and the Prince, and his own relationship — or the lack of it — with said male.

Kagome was curious, but it seemed too beautiful an evening to be spent in melancholia, especially when she was the one who steered them into this topic.

She smiled warmly at the Prince and changed the subject.

… …

After dinner was concluded, the beautiful harmony of piano and cello resonated throughout the palace. Stepping into the grand hall, Sesshōmaru spotted Kagome sitting between his mother and the Queen, wholly engrossed in the performance. Both Lord Mamoru and his mate had graced the most renowned stages across the globe and played with some of the world's best orchestras. Whenever they decided to entertain with their music, the crowd always welcomed it with enthusiasm.

However, looking around the room, he realized that the Prince was missing. A little investigation brought him to the library next door.

"I did not expect to see you here," Sesshōmaru said as he stood in the doorway. "Usually, you like hearing Mamoru play."

"I kept the doors open, didn't I?" The Prince replied, looking up and smiling when Sesshōmaru came further into the room. "Surely, that counts for something."

Sesshōmaru went to the sideboard and poured two fingers of liquors into two crystal tumblers and handed one to the Prince.

"Your wife is charming and delightful," the elder yōkai said. "I am happy for you."

Sesshōmaru murmured his thanks and took a seat on an armchair opposite the Prince.

"How is married life treating you?"

"Oh, this and that," Sesshōmaru replied. "You know how it is."

The Prince stared at him and blinked. "As I am unmated and unmarried, I'm afraid I don't know."

Sesshōmaru took a sip of his drink. "Mm-hmm. That's right. I wondered why you have yet to ask my mother to marry you."

The Prince nearly spat out his drink. "Did you come here with the specific purpose of asking me this question, Sesshōmaru? Now?"

"There is no time like the present, so they say. Besides— you are one of the busiest individuals I know," Sesshōmaru pointed out. "What is the likelihood of me waltzing into your office and being able to get an appointment on the spot?"

The Prince thought about it for a moment.

"High," he replied. "After all, my secretary knows who you are and my relationship with your mother."

"Well—" Sesshōmaru shrugged, smoothing an imaginary crease on his trousers. "We are both here, and I am asking the question now." He crossed one leg over the other and waited.

The Prince studied him in silence, a balled fist propping his chin. Eventually, he sighed, reached into the inner pocket of his tailcoat, and fished out a diamond ring.

"I bought this for your mother shortly after the Second World War," he said. "I take it with me wherever I go. I wanted to ask her to marry me so many times. However, every time, I know she would refuse."

"Why would she refuse?"

The Prince lifted a shoulder into a shrug. "Many reasons. History, for one. Also — after all these years, your mother still hopes that I will find the female I wish to mate, one who will give me children."

Sesshōmaru flinched inwardly. Yōkai mated only once in a lifetime. A female yōkai, once mated, would no longer bear offspring for another male. Because his mother was Inu no Taisho's mate, she would never conceive again, even after his father had long passed.

"Is children so important to you?" He asked.

The Prince looked surprised.

"Well— yes, but… I have always known there will be children in our lives," he said. Then, after a brief pause, he added: "They just won't be ours."

"Whose will they be?"

The Prince smiled gently. "Yours and Lady Kagome's, of course."

If Sesshōmaru was prone to blushing, he would have reddened – at least a little.

His mother and the Prince were born during the age when inu mated with other inu; dragons mated with other dragons. Everyone stayed within their circle and boundaries to produce the strongest offspring. The results of crossbreeding were considered weak, inferior, and even abominations. The yōkai of the olden days held fast to that belief until they finally realized that they had driven their species to extinction.

Then, all efforts were made to rectify the flaw. But, it was too late. They could not reproduce fast enough to restore their numbers.

The same kind of belief tore his mother and the Prince apart, even though they were childhood sweethearts. And it set off a series of events no one could alter. Sometimes he wondered what would have happened had his mother mated with the dragon anyway.

Well, he would not have been born, for one.

As though he had spoken his thoughts out loud, the Prince said: "I used to think I made a mistake of letting your mother go," the Prince admitted. "But then, you were born, and I saw so much of her inside you. You grew up to be so splendid that I could no longer deny: what happened… it was always meant to be."

"Father's wrath was meant to be, as well?" Sesshōmaru's lips twitched into a rueful smile.

"I will not disrespect your father or his memories," the Prince said cautiously. "A relationship between a father and a son should not have been disrupted, especially not by someone who… did not know his place. Nevertheless, I cannot deny that my actions had consequences, and I felt their ripples throughout the years that followed. Had I not decided to tutor you or try to get close to you, would your father have demanded your mother to give him the kind of love she was incapable of giving? Would she have had to fill the gap by permitting him to take a second wife?"

He hesitated. "And you… Would your relationship with your father have been better?"

Sesshōmaru had no answer for that question. However, it was the same question he had asked himself repeatedly for many years.

And the answer remained a mystery.

"The last thing I wanted—" the Prince said. "— was for you, a mere child, to be caught in the middle of the tension between your father and myself. Whatever issues we had, they should not have involved you, yet you were trapped in the crossfire."

The fire burned brightly in the hearth. The crackling of the wood filled in the silence that ensued after the Prince's words.

"After that happened, I refused to see you again," the Prince continued. "I did not want to stand in the way of you building a warm relationship with your father. But, the damage was done. In the end, you were unable to bond with him, or with me. Perhaps, due to our own carelessness, we lost the trust you placed in us, and in the end, you grew up feeling like you could never forge a close relationship with anyone. When I heard your father had bequeathed Tessaiga not to you but to your half-brother, I wondered: was it because of any lingering resentment he had towards your attempt to connect with me?"

"Only Inutaisho knows the true reason, and he took that secret to his grave," Sesshōmaru said, smiling faintly. "I would like to believe my father wanted to teach me compassion, as everyone kept telling me. It is certainly a better way to remember him than to think he was a jealous and resentful male, looking to exact some revenge on a perceived slight from beyond the grave."

The Prince smiled. "Certainly, it is a good outlook to move forward with."

Sesshōmaru stared at the amber liquid in his tumbler.

"I wondered if you and my mother embarked on an affair while my father was still alive," he said. "But then— I recalled a memory from my childhood of watching you while you watched my mother and father from afar, and my question was answered then. She remained true to her mate and his memories, up until 1946, almost six hundred and fifty years after his death."

'Shortly after the Second World War', Sesshōmaru thought as he took a sip of his liquor. Just like the Prince had said.

The Prince tilted his head, looking interested. "What makes you so sure?"

"Because, back then, you looked at my mother the same way I looked at my wife when she belonged to another male."

The Prince arched a brow, just so very slightly.

"How amusing," he said, shifting to rise to his feet. "That look of pure longing you spoke of, I saw it again tonight. As they say: 'It takes one to know one'."

Sesshōmaru frowned. "That look… Was it coming from me?"

The Prince peered at him from above the rim of his glass. "Not from you," he clarified. "From your wife."

Chuckling softly, the Prince clapped Sesshōmaru on the shoulder and left to let the younger Lord mull over that little nugget of information.

He went out of the room and into the hall where he found Kochō in the foyer, waiting for him. She was already fully dressed to go outside. An attendant stood nearby, holding his own coat at the ready.

Her golden eyes were upon him, and she held out her hand.

"Shinsui. Can we go now? I am bored."

"Are you?" He asked as he made his way to her side.

"Aren't you?"

The Prince chuckled. "On the contrary, I have not had this much fun at a dinner in quite some time." He stared at her thoughtfully. "Still, I think we've put on appearance for long enough. Shall we go to your house, then?"

"Let's go to yours. You have surgery scheduled at five in the morning, don't you?"

He continued staring at her, the only one who still managed to amaze him after all these years.

"As always, Kochō, you know everything."

Her twinkling laughter accompanied them as they strolled outside, arm in arm.

Later that night, back in the comfort of their home, Sesshōmaru gave Kagome full reign of their bedroom to undress and get ready for bed while he went to his dressing room to change. He loosened his tie, unfastened his cuffs, and undid the top three buttons of his shirt as he recalled the accounts of the evening.

He believed the event was a success. Many of his peers had told him they found his wife witty and charming, which he already knew.

Since it was considered bourgeoisie to be so openly infatuated with one's mate or wife, especially in public, he strived hard not to crowd her too much throughout the event. It had been an evening filled with stolen glances and furtive looks across the room. Mostly from him, while his wife turned her charms onto the members of yōkai nobility.

But, if the Prince were to be believed, he was not the only one who yearned.

That look pure of longing…

From your wife.

Could it really be…?

He sat down on an upholstered bench and pressed a knuckle against his lips. A little thrill coursed through him. Just the mere possibility made him eager to pace. It was true that sometimes, he thought he sensed something in her gaze. But, after pining for her for more than five hundred years, how was he to know that look was true and not a mirage or wishful thinking on his part?

There was a soft knock on the door before it opened and revealed Kagome's figure standing at the threshold, still fully dressed.

He rose to his feet.

"Kagome. Do you require my assistance?"

"Uhh…" Her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. A few seconds passed in silence before she turned around, showing him the tight row of fabric-covered buttons that ran from the middle of her back and all the way down to her tailbone.

"I can't… take this dress off by myself," she admitted. "Could you please… help?"

Sesshōmaru's mouth went dry.

She wanted him to undress her?

He told himself to calm down. It was one of the duties a husband should perform for a wife, was it not? Kagome merely required his help, that was all. It was not in her nature to be coquettish, to cruelly tease. The only time she ever seduced him – on their wedding night, she had done it not with the practiced flirtation of an experienced vixen, but with the forced determination of a soldier going to battle.

He stood behind her. She had unbraided her hair and piled the thick locks atop one shoulder, her nape exposed to his view. She was still thin from the years of neglect, he thought ruefully. The bones of her shoulder blades and clavicles were so distinct. But— even her slenderness could not hide the womanly curves of her breasts and her hips.

Sesshōmaru inhaled. Just that simple act sent shivers of pleasure coursing through his body. No perfume, just soap and clean skin, and a whiff of vanilla that must have come from her bath. An instinct from deep within urged his body to lean closer to smell her behind her ear, but he stopped himself just in time. It had taken them a long time to reach this point of comfort, and he must tread carefully to not spook her away.

"Did you enjoy the evening, Sesshōmaru?" She asked, breaking the silence between them.

He had to stop smelling her to clear his head enough to answer. "I enjoyed watching you," he said.

Sesshōmaru had enjoyed watching his wife throughout the evening, responding to questions and laughing when someone said something incredibly clever. Even amongst his peers, he was not known as someone who tolerated small talk. They learned to give him a wide berth in social occasions, including tonight, which gave him ample opportunities to stand quietly and observe her, relishing every smile, every laughter. He noted how talking about her new work put a twinkle in her eyes, and he found the effect of the blush on her cheeks more than a little charming.

He began to undo her gown, taking his time from one button to the next, slowly going from top to bottom. She made an appreciative sound low in her throat when the constricting fabric was gradually peeled away, revealing inch by inch of satin-smooth skin. Then, just before he reached the small of her back, he stopped and asked:

"Did I tell you how beautiful you looked?"

"You did earlier, before we left the house."

"Shall I tell you again?"

Her blush reached the nape of her neck. Then, when she gave one brisk nod, he brought his lips to the whorl of her ear and whispered:

"You are beautiful, Kagome."

She fidgeted. The rustles of silk teased his ears.

"It's the gown, Sesshōmaru, not me," she muttered as she gave him a sheepish look over her shoulder while her hands clutched the bodice of her dress to her breasts.

"Not true. You wore the gown. It didn't wear you, or overshadow you in any way. Truly, it suits you to perfection."

When the last of the buttons was finally undone, the dress parted all the way down to her tailbone. His mouth salivated at the sight of the dimples above her buttocks. The bodice peeled away from her chest, revealing the soft curves of her breasts. He could not stop himself from staring down at the dark shadows of her cleavage.

A better male would look away, but he was not that male. He was not a saint or the devil, just someone who had wanted her for too long.

He could no longer resist. Was it possible to convey five centuries of longing within one kiss? His head swooped down, and he put his mouth on that spot where her neck and shoulder met. One kiss, just a meeting of his lips and her bare skin. Closing his eyes, he focused his senses on just his wife: her scent, the salt on her skin, the warmth and softness of her body in his arms. Time seemed to stretch all the way to eternity, seconds to hours. He could stay like this forever, with her enveloped within his embrace, cherished and safe. But then, he felt her shoulders trembling under his lips.

He lifted his head and hands and took a step back, not wanting to trigger any unpleasant memories to assault her.

Slowly, very slowly, she turned around. Her fingers clutched her dress to her chest so tightly that her knuckles turned white. They stared into each other's eyes; golden met fawn. Her rosy lips were parted as though there were words at the tip of her tongue, yet she remained mute.

Then, before his widened eyes, she released her grip on the dress. It slipped down her body with a soft whisper and pooled around her feet in a luscious heap of silk and crinoline. She stood in front of him, nearly naked except for her ivory lace panties that left little to the imagination, and a pair of hosiery so fine her legs might as well be bare.

And the pearl necklace.

The sight robbed him of speech, of breath. It was a sight he had fantasized a thousand times, yet the reality was so much more beautiful than his most vivid imaginings.

There was roaring in his ears, and the beat of his own heart sounded louder than a drum. His senses were set ablaze.

Her scent hit him next.

Desire.

Pure, unadulterated desire, and it made his mouth water.

They moved simultaneously, arms reaching for each other and meeting halfway in the middle. Her mouth pursued him just as much as he searched for hers.

For him, it was a kiss that defied gravity, tilted his world on its axis. Like a ship longed for its mooring, a scorched earth yearning for the rain, he sought for more. Deeper. He kissed her as though he was a parched traveller finding an oasis in the desert. Her taste, the soft pillows of her lips, her tongue, he hungered for them all.

"Kagome," he whispered against her mouth. A shuddered breath escaped her lips. He whispered her name again. Again. Repeatedly, like a prayer. A benediction. She was his tormentor and saviour. His pleasure and pain wrapped up inside this lithe figure of a wonderful woman.

She mewled softly when his hands encircled her narrow waist, and he brought her closer to him. Her supple, naked breasts were pressed tight against his chest, and he could feel those stiff peaks through the fabric of his shirt. Her arms wound themselves around his neck. She clung onto him as though he was her lifeline, and he cradled her close.

It was not the first time he caught a whiff of her passion. But somehow, this was different. This was everything he had ever wanted. That scent, and her willingness, seemed to have kicked his system into gear. His skin crawled as his beast roused and prowled, the thrum of energy running so close underneath the thin veneer of civility. He could feel his eyes bleeding red as his base nature clamoured to take control.

No, it was not that time yet. But it did not listen. Somehow, it had come upon him.

He released her, retreating until his back hit the wall behind him.

"Kagome," he panted, pressing the back of his hand against his forehead as though the simple act could hide – or halt – his transformation. Even his voice had deepened and morphed into something resembling an animal. "I think it is best… if tonight… I sleep in the other room."

"Why?" She sounded dismayed. Coming closer, she reached out to touch his face. She gasped in shock. "You're burning up. And you look flushed. Have you come down with an illness?"

Oh. She had no idea what he could do. What he would do, what he was dying to do. Yet, even though he knew he should not, he was powerless to stop himself from turning his face into the cusp of her palm. His tongue licked her skin, yearning for her scent, her taste. Her.

Still panting, he shook his head. "Not an illness."

"Then, what?"

He swallowed.

"It's the rut."

Author's Note:

I gave in: a lot more fluff in this chapter. It had been a long period of dry spell.

The rut has always been around the corner, but I brought it on slightly faster as a present for all of you, wonderful readers!

Some of you (or many of you) were understandably upset with Kagome for the reluctant way she acted in the previous chapter. I must gently remind you that she had been burned many times in the past, and she even realized she was being unreasonable with some of her fears and hesitation. I agree that she was subconsciously refusing some of his instincts as a male yōkai, though she was becoming conscious of how unfair it was at the beginning of this chapter. Nevertheless, Sesshōmaru's patience, understanding, and perseverance managed to pierce her walls.

Thank you so much for all of your ongoing support. I love writing this story, and I am happy you enjoy reading it. I appreciate all of your comments. Though I may not have the opportunity to respond every time, please be assured that I read them all multiple times a day.

Until next time!