A Woman Scorned

She lead him in a seductive dance, at first promising pleasure and then denying him her soothing touch. It was almost more that he could bear. Pain and pleasure twined into one. More pain than pleasure, though.

Every time he looked into her face he saw her. Sango. He didn't see the woman, whatever her name was. He only saw Sango. He only touched Sango. He only kissed Sango. It was the same with every one he pursued. To him, in every face, he saw Sango.

A distant part of his mind, still unconsumed by lust, cried out for her. That distant, rational part of his mind could see her anguish quite clearly. A part of him knew that she would suffer, and understood, also, that he did it all for her.

I want her to forget about me, he thought as he gentle caressed the other, nameless, woman. I want her to hate me, because that way she won't have to suffer when I die.

It made him want to retch. The only person he really wanted to bear his children was her. His Sango.

The woman, who had been content with his caresses, apparently wasn't content any more. In the middle of that forest clearing she held him down, forcing her mouth on his. That's when he got his first look at her pointed teeth.

The pointed teeth common in many youkai across Japan.

That should have been an alert in his head that something was wrong, but it wasn't. He let her continue, his mind consumed with Sango.

That's when he felt her sharp nails, no, claws, stroking his chest.

Then they were no longer stroking, but instead digging into his chest, searching for his heart. The haze cleared from his mind and the distant, logical part of him made the connection with the rest.

This was a female youkai doing her best to kill him.

"What the hell are you doing to me?" He had tried to sound calm, but those nails, moving through his chest sinuously didn't do much to help. The sound came out rather panicked and ragged, but at that moment it didn't matter. He needed to live. That was the only thing that was important.

"I don't want to bear the children of a man whose heart is set on another woman. Never make love to an empath if you are going to think of another. Every second we have spent together, your mind has dwelt on her. That twit you call 'Sango'! You only see her. To me I am nothing but a means to protect her."

He appeared taken aback. "Why do you care? Don't tell me you weren't going to kill me after we were done? You're a youkai."

She looked at him, genuinely hurt. "You don't understand at all. I've watched you, from afar, for so many years. So many years that it's hurt. At first I was intrigued, but then, more and more I learned something that is foreign to most youkai. I learned this thing called 'love'. I thought, maybe, I could help you forget about her, about everything. I though that you might..." her face faltered, and then took on an envious and frightening cast. "I doesn't matter in the slightest anymore, though. Never scorn the affections of a dangerous woman. You'll have to pay the price, and the price is death."

He barely dodged her attack. He other arm was still in his chest, fingers searching for his beating heart. Carefully, he worked the binding off of his kazaana. Everything was done with care. She could kill him easily, if he wasn't cautious. He was sweating heavily now, unsure of what would happen next, unsure of her next move, but anticipating it with a terrible sureness. He didn't want to die just yet. He really didn't want to die.

Minutes crawled by like hours as he writhed his hand out of the rosary that bound his greatest weapon. Minutes crawled by like hours as she writhed her hands inside his chest, searching, searching for his heart. Blood and sweat filled their senses, each of them frantic with the urge to live, or to kill.

Finally the rosary fell off. For an instant time stood still, and then...

Accusing eyes similar to the eyes of Sango in that dream glared at him in a look of both terror and hatred as she was sucked into the oblivion of his kazaana. He fell back against the tree wearily and closed his eyes. Coated in his own blood, Miroku feel asleep in the almost-silent forest, a tender breeze running ethereal fingers through his dark hair.

Authors Note: I love the Miroku/Sango pairing, but I though this might be an interesting twist. If anyone is wondering they did not have sex. I couldn't do that to one of my favorite pairings! Anyway, at long last I give another chapter.

Reviews:

Purples Roses: Aww, I'm sorry it's confusing. I knew it would be. This is the first fic that I've ever written, so I'm sort of experimenting with it, I'll work on some clarifications. Thanks for the review!

Schwartze: Here is a Miroku chapter, but please don't hate me for it. All in good fun, y'know...err...(runs away)

Twilight Sky: (big eyes) Thank you so much. I think that's one of the nicest reviews that I have ever gotten! It's sort of funny. I used to despise Kikyou and now she's one of my favorite characters. In fact, I really hated her at the beginning of this fic and now...well...I feel bad about some things that I wrote for her, but it will all work out...maybe...I always felt bad for Kagome and some of the stuff she has to go through. I really love writing Miroku stuff, and I thought he deserved to get some moments with fears. I tried to make their fears realistic and not stupid. I'm really glad you liked it! (glomps)