Summary: In order to keep the thriving Underground alive, Kagura, known to the world as Twisted Elegance, seduces and kills those who stand in the way of it's evolution. She's succeeded every time, until she has to go after the one man who could bring her down first, Sesshoumaru. Despite their duties to both their organizations, the assassin and the "detective" become entwined into a possessive affair that could mean a fate worse than death for both of them.
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Twisted Elegance
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White Death
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'Sesshoumaru...'
She gazed at him from the window, her red eyes reflecting the moonlight. She stood up, walking across the rooftop, looking out among the city, her dark locks flowly freely around her head. 'Prepare yourself, Sesshoumaru, for death is upon you.'
"Kagura."
Her eyes narrowed.
"You are not to use my real name, Miroku."
Kagura turned towards him, glaring through him with utmost annoyance. "What is your purpose for being here, I know the Malevolence didn't send you."
"I came to warn you," the dark haired man replied, "about your victim. Unlike those fat bastards you're used to seducing, Sesshoumaru is far above that. He is the best."
"So am I," a smirk played across her face, "that's what makes it interesting."
The young man gave sly grin. "You'll see when that man's bed becomes your tomb, angel."
She turned abruptly. "Hmph, if you think I'm an angel, then you are more foolish than led to believe."
"Ah, but there is something the Malevolence did not tell you," his violet eyes flashed mysteriously, "if you wish to know, that is."
"What?"
"He's not really a detective, for one," Miroku replied, "it was his job, yes, but that was before he turned. He has a relentless need to kill."
"So you're telling me he's psycho?"
"Whether he is actually crazy or not, is in the eye of the beholder. He seems like your type. Who knows, you might even -dare I say- fall in love?"
Her response was a dagger pinned into the wall not even an inch from his face.
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She studied him across the room, her eyes never leaving his form as he walked back and forth across the room, a pair of dark sunglasses. Had anyone else in the roomhad decided to take notice, he would've looked suspicious.
He was beautiful by all standards, composing himself in mystery and grace. A silent and deadly man, who defined himself in strength, and would not go down easily to human desire. She would enjoy changing that.
She studied his face. 'Dear god, he was right...'
She recognized him from the covers of newspapers, she had practically fought with for the cover on several occasions. She loved to search the papers for articles about her, finding humor in what the media portrayed her as. It was only until they had shared an article that she had really know of him. While different rumors, nicknames, and other taboo, he was simply known as The White Death, number one on the most wanted list... right above her name.
A smirk played across her ruby lips. What better way to kill a man that to break and then take his title?
Yes, this would be satisfying.
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His eyes stared straight ahead from behind his dark glasses, never taking his eyes of his target as it wandered the room clumsily, the middle-aged man's intoxicated state of mind causing him to shamelessly bring out the fool in him. The predator scoffed haughtily. 'Fool...'
He could practically smell the scent of guilty blood. It surrounded the room, unnoticed by those who created it. It is pungent, like that of rotting flesh. It is carried by the sinful creatures known as humans, only for the blood to be carried from their fatal loins to that of their offspring, remaining forever unchanged.
The made his way across the room, stalking towards his predator. He stood behind the older man, leaning over him slightly. "Sir, I think you should come with me."
"And if I don't?" the man snapped, his voice suddenly turning fierce.
From across the room, she saw him pull out a sword from his long black coat. She could barely make out his words.
"Then remember my voice, for it is the last thing you will ever hear."
Before she nor the victim had known it, his sworn had found itself lodged into the victim's neck. Her eyes widened. She remained as the crowd fled in a mass exodus out of the room. 'This man is fucking crazy!'
But he was her prey, and failure lay a heavy price...
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He entered the room in silence, his keen eyes leading him through the dark. His room lay untouched, as it should be. His now bloody clothing lay on the bed. He would have to get new ones soon, almost all his clothes had become dingy and stained from constant abuse.
He stood straight, his eyes looking straight out the large window that replaced his fourth wall. The city was well lit, people scurrying around in large masses. Sinners, all of them.
"Come out."
A feminine cluckle came from the room. The open door of the bathroom was slowly closed, revealing the woman behind it, her blood eyes flashing mischieviously. She examined him, a smirk playing on her ruby red lips. In only a mere bath towel, his intimidating stature stood over most men, wet skin fitting over lean muscles, his long hair sticking to his back and forehead, bright amber eyes flickering in the moonlight coming through the window.
"It appears I have come at the right time..."
He made no motion of amusment, continuing to dress himself, despite her hard stares with lustful eyes. "Is there any particular reason you are here?"
"That depends..."
"Then let me guess, you're some slut out to seduce me for my money," he replied, "or are you just some horny bitch out looking for a man you can have a one night stand with. You digust me."
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "You talk as if you know me. Maybe I'm just here to kill you."
Again, he made no response, no motion of fear or suprise. It seemed as if he was almost testing her.
"If you were going to kill me, you would've done it already, Twisted Elegance."
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Yes, this is a plot twist, used after suffering some kind of writer's block
I apologize, I said this chapter was going to be longer, I've just been really busy. This is the reason I like one-shots better... no commitment...
Frozen Angst