He'd long since sunk his claws into the kill he would present to the miko, but his bloodlust hadn't dissipated.
The cool autumn breeze blew through his hair as he darted between trees, slashing through another low-level youkai that was unlucky enough to cross his path.
Sesshoumaru tried to tell himself that the miko's past didn't bother him—that the relationship she'd had with his brother didn't bother him.
But it did.
The why burned under his skin, opening old wounds of inadequacy. His movements suddenly stilled as the answer to his father's final question settled easily into his heart, lifting the final weight from his shoulders.
The miko would be his to protect.
