The miko's robes had been washed and dried, but she had not returned his haori.

And Sesshoumaru was not about to question it.

Seeing her in his clothing, her scent mixing with his own, calmed his instincts in a way that he had not experienced before.

The children were currently playing in a stream, the miko sitting nearby, her fingers absently toying with his sleeve.

Caressing it.

Silk was quickly replaced with skin as a vision of half-lidded sapphire eyes, raven hair, and tangled limbs took hold of him, heat coursing through his body.

Barely suppressing a shudder, Sesshoumaru willed his gaze to move away from the miko—failing miserably when she turned and smiled at him.