IX.

Blood and Fire

As soon as two pairs of bare feet touched the wooden floor of Sesshomaru's dojo, all good humor was suddenly forgotten. Kinawai felt deadly intent in Sesshomaru and responded to it fully, giving over to the beat of battle. In both of them, masterful instincts of combat swam up to take control of thought and movement, tightening muscles, sharpening razor-senses, adding an explosive edge to the glint of claws in the air.

Kinawai pulled off his haori and tossed it aside, flashed Sesshomaru an odd smile.

"You aren't afraid I'll damage your silk? You must be very confident."

Sesshomaru freed the snarl that had been lurking in his throat all day, let it wander over his face where it wanted to go, let the youkai rush up and flood his eyes, let the ravening Inu into his claws.

"Confidence has nothing to do with it. Now, Kinawai!"

He moved with the words, struck inwards, reaching down. The edge of his blow caught only the memory of skin as Kinawai turned and stepped backwards, but the reaching glint of his claws moved from another direction just as quickly, taunting, and then in again with more purpose. With the quickness of an indrawn breath, Kinawai was behind him, returning blows just as keen, drawing first blood.

A hiss of breath escaped Sesshomaru, displeasure at being caught unawares. Blood moved down his shoulder and Kinawai slipped away from him, watching with a shadow on his face. There was no play in Sesshomaru's movements, nothing but the fierce wail of his Blood, calling for blood. Carefully, he danced out of reach of the biting claws, heard the deepening of Sesshomaru's growl as the thick scent of blood doubled, washed the air and tinted it.

Kinawai sought to press his advantage, but Sesshomaru moved too fast, a liquid blur whose shadow did not come to rest. Kinawai felt the air move close to his skin the moment before the claws sank into his flesh. Pain lanced through his shoulder, a matching wound to the one he had first inflicted, and then dragged down his back as he turned to catch Sesshomaru's wrist and pull himself away from the sharpness.

They stood apart from each other, and panted. The air had become full of red scents.

Outside the doors, watching through the one that was open, Kagome, too, panted, watched and waited with half of her thoughts while the other half scrambled to make sense of herself.

I should not be watching here, he did not mean for me to come or he would have said. But if he wants to know I am here, he knows. He does not say anything, he does not look at me…

As she thought it, she felt a tingling heat spread outward through her chest and she parted her lips to breathe more deeply, tasting sugared metal in the air, oblivious of where such an enticing scent could come from. Her eyes followed the dance of combat, motions blurred with speed from one place to another, and then Sesshomaru was caught, wounded, held, and strength rose between the two combatants in pressure and eye-darkness and the sounds of deep-chest growls.

Focused muscles and pale skin came together, and she saw Sesshomaru strike a blow that stung, and drew a lash of snarl, a grimace, onto Kinawai's face. For a moment, he answered in kind, drew darker blood and let out a ragged breath, but Kagome had seen the shift and the thicker tang in the air reached deep, deep into her and clawed at the blistered eruption of strangeness that Sesshomaru had as yet only taunted with release.

Kinawai heard her sigh, turned to look and was distracted for a silent moment by the glazed darkness of her face, the near-surface glow that was rising beneath her skin. It was a moment too long. Sesshomaru took his chance, reached in with crushing force to open a wide slash across Kinawai's chest and then again, deepening the wound.

The breath flew out of him; by a bare margin, with the last moment of that breath, he dodged away from the third strike and stood back, retreating, touching the open saltiness of his wound. Blood welled to the surface and ran free like a spring. Kinawai stayed still, his green hakama red-stained.

The danger was more serious than he had expected - and he had expected danger. There was draining weakness despite the quickness of his body moving to replenish what he had lost, to seal his wounded flesh. Sesshomaru moved with him, stepping forward as he stepped back.

"Sesshomaru!"

Drawn back out of the Inu, Sesshomaru stared forward, shook his head for the sake of his vision and then shook bright, red pearls off his claws. Kinawai reached for breath and raised a questioning eyebrow, ignoring pain.

"Is this because of the miko, Sesshomaru, because of the woman? You are becoming dangerous - tell me, do you really seek my blood?"

Sesshomaru growled, lips lifting, exposing fangs.

"She should be mine, Sesshomaru - mine, by her blood. If she is miko, and youkai - there is a Dragon in her! It is my house -"

"She is mine! Mine, Kinawai!"

"Ah, so you are willing to forget, then, that she was your brother's woman?"

A sound turned Sesshomaru's ears to the doorway, and his sight followed swiftly.

Kagome was watching them, while things moved across her face that did not belong there – he swept them all up into his knowledge, the hunger that matched him, desire, a depth of blank scarlet in her eyes that told him of her inner distress.

He smiled and stretched his fingers, feeling power. She was watching him, her tongue on her lips; he wanted her to see his strength. He leapt forward, his fingers reaching -

Kinawai, too, had been watching her, sure that Sesshomaru was restored to his rational self. He knew with instant, irrevocable knowledge that he had been wrong. A hand that held terrible strength pinioned his throat, claws tightening inward, seeking the hot veins.

"Sesshomaru!"

This time it was a growl from his chest, forced around the closing strength that held his throat, and this time Sesshomaru flung him away, and remained bent, panting, mouth half-open as if he could not reach the air.

"Have you lost all restraint? I thought she was your brother's woman!"

He said it again, threw all the venom he could muster into his voice, but it was the Inu that answered him, the darkest voice in his experience.

"No. Mine. Mine."

Kinawai saw that Sesshomaru was no longer listening, that the stare of his red-glazed eyes was directed and that it was not for him.

It is the miko. I have accomplished what you sent me for - Eldest. Will you tell me why, I wonder?

But his thoughts were interrupted, because Sesshomaru was finally moving away from him, his steps uneven towards the door and the woman who stood watching. She was poised on the edge of one step and leaning into another.

"Kagome…Kagome."

Sesshomaru offered her name like worship, a shadow of sound, and she leaned into him, touched the red-streaked paleness of his skin and tilted backwards, deluged with scent, with darkness and the consuming fire of her own blood.

Sesshomaru caught her arm, but his fingers slid down to her wrist, over her palm and lost their grip on her fingers. For a moment, she stared at him, as something inside sought to wrench aside the cage of her flesh by pure will; then she fled, seeking the outside, the fresh air, the green,wet smells.

Sesshomaru's eyes followed her, and then turned back to Kinawai. His face revealed the broken halves of his thought, remembering the instinct of this moment, feeling the deep tug that wanted him to – to -

"She offers you the Chase, Sesshomaru. Are you going after her?"

Kinawai smiled slowly, offering the temptation, and Sesshomaru breathed deeply - in, out, in - the taste that came to him held a scent that promised fulfillment. Tense, tight, his head hung back for a long moment – a sound like a river of steel leapt out of his throat and darted around them as if seeking its place, then marked a shivering passage out into the night.

Outside, Kagome paused, hearing that sound, even while her hands were on the gates, opening them. The song of that howl came down out of the air and reached across her skin like a caress.

The ground muddied her bare feet, and it was cold, she knew it was cold, but where the biting wind reached in to touch her skin a slash of burning rose up to meet it, flushing her nerves with heat.

She felt …slow, as though she were moving through thick syrup where there was only air, but it was air that fought her, pressed on her. Halfway across the space of flat meadow in front of the gates, she fell, sinking to her knees and then forward onto her hands, head tilted first one way, then another. Glassiness covered her eyes as the deep change began in ways more painful than anything she had imagined, anything she had ever thought possible.

It was both an uncoiling sensation, and tightening, but the urge that filled her was to laugh, not cry out, because the fierce pleasure that such a change had come on her was almost greater than the pain.

Everything is heavy, my robe, my skin…so heavy, my skin…

Somehow, she stood, but abruptly Sesshomaru was there beside her, pulling on ties and parting the silk, dropping the sheen of burgundy, the luster of black into the mud. The first moment she was only grateful, feeling weight drop off her shoulders and leave her flushed skin bare to the rush of air. Even then, she did not really know what it was he would do to her; even when he enticed her to his grasp and breathed the pulse in her throat, drew his tongue across it.

She sighed, a low sound, a pleasured sound, and he tilted his head back, and back, and back, grinning his delight, until the moonlight reflected off the sharp points of his fangs, until he swallowed the light and felt it flush all the darkness to the surface. A leisurely breeze passed over his face, dragging out the edges of his smile, and the wet rustle of leaves penetrated the veil over his senses. When he looked forward again, Kagome was gone, and he had not even felt her slip out of his hands.

He followed, and found she had loosed herself like a fleeing arrow, inviting his pursuit with the richness of her scent, the collapsed tendrils of her consciousness, the purity of her desire.

She left footprints in the soft mud, crossed over the flowering green and under the dark edge of the woodland, mingling with the night beneath the trees, the rich silence.

Faster than was possible, faster than any human could move, she moved, but it was not fast for him and he followed at her heels, reaching, dragging his fingertips, the tips of his claws, over the leaping paleness of her skin.

Blood scent from the thin scratches moved him forward until he was in front of her, to catch her and hold her lightly, and she struggled with unsuspected strength, fought the heat-lightning that erupted wherever his fingers touched, struggled until he turned her arms behind her back and her own strength fought against her. Tenderly, he ran his teeth over her throat and she fell quiet for that moment, eyes widening, mouth open, reaching.

Her fingers tightened against his skin, tightened until he pulled away from her and nipped at her heaving breasts, their taut nipples - a reprimand. The low breath of her pleasure dripped in his ears, and the pain that had touched him became recognizable in the continuing touch of her hands, the careless rending of her fingertips.

Diamond-sharp claws had bled him;he stared for a long moment, fascinated, and saw the scent of his blood go to her head like a drug. His eyes followed her as she stepped away, and swayed, and opened her mouth to the moonlight while strange things happened to her; beneath her skin, muscles moved like ropes, and even her skin was changing, seemed thinner, almost translucent.

It was pain; it was pleasure. Kagome felt the rising of a tide in her innermost self, beyond her skin, deeper than her body. She was reaching an edge that her power-wrought bondage could not contain; Sesshomaru saw it in her face, had felt it in her skin. He saw agony move in her expression, and the impossible contortions of her body, her shivering flesh, and took one step towards her. As if alerted by a sudden tug she leapt away from him, moving more swiftly now than before, running, running. He came beside her, and reached for her again.

She escaped his hands like oiled silk, a blur of pale skin in the darkness, but Sesshomaru smiled, always faster, in front of her so swiftly she almost fell trying to avoid him – but he was there, too, to catch her, and he did not let go.

Very quickly, the rain was suddenly pouring on them, drenching, cold, and the wind was high, pushing the clouds across the sky. It ran over them completely, sliding between the broad leaves of the wide-spaced forest they had come to like a river – it washed the blood from their skin and the shock of coldness brought Sesshomaru back to some small part of his thinking self, but no such return was possible for Kagome.

He saw new tightness in her muscles now, sharper angles in her face that had not been there before; her eyes stayed flat and red. The downpour stopped – swiftly, he pinned her, grateful for the moss, the lack of mud – he held her as she tested growing strength, restive, mouth open, and he reached in to kiss her and lost himself finally when she took his kiss and gave it violence, her violence, and made it her kiss.

He cut his lips on fangs that were not his own, and she licked them. The deeper wetness of her body called to him, engorged him; there was no more waiting, and he was not capable of gentleness.

She had been waiting for him for many days without knowing it, but knowing no longer mattered. Wanting had kept her awake and in this submitted place, there was only want, only the instinct that moved her. She had never had a lover, but there was nothing she needed to know that her rising Blood did not give her. Her arms slid up his arms, down his shoulders, down his back; she opened herself and made impossible sounds, and felt his panting breath hot on her throat. The words came to him and he did not know if she would hear them, but he felt the soothing of her heartbeat and the exultant flash of his own desire.

"Open your eyes; hold your breath."

Teeth met in her shoulder, in her neck, at the joining of both, caused a flood in her thoughts, in her body. She was aware suddenly of two pleasures, her own self, the depth of fire he touched in her, and made liquid, and beneath it the pleasure he felt in her - deeper, darker, smoother. A white haze that broke free from all her nerves drew cries out of her that vibrated against his teeth. Sesshomaru's hands held her with strength that should have crushed her, that cut her skin, but it was only an accent of sensation. He was pulling her up with him, up to him, but the deep, deep pain was building again and she moved away, stood naked and stumbling and watched with exaggerated attention the red mouths of cuts in her skin move together, and close, and she laughed. There was still a feeling of incompleteness, no deadening of her desire, no change in that spreading, crawling heat – she felt her pulse in the deep place he had touched, and wanted him – but again, there was pain, a red flood feeding the darkness, and she threw back her head and howled.

Sesshomaru stood, watched her with glittering eyes that accepted exactly what he saw, the proof, the truth of his hope. Deadly laughter spun itself into the howl he raised to answer her. Inu-song rose between them and mingled under the moonlight, haunting in its high tones, its vaporous melody.

She was really running now, the Awakening full upon her. Now, he would Chase. A stranger had looked out of her eyes, testing its new life, aware of its birth, its release, but uncertain. He had raised the Inu out of the Dragon, had felt both in her and knew which one would win; she was his, his chosen mate, and Kagome, too, felt the difference, still too deeply succumbed to her own Blood to truly acknowledge the fluid fullness in it, lighter than the Dragon heat.

Kinawai had spoken the truth; Sesshomaru knew this. Only females of Dragon blood bore the holy power; some few in other bloodlines, carrying an ancient drop of that heritage, had brought miko to the surface in themselves but the consequences were often devastating.

But a Dragon - she will change for her mate, strip away the other layers of her nature, if that mate is strong enough. And I am Strong -

He had heard the Inu in her voice; he knew that it was true.

Hungry for her, speeding his footsteps, he turned his attention back to the object of his Chase. Kagome had come to the border-river that held back the human lands from Sesshomaru's sight, and she did not pause, leapt up and across and came back to the ground running, still in her stride.

Others took notice of the wild scents, the moving of powers and an intoxicating heat, but Kagome was unknown, though a beacon of wantonness, and Sesshomaru was terror. The strength of his claim overrode any hint of a chance; frustrated arousal brightened the eyes of many males in many dens nearby, but no one dared enter the Chase and compete with the Inu Lord. Faced with the scent of his strength, the rumors of weakness were like a puff of smoke blown away in a strong wind.

At the edge of the trees that moved up into the west, Sesshomaru caught up with her. This time when he took her, and sank his teeth into the soft wound he had made before, she climbed his body and pressed her aching new fangs into his flesh. He felt the parting of his skin, and then a blackout of sensation wherever he touched her. She felt the tenseness in him, the rupture of desire, and then building pressure, something that came from below the memory of pain, and restored it, and moved through it, and left completeness behind.

Sesshomaru leaned forward again, took her right nipple between his teeth and pulled gently. He heard a breath-laden sound, and felt a pulse of heat in response. His mouth followed the lines of her body, the curves that led beneath her breasts and down across the plane of her abdomen, quivering with her breath. In another moment he was on his knees in front of her, breathing the wet scent of her body from its center. It washed over him like a wave, suddenly stronger.

The shreds of control, of thought, that had allowed him his torment faded away under the influence of that scent. Suddenly, he found himself with not only scent, but taste; the salt-sweet flesh under his tongue was soft, lush with her wetness. Hungrily, he sucked at the softness, let his tongue wander through her folds. Kagome's uncertain will was able to restrain her for only a moment; then her hands were on his head, her fingers in his hair, new claws tightening in the strands, tightening and releasing as he sped the motion of his tongue.

She let out a deeper cry, lower, richer, and he pulled himself up her body. He kissed her then, and there was no tenderness in it, no love, not even passion - only lust, harsh, scalding; his fingers were moving where his tongue had been and she heard herself moaning, could not restrain the sound.

My - body - is -

"Please, please, please -"

The words, amidst the babble of sounds she was making, gave the redness in his eyes an extra sheen. He felt her body spasm, tightening, heard her louder cry, and allowed himself the pleasure he had wanted for so long - so long, how long had it been, lusting after his own -

Immediately, powerfully, he entered her; in another moment, she was moaning again, louder now, the pain that had rippled over her skin completely replaced by a more-than-equal surge of pleasure. Sesshomaru's lovemaking was like his kiss, empty of everything but lust, possession, need. The fury of it would have astonished her, if she had had time for astonishment, but her body had taken over, moving quickly into rhythms it had always known.

The first climax overtook her almost before she noticed; she ceased to be coherent, lost herself in the tightness of her own flesh, the nerve-raking sensations. When she could breathe again, she realized that he had stopped moving, that he was looking down at her.

That smile - that smile -

Her body gave an involuntary internal twitch in response to her thought, and she felt him shift over her, realized in that moment that he was still inside her, still hard, that she had felt - she knew she had felt - there was another, deeper contraction; she could not contain her moan. Did he really want her…that much? She felt him pushing himself up farther and rocked against him gently, let her eyes flutter closed. Her body was doing things again, things she didn't want to think about. His voice sounded, too close to her ear, his breath too hot on her skin.

"I stopped, because I thought you would need rest. Apparently, I am wrong, miko."

"Name's Kagome. Say it."

She did not cease her rocking; Sesshomaru could feel the grasping of her fingertips, the thin scratches they left behind. Did she think he was finished with her, sated?

"Kagome."

Very suddenly, his body had taken control of her, holding her down, his mouth near her ear again. His thrusts were sharp, hard, almost too hard; her eyes were shut tight, her mouth open, and then he said it again.

"Kagome."

And again.

"Kagome. Kagome - Kagome - Kagome -"

She closed her eyes; her world was reduced to sound and touch; the sound of her name in that husky voice, her name and his need, together; his breath hot on her ear, the feeling of him inside her better than before if that was possible, better than anything. The second time he said her name, she moaned. The third time, she whimpered. After that she screamed, and her scream did strange things to him; she felt a hot pulse, a new urgency in his thrusts.

Light snapped over them at the edge of his pleasure, but it was not really light, dripping from her torn skin, dissolving details, holding them together even beyond the shudders that follow desire. By the time it subsided, only tiredness filled Sesshomaru, almost suddenly, weariness down to his soul. Claiming the woman had relaxed the tension of her presence, but as he turned to her, he saw quite clearly that she was no longer 'woman' at all.

She lay limply, and he touched her gently, felt movement beneath her skin and saw in her face that something still changed, was still unsettled. He brushed dark hair away from her cheek, and did not notice it fall away in his hand. It was damp, and cold, but he pulled Kagome against his body, and breathed deeply, and dozed. After a while, he stood, and gathered her up, and turned towards home.

A/N: And I present to you...the lemon! well, the first lemon, anyway. some blood, some explaining, some citrus flavored tastyness - what more do you need? mwaha. So Much More. coming soon: Inuyasha, Kikyou, and Why You Don't Piss Off Sexually Repressed Youkai (who are no longer sexually repressed.) HA. Much thanks to: caitibug323 (sorry for the wait, but, SEE! one lemon, as promised :D); kitsune diva(much thanks for your praise); wrecklessangel (wheee! intensity! intensity!); lunarcat12 - twice!(yes, we will shortly begin to see all the interesting things our beloved s'homaru-chan knows...and what he might not! oooo...); Sugar0o- also twice!(and thanks for your concern by the way - also, I would've marked it complete except the revisions aren't done yet, and it might take a while...i've put posting the sequel on hold until I finish posting this one); Kouga's Older Woman(he had PLENTY of energy, see? aww, but now he's sleepy...HA!); and...phew! I think that's all of you! Now, I am going to MAKE MYSELF finish chapter 21 of Ukime - onward!

Whew! Toasty! Final Revisions, complete...R&R! :D