For a moment, Kagome forgot how to breathe. 

Slow and steady, his heart beat under her palm. Drawing in a measured breath, Kagome attempted to steady out her own. “I was lying on my side, next to you, trying to stay awake,” she began. “But I must have dozed off at some point. The next thing I knew, I was lying underneath you.

Kagome’s heart stuttered. In her earlier preoccupation over the bite marks on her breast, she had completely forgotten about the ones on her neck. They were fainter–just the barest of indentations, a neat set of pin-pricks in her skin. But now they tingled and twinged like bee stings, and the way he was pressing down

Hair still uncomfortably wet, Kagome hastened her way back to Kaede’s hut, bare arms clutching about one another in the chilly air. Knowing she’d just have to clean and re-bandage her wound, she’d decided to forego the long sleeves for the moment–cold though it was. Maybe it was the pronounced drop in her body temperature,

Stomping over to her yellow backpack and hefting it up, Kagome turned on her heel and left Kaede’s hut with as much dignity as she could muster. As she pushed past the noren curtain, she met Jakken on the porch–still maintaining his loyal vigil. Leaning against the door frame, the imp hugged his nintoujou between

With effort, Kagome finally managed to roll Sesshoumaru off of her. Panting with exertion, she righted her clothes as much as she could and tried to gather her scattered wits together. She felt the need to take inventory of the situation. First off, Sesshoumaru was no longer in mortal danger. Looking over at him, Kagome

She must have nodded off for a moment. One minute, Kagome was calmly lying next to Sesshoumaru on her side–the next, she was sprawled beneath him, flat on her back, gazing up at him in dim surprise as he glared down at her with hooded amber eyes. His silver hair hung in ribbons around her,

He walked through the halls of his father’s house. Candles flickered, low and lambent in their holds, yellow light bending along walls that warped and trembled–undulating in time with the sound of two lovers’ commingled moans. His claws flexed, anger boiling within him as he advanced–slowly, as if through sand. She was here–that woman Izayoi.

After applying Sango’s salve and re-bandaging Kagome’s wound, Kaede left her to it, despite the younger miko’s reservations. “I trust ye can manage,” the old woman said brusquely as she took up her satchel and headed for the door. “I’ve a birthin’ to attend to.” “But, Baa-chan…” “Ye will be fine,” Kaede said with a