AUTHOR’S NOTE:
REVISED as of 2026
Alternative Universe! This story is completely different from its original storyline. The title has, also, been changed.
Word Prompt: Cumin
Brief Description: Cumin was said to prevent theft. Not to physically stop a thief from stealing. Instead, cumin was thought to be a charm meant for fortune to bless the owner and that fate would interfere with any intentions of theft.
CONTENT WARNING!!: Anonymous Encounter; Mild Bondage; Mild Humiliation/Degradation; Rough-Angry Sex
Word Count: 5,210
Glossary:
Daimyo— Great Name/Feudal Lord
Shiro—The Entire Castle Complex
Tenshu—The Main Keep/Central Tower
Yashiki—Residential Compound
Goten—Main Residence (the daimyo’s estate where he and his family live)
Inu no Taisho—Great Dog General
Zukin—Head/Face Covering; Hood
Fundoshi—Undergarments
Winter – Edo Period
THE WARM GLOW flickered wildly, before going out.
Kagome cursed beneath her breath; though, there was no one around to hear the unrefined expletive. Fumbling in the dark, she opened the little door to her paper lantern and gingerly felt inside to find the oil nearly spent. She blinked blurred eyes, surprised. How long had she been bent over her task? Glancing around, she starred at the far wall to the closed window. The paper screen was utterly dark. Night had fallen.
She turned to her right, and winced at the stiffness of her neck. Unconsciously, she rubbed her sore muscles as she contemplated the ornate, ceramic brazier standing several feet away. The library was cast in deep shadows with the fire reduced to orange embers. The room was longer than it was wide with few furnishings. There were two, deep document chests along the backwall further from the brazier, while an expanse of archive shelves lined the long wall opposite from where she knelt behind her low desk. To her left, the entrance to the library had been left open, with the hallway beyond cast in deep shadow.
Now that she was aware of her surroundings and no longer lost in study, the chill in the air made itself known. Kagome shivered, and clutched her haori tighter around her. Beneath the dark overcoat she’d flung over her shoulders, she wore a simple yukata dyed a somber, unassuming shade of deep plum. She cast another look at the brazier, before staring down at her side table. Resting along its surface was a single item, an ancient artifact with a fantastical history.
Tenseiga.
The Heavenly Blade that was said to hold the power of raising no less than a hundred souls from the dead in just a single swing.
And Kagome had no notion as to its origins. No matter how she scoured the archives, she could find no connection—at least, not amongst Lord Onigumo’s private collection. Nor from the scrolls he’d given her to peruse.
Copies of the originals, he’d assured her, as the originals were too precious to relocate from…wherever the sword originated. For some strange and unknown reason, he didn’t want her knowing that particular information. As a historian, it was one of the most important question, and Lord Onigumo expected her to be left in the dark. Without explanation. And unfortunately, it was not her place to question the powerful daimyo. The Heavenly Blade had been Lord Onigumo’s most recent acquisition, and it was Kagome’s duty to authenticate the blade—with the copied information that had been provided for her. Kagome shook her head, baffled.
Annoyed. She didn’t like leaving a job half-finished. More important, once she got interested in a subject, and the secrecy behind the Heavenly Blade certainly was interesting, she had to know everything there was to know about the artifact.
Longing pulled on her as she contemplated the numerous scrolls scattered across her desk. The answers she sought had to be in here. Somewhere. Some clue that had been missed by the scribe who’d copied from the original text. Kagome tried telling herself not to care so much, that she’d done her duty. There was not doubt in her mind that this was the blade spoken of in the scrolls. Still, the mystery nagged at her, history demanding to be known.
However, weariness slumped her shoulders. It was long past time for her to retire. Her curiosity could wait, especially if she wished to avoid the risk of falling asleep where she knelt. In the daimyo’s private archives. Where servants—or heaven forbid, an honoured guest—would stumble upon her, and see that she wore the same yukata from the day before. If they noticed her at all—and they would. As the daimyo’s newly appointed historian, her presence was a curiosity. Speculation already abounded. If she wasn’t careful, she’d invite even more whispers gossiping behind her back.
Kagome couldn’t prevent a shudder of horror, and swiftly rose to her feet. Biting back a groan at the stiffness of her knees, she shuffled over to the brazier with taper in hand. Using one of the brighter embers, she lit her stick and cupped her hand around the burning end to make her way back to her desk. Bending to light the wick, she realized her mistake. The oil.
Locating the small flask quickly, she refilled the reservoir one handed, before lighting the wick. Even with the freshly fallen snow, winter nights were dark. She would need the light to help navigate her way back to her chambers, which were located in a separate building in the guest wing.
As Lord Onigumo’s lead historian, it was perfectly acceptable for her to reside within the shiro’s compound. In fact, the apartments the daimyo had granted her had once belonged to her predecessor—Kagome’s father, who had died a mere fortnight past after his weak heart had given out.
That Lord Onigumo had appointed a woman to fill the vacant role was certainly…unusual. Many believed she would soon find her position further elevated, as their lord’s newest consort—if she wasn’t already. Which she most certainly was not! Had Kagome not found herself in such dire circumstances, she would have hesitated in acquiescing to living within Lord Onigumo’s yashiki.
Over a year ago, her husband had dead in a drunken accident, leaving Kagome alone to deal with his secret gambling debt. When creditors had come seeking full and immediate payment, it had taken nearly everything left to her to meet their demands.
With the pressing concerns of where she would live and how she would support herself, she hadn’t had the luxury to mourn. Instead, Kagome had been faced with the humbling choice of either becoming dependent upon her husband’s relations, who lived in a distant region, or moving back in with her widower father. Not wishing to move away from the life she’d always known and the last person she loved, she gratefully acquiesced to her father’s urging that she return under his roof. Now, he, too, was gone.
Upon his death, Kagome’s younger brother now held control over all of their father’s worldly possessions, including their home. Sota had never approved of Kagome’s marriage, and along with his scowling wife, Kagome had been made to feel unwelcome in her childhood home.
Kagome had fretted about her future, knowing she would either have to seek out her deceased husband’s relations for support or submit to an arranged marriage of her brother’s choosing, when a messenger had arrived bearing the daimyo’s seal. Heeding the summons, Kagome was given a private audience with Lord Onigumo himself, who’d offered her her father’s position as lead historian. It was an answer to her fevered prayers, and an opportunity of a lifetime.
Within days, all her worldly possessions were removed to her father’s old quarters within the guest wing of Lord Onigumo’s yashiki. Her rooms consisted of a private study, a spacious bedchamber, a main-reception room where she could receive guests or lounge peacefully, along with a storage room. Behind her apartments was a separate building where her very own servant slept, along with the kitchens, toilet, and bath house.
Kagome’s quarters weren’t half as luxurious as the lord’s goten, but they were far above that of a servant’s lodgings, and instead, were fit for any respectable lady—or the lord’s paramour. Kagome shook the disquieting thought aside.
Though she was not of high birth, her father’s position had risen his family above that of ordinary commoners, which had allowed Kagome somewhat of a privileged upbringing in comparison. Female historians were not common, but Kagome had grown appreciating history just as passionately as her father, and since she had worked closely beside him on many occasions, she assumed that was the reason for Lord Onigumo unexpected proposal—or so she’d first assumed.
Since her first day in residence, she now suspected otherwise.
There was no mistaking Lord Onigumo’s too direct gaze, or lingering touch. He’d arrived unannounced to officially welcome her and to see how she was settling. He’d been perfectly courteous—until he’d leaned forward to touch the exposed skin of her wrist as she poured his tea. His touch carried clear possessiveness, matched by the male interest reflected in his dark blue-green eyes.
He’d left without speaking a hint of proposition, but his intent needed no words. And as a powerful daimyo, with her being little more than a commoner, there was little chance that he would ask. Compliance was expected.
That had been three days ago. Three days of incessant worrying. Soon, he would come to her. Kagome should be pleased. As a prominent and wealthy daimyo, any number of women would have murdered to be in Kagome’s position. Not as a historian, with their nose buried in old scrolls and hidden away in the archives, but to occupy a position of authority as Lord Onigumo’s favored consort.
Kagome was not against such an arrangement—not for any political power, but rather, to have another ease the long and lonely nights when she missed a man’s touch. However, during Lord Onigumo’s visit, the look in his dark eyes, the arrogant curvature of his grin, had made her skin crawl, and raised the fine hairs at the back of her neck.
Without understanding why, her senses screamed danger.
Kagome worried what her next course of action would be. If she were to leave, her abrupt departure would raise further gossip, and worse, be seen as disrespect towards one of the most powerful men in the land.
Kagome could see no clean way out of her current predicament, and instead, she’d chosen to lose herself in work, into researching Lord Onigumo’s most recent acquisition; Tenseiga, the Heavenly Blade.
With a heavy sigh that went beyond physical weariness, Kagome went to rise from the table—when she nearly knocked over a beautiful jaw painted with gold and blue swirls. A smiled of sad remembrance touched her lips as she picked up the small vessel and allowed her fingers to map the familiar textures.
Her father had been a superstitious man, endearingly so. All along the shelves, he’d arranged these pots with the deepest reverence—with a much younger Kagome standing beside him. As a child, she’d giggled as he’d lifted a finger to his mouth and given her a conspirator wink, making her feel special that he would share with her his innocent secret. Afterwards, he’d told her the importance of the pungent spice, how cumin encouraged fortune to smile on the treasures sequestered nearby and thereby prevent their theft.
Nonsense, she now felt. Even so, she replaced the jar with care, before rising.
Out of the darkness, a large hand appeared over her shoulder and wrapped around her mouth. Smothering any sound she might have uttered—had her throat not seized in shock, and horror as she was yanked against an unyielding chest.
Her first thought was Lord Onigumo!
Another hand materialized at her waist, pulling on her brown obi. In quick, hard tugs, the fabric was unwound, causing her heart to stutter in her chest. Terror surged through her limbs. She fought, squirming in short, jerking motions. Her left elbow struck the man’s ribs, making him grunt. His arms slackened. Heart leaping, she yanked away—a cry building, when the hand tightened over her mouth, reeling her back in roughly. Her back struck his chest, making her aware of just how tall the presence behind her was. Taller than Lord Onigumo, she realized with a shock. The top of her head barely smacked against the broad plane of the stranger’s chest.
Desperate, she struck back with her right elbow. Heard his muttered curse, voice deep, rough. Not Lord Onigumo! The sour taste of fear mixed with the salt of his skin on her tongue as she tried to bite his palm, but the hold on her face was too tight. Allowing no opportunity to sink her teeth deep.
“You little wildcat.”
Gruff. Rumbling. But not with anger. The stranger’s voice was just that deep. It sent a shiver down her spine, a reaction that wasn’t all fear as unwelcome awareness lit her nerves. Increasing her panic. Her dread.
As though her struggles were little more than a nuisance, he easily subdued her, when the unexpected happened.
He freed her mouth to yank her hands behind her back, and held them in one of his. Kagome didn’t take her fortune for granted and parted her lips to scream, but on her ragged inhalation, she ingested fumes, and sneezed. Once. Twice. She recognized the scent. Cumin. Her assailant had reached around her to grab her father’s jaw of crushed spice and held it under her nose. While she was lost to a sneezing fit, he quickly bound her hands behind her back with her own obi.
Then she felt heat at her ear, moist breath. “Now, be a good girl and keep still.”
He jerked her around, large hands on her shoulders. Petrified, Kagome stared up into the familiar eyes of her husband, Inuyasha. Surprise held her immobile, her breath caught high in her lungs. Impossible! She’d seen his body for herself, had touched his cold cheek and felt the absence of breath. What was more, the stranger was far too tall to be her Inuyasha.
Confused, she stared up into amber eyes that had been kissed by the sun goddess Amaterasu. She couldn’t see the rest of his face. A black zukin was wrapped around his head and covered his chin and mouth, causing the gold of his eyes to stand out in stark contrast. She’d only ever seen such compelling irises from her husband. Eyes he’d inherited from his ancestors, he’d often told her with pride, and no small bitterness.
Inuyasha had been a far distant—illegitimate—relation to the venerable Inu no Inu Taisho, a powerful daimyo who surpassed even Lord Onigumo’s proud lineage. There could be no doubt to the stranger’s bloodline. Only the Inu no Taisho family possessed such eyes.
Kagome unconsciously relaxed.
Who was this man, she wondered, a deep sense of longing welling within her chest. Had Inuyasha’s family come for her? To help her? For surely this couldn’t be her husband, and yet, she was no longer afraid. Amber eyes narrowed on her face, perhaps seeing the change in her own.
She forgot that her hands were tied behind her back, that her yukata now hung open, revealing the white of her nagajuban that was all that preserved her modesty.
What the stranger did next was utterly unexpected. Leaning down, he pressed his cloth covered mouth over hers.
Her breath hitched.
Fingers grazed her jaw, the pads rough, gliding down the side of her neck, eliciting a delicate shiver, and a much stronger response low in her belly. For reasons that escaped her, rather than lurching away, she leaned closer. Pressed her mouth more firmly against the lips she felt beneath the cloth—and wished he kissed her without impediment. Were they soft? No. The way he molded his mouth over hers was all hard dominance, demanding a response.
Helplessly, she melted into him. Unconsciously, she moved to wrap her arms around his waist, only to feel the bite of her obi around her wrists.
Kagome jerked back. Shocked. Remembering.
She tried to take a step away, but bumped into the low desk behind her. The stranger crowded closer, and with a press of his large palm against her heaving bosom, he shoved. Kagome went down with a sharp gasp, but strong hands grabbed her, helping to control her decent, until her rump thumped atop the smooth surface. Scrolls crinkled beneath her.
With a horrified gasp, she stared down at her hip, fearful for the delicate scrolls.
“Careful! Those are priceless.”
“They are meaningless forgeries,” the stranger growled.
How did he—?!
The husky rumble went straight to her feminine folds with an arc of pure pleasure. By just the timbre of his voice.
Kagome stared up at the golden eyed stranger, lips slightly parted. The sight of him stole any words she thought to say. His shoulders were broad, his chest heavily muscled beneath his dark haori. He filled the space between her spread legs. Even kneeling, he seemed to tower over her as he placed his palms on either side of her hips, leaning closer. Invading her space. Raw masculinity caged her, sending another thrill to her clit.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he rasped, as though pained.
Heart pounding, she licked suddenly dry lips, and nearly moaned when his gaze lowered to her mouth. She couldn’t see his face. Didn’t know who he was. And yet, she could think of nothing but having his mouth on hers. If only he’d lower his mask and kiss her in truth. A traitorous thought.
Had she gone mad?
Or, was she so desperate for a man’s touch that she’d accept anyone’s?
Rather than demand her freedom, she stammered, “W-what do you mean?”
“Like you want me to fuck you.”
Heat flooded her core, moisture leaking. Reflexively—horrified, she went to close her knees, and bumped into his lean hips. His haori was the darkest indigo, while his hakama were black as night, matching his zukin. She felt his hand settle on her thigh, stroking. Going higher. Higher.
“We…shouldn’t be doing this.” A weak protest.
Was that her voice? Too high. Too breathy. But not in fear. Excitement coursed through her veins. Golden fire ensnared her, staring down at her, just as Inuyasha had—before he took her, shoving deep. Taking her to the heights of ecstasy. Her body remembered pleasure, and responded. Making demands she dared not answer. But the choice was taken from her when she felt the ties of her nagajuban part.
Need crashed through her, making her tremble in want. Anticipation.
“No. We shouldn’t,” he agreed simply.
But that didn’t stop him from baring her body, or his eyes from dropping to her heaving breasts. Her breaths came too fast, her pulse jumping at her throat as he continued to stare. This close, she saw the moment his golden eyes darkened to deepest honey.
Kagome leaned backwards, her bound hands flat on the desk behind her, propping herself up, baring herself completely as she spread her legs wider in wanton invitation. Somehow, the familiarity of his eyes encouraged her, while the mystery of his identity sent wicked fantasies through her mind.
And like a moth to her flame, the man before her answered the siren’s song of a passion that blazed fiercely between them.
MADNESS.
It was the only explanation as Sesshomaru filled one of his hands with the lush weight of the woman’s breast, her nipple a hard little pebble against the center of his palm. He knew who she was, the widow of one of his distant—irrelevant—relations. Inuyasha, wasn’t it?
The woman—Higurashi—released a low moan that went straight to his cock, thickening his shaft to painful erectness, until his length pushed free of his fundoshi to pulse against his abdomen. She responded readily too his touch. A wonton. A whore? Was she the thieving Onigumo’s new pet?
He should hate her. Toss her side.
He should not be doing this. With her.
His muscles refused to respond. Instead, his grip tightened. Lifted. Testing the weight of her breast, and hungered for the taste of her nipple on his tongue.
How had he come to be here, the Lord Sesshomaru of the Inu no Taisho Domain, on his knees before a woman little more than a commoner. She wasn’t especially beautiful, but neither was she displeasing to look upon. There was a soft innocence to her bewitching eyes that drew him, compelling him to touch. To take. To corrupt. Even the passion glazing her deep umber eyes couldn’t ruin the impossible artlessness reflecting back at him. If he were to believe her guileless expression, Higurashi was just as helpless in her response to him as he was to her.
Insanity.
Desire.
His other palm fell to her right thigh, sliding up her soft, delicate skin. Until he reached the delicate curve of her hip. Enrapt by the enticing sight of her bared for him, Sesshomaru stared openly at the dark tuft of hair at the apex of her thighs. With her knees spread wide to accommodate his hips, she was utterly exposed. The light pink of her folds bared. And spread. Glistening with her honey.
“Wanton little wench, look how your cunt drips for me.” As he watched, her dew streamed from her heat to dampen the fabric of her nagajuban, and he felt an answering pulse between his hips. His length quivering to kiss the moisture at her weeping entrance. Before plunging deep.
“I’ve barely even touched you,” he rasped, lust gripping him, tightening his balls.
Higurashi moaned in answer, the sound low and drawn out. Tortured.
“Don’t look.” A whisper. Kagome closed her eyes, embarrassment—shyness-radiating from her. If she were a whore, she played the innocent well.
A wave of anger surged through Sesshomaru that she would dare try and deceive him. For making him want her so desperately.
“Damn you.” The snarl was ripped from his chest, a soft murmur. A fierce capitulation as passion triumphed over reason.
Hating her, needing her, Sesshomaru yanked on the ties securing his hakama. The black silk slipped, baring his shaft that protruded from his fundoshi. With impatient hands, he removed the wrapping.
Sensing his fierceness, Kagome tried to shed away from him, but she had nowhere to go. He had her trapped against the desk, her wrists bound—
Her wrists were tied. He couldn’t shove her onto her back as he wanted. As his body demanded.
Her sharp gasp drew his attention back to her face, but she wasn’t looking at him. At least, not at his face, but lower. At the thickness of his erection, the length nearly reaching his naval when he’d been trapped by his fundoshi. Now, free, his cock hung low and heavy. He knew he was large, and the sudden fear warring with the desire she couldn’t hope to hide almost made him hesitate.
Almost.
It was too late to stop this. Even if he wanted to—even if she begged him, he couldn’t stop. Damn her!
Suddenly, he was on his feet and yanking her up to turn her around, only to shove her onto her knees. Hand on her back, he pushed her down until her naked breasts were pressed against the low desk, crinkling papers. Evidence of her culpability in Onigumo’s theft. Angrily—desperately, he shoved her garments up, baring her shapely ass.
“W-wait—!”
“No more waiting,” he growled, forcing her legs wider as he took his place on his knees behind her.
“B-but who are you?! Why are you here?”
Sesshomaru gritted his teeth and grabbed for his fundoshi before stuffing the cloth into her mouth. “The time for talking has passed.”
Taking himself in hand, he pressed his cock at the woman’s entrance, and groaned at the moist heat kissing the head. She jerked at the contact, and wiggled her bottom. Bringing attention to the perfection of her round derriere. To the puckered flesh between the crease. Lust clawed at him as his gaze lowered to her cunt. To his cock so close to the sweetest haven.
Sesshomaru grit his teeth. He was too large. He should prepare her—and knew he couldn’t wait that long. He needed her. He hated her, but he didn’t want to hurt her. At least, not much. He nudged her entrance, parting her slick channel. He didn’t hesitate. Flexing his hips, he lunged forward. Shoving inside. And felt her clench around his cock like a hot vice.
A deep groan was pulled from his chest as his ears rang with the choked sound she made to find herself utterly filled. Stuffed to the brim. Probably more than she’d ever been stretched before. “Kami, you’re tight,” he gritted.
Grabbing her waist, he eased from her sweet cunt until only the head breached her, before ramming back in. Restraint escaped him, his control obliterated by the temptress beneath him. His grip on her hips tightened, and—distantly, he knew he was bruising her. But all of his awareness was centered on the throbbing pulsations gripping his shaft, stealing his mind. His sanity.
Desire was a fire raging inside him. Consuming in its intensity.
Holding her still, he pounded into her hot channel, falling further under her spell with each whimpering cry she released into the gag. And when she came around him, he knew that he was lost.
DELIRIUM GRIPPED HER.
Kagome couldn’t catch her breath. He was so thick. Too thick. Spreading her passed her limit. He was deep. Striking the end of her. No, he went further. Forcing her womb to accommodate his length. She felt it, organs shifting around his girth.
His entry had hurt.
It had been over a year since she’d lain with her deceased husband, and Inuyasha hadn’t been this endowed. Hadn’t made her loss her mind with the sheer size of him. Pleasure. Pain. Desire ran through her veins, saturating her pussy. Easing the way for the immense presence pounding into her. Too fast. Too hard.
Oh kami, she prayed this man, this stranger, would never stop!
Passion had never been like this. All-consuming. Clawing at her, demanding she succumb to the flames licking across her senses and scorching her womb—when climax overcame her. She screamed around the gag, the sound muffled.
She should be offended that she’d been gagged by a man’s fundoshi. Humiliated. It was crude. Crass. It excited her.
Cruel fingers dug into her hair, grabbing onto the simple twist at the back of her head, before yanking her up. She should be terrified by the harsh treatment, yet the answering flood squelching from her stuffed pussy, as the stranger’s cock continued to pound into her, revealed her true enjoyment at finding herself manhandled, and fucked without apology or remorse.
The stranger held her against his chest as he growled next to her ear, guttural. Beastie. “You have bewitched me, wench. Now suffer the consequences.”
He released her hair, only to grab both of her breasts. Her bound hands clenched into the folds of his haori, holding on as he continued to thrust through her quivering depths. He fucked her like he owned her. Fondled her breasts like he had every right to her body. And perhaps he did, because she didn’t harbor even the faintest thought to stop this madness.
His possession was punishing, his hands rough. Calloused. He pinched her nipples—too hard. And rolled them between his fingers, pulling, lifting her breasts. A cry vibrated from her throat, muffled by the gag.
Utterly degrading. Demeaning.
Unbearably arousing.
He used her like a whore. She should hate him. Loathe him. She burned for him—her midnight lover. When she came a second time—a first for her, she saw stars as pleasure ignited through her core. Moisture squirted, covering the thighs that struck against her ass as her captor pounded through her convulsions. Until he shoved inside on a particularly vicious thrust and held himself deep inside.
She swore she felt him at her cervix, and when the first spurt of semen erupted, she was certain he shot straight into her womb. The second spurt sent her rolling into her third orgasm before the last had fully subsided.
She cried out, the gag now wet from her saliva, drool dripping lewdly down her chin.
He snarled into her hair, nose pressed against her temple as he flooded her pussy with his seed.
Long minutes passed as she relearned how to breathe. The cock that had felt like such an imposing presence softened, before slipping free. Instantly, she felt his seed leak down her thighs, knew the evidence of his lust was mixed with her own, and dripping onto the tatami mats between her spread knees.
Unable to move—to think, Kagome remained docile while he manipulated her body. The gag was removed with tender care, her wrists unbound gently, before she found herself cradled in his arms with her ear pressed against his chest, and the pounding of his heart through her ear. He was panting, as effected as she.
Screaming—or running—never entered her mind.
“Who are you?” she half-murmured, half-slurred, thoughts sluggish. Drugged by spent passion.
“Sesshomaru Inu no Taisho.”
Kagome stilled, blinking rapidly. Slowly, she lifted her head. He still wore his zukin, but when she tentatively hooked a finger over the seam, he let her lower the cloth covering the lower half of his face.
Kagome beheld the face of perfection. High cheekbones. A strong jaw. A regal nose. Amber eyes stared down at her with a hint of desire yet smoldering in their depths. She’d never met the great Inu no Taisho, but there was no denying his regal bearing. Or the quite command that oozed from his very pours. This was a man accustomed to command. Of having his will set as law. And somehow, he was here. Deep within Lord Onigumo’s shiro. Though Lord Onigumo was a powerful lord, the Inu no Taisho was greater still.
“Why are you here?” she gasped, forgetting her nakedness as she fisted his haori in her surprise.
“For what was stolen.” He nodded towards her small, side table.
It took a moment for Kagome to blink passed the haze of satiated desire, to alight on the sword. “Tenseiga.”
“Tenseiga,” he repeated with a nod.
A realization zipped through her mind and tumbled from her lips. “It belongs to you. It was stolen.” By Lord Onigumo.
“You didn’t know?”
Kagome shook her head, eyes wide. The ramifications were staggering.
“Forgive me, Lord Sesshomaru,” she murmured, horrified to be implicated in theft. And one against a mighty daimyo. Fear slithered down her spine. “I had no idea, I swear it.”
Sesshomaru eyed her intently. “No. I rather doubt you had.”
Kagome’s heart flipped. He believed her! Relief washed through her, making her sag against him.
Then his gaze sharpened, worrying her. “Are you Onigumo’s whore?”
Kagome stiffened, before she tried to wriggle from his lap. Powerful arms tightened around her, refusing her release. She growled, furious. “Of course not!”
“To become paramour to a prominent lord is of the highest honour.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“Well, I’m not his whore,” she insisted. Giving up, she crossed her arms over her chest—only to remember her nudity. Kagome yanked the folds of her yukata closed on a strangled gasp. At Lord Sesshomaru’s low chuckle, she dared glare back at him.
“Feisty little wildcat.” She swore she saw approval settle in his beguiling gaze. Then he made an outlandish proposal. “Come away with me.”
Kagome blinked. Then blinked again.
Leaning down, he nuzzled his nose against hers. “Come with me.”
Dark temptation.
Held enthralled by golden fire, Kagome felt herself nod in helpless answer. A sound rumbled from Sesshomaru’s chest. A purr. Satisfaction. That sound—knowing she’d pleased him—made her shiver, her pussy quivering.
Then Sesshomaru sealed their bond with a fiery kiss.