I Fell for Myself by Stella Mira

Do Not Mock Me

The journey back to the village had been uneventful in all manners and aspects. There had been neither assaults nor storms to delay them, but no conversation either besides mundane, trivial things. It had been nerve-racking, more exhausting than if all those things had happened at once. When they finally reached the village, Kagome felt as if she would keel over and pass out at any given minute. The rest of their pack didn't look much better. Except for the children – but the miko could bet the reason for that had more to do with excitement and less with stamina. Inuyasha had traveled to her era for modern supplies. Kagome was not inclined to let her mother see her as a male yōkai – or, worse, her grandfather. She wasn't even certain that she could travel to her time in this body – and she wouldn't like to test that theory. Inuyasha would have to suffice for now – so long as he gave her mother the suitable excuse they had crafted.

"Kagome-sama, we are heading to Kaede-sama's hut for supper. It is useless to await Inuyasha by the well. He will return soon."

Kagome smiled a warm smile at the monk, full of gratitude, but declined his offer. "You can go ahead, Miroku-san."

Miroku spared her a last glance, half-invitation, half-weariness, but didn't insist.

With slow, unhurried steps, Kagome approached the Bone Eater's well, came to sit beside Sesshōmaru, under the cloud-woven sky. "We need to talk."

A slight tilt, a slant of his neck, Sesshōmaru gazed at her under curled lashes. The whiteness of his neck, the slope of his back, the fullness of his cleavage, the scent of woman, intoxication smeared on skin – Kagome was aware of many things, too aware. Intrinsic lure, undeniable, unwanted, she drew closer, leaned into his side, breathed him in. If Sesshōmaru noticed, he didn't show it – but she knew he did.

"Regarding the scent-mark?"

She gave him a nod, inhaled deeper, felt the stirrings of something dark, primal, fires in her bloodstream, electrons in her nerves. Heat. Yes – she had a name for it, but nothing else, no beginning, no middle, no end.

"Inuyasha explained to me what it means, why an inuyōkai would feel the urge for scent-mark, so you don't have to go into details. What I wanted to say is that, instincts or no instincts, I don't want to be into you." Kagome hadn't meant to use the hanyō's words, but she found herself at a loss, picked the first thing that flashed in her mind. Being near him was having strange effects on her, slow ignition, fast electricity.

"That is fortunate." His proclivity for mockery, the huskiness of his voice, inflamed those sensations, fed them raw fruits of provocation – and Sesshōmaru must have known. This was his body, originally. Kagome couldn't fathom why he baited the Hunter inside her, why he kindled the coals of that sentient desire – but he needed to stop. It was making her restless, aroused, brought her closer to the brink. Breath by breath. Little by little.

"I thought you possessed some measure of intelligence, but you seem unable to grasp our situation. I will make it very simple for you. Because of your messed up instincts and male urges, I'm liable to attack you in your sleep without my knowledge or your consent." She slashed him with her eyes, gold-edged daggers.

"I thought you possessed some measure of control, but you seem unable to tether those urges. It is but animal impulses, woman. Rise above them – unless you consider yourself lower than a mere animal."

"Do not mock me." Even as Kagome growled the warning, forced it past clenched teeth, she knew it was too late. She was more animal than human, more male than female, in this form – and she wanted him, his slender neck, his arced collarbones, low and lower still, flesh hidden beneath white cotton. Fabric torn, buttons ripped, she buried herself in the swell of his breasts, licked and nipped, rumbled and pleaded.

"Stop – or make me stop."