Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hate me, hate me, still tryna replace me,
Chase me, chase me, tell me how you hate me,
Erase me, 'rase me, wish you never dated me,
Lies, tell me lies, baby, tell me how you hate me.

Ellie Goulding - Hate Me

Chapter 1: Kagome

“This is it, Kags. This will be our year!” My best friend Sango beams with a grin that consumes her face, her entire body giddy with excitement.

“Hell or high water, right?” I reply, my sing-song voice rising above the sound of the latest pop hit on the radio.

But as I drive up to the Shikon University parking lot in my loveable, but barely functioning Volkswagen Beetle, Betty, I survey the other students' cars relentlessly. Tapping the steering wheel in a barely controlled, almost erratic manner, my eyes shift back and forth as I hold my breath.

And that's when I see them.

Just as rumors said, three Audis shine in the morning light - right smack in the front of the lot - next to the spot designated for the university's president.

Sango's gaze follows mine. Everyone knows who the cars belong to : The Kings, a trio of demons who rule the school. Shikon is a prestigious college - first of its kind to be integrated, allowing demons only last year. The university was formally last on everyone's list of potential colleges - mainly due to the fact the athletic department was abysmal. That was until Sesshomaru, Inuyasha, and Koga entered the scene.

With their unnatural demon senses and speed, they were natural football players, sending Shikon straight to a National Championship win. Just like that, they were accepted with open arms. Gods in a place that defines its worth by the scoreboard. They tear up the town, and come Saturday night, all is forgiven as the town worships at their altar.

It makes me sick.

Some of us come to Shikon for the amazing academic programs. After all, it is one of the top Ivy League schools sans Harvard and Yale. I should be proud to have a full-ride scholarship here. Today should be the start of great things. But the dread in my stomach knows better. Why does he have to be here too?

“Don't worry about them, Kags.”

I tear my eyes away from the sparkling hunks of metal. They aren't even that pretty. “Me? Worried about The Kings? Please.” Their reputation as reckless idols proceeds them, but The Kings are sophomores. In addition, my major is art, a subject that rarely interests jocks. Even so, I fight not to lose my breakfast.

I swore I would never see him again and if I run into him here -

“Chances are we may never run into them at all if we are so lucky.” I continue talking to stop the negative thoughts charging recklessly around my head. It should be easy to avoid him as long as we aren't in the same stupid prerequisite classes everyone has to take. Why would an art major need to know chemistry anyway?

The walk from the far side of the parking lot seems to take forever in the oppressive heat. Having grown up here, I still feel I'll never get used to it. As we near the front, I can't help but roll my eyes as we approach The Kings' sports cars. One of them – the red one - has a huge naked woman silhouette plastered on the back window. How typical. If it were a truck it would probably have the tasteless ball sack hanging from the hitch.

Such is life in the South.

My chest constricts a bit as I continue to stare at the cardinal-colored car, unable to look away. I know that car. I came close to losing my virginity a few times in it. It's his favorite color; he used to wear red hoodies all the time in high school. Some things haven't changed – has he?

I will never find out. No one else knows anything about that part of my past – my past with him. I was a different person back then, still trying to find myself, scared to rock the status quo. Terrified to-

“What's your first class again?” Sango's voice breaks me from my stupor.

We've gone over our schedules countless times, but with both of us taking 18 hours this semester, it's easy to forget the order. I smooth the paper from my pocket, “Art 102, you?”

“Ugh.” Sango grimaces, her whole body tensing. “Psychology 101 with Dr. Stein. I heard he's a stickler for the grading scale and doesn't curve at the end. I'm a goner.”

I laugh, patting my hand on her back in mock support. Psyc. 101 is a far cry from Sango's business major. At least my first class will be enjoyable. “This is our year, remember that. Hell or high water.”

Hell or high water.

---

Organizing all my art supplies perfectly on the table, I study each pristine new item, endless possibilities flitting through me. There is nothing better than new art gear, so perfect in all their untapped potential. I'm practically foaming at the mouth. Running my fingers gently over the unblemished pack of pastels and charcoals, I suddenly remember myself, nervously glancing around. But I'm still sitting alone at the table in the back and no one has noticed my affair with my supplies.

Whoa, get a grip Kagome.

I was ten minutes early for class. Always early, that's me. In any normal class, I would have taken the available table in the front. But this is art and I do my best work when not under scrutinizing stares. After all, I'm my own worst critic.

As the clock strikes nine, I wonder why my partner is late – or if I have one at all. If the latter, it couldn't be more perfect. I have much to prove since Mr. Takami allowed me to skip 101 based on my extensive portfolio. Having the table to myself is the best start possible to the new year.

“Hello, students,” Mr. Takami beams in his adorable navy blue sweater. “Welcome to Art 102. I hope you're ready because this year I aim to challenge you.”

A few groans break out as I grip my pencil tighter with a grin.

Bring it on.

“Let's get started, shall we? We'll start with a quick review of the Principles of Design. But don't get too comfortable. Come Monday, we are jumping straight into figure drawing, which will include every art student's worst nightmare – hands.”

More groans echo through the room.

“First, we'll take a look at the principle of interest, better known as contr-”

As the classroom door slams open with a resounding thwack, I jump, nearly falling off my stool as my pencil goes flying. Leaning down to pick it up, I curse with frustration as the perfect point lies broken on the tile, the pencil just out of reach. Grumbling, I kneel on the floor, glancing at the door from beneath the table. Through many pairs of legs, I spot perfectly pristine athletic sneakers and dark wash jeans standing in the doorway. I grip the table in one hand and the pencil I need to sharpen in the other, pulling myself upright so I can continue to study the intruder.

What. A. Jerk.

A heathered gray shirt clings to each and every defined muscle of his abs as it moves with controlled breathing - as if his interruption was nothing. A smirk tugs at his lips as he casually brushes long silver tendrils of hair from his face, his gorgeous golden eyes indifferent to his intrusion.

No. No. No.

Turn your eyes away, Kags. Resharpen your pencil. Will yourself to become invisible.

But I can't.

Inuyasha Taisho looms in the doorway and he looks like nothing short of sin. While he looked good in high school, a year of college football only served to make him resemble a GQ model. His golden orbs are just as captivating as I remember; his smile just as sexy. I had avoided newspapers, local news shows, social media – all to forget his face.

He's probably forgotten all about you. Things will be friendly; it will be fine.

I make the lethal mistake of glancing across the room as he does.

At first, he blinks, narrowing his eyes as if he's seen a ghost. Then his eyes darken like the sky before a storm, as his fists clench by his side.

Get up and run. Run for the door, don't look back.

But I'm rooted to the spot.

Mr. Takami's face mirrors my flustered state before it automatically falls into one of neutrality. “Mr. Taisho. Please find your seat.”

In an instant, Inuyasha's cool, composed mask of the beloved star quarterback is back in place. The ease of the abrupt change causes my arms to wrap around my stomach, trying to quell its unease.

My eyes dart around. There is another seat somewhere. There has to be. His footsteps thump on the linoleum floor, each louder than the last. Time is running out. My broken pencil twitches in my hand, hitting the table in an erratic rhythm until my whole vision is full of – him. I avert my eyes to look around his substantial form, intently faking focus on the sound of chalk against the board as Mr. Takami shades in a visual representation of contrast.

But I don't need it. There is a perfect contrast to my five-foot-five frame looming over me - as if the bastard's waiting for something. When I don't acknowledge him, he finally moves to sit beside me.

Well, see Kagome? That wasn't so ha-

A crash resounds on the table as a bag of art supplies dumps across it, nearly making me jump out my skin again. I finally look at him, the shit-eating grin on his face making my body burn as my breath quickens. I clench my green skirt under the table to prevent myself from slapping the smirk from his lips. But his eyes betray his otherwise cool demeanor as they focus on me like a predator salivating over his prey's impending destruction - and taking pleasure in every moment.

Fuck, he hasn't forgotten you.

He studies me as he sinks into his seat, eyes finally falling on my throat. “Are you mute now or something, Higurashi?” His voice is pure male, husky, and low. The undercurrent of resentment in his tone rubs against me like sandpaper. “I know most women are speechless in my presence, but you are setting a record.”

I smooth my skirt, making sure the professor's attention has not been drawn by his gravelly whisper. My mouth opens and closes for a minute at the audacity of him. King or no king, past or no past, he won't ruin my first class. “I can speak just fine, thank you.”

“She can speak and remembers her manners.” He looks pleased. “The tables sure have turned, haven't they?”

“Ah, yes. Forgive me, your majesty for not bowing down in your presence.” I make the mistake of glancing at him again. Lounging his head on his hand, he looks at me with mixed curiosity and rage, ignoring the professor completely.

“No bowing necessary.” The red continues to consume the amber in his eyes. “You know I prefer you on your knees.”

The hair raises on the back of my neck as my legs tense. “Must be your unlucky day, Taisho, because neither will be happening. I told you we're done.” The words ache for a moment before the fleeting painful memories are consumed by my fight or flight response. “Besides, if loathing you weren't enough, I hate jocks."

“Still not a football fan, I see.”

“Not even close.”

He shifts closer, creeping into my line of sight, looking at me like I'm a riddle he has yet to figure out. “I imagine you're not feeling so high and mighty now, are you princess?”

The old pet name causes me to wince as I grind the pencil into the sharpener much too hard for the sensitive lead. One thing is undoubtedly clear: this is not the Inuyasha I once knew. The championship must have gone to his head.

A lot of people inflate their ego, but I've always viewed myself as stronger than the average woman for having endured numerous trials the past year. I emerged from it stronger and built a fortress to protect myself and my family. In one moment with no resistance, it is crumbling to dust at my feet.

“Why are you at Shikon, Ka-go-me?” He segments the syllables just as he used to, causing my thighs to clench on their own accord. His tone sounds sordid, dirty – so very wrong. Even worse, if past memories don't stop resurfacing, I'm going to get aroused and that bastard will smell it. I can only take so much humiliation in one day. “You said you never wanted to see me again. And yet – there you are and here I am. Why is that?”

He has every reason to hate me, and even though I deserve it, the betrayal that burns in his eyes cuts through me like a twisting knife.

Just do what you have to survive and deal with your pride later.

My trembling fingertips involuntarily brush the scar at the juncture of my shoulder. “I didn't plan this if that's what you're implying. This is a big school.”

He leans forward, overshadowing me and breathing my air. I tuned out the professor long ago. When Inuyasha is in the room, all I can manage to focus on is him. His breath drifts against my throat like a summer breeze, only nothing about it is comforting.

“Doesn't feel very big right now, does it?”

I shift in my chair to create distance. “No.” The words sound small, something I swore never to feel again. Fuck him and his new alpha male mentality. I grab my stool and move it to the other side of the table. The low whining noise as the legs scrape across the floor causes his ears to pin back.

Serves you right, asshole.

I pick up a charcoal from my supplies, ready to focus now that whatever that was is finally over. Mr. Takami is illustrating the shading of spheres and I begin to draw the perfect practiced circle on the empty page before me.

“So what's your next class, princess?”

The charcoal juts hard to the left just as the circle is almost complete. “None of your business. Now if you'll excuse me, your highness,” I tap my open notebook for effect with my charcoal, “I need to pass this class.”

Why am I allowing him to affect me? Focus. Just tune him out and-

“Taking 18 hours. You always were such an overachiever, Ka-go-me.” I glance at him as I bite my lip in anger. How did he know?

A clawed finger taps my schedule on the table, mimicking my earlier gesture. “You might be surprised that I can read, Higurashi.”

Clutching the schedule, I stuff it into my bag. “Most surprising, being you're on the football team and all.”

“As you can see, there is subtle contrast and drastic contrast.” Mr. Takami's voice reaches us. “In this example, contrast can be pushed by further exaggerating the values.”

Contrast. This asshole and I have it in spades. Watching the minute hand on the class clock slowly inch forward, I realize I'm stuck next to him for at least thirty more minutes.

Hell or high water, I had told Sango.

This was most certainly Hell.

Chapter Text

Wanna love ya,
Wanna bug ya,
Wanna squeeze ya,
Stupid girl.

Wanna touch ya,
Wanna take ya,
Wanna shut ya,
Stupid girl.

I can't take this,
Born to break this.

Cold - Stupid Girl

Chapter 2 : Inuyasha

I hadn't meant to be late for the first day of class, not really. If Kikyo hadn't desperately grabbed me after my morning workout and pulled me into the locker room, I might've been on time. Quickie is not a term in the head cheerleader's vocabulary. Then again, who am I kidding? Heck, even if I hadn't gotten laid, I still would've been late.

There's no incentive for me to be early, or even show up for that matter.

The professors are used to me being tardy. Each semester they're briefed by Coach Myoga on their expected blind eye. It's the unspoken rule of Shikon – if the football players do something wrong, look the other way and pretend it never happened. Can't have the star quarterback getting kicked off the team for failing grades or some stupid bullshit.

I was in Mr. Takami's Art 101 class last year; he knows the drill. The professor isn't the type to bend rules unless he's conceding to the will of a higher power, but I don't give a fuck. The higher power has spoken.

The school needs me, not the other way around.

Hitting the classroom door with more force than I intend, it crashes back, leaving startled students in its wake. Quite the entrance, if I do say so myself. All eyes are on me, just how I like it.

All eyes minus one pair.

A head of long ebony hair bobs under the table as a lithe figure crawls beneath it on her knees, giving me a glance of her exposed thigh as her skirt rides up her long legs. I stop staring before someone notices. If I look too long, girls start getting ideas. One thing leads to another and I ain't into that long-term shit. Adjusting my backpack that's about to fall off my shoulder, I smile at the class, barely recognizing anyone, even though we were likely all in the same class last year.

Why do I even bother to come?

And then I remember – if I don't show, my old man will have my hide. Appearances are everything. And that means attempting class and appearing to be a model college student. I'm not as good as faking it as Sesshomaru, but then again he never shows any emotion, so no one actually knows what he's thinking.

I envy that motherfucker.

When I finally glance back to the girl, I finally get a good look at her face as our eyes lock.

No. Fucking. Way.

You've got to be shitting me.

My entire body is instantly on fire as my fists clench and release, trying to fight the urge to punch a crater in the wall.

Do you have a death wish, little one?

A growl reverberates around my mind like a ricocheting bullet as a once familiar power burns in my muscles. My cheeks start tingling and if I don't stop my demon now, it's all over. Fuck, not here. I had repressed that monster for the past year with no issues. The last time he surfaced was because of her.

Kagome Higurashi.

I squash my demon's desire to rush forward, grab her by her throat, and demand to know why she dare show her fucking face here. But then I notice something unexpected shining in her big brown eyes – fear. Interesting. Maybe the little bitch wasn't expecting me after all.

“Mr. Taisho. Please find your seat.”

At the sound of Mr. Takami 's voice, I remember we are both in a class, surrounded by people. The seat next to her is the only one available.

Perfect.

Art 102 just got a lot more interesting.

Striding across the room, I remember to return the smiles of everyone. The girls gush and one of the guys hits me on the back as I pass. But as I stand before her, there are no smiles. She simply looks around me, glancing behind me at the boring scribbles on the board as the professor begins the lecture. Her pulse thumps erratically - the only outward sign that she is in fact not near as calm and collected as she appears.

Her innocent brown eyes are intently focused, refusing to even spare me the slightest glance. Pretending I don't exist.

And that will not do.

I casually move to sit beside her, watching as the tension in her shoulders eases a bit. Another smirk pulls at my lips.

Holding my supply bag two feet over the table, I let everything crash down, drawing everyone's eyes to the two of us. Her hands clench her short green skirt, showing off more of her creamy thighs. What's worse? I know they are as soft and inviting as they look as her expression changes to pure revulsion. She swallows hard, trying to subdue her anger. Her buttons are so easy to push that I can't help but continue, watching as her ample breasts rise above the neckline of her shirt.

Mr. Takami clears his throat, drawing the attention of the students back to the board. However, Kagome's eyes are trained on my every movement as I sit, her posture stiff and her eyes cold. She knows that if she looks away, there will be consequences.

And Kagome Higurashi was always one to play by the rules.

“Are you mute now or something, Higurashi? I know most women are speechless in my presence, but you are setting a record.”

Fidgeting her skirt again, I picture it on the floor, her sweet body spread across the table. “I can speak just fine, thank you.” Her haughty retort makes me grin wider, imagining all the other sounds I might coax unwillingly from her mouth. Sounds I have coaxed from her sweet lips before.

“The tables sure have turned, haven't they?”

“Ah, yes. Forgive me, your majesty for not bowing down in your presence.”

I put my head casually in my hand, trying to look disinterested, even as my dick throbs at the sarcastic title from her lips.

“No bowing necessary.” I can feel my demon wanting to take the reins again. Usually, I can easily subdue him, but not around her. Even in a room full of people, the pull is always there – mark her, fuck her, make her my mate. “I'd prefer you on your knees.”

“Must be your unlucky day, Taisho, because neither will be happening.” Oh well, can't say I didn't try. “I told you we're done.” The immense growl that fills my mind again is impossible to ignore as my claws elongate under the table. “Besides, if loathing you weren't enough, I hate jocks.”

If only we were alone, then we could stop all this stupid small talk, drop pretenses, and drop her panties. Kagome Higurashi taught me love was for losers. Her love is something I no longer need.

But her body? That's another story.

“Still not a football fan, I see.”

“Not even close.”

Challenge accepted, little one. I move so close she can feel my breath on her neck. “I imagine you're not feeling so high and mighty now, are you princess?”

As she winces, her scent sours more, confirming that our random meeting was not of her doing. Something about watching her squirm is turning my demon on in all the worst ways.

“Why are you at Shikon, Ka-go-me?” I don't miss the way her sweet thighs clench or the whiff of her arousal. Maybe we weren't as done as she claims we were. “You said you never wanted to see me again. And yet – there you are and here I am. Why is that?”

She brushes her scar – the one I gave her – and it only serves to fully enrage me as I fight down the urge to bare my canines at her.

“I didn't plan this if that's what you're implying. This is a big school.”

Shikon is supposed to be a big town too, but that didn't stop fate from practically putting her back in my lap. Right now the town feels too small, and small is exactly what I will make her feel.

I lean over and her eyes follow as her breathing becomes panicked.

“Doesn't feel very big right now, does it?”

“No.” Her chair makes a high-pitched whine across the floor and I emit a low growl as my ears pin back. Once again she thinks she's out of my grasp. But she's in my world now and I run this show.

“So what's your next class, princess?”

“None of your business. Now, if you'll excuse me, your highness, I need to pass this class.”

I glance down, never accepting defeat. Her schedule sits in front of her, in full view. All her other classes are freshman ones, minus art. So, she skipped 101, interesting. I remember in high school she used to be into this art stuff. I only joined the class because it was a better elective than music. In art, I can sit back and not do shit, pretending to listen. Music requires actual singing and effort. I memorize every line of when and where she will be on campus, as well as her dorm assignment before going on the attack again. She's staying at Baker Hall, clear across campus and close to the stadium - close to my place.

“Taking 18 hours. You always were such an overachiever, Ka-go-me.” I punctuate each syllable again for emphasis, raising an eyebrow and crossing my arms. Fuck her, I don't need her. Any victory, even a slight one, over her makes me feel indestructible.

That is, until she bites her lip, eyes filling with an uneasy expression. Good gods, if only I could get her mouth around my cock looking up at me like that.

The image of her on her knees with my hands buried deep in her hair makes it hard to breathe, hard to remember I hate her. “You might be surprised that I can read, Higurashi.” Somehow the words come out without faltering.

“Most surprising, being you're on the football team and all.”

Low blow, now she's making assumptions about me being a jock. Typical nerd. I spin my championship ring around my finger, the weight of it reminding me that I'm no longer nothing to this stupid town. Despite everything, the notion calms me.

Until her scent crashes into me, slowly returning to its natural state, a heady mixture of vanilla and sugar, sweet and...innocent. The delectable smell sends foreign shocks through my entire body as my eyes tinge fully red for a moment. When they refocus through the haze, she has my demon's full and undivided attention.

She hasn't been with any guy since we messed around. She's still a virgin. The thought should serve as some sort of consolation, but all I can think about is bending her over the table and finishing what we started last year.

Then the rational side of me remembers all the shit she put me through and I want to ruin her seven ways to Sunday. The demonic side of me wants her begging and pleading – shattered beyond repair on the floor.

“As you can see, there is subtle contrast and drastic contrast.” Mr. Takami's voice reaches us. “In this example, contrast can be pushed by further exaggerating the values.”

The corners of her lips subtly upturn when I don't reply, returning to her notes. So, she thinks she's won again. How cute.

Not even close, princess. Attention on me. Only me.

Her pack of brand-new pastels sits precariously near the edge of the table. Vaguely remembering the supply list, she chose to purchase the most expensive brand listed, which means she takes a lot of pride in having the best. The idea brewing in my mind is immature as hell, but it will make her squirm.

Hurt her. Break her like she broke us.

I slowly sweep my hand across the table, the motion catching her gaze, her eyes widening in realization. The sticks are delicate and she knows it. Just one little push and-

The bag around them does little, only keeping the pieces contained as they break against the floor.

“You fucking bastard!”

Her shout startles everyone, including me, as she rises to her feet, glaring down at me like vermin. Her eyes water in anger, going large and glassy. The professor glances at me and my smirk. He opens his mouth, but then thinks better of it, turning his attention to Kagome.

“Miss Higurashi,” Mr. Takami scolds, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Am I interrupting something?”

A bright red flush creeps across her cheeks as she glances around the room, wincing. “No. No, professor. Forgive me, it won't happen again.”

Oh, but it will. I happen to like you like this.

The metal stool rattles as she sinks into it too hard, her entire body frozen. The inquisitive eyes have left her, returning to the teacher. Even so, her vacant eyes gaze blankly forward, unfocused and hazy. I don't get her; it's not life and death. It's just an art class.

My demon takes a deep, gratifying sigh as I look her over. “You seem tense, Higurashi. Anything I can do to help?”

Her brown eyes snap to me then, the words barely audible through her clenched teeth. “Stay away from me, Taisho.”

“Not in a million years, princess.”

This is the beginning of your end.

Chapter Text

I feel you crumble in my arms down to your heart of stone,
You bled me dry just like the tears you never show.
Why don't you take what you want from me?
Take what you need from me.
Take what you want and go.

Why don't you take what you want from me?
Take what you need from me.
Take what you want and go.

Post Malone – Take What You Want

Chapter 3: Kagome

“About time, Higurashi! You're late. I told you this wouldn't work, didn't I? If you can't handle the hours, cut back. Do it again and you're fired, understood?”

My boss' rant is the cherry on top of my fucked up day. I left the dorm as quickly as possible after my full day of classes, but had underestimated the traffic in driving clear across town. In spite of wanting to tell him where he can shove his attitude, I can't ditch my job at Fox Fire. I would lose my scholarship before I lost this job.

Hugging myself, I fight to calm my emotions. “I'm sorry, Mr. Naraku. It won't happen again.” I wince, having apologized too many times today. My entire art class probably thinks I'm unhinged due to Taisho's tactics earlier and now I have to deal with this shit.

Naraku's red eyes bore into me, looking me up and down too long for my liking. “You're damn right it won't. You'll be closing tonight.”

I fight back a groan. That means I'll be back at the dorm around 1am at the earliest. I was supposed to be first out so I could manage some sleep for another full day of classes tomorrow. “Yes, sir.”

Closing the distance, he brushes a cold hand across the base of my neck. I fight back the urge to flinch and recoil as my stomach twists. “Good. I'd hate to lose you, Kagome.”

I'm grateful I don't have to respond as he releases me and walks away. I fucking hate his sleazy hands and the sideways glances as he watches me from across the room. For good measure, I jerk my top up and my shorts down, achieving the most modest look the skimpy bar uniform is capable of.

“Kags! There you are!” I exhale slowly and deliberately to release the tension as Sango approaches me. We've been working here for almost a year now; we met here. Our friendship is the only redeeming thing about this hellhole. “How was your first day?”

My first day? Is that what the past nine hours were? They seemed a never-ending eternity. I don't remember where one class ended and the other began. The only thoughts ringing clearly in my head were those of first period – thoughts that were better off forgotten. Repressing the urge to curl up in a ball on the floor as the memories flood forward, I turn to Sango.

“It was everything I thought and more.” I smile more than necessary, knowing I'm an awful liar. “I'm not sure which class I liked the most.”

I know with utmost certainty which one I liked least.

Sango jumps back and forth on her feet with an adorable clap of her hands. “See? I told you this would be great! It seems all my fears were baseless as well. Dr. Stein is quite the hottie for his age.” She is practically glowing with happiness, teeming with life. This is how our first day should have gone. The silence stretches for an awkward moment before I remember I need to engage in the banter.

“Well, I'm glad you have the motivation to study. I know you need it.”

Sango, I love you, but I need to get to work and figure out how the hell I'm going to walk back into class Friday morning and sit next to that – that -

“I know, right? I told you it would be great! And not A King in sight!”

A shiver crawls up my spine. If she only knew.

I could tell her – I should tell her. But then I'll have her pity. Then, she'll want to make it better. I'll dissolve into her strength and probably start crying. It doesn't take much to make me tear up and once it starts...

Sango didn't go to Shikon High, so I can keep that part of my past in the past – where it belongs. “You know what would be the perfect end to our perfect day?” Drowning my sorrows in cheese and carbs. “Pizza.”

The end of this day will come five long hours from now, but I can dream.

Sango's eyes light up, “Oooo, I'll order it on the way home. Cheese sticks too, right?”

“Of course, that's the best part! You can start eating it without me though, I have to close.”

Her nostrils flare. “That bastard.”

I nod in agreement. “He thinks I'm taking on too much.”

Sango's eyes appraise me as her voice flattens. “Do you think he might have a point, Kags? You push yourself too hard. You have double the shifts I do. Maybe if we got jobs closer to campus...”

As my shorts ride up my thighs, I jerk them down again. “I'm fine. We better get out there before Naraku comes.”

Swinging the door open and effectively ending the conversation, I'm greeted by a room full of patrons. Fox Fire is a hellhole, but it's the best hellhole I can manage – full of customers and far enough from campus that pictures of a certain hanyou don't adorn every wall.

Luckily, the first week of school started on a Wednesday, so I would just have to get through tomorrow and Friday then I would have the whole weekend to recover from my classes.

But is any amount of time enough to recover from Inuyasha Taisho?

---

My hands are shaking as I check on the new pack of pastels tucked safely in my bag. This time, they're cheap as fuck – a step above elementary grade. If he decides to act like a temperamental four-year-old again, I'll just replace them. Simple as that.

Gods, I'm so tired I can barely see straight. Yesterday's classes were a complete blur and I was back at work again – once again on the closing shift. I rub my eyes, unsuccessfully forcing them to focus as the edges of the board blend into the wall.

FML.

Despite everyone talking, I can somehow still hear the sound of the clock ticking as the minutes go by. Coming ten minutes early was a mistake. I should have waited in the nearby bathroom until it was time for class to start.

Hiding in the bathroom? Come on, Kagome. What is this? Middle school?

Straightening my spine and yawning, I roll my shoulders back and open my notebook. And that's when it happens...

The room goes quiet, as if everyone's ability to speak is suddenly forgotten. I want to glance up, but I know what – or rather who - awaits me. Making matters worse, after my horrendous display Wednesday, everyone is probably staring at us. The lump in my throat grows as I audibly swallow, so loud I swear the whole room can hear it. Gripping my pencil, I stare down at the blank page again.

What should I do? I can write something. This page is going to be for my notes. The date and class would be helpful. What's the date today?

A shadow looms over my paper, covering it. I don't have to look. I know it's him. Even when he's simply existing, his presence suffocates me. Of all days, why did he have to be early? I doubt he's been early for class a day in his life. Think, what's the date? It's the third day of classes and I can't even remember the damn date. Should I take out my phone? No, calm down, Kagome.

It's okay.

Breathe.

The shadow moves as the stool beside me rattles.

Now I'm just the idiot staring at a blank page holding a pencil.

The chatter resumes cautiously once everyone realizes I'm not going to sock him in the face while the teacher is away. That's right, no more drama from this girl. I need my scholarship.

And sleep.

Glancing up at the clock, I struggle to calm my racing pulse as I realize a whole two minutes have passed. While the eyes of the students are now elsewhere, that arrogant prick is staring at me – I can tell by how deadly still he's been since he sat down. He hasn't even taken anything out of his backpack.

Each inhale and exhale he takes is labored and heavy, weighing down the air around me like he's stealing it from my lungs. Sucking my cheek in, I chew on it. I should have stayed in the dorm and taken a sick day. God knows I certainly feel sick. My eyes dart to the door. I can pick up my notebook and just very calmly walk out. Go home, stuff my face with leftover pizza, and figure out a solution to this -

“Good morning, princess.”

The blood freezes in my veins as goosebumps prickle my skin. Don't look at him.

Don't do it.

Good morning? Are you fucking kidding me? It is morning, but calling it good is a stretch of his twisted imagination. And I am not a princess. Oh! The date is August 26. I scribble it down. I need to ignore him – just let him sit and suffer. But this is the south and my mama didn't raise no heathen.

“Morning.” Still not going to look at that bastard though. This is hopeless. I'm not supposed to be seen with him. Trying to disengage only backfires like a hastily loaded gun. Like he's TNT and I'm a flamethrower.

Why can't he just leave me the hell alone?

I could drop the class, but that would not only put me under the hours for my scholarship, it would put me behind on my graduation track and that would cost money – money that needs to go to my parents and the shrine. If I drop out and just work, then I lose my scholarship, missing out on my dreams.

Hopeless.

A scent drifts through the air and immediately I know what he's wearing – and I curse the fact that the classes are cold when it's hotter than Hades outside. His soft cotton pullovers always soaked in a little too much of his musky cologne - the manly aroma that smells like forests, rain, and sin. I'm not sure sin has a scent, but if it did, it would smell like Inuyasha Tashio.

I bite my cheek so hard I wince, sparing him a glance.

And there it is, hanging loosely on the defined muscles I know lie beneath it, a red hoodie.

I bury my face into the warmth, wrapping my arms tighter around him, drawing my knees up until they rest in his lap. I flip through the shows, pretending I can't decide what I want to watch before stopping on my favorite.

“Glee? Again?” Even as he admonishes me, his arm pulls me to him. “You have awful taste in shows, you know that?”

My playful punch against his arm makes him grin. If possible his eyes get golder, the swirls seeming to dance. “You're full of shit. You know as soon as they start singing you start humming.” I press play despite his groan, leaning my head on his chest with a smile as my body completely relaxes into his.

Feeling safe. Feeling loved. Feeling perfect.

Then a singular thought crosses my mind on its own accord.

This is what forever feels like.

“Today, we are going to be focusing on the last of the Principles of Design.”

My fingers are rubbing up and down my pencil as Mr. Takami's voice interrupts my unwelcome trip down memory lane. I can't take it back. I can't change it. I can't fix it. I did what I needed to do, now it's time to leave it all where it belongs.

Nothing good can come from the past.

Nothing at all.

Inuyasha

I didn't sleep last night. And when I did finally close my eyes – keh. All I could see was her. I thought the fantasies would end when my alarm rang, but even when I'm awake...stupid little princess.

My dreams usually consist of championships, of flying pigskins and cheering fans, not women. After all, my dad and football were both to thank for people no longer trying to act as if we don't exist – or worse trying to lock us up because we're dangerous.

Truth be told, there are only two times I truly feel dangerous. On the football field. And with her. And yet, here I was, early for class, in hopes of spending just a few more minutes with her.

Playing with fire.

I've never been denied what I've wanted a day in my life and I want her. Even dressed in a knee-length plaid skirt and black shirt wearing no makeup her body calls to me. Exactly what I want from her is still up for debate.

Only one thing is certain – all my darkest desires involve her stripped naked.

She's watching the professor like a hawk, but showing no interest in taking notes. After she spit a morning back at me, her scent mellowed, souring.

I have no intention of allowing her to shatter so easily.

“I want to see you this weekend.” I say matter-of-factly as if I'm discussing the weather. “We should do dinner.”

Brown eyes lock onto mine at my statement. Her pulse skyrockets as sweat breaks across her forehead. “Dinner?” At least now her scent doesn't make my nose scrunch and my eyes water. “Did you get a concussion yesterday in practice, Tashio?”

“Actually, practice went perfectly. Nice that you're finally taking an interest in football.” As I scoot closer, she flinches like I've physically struck her.

“I don't want to see you. I don't want you anywhere near me.” She hisses in a low tone, trying to control the volume as not to draw attention to us. Only her body language doesn't match her flippant attitude as she grips the table, trying to steady her shaking hands as the sour scent returns, making me realize two things at the same time.

She's terrified of me for some reason.

And she's lying.

She doesn't fucking have the right to feel sad or act indifferent, she's the fucking one who left me. If I can't get the truth from her mouth, then I suppose I'll just have to take it from her body.

Her attention is back on the teacher – until my rough fingertips find her exposed knee under the table and her breath catches mid-inhale. At first, I simply rest the palm of my hand against the smooth skin, motionless as she goes rigid beneath my touch. Taking a strategy from her playbook, I stare forward, casually watching Mr. Takami drone on.

How much will it take to coax that spicy scent from her body?

Resisting the urge to plunge my fingers up her skirt and into her panties, I stoke my fingers back and forth just above her knee, then grip it roughly, before caressing her skin again. Immediately, she's squirming beneath my hand, and clenching her eyes shut, trying to block me out.

Nice try, little one.

As she moves to cross her legs, I grip her flesh harder in warning and she opens her eyes, submissively putting her heel back on the floor.

Good girl.

As I tighten my claws against her skin again, the first smell of her arousal fills my nose and I'm irked that my little game is over. Oh well, that doesn't mean I have to stop. My hand slides up the inside of her thigh and just under the hem of her skirt before a small hand grips my wrist.

I slowly swivel the stool to face her, as if I have all the time in the world. Her lips are slightly parted, breath coming out in shallow gasps. Her breasts swell and fall, her nipples straining against the black fabric of her shirt. But her eyes – they tell me she would kill me here if she could. I can't help but wonder who is torturing who.

“Are you sure you don't want me near you?” My voice sounds huskier than I intend and her body responds again as I easily twist free of her hold – grabbing her hand and interlacing it beneath mine. Forcing my hand up, hers has no choice but to follow, pushing her skirt further up, stopping just as my fingertips brush her panties.

“You were saying, princess?” I smirk, knowing I have her cornered. If she denies it, one tiny push will have the truth of the matter all over her fingers.

“Are you happy now?” Glaring at me, she looks beautiful, even in her anger.

I shrug half-heartedly, slipping my hand from hers and returning my attention to the professor, like it all meant nothing. Like she means nothing. “It's certainly a start.”

She abruptly jerks her skirt back into place, eyes blinking, scrutinizing me like she no longer recognizes me. “What the fuck happened to you, Yash?”

I flinch at the old nickname before leveling my eyes with hers.

“You did.”

Chapter Text

I don’t care if I lose it all,
I feel the cold of the nightfall,
I try to be a good guy, but actin’ like a monster,
Nobody knows me better than you,
I don’t care if I lose it all.

Emo – On It

Chapter 4: Kagome

“Sooooo...what are you wearing to the party tonight?”

The party? Oh, gods, I had almost forgotten about the stupid party.

At the start of the new school year, it is Shikon Academy tradition for the Hoishi family to throw a welcoming party. Rumor is, this year’s party will be the biggest and best yet, given that their son Miroku is an incoming freshman and Shikon legacy. After all, his ancestors practically paid for the university he is finally old enough to attend. The Hoishi family should have more power than The Kings at Shikon because money talks. But it depends on who you ask.

I sink into the hand-me-down couch from my late aunt, allowing the soft, velvety cushions to envelop me. Could I handle a party? If it were up to me, what I really need now is a Netflix binge of the most absurd romantic reality shows and chocolate–mountains of chocolate. Sleep would be nice too, then maybe I could forget about-

“Kagome?” My bestie sinks next to me, taking my hands in hers. “You okay?”

Having someone who understands you utterly and completely is a blessing until you need to hide your true self. Then it’s a curse.

“Yea.” It’s not convincing. Shit. “Yea.” I repeat with fake confidence. “First week is just a lot to take in, that’s all.” Sango is looking at me with her head tilted to the side as her lips press together. The same motherly look she gave me at Fox Fire the other night. It’s best to change the subject. When all else fails, create a diversion. “Do you still have that shiny little black dress?”

Her eyes light up, nodding over and over. “The one your mom wouldn’t let you out the house in last year?”

“That’s the one.” I can’t help but smile back. Nothing cures a bad day - correction, a bad week - like feeling like a million bucks–and that dress does it for me. I would have to face that asshole again on Monday. But tonight I will enjoy myself and fake it ‘til I make it. Nights off work are few and far between, and I won't spend mine moping. “Can I borrow it tonight?”

Sango squeals, loudly. “Of course, Kags. That dress was made for you anyway.”

As she runs off to get it, I slump back against the couch. I can do this. There doesn't need to be any complications. Tonight would be just two best friends, enjoying themselves.

After today, I deserve that.

---

The music is loud and loose; the drinks are flowing, and Sango and I look hot as fuck, if I do say so myself. The party is already in full swing as we arrive, the pungent smell of pot and booze heavy in the air. Every piece of furniture has been cleared from the massive parlor, leaving tons of space to dance and no upholstery for drunk students to ruin if they lose their lunch. The chandelier above us shakes with the thumping bass, and I stay close to Sango, as to not get lost in the many hallways that go off in every direction. She was born into this world, but me? I try to blend in so no one notices I look like a fish out of water. My palms sweat as my eyes dart around, studying every head in the dim light, but there are no dog ears and silver hair in sight.

I roll the tension out of my shoulders, excited to let loose and forget all about that bastard.

“Looks like the dance floor is full.” Sango yells loudly above the rap music blaring from multiple speakers. The bass vibrates through my body just like the chandelier as I gently sway, slowly shedding my inhibitions.

“Let’s get a drink.” I shout back, hoping we won’t be talking much tonight. Otherwise, I’ll be hoarse by morning.

Sango looks like a femme fatale in her bright red asymmetrical dress, a strategically placed cutout across her breasts. Her high ponytail sways across her back as she glides effortlessly through the crowd towards the bar. If any man denies her tonight, he would need restraint of steel.

The second after we grab our Cosmopolitans from the open bar, a handsome student strides up with a playful grin and eyes that won’t look away from Sango. That was quick; he may have just set a record. She didn't even have time to sip her drink. I step aside, allowing her to shine. Besides, men are the last thing on my mind. I’d rather forget they exist entirely.

“Name’s Miroku,” he introduces himself with a wink. “Pleased to meet you.”

Shikon legacy and future owner of this over-the-top house. Not bad, Sango. Not bad at all.

He grabs Sango's hand without asking and starts leading her to the dance floor. She shoots a questioning look at me over her shoulder and I shrug, waving at her with a stupid grin. It’s a reassuring look that I hope says I’m fine, you go have fun.

“Excuse me.”

In no time flat, she’s grinding against Miroku like she’s known him forever. Sango just has that effect on people. I always envied her confidence, hoping it would eventually rub off on me. But so far, no luck.

Other students quickly surround them on all sides, cheering them on. Sipping my drink, I nervously smile to myself just in case anyone is looking, anything not to look like the awkward girl alone at the party.

“Excuse me, miss.”

It takes me another full second to realize someone is speaking to me. I turn, glancing up into kind brown eyes.

“Forgive me,” his voice is so low, I can barely hear him over the music. “I was wondering if you’d–that is–would you like to -”

“Dance?” I supply a little too loudly before downing the rest of my drink and setting the empty glass on the bar. I haven’t had enough alcohol to want to dance with a stranger, but I also have no desire to be rude to any guy attempting to be a gentleman. “I’d love to.”

“Hojo,” he supplies over his shoulder as he grasps my hand gently, allowing me to follow him to the floor.

“Kagome,” I reply, blushing. He made sure he knew my name before he grinds his body on mine. It’s–cute and refreshing.

Hojo isn’t middle of the dance floor material like Sango and Miroku, so he settles for a dark corner across the room on the very edge of the crowd. Fine by me. Dancing with a guy I barely know was never quite my style, but anything beats being a wallflower.

As the next song starts, I let my hands caress my thighs bared by the dress as my hips sway with the beat. It’s immediately clear Hojo can’t figure out what he’d like to do with his own. At first, his hands both tentatively touch my hips, staying cemented in place. I continue dancing as his hands move up to my waist. I feel their weight ever-so-lightly against my dress, reminiscent of awkward middle school dances. I half expect him at any moment to turn me around and hold my shoulders with a two-feet gap between us.

Ugh, this is not how I planned to spend my night at all.

Just as I completely regret agreeing to dance, the weight lifts again and does not immediately return to my body. I twist back to see what transpired, but his hands are back. I wince, guessing he finally figured out what he wanted to do, because they dig into my hips a little too roughly.

Then one heavy hand traces up the side of my dress.

Over my breasts.

And around my throat.

Inuyasha

Her body trembles beneath my hands before going deathly still against me. I had pushed whoever the fuck that idiot was aside too easily, almost slamming him to the floor in the process. Dumb fuck. I rub my thumb against her pulse, feeling each shaky breath that enters her lungs as the softness of her breasts pushes against my unyielding arms.

Mine, all mine.

I lean in so close my 5 o’clock shadow brushes abrasively against the tender skin of her neck, causing a subtle moan as she shivers before going immobile once more.

Good girl. Seems you have a sense of self-preservation after all. I had gone easy on her this morning, but it was time she knew the new me. It had been ten hours since art class. Ten hours where all I did was think of her. Ten hours for me to imagine all the things I wanted to do to her once we were alone. Before I met her, I never thought of any woman for over an hour.

They came, they left.

Literally.

I need to get Higurashi out of my system before the first game of the season next weekend.

“Did you miss me, little one?” My warm breath, heavy with whiskey, flows over the nape of her neck and down the valley of her chest. The short black dress clings to her every curve. She looked beautiful this morning in class, but now she’s dressed to kill and I have no doubt I’m on her hit-list.

“Not in the slightest.”

The malice dripping from her voice makes my toes curl in my shoes as my entire body tenses. No sense of self-preservation whatsoever. I force her further back against me, pushing the hard evidence of my arousal into her dress. The sound of her heartbeat quickens, but still, her face doesn’t betray her.

“Still haven’t found a willing fuck, Taisho? Guess you’ve fallen from your throne.”

I chuckle loud enough so she can hear. “Why do you think I was late for class the first day?”

Her full lips roll under, forming a hard line, feigning indifference. “Then why don’t you find her and have her finish what she started? Or was it your fault? Couldn’t keep it up?”

Large canines flash as I growl. She’s trying to get under my skin, thinking I’ll let her go and what? Forget about her? Not a chance.

“You talk a lot of shit for someone who is completely at my mercy.” I tighten my hand against her throat to drive my point home. “Besides, you know just how well I keep it up, don’t you?”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Her voice is breathless as she spins out of my grip. Upon noticing the black hoodie over my hair and ears, her breath catches further, as if she’s finally realizing the lengths I will go to blend in–the lengths I will go through to torment her.

“You know why.” Reflexively, my hands clench at my sides, craving to touch her again. “Dance with me.”

My words are a command, not a request.

Her stunned silence is short-lived as she glares up. Trying to look more intimidating, her chest thrusts out as she levels her eyes with mine, but it doesn’t have its intended effect. “No. How much louder do I need to shout it to get it through your thick skull? Leave. Me. Alone.”

I shrug indifferently at her lack of conviction as she rolls her lip under her teeth. She’s lying again. “Don’t say I didn’t give you the easier option, Higurashi. I enjoy playing rough anyway.” True to my word, I dig my claws further into her dress, almost piercing the fabric, spinning her around. “You know Miroku, right? The one dancing with–what’s your roommate’s name?” Immediately, her eyes snap to them. “Oh, that’s right, Sango.”

Her breath quickens further, stopping short of hyperventilating. I let her go, allowing her to think she has a choice.

“Now, I’ll give you one good guess, since I’m feeling generous. Why do you think his attention has not wavered from her since the two of you arrived?”

“I fucking hate you.” The words are gritted between her teeth, her small hands retracting at her sides. But we both know she doesn’t have the guts to punch me.

“I think we’ve established that, princess. What you fail to realize is that I don’t care. Now, will you dance with me, or not?”

She’s debating her options, but there are few and none get her successfully away from me. I have no desire to hurt her roommate. For all I care, she doesn’t exist. But Kagome doesn’t need to know that.

“Will you leave me–us–alone after?”

I shrug. “Sure.”

“Just a dance?”

“Just a dance.” If she agrees, my intoxicated mind is betting I can get her to remember how good I made her feel, and then get her in my bed. I wouldn’t do anything to her that half the students on the floor weren’t already doing. Those standards left little to the imagination.

Taking a tentative step forward, she fights the urge to flee as her body tenses. Her eyes flutter around, hoping someone will notice her discomfort and stand up for her, but everyone is deep in their own enjoyment. Even if they noticed, a quick removal of my hood would silence any argument.

Her eyes meet the floor as she brushes the stray brown strands of hair from her face as her feet shift.

“I don’t have all night, Higurashi.”

Taking a deep breath that does nothing to calm her racing pulse, she slowly turns around, backing up until our bodies are inches away from each other. Fisting the shiny black fabric of her dress in my hand, I close the gap a little further, admiring the view.

“I approve of the dress.”

“I didn’t wear it for you.” Her words lack their former spark and I find myself disappointed she was so easy to break.

“Then who did you wear it for, princess? Better not be that sorry excuse for a human.”

“I wore it, you sorry excuse for a hanyou, for myself. Believe it or not, sometimes women do things without men in mind.”

I grin. There’s my good girl.

Her hands are suspended in front of her, avoiding touching me, or herself, as she fidgets. “You promised me a dance,” I whisper in her ear. “I’m no expert, but I think it requires you to move.”

Closing her eyes, I wait for her to turn around and tell me something mouthy. Instead, her hips start to roll back and forth. Her movements are even more shaky and abrupt compared to her earlier show with that ass, but I’m impressed she can manage. However, her worried gaze is fixated on Sango and Miroku and it irritates me to no end. I used to admire her loyalty, until she turned on me, proving it was all a lie.

Grabbing her hips, I pull her back so that she’s moving against me and immediately wonder if I’ve made a mistake. Every nerve in my body awakens, honed on her every movement, focused in their entirety on her. A burning heat fills my eyes as I realize my demon is taking over.

What’s worse? I don’t care.

Take her. Finish what we started.

I twist her around once more and lift her slightly, grinding my erection into her core. Her eyes widen, small hands gripping my hoodie as she fights to gain her balance. The rest of her body responds to the primal movement against her will, spicy cinnamon mixing with vanilla and sugar.

I’m a fucking goner.

Holding her body up against the dark wall with one hand, my other finds her left breast as it molds to my palm under the rough material. For a moment, she is at the brink of surrender, collapsing back with a breathy moan.

“Inuyasha, please.”

My name from her lips as she pleads does things to me I don’t want to think about. I look around, realizing that if I keep this up, I’ll take little Miss Kagome Higurashi on the dance floor, with or without everyone watching. Behind an immense column, no one can see us in the darkness.

“You’re taking this too far, Taisho. What the hell do you want?”

“I think that’s obvious. Payback. Why don’t you come to my place?” All the indifference is gone from my tone and I don’t even care. “I’ll fuck you out my system and we’ll call it even.”

Her big brown eyes widen further as the words snap her out of whatever pleasure she was in. Her hands slam against my chest, but it’s like a feather against granite. “You’re a romantic fucking son of a bitch, you know that?”

I run my free hand nonchalantly up the warm soft skin of her arm as I step back, allowing her to find her feet. “I did ask you to dinner.”

Her lips fall open in shock and I fight the urge to shove my tongue down her throat.

“Unless you plan to drag me from here kicking and screaming, I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Don’t tempt me, little one.” I spin her by her shoulders, slamming her back into my chest. Before she can react, my left hand disappears into the side of her dress, the other slipping beneath the hem and gripping her thigh, forcing her to yield. Gods, she doesn’t even have a fucking bra on. Her warm flesh fills my palm like it was created for it, her nipple hardening between my fingers as her body trembles against me.

My ears twitch as her head falls back against my shoulder, a low mewling noise escaping her lips. The sound brings me back to nearly a year ago - when I finger fucked her on the teacher’s desk after school. The day I marked her.

She’s close once again to forgetting she hates me, close to giving in to what her body craves. With her writhing against my hands, fuck, I almost forget why I loathe her too. Grazing my claws on her leg upward, I find her panties, brushing my knuckle against the damp satin fabric, slow and steady. It has its intended effect as she shudders against me, the fabric becoming drenched beneath my fingers.

Increasing the pressure, I run a single finger back and forth along her slit, until the thin fabric allows it to dip between her lips. It’s teasing and meant to torment rather than pleasure her. Upon reaching her clit, I abruptly stop, slightly resting my hand against her.

“Inuyasha.”

My name is no longer a warning. It’s a whine – a desperate plea as she presses herself against my fingers in a frantic attempt to create friction.

Enough games.

Abruptly, my fingers harshly grip her sex.

She clenches her thighs as her back arches against me, trying to stop the moan that escapes from her lips, but she can’t hide. She’s soaked, wet and ready, her scent heavy in the air.

I painstakingly remove my hands from her dress, leaving us both panting as I turn to face her. “Let’s go find somewhere more private.” While I wait for her retort, the silence stretches between us for a beat. Then another. I want her to willingly follow me – to willingly admit she wants this. Her indifference once again, even though I can smell the contrary, makes me see red.

And then she looks away, smoothing her hem back down. Acting like nothing happened. Just how the little bitch acted the day she walked out.

She goes to leave, but I block her, forcing her to look at me.

Submit.

Her brow furrows as she stays rooted to the spot, heavy eyes issuing a challenge as she struggles to catch her breath.

No? Fine.

Her dress is strapless, and my lips easily find the junction of her neck and shoulder. Her body goes stiff as a corpse, her pulse hammering in my ears.

“Stop! Don’t you dare!”

Her skin is hot and sweaty against my lips as I kiss the scar, but it’s not enough. With her, nothing ever is. Her taste is like a drug, intoxicating me until I can’t see straight. Even so, I need another hit. I flick my tongue again over her flesh before the tip of my canines scratch against the tender skin.

“No, please. You can’t.”

This time her body language matches her words – angry and unyielding. She's acting like being with me would be the end of the world. Acting like I'm a monster. And maybe I am.

As my canines nearly break the skin, a touch startles me out of my thoughts as her left hand finds mine. It’s the first time she’s willingly touching me and I don’t overthink the gesture until her spine goes stiff against me. My mind registers the slight smell of salt mixed with that of her sex. She’s about to...cry. Her fear crashes around me like waves, threatening to drown us both. Do I truly repulse her that much?

"I said no."

Before I can react to her statement, she seizes two of my fingers, bending them so far backwards I can hear the bones as they snap.

Chapter Text

I don't know if I care,
I'm the jerk, life's not fair.
Fighting all the time,
This is out of line,
She loves me not, loves me not.
Do you realize,
I won't compromise?
She loves me not, loves me not.

Papa Roach – She Loves Me Not

Chapter 5: Inuyasha

A dark, humorless laugh echoes through the room setting my teeth on edge. “I'm sorry, can you repeat that? She did what?”

I pace around the living area of our private dorm. “She broke my fucking fingers. If they don't heal by next Saturday, you'll be laughing all the way to the locker room when we lose because I can't fucking throw.”

Still, my bastard of a brother laughs, the joy never meeting his eyes. I doubt Sesshomaru knew true joy a day in his life, he's dead as a doormat inside.

“And a woman did this to you?” Koga can barely contain his grin. “Must be some fiery vixen. Was she immune to your obvious–charms?”

Oh, laugh it up, bastards. I stare at my hand, still swollen black and blue from last night. The unexpected pain was enough for me to let her go and she ran quicker than I imagined her lithe body capable of. I made the mistake of thinking she wouldn't, or rather couldn't, hurt me. I wouldn't underestimate her again.

Given our abilities, it should have fucking healed already.

“Serves you right, little brother.” Sesshomaru rises from the couch, every fluid movement condescending and self-righteous. “You've finally met your match.”

“And what about Saturday's match, huh? Which one of you is going to be quarterback? Certainly won't be you, Sess. All you can do is fucking kick the ball.”

A gleam shines in the mangy wolf's eyes. “I suppose I will. Can't be that hard. I can throw a ball and I'm even faster than you so sacking me will be near impossible. Think you can manage to still be useful? Maybe Coach will let you be the waterboy.”

I growl, shoving him back as I forget my hand. Wincing, I pull it back to my chest.

“Geez, she really did a number on you, didn't she?” Koga straightens his jacket, ignoring me; his eyes alight with interest. “I need to meet this girl.”

There would be no need. If Kagome Higurashi dares show her face Monday morning, she's dead. And I know just how I'll end her.

I spent all night accessing the private school archives hoping to find more information on why she ended up at Shikon. And I easily found it – her financial aid folder. Her parents' salaries were pennies compared to the tuition at Shikon. In fact, their shrine had previously faced foreclosure. She was here on a full-ride art scholarship.

Art scholarships are uncommon, almost unheard of, but I couldn't help but stare at her portfolio. Her work is better than half the professors in the department. Explains why she is so passionate about her pastels.

Ruining her would be all too easy – all it takes is one word with the president and she would be expelled.

One way or another-she will get the fuck out of my life.

Kagome

I dug my own grave in record time. I feel like at any moment, I'm going to puke all over the shrine altar I'm supposed to be cleaning. What if he tells someone? What if the president finds out I'm the reason his star quarterback can't play? Even if I'm not immediately expelled, the town will form an angry mob outside our dorm tomorrow demanding my head.

I'm a dead girl walking. I might as well march right into the Shikon County Coroner's Office and identify my body now. I should probably hand over my dental records too, because who knows what will be left of me.

I broke Inuyasha Taisho's fingers.

And I meant to do it.

But did I? Did I really want to hurt him? All I wanted was for him to not mark me. I wanted him to not ruin my life any fucking further than the damage that was already done.

I just wanted to have a good time without him invading my space and putting his hands all over me.

His hands-oh God, his hands. Why did they have to feel so good? And why is he suddenly acting all possessive? Worse, why did I want to submit?

What the fuck is wrong with me?

This is hopeless. I should walk away, just quit while I'm ahead. I could work at Fox Fire and continue supporting the shrine. Maybe Sango was right; I've taken on more than I can handle. My mom once told me that it was a great life skill knowing the right time to walk away.

I sigh, letting the sponge slip from the algae-covered stone as I wipe the sweat from my brow. The hanging light above me flickers, reminding me that the electricity got cut off last week because my parents were late on the bill. I make a lot at Fox Fire, but even then, it barely makes a dent. And if I don't eventually get a better job-one that pays enough to set my family free-I'll be stuck in this stupid town forever.

And forever is a long time.

I can deal with Inuyasha Taisho. I can't deal with misery.

Life is too short to be unhappy. Art is my joy, my passion and no one has the right to take that from me. Not even a King.

He can take his crown and shove it up his ass.

A melodic sound signifying a video call breaks me from my new outlook. My damp fingers fumble with the phone screen five times before I manage to answer. “Kags! There you are!” Sango's excited tone tells me the news that will bring forth my demise has not yet reached the student body. “Are you at the shrine?”

“Yea, I still have to help my parents on weekends. We'll get to see each other tonight at work though.”

Sango looks like she is holding in something explosive, and at any minute, she's going to blow. “When I came home you were sleeping, but I almost woke you. I had the most amazing night!”

Correction, I pretended to sleep.

My roommate sinks into our couch with such force I can tell she hasn't slept either. A huge sigh echoes through the speaker as her eyes glaze over.

“I think I'm in love!”

“Oh!” I can barely keep the dread out of my voice as my stomach flips. “Who's the lucky guy?”

Please not Miroku. Please not Miroku.

Her big grin threatens to push her cheeks over her eyes. “Miroku!”

“Now, I'll give you one good guess since I'm feeling generous. Why do you think his attention has not wavered from her since the two of you arrived?”

I avoid eye contact, holding my stomach beneath the view of the camera. “Really? I'm happy for you!”

“Oh gosh, Kags. Are you mad that I abandoned you?” She brings her phone closer to her face, forcing me to look into her concerned eyes. “I'm such a shitty friend. I'm so sorry. Forgive me?”

“Of course,” I manage as I resume scrubbing the altar. “I left the party early anyway. It, um, wasn't really my scene.”

Understatement of the year.

“I know you hate parties. I'm sorry I dragged you into that.”

“No worries. You should get some rest.” Sango's mascara is smeared, her foundation faded. “And don't forget to take off your makeup.”

“Oh!” She laughs as she touches her eyelashes and her fingertip blackens. “Guess I have other things on my mind. He's just so dreamy. He invited me on a date Monday night! Some fancy steakhouse his family owns. I can't stop thinking about him, Kags. He's funny, he's hot – I mean we mostly danced, but-”

My thoughts unwillingly drown out the rest. Does Miroku really like her? Or is it all part of Inuyasha's games?

“Oh my God, what happened to your neck? Did someone get a little too kinky last night?”

Tenderly, I brush my fingertips across the scar, my eyes widening at the wet feeling at the base of my neck. Bringing my hand forward, I stare for a moment at the translucent crimson smeared against my skin.

No. No. No.

“Kags, is that blood?”

I laugh, but the sound is dry. “I totally remember now! I drank so much that I fell walking back to the dorm. Bit the concrete in those tall heels. You know how I can barely handle flip-flops when I'm smashed.”

I didn't walk back to the dorm, I ran. I certainly didn't get drunk on one Cosmopolitan. The lies are heavy, each one weighing me down like rocks. But now I have even bigger issues. Searching through last night's memories, I can't recall if Inuyasha broke the skin. But it doesn't matter. The mark is open.

My throat aches as I struggle to swallow.

That means we're supposed to finish it. We're supposed to-

“Kagome? You alright?”

I shake my head to clear it without success. “Yea, just spaced out a bit there. I need to finish cleaning. Talk to you tonight, okay?”

“Of course.” I don't miss the way her eyebrows draw together. “Call me if you need and take it easy today. Love ya.”

“Will do. Love ya, too”

My trembling fingers can't press the button to hang up fast enough. My old room isn't far, but it feels like miles as I race through the temple and into our house. At the top of the stairs, my door is open as I head straight for the dresser, praying I can find a turtleneck, a high-necked dress-anything. Spare panties, shirts, and shorts fly across the room until I uncover a scarf.

A scarf? Way to be discreet, Kagome. It's August.

It's tossed, joining the other clothes strewn across the floor. And then I find it – my favorite yellow halter dress. I rapidly remove my old Shikon High gym shorts and tank and grab a bandage from my vanity. The wound looks even worse in the mirror, the edges red and angry, the blood sluggishly oozing from the bruised flesh.

After a lot of antibacterial salve, the bandage barely sticks, but I tenderly press it on, wincing as I do so. The straps of the dress slip over my shoulders easily, perfectly covering the wound. Zipping up the dress, I admire my handiwork before tying the sash. Might be overkill for cleaning, but oh well.

See? Everything will be okay.

I dealt with this once before and would do so again.

Breathing in and out a couple of times, the lie I tell myself gets easier to believe as I relax. After one final smile in the mirror, I head for the stairs, taking each step with ease, knowing their exact spacing by memory. With more speed than I intended, I reach the bottom, almost running right into the front door.

Except someone is standing in it, and I have to dig my feet into the rug to keep from slamming into them.

“Kagome.” While my mother's voice is usually sweet and gentle, it now holds a sense of forewarning that immediately sends me into fight or flight mode. “We have a guest.”

I don't need to look up to know his identity. The rich gray suit filling my vision tells me all I need to know. Every stitch, every thread, is perfectly in place. He always wears the same crimson silk tie; he must own that company too.

His immense presence makes me want to do something stupid and old-school, like curtsy. I'm sure the asshole believes he deserves the adoration. He has the whole town fooled with his act, but he's faker than Monopoly money.

“Mr. Taisho.” I acknowledge, settling for backing up instead of bowing. He never comes on the weekends; I'm sure Toga Taisho has something better to do than deal with a hopeless investment that will never yield a return. This visit is unexpected, which never bodes well for us.

The wound in my neck throbs, almost as if it's trying to warn me. I want nothing more than to go back to my room, but I'm stuck. Glancing between my parents to make sure they are okay, I'm forced to face him again.

His golden eyes appear cold and flat, and they pay me no mind, scanning the house with a predator's precision. As he scrutinizes the paint flaking off the walls, the stained sofa, and the threadbare rug, he shakes his head.

“They should have torn down this place,” he mutters, deliberately loud enough for us to hear.

But then you can't control us-you can't control me.

My mother grabs the nearest throw pillow, attempting to fluff it in vain. “Forgive me, Mr. Taisho. I did not know you were coming or I would have cleaned. Would you like some coffee or tea? I brewed both and they're fresh off the burner.”

“No need.” He steps over the vacuum cleaner lying on the floor and into the center of the room. “I won't be long.”

Good, then we don't have to offer you a seat you'd decline. Asshole.

“What can we do for you, Mr. Taisho?” Finally, my dad speaks and his voice is on the edge of losing its warm southern drawl. He wants to give him a piece of his mind, but we are backed into a corner, and he knows it.

“What you can do for me,” he straightens his perfect suit, “is pay your bills on time.”

My mother stammers, “I recall I paid you on time last month. I always pay the rent first.”

“Yes, but you can't make money and have tourists without electricity, can you?”

My cheeks burn. This isn't about money. He just wanted to drop in to remind us how insignificant we are in his grand world. A world he trapped us in. The shrine was my grandmother's-a passion project of hers that was never profitable, but brought her joy. When she passed away two years ago, she left mountains of debt in her wake. The bank seized the shrine and the house and before my parents could come up with the money to purchase it, it was bought by an investor who wanted to tear it down and build a restaurant. But mom and dad didn't go down without a fight. They got the mayor to declare the temple a historical landmark. Which protected it from being destroyed, but left them paying rent to the investor.

And everything was going well-until his son marked me, a lowly human, as his mate.

Toga Taisho is no better than a politician. He can smile until his cheeks hurt, telling everyone in Shikon exactly what they want to hear. But behind closed doors? He secretly loathes humanity. Lucky for us, he doesn't have to pretend here, because he has us exactly where he wants us.

“It won't happen again,” my mother replies as her chin lowers to her chest. She's on the verge of tears. I look back at him, vainly attempting to mask my glare. Haven't you fucking said enough? Get out. I bite my lip before I say the thought aloud. I don't know why mom chooses to stay. I loved my grandmother, but nothing is worth this. My mom-my family-isn't responsible for her dream. Still my mom clings to the happy memories we've shared here. But in my mind, they grow distant and weak with every day that passes.

She's told me countless times that this is not my fight, but she doesn't realize it is my fault. We will never be free of him.

All my anger must be clear in my eyes, because Toga is now regarding me with mixed curiosity - until his nose scrunches.

“I've changed my mind, I think I will take that coffee to-go.” His gaze hasn't left mine and I fight the urge to flinch. “Make sure it's black.”

Just like your soul.

My mom sniffles as she nods, heading towards the kitchen. Sensing her distress, my dad follows to comfort her. Neither of them has any idea of the history between us, they just know he's Inuyasha's dad. If they knew, they never would have left me alone with him.

He strides closer to me, regarding me like a bug he'd like to squash. Once he's looming over me, he inhales hard. “Care to explain why you have my son's scent all over you?”

Shit.

The cozy room feels suffocating, like the walls are inching closer, caging us in.

Think, Kagome. Think.

I took a shower last night, so his scent shouldn't be strong. But what do I say?

Don't lie, he can sense it. Give him partial truths.

“We have the same art class at SU. He sits next to me. I had nothing to do with it, I swear. We're over.”

And also I broke his fingers last night. Please don't kill me.

“I see.” He pulls his hands from his pockets, casually cracking his knuckles. “Do I need to remind you of the consequences of failing to obey my demands?”

“No.” I bite the word out as quickly as possible.

“No?” If he narrows his eyes at me any further, I'm going to claw them out of his egotistical face.

“No, sir.”

“Good, I'd hate to lose the rent.”

Toga finally breaks eye contact, allowing me to breathe as he dismissively walks out the door - without his coffee.

Chapter Text

Oh, father tell me, do we get what we deserve?
Oh, we get what we deserve.

And way down we go,
Oh, way down we go,
Say, way down we go,
Way down we go.

Kaleo – Way Down We Go

Chapter 6: Kagome

I can't show my face at school today and the Taishos are to blame. I told myself a million times I wouldn't let them get to me. That I would continue school at all costs. I repeat it like a mantra – morning, noon, and night. But when I woke up this morning, I could barely manage to put my feet on the floor. I turned the alarm off six – no seven – times.

One day of missed classes won't hurt, right?

However, there is one thing I can't miss – work.

“I had to race over here after so I wouldn't miss my shift, but the steak was so good!” Sango beams, pulling her shirt down in hopes of bigger tips. If she pulls it any lower, her boobs might pop out. “It was the most amazing date! I think he's the one!”

Managing to smile, I tie my waist apron around me, glad I'd remembered to wash it over the weekend. Even if I feel like shit, I can't look or smell like it. Fox Fire has a certain odor - a heady mix of alcohol, sweat, and mold. It tends to stick to your shoes and follow you out, like toxic glitter. “Take it slow, Sango. You and Miroku have time to figure it out. You barely know him.”

Like clockwork, there is that look of concern. “You feeling better? You didn't go to class this morning.”

“Just needed some sleep.” I tuck a few pens I am sure to lose later in my pocket. Customers tend to accidentally steal them. “Don't chide me, you've already missed three days. Don't think I haven't noticed.”

The embarrassed blush that tints her cheeks makes me smile in earnest.

“Kagome, table thirteen was just sat.” Naraku barks as he sticks his head in the doorway. “Don't keep them waiting. They requested you.”

I try not to faint. No one knows I work here except Sango and my parents, but this is not their scene. I avoided Taisho since the dance, has he come to kill me?

Don't be ridiculous Kagome, he won't kill you in the middle of a bar. He'll wait until after your shift and murder you in the dark corners of the parking lot.

“Yes, sir.”

My responses are always on auto-pilot with Naraku. Show the respect he somehow thinks he deserves and shut my mouth. It has to be Taisho. Unless...his father found out where I work and has nothing better to do tonight than continue to torment me.

Crap.

“Good luck tonight,” Sango says with a wink before she goes out of the swinging door. I stare at it as it rocks back and forth in the frame, creating a blur of silver. Sooner or later I will have to face my fears. I can either go out now, or bide my time and wait until Naraku comes back and threatens to fire me. Or decides to actually do it.

The door swings open with ease as I tentatively push it, revealing the bustling bar. Table thirteen is around the corner from the main dining section, towards the back. I count my breaths as I move across the dining room. One. Two. Three. I'm probably not taking in enough oxygen. Four. Five. Six. On breath ten, I turn the corner.

It is immediately apparent that my fears were unfounded. It is much worse.

Sitting and chatting at table thirteen are The Kings, minus the youngest Taisho. Even when I dated Inuyasha, I had never met Sesshomaru. Yash talked about his brother as much as he did his father – which was next to nothing. It was almost as if he pretended they didn't exist.

How did they know I work here?

And if Sesshomaru knows, does his father know too?

“And her ass, it matches her big boobs. One date was all it took. It's all mine.”

Sitting between Sesshomaru and Koga is Miroku and my stomach flips with indignation. Of course, Sango had told Miroku where we worked. If she is just a game to him, he will pay for breaking her heart. Taisho can trample me underneath his feet if he wants, but no one messes with my bestie. If it's war they want, it's war they will get.

“Welcome to Fox Fire.” My cheery voice breaks them out of their conversation. “What can I get for y'all tonight?”

Steely gold eyes appraise me unabashedly and without any interest, like considering a business investment. While Inuyasha's eyes are warm and inviting, his brother's are like granite – cold and stony. “A beer. Whatever you think best.”

Fox Fire serves over thirty different beers. He's setting himself up to be disappointed, which I think is exactly what he wants. Not to be disappointed in the beer – to be disappointed in me. He doesn't even seem like the beer type.

“Sure thing.” I turn to Koga who is sitting closest to me at the end of the table. I can't look into Miroku's eyes yet. I want to sock him clear to next Sunday. “And you?”

His dull gray eyes look me up and down, dancing with delight. “Are you on the menu, beautiful?”

I'm not sure who I want to punch first as Sesshomaru rolls his eyes and Miroku laughs. “Not tonight. We do have a good whiskey though, if that interests you.”

Calm down, Kagome. You need this tip. The shrine needs this tip.

“The only thing that interests me tonight is seeing what has our friend so enamored with you.” He casually leans his head on his hands, eyes never leaving mine. “But I think I'm starting to understand.”

I tap the blue pen against the notebook. “I don't follow. Who?”

“Don't play dumb, Kagome.” Miroku finally speaks. “We all know you broke Inuyasha's fingers.”

Oh, fuck.

Fuckity, fuck, fuck.

Luckily, I don't have to form a response.

“I remember now,” Sesshomaru adds. “My brother might have mentioned her in passing. I think they dated in high school. Didn't you dump him?”

My heart thumps faster as I grip the pen. Did I mean so little that he barely mentioned me?

“Ouch.” Koga's eyes widen, feigning shock. “I thought all the girls loved Yash. At least they do now anyway. Suppose he wasn't as popular back then.”

Allowing the anger to burn is better than crying – anything is better than crying. A gentle touch runs down my arm, bringing me back to the present I was desperately trying to escape.

“Come on, guys. Can't y'all see we are upsetting her?” Koga gives me a grin that does little to reassure me as his hand breaks from my skin. “I'll take a Crown and Coke, please.”

“Sure.” I write it down for good measure. I doubt I will remember my name when I walk away. “And for you?”

Miroku shrugs, “Same.”

I smile, “Great, I'll be right back with that.”

I turn to leave, turn to run, before a voice stops me again.

“Oh and Kagome?” Miroku quips. “Tell Sango I'm here.”

I nod before turning around again.

There was no way in hell I was going to help that creep.

---

I melt into the bar top as I tap my drink order into the kiosk. Only fifteen minutes into my shift and I am counting the hours until I can go home. Hopefully, they are just casually drinking on a school night and will go home after one drink. Odds are against me, but a girl can wish.

But maybe, just maybe, I can make them leave and never come back. That would be worth more than any tip. I'll have plenty more tables after anyways. For once, I'm doing something for me.

As I hit send, a familiar form moves beside me. “You didn't tell me Miroku was at your table.” Sango's voice doesn't sound accusatory at all. It sounds lost and forlorn as she looks herself over in the mirror behind the bartender, searching for a sign that she is anything less than perfect. “Why didn't he ask for me? He knows I work here.”

I shrug. “Don't take it personally. The Kings are assholes. I know Miroku isn't a King, but he hangs out with them all the same.”

“And you never mentioned you knew them either.” Her tone turns colder as the neon lights outline her rigid form. “Why did they request you?”

If the world crumbles around me, so be it, as long as I still have my best friend. “I'm sorry I never told you before, but I used to date Tais- I mean Inuyasha.”

She blinks twice. “Oh. So you know Sesshomaru?”

She doesn't seem shocked in the slightest that someone like me could have dated the infamous Inuyasha Taisho. That's why I love her.

I grab the beer I ordered from the bartender. It's light and fruity, something women usually drink. If I was going to disappoint the older Taisho brother, then I was going to do it in epic fashion.

“Something like that.”

“Oh,” her cheery singsong tone is back and all is right in the world as she grabs a bottled beer with a smile. “I better get back to table two. Mr. Pablo is here. You know how fast that old man can drink. I can barely keep up and he's my only table. If only I could convince him to order a pitcher. Or a keg.”

“Hey, Pete.” The bartender looks up from the two Crown and Cokes as Sango sashays off to her table. “I didn't put this on the order, but I need two dashes of orange juice in those please.”

He looks just as confused as I expected, his bushy brows drawing together. “Orange juice? Are you sure?”

I shrug. “That's what they said. Never question the customer, right?”

Pete looks like he totally wants to question the customer, but then thinks better of it.

“If you say so.”

I truly smile for the first time tonight as the tangerine liquid attempts to mix with the fizzy soda. Picking up the tray with newfound confidence, the walk back to table thirteen no longer seems like a death sentence.

“Here ya go.” I place the drinks on the wooden table with a gentle clink. “Two Crown and Cokes and a beer.”

Sesshomaru regards his bottle – decorated with a huge pink strawberry and a magnolia flower - with immediate disdain as if wondering if it tastes as bad as it looks. Indeed, I hope it does. Raising the bottle tentatively to his nose, he takes a whiff and his entire face scrunches.

I manage not to flinch, staring at him expectantly. He's going to tell me exactly how much he hates my taste in beer before I leave this table. A few seconds pass before he realizes he is being challenged. Painstakingly, he raises it to his lips before taking the slightest swig.

I saw the same grimace once on a cat's face when it accidentally licked a lemon. Miroku and Koga burst into laughter as his lips smack, trying to get the offending flavor off his tongue.

“I'm so sorry,” I lie. “Not to your taste, I'd wager?”

He merely lifts an elegant eyebrow at my question and sets the bottle down.

Miroku takes a sip next, and for the briefest moment, he looks befuddled, before he shrugs and takes another sip. Damn it. Next time, I would have to add salt.

Finally, Koga raises his glass to his lips, still laughing. But his joy is short-lived as he takes a sip, then spits a spray of Crown, Coke, and orange juice across the table, right into Sesshomaru's face.

Koga slides his glass away as Miroku nonchalantly grabs it, adding it to his other.

Weirdo.

I cross my wrists innocently in front of me. “Will that be all gentlemen?”

Sesshomaru pushes his beer towards Miroku, who seems to be an alcoholic garbage disposal. “We'll take the check.”

“Perfect. I'll get that for you.”

I can hear Koga laughing as I walk away. “I really like her.”

Five minutes later, I take a deep, calming breath as they leave the bar. It's funny, but somehow their being here helped calm my stress and jitters. I had been marked before and survived. Plus, if I could face two Kings, surely I could handle one.

Come class Wednesday, I would no longer hide from Inuyasha.

Chapter Text

No I can't take this anymore
(I know I'm the problem)
I keep on coming back for more
('Cause you are a goddess)

But I'm so messed up
(I can feel it, I can feel it in my bones)
I just want your touch
(I don't wanna, I don't wanna be alone)

Fame on Fire - Her Eyes

Chapter 7: Inuyasha

How can I ruin her? Let me count the ways. Every idea running through my mind since Friday is diabolical – deeply disturbed. Even so, none seem sufficient. I desire to hurt her like she hurt me, and nothing seems good enough.

To execute a plan, first the target of my fury has to show up to class. She didn't have the guts to show up Monday and I had to sit through an entire boring ass lecture with no distractions.

She finally strides in, walking straight up to the professor's desk. My demon pushes my humanity aside with little resistance. Every time the switch flips quicker, harder to reverse. Tuning out all the voices of the students, I zone in on hers just as Mr. Takami glances up at me expectantly - like he knows I'm the cause of the problem. Higurashi graced us with her presence exactly five seconds before the scheduled class time, avoiding any extra time with me.

Good little one, you should be scared. You should be fucking terrified. Soon you'll be at my mercy and the entire student body will know what happens when a mere mortal challenges a King.

“I would like to request a seat change professor.” Her voice is oddly confident as her chin slightly tilts up. Over and over, it seems we downplay the other's resolve. Soon she will fully understand just how unwavering mine can be when provoked. “The current one – it's not working out. Surely there must be someone willing-”

Mr. Takami frowns, his expression stony. “Miss Higurashi, it's a seat. While your portfolio proceeds you, so far, I must say your behavior is not living up to its caliber. I'm afraid you are letting it go to your head. Now, please find your table and see if we can get through a class without interruption.”

With a nod, her shoulders set rigidly in place. I brush my canines against my tongue impatiently and wait for her to glance up, to look at me, but she never does. Her body is on autopilot, going straight towards her chair with no regard for her surroundings. As she grows closer, my entire face scrunches in disgust, like I've just swallowed a lime whole.

She's wearing perfume and a lot of it.

She never wears that nasty shit; knowing my sensitive nose can't stand it. The smell is pungent and heavy – like I'm snorting an entire field of flowers. My gut clenches in memory as I recognize the scent – I hate lavender. It was my mom's favorite. Dish soap. Laundry detergent. Candles. It smells like a motherfucking migraine.

It smells like painful memories I would rather forget.

My human side reminisces for a mere moment before my demon silences him again. Avoidance is my specialty. Pushing shit so deep it can't resurface. I avoid thinking about my mom. I avoid my dad. Heck, sometimes I even avoid Sesshomaru. I even evaded Higurashi – the most painful memory of them all.

The thing about repressing memories? They resurface at inconvenient moments when you least expect them.

I miss my mom and that makes me all the angrier.

Higurashi finally reaches her seat, thumping her bag on the table before sitting down. I anticipated her to come to class today and sulk; this is...unexpected. Then I notice that she's wearing a black dress with high straps that tie around her throat. It does credit to her curves, but looks too expensive to risk a paint stain in art class.

“Today, as promised we will start figure drawing.” Mr. Takami seems a little too excited about the idea. “Specifically gesture drawing. Once we start our longer figure studies we will go into the drawing-room, but for these shorter sprints, the model will be standing in the center of the classroom. So if anyone needs to switch to the other side of their table, please do so now and get out your supplies.”

Flipping open her messenger bag, she pulls out her paper and pencil. I don't make a move to do anything. Luckily, I don't have to pretend to do shit today. At least something good came out of her breaking my fucking fingers.

I wiggle them ever so slightly for good measure, making sure they haven't gotten worse. They seem to be slowly healing - emphasis on slowly. If they don't get with the program before Saturday, I'll have to tell my old man. That will be a fun conversation. I'd rather break every bone in my body than darken his doorstep. Having my own place is the sole major perk of college. We barely see each other. Just how I like it.

Forcing myself to breathe through my mouth, my eyes water. My nose is on fire; I can feel each nerve cell burning as I try to avoid inhaling the pungent perfume. She knew just how it would affect me, yet she did it anyway. Maybe she thought if the professor didn't allow her seat request, she would get me to move instead.

She bested me the day she walked out. She bested me the night of the party. She would not best me again. I plan to stack the cards in my favor until the only possible outcome is her ruin. I have the ace up my sleeve with the information from her file, but I don't plan to use it until absolutely necessary.

“Now you will have only two minutes per drawing.” God, Mr. Takami never shuts up. “Remember, a good gesture drawing will convey the action, form, and pose of the subject. Draw it as you see it. Don't get caught up in the details.” He motions to the door for the model to enter. The lovely little blonde closes the door behind her, making sure to carefully clutch her robe shut. Glancing up for the briefest moment as she scans the room, I can't help but catch her eye with a smirk.

Higurashi notices and scoots over, wincing as she moves further away from me. It's the first time she's acknowledged me this morning.

And it won't be the last.

About time the unfeeling bitch shows she's capable of some sort of emotion. Am I being petty? Maybe-fuck if I care.. She broke my fingers, so let her squirm. With the god-awful smell in the air, I'm even more grateful for the distraction.

You're not supposed to stare at the model. You're not supposed to smile. No touching, no speaking, no cell phones. I was never one for rules. Besides, I've already broken one and I have nothing better to do. Asking a guy not to stare at a nude woman is like asking him to make the bed the morning after a one-night stand.

It ain't happening.

With a flourish, her knee-length silk robe falls to the floor. Her back is to us, and I can't help but notice her ass is nice-round and tight. Beneath it, her legs are long and lean, like a dancer. As if proving my assumption, she stretches out into her first pose, her arms going gracefully above her head. Beside me, the scratch of a pencil sounds against the paper, signaling Higurashi is in fact, still alive.

Peering over, I can't help but stare as I look over her sketch. Each flowing line is executed with precision, capturing the pose perfectly. But I can't tell her that.

Nope, it's time to make her crawl.

Kagome

“Her boobs are too small.”

The biting criticism causes me to automatically glance up again between the subject and my paper, searching for the slightest error. Her breasts are indeed on the smaller side. After all, she is a dancer. It would be rather inconvenient for her if they were larger, smacking her in the face as she lept up and down.

I make the mistake of glancing at him as his good hand supports his chin, looking me up and down as he appears to ponder. “Compared to yours, I mean.”

That bastard. He almost made me forget the goal of the assignment. I suppose it's a good thing he feels well enough to crack jokes at my expense. Plus, the police haven't come to kick me off campus. I may just survive this day yet. “It's a gesture drawing. Didn't you listen to the teacher for once? Details don't matter.”

He chuckles, but the joy doesn't reflect in his predatory movements. “Isn't the devil in the details, princess?”

The pencil glides across the page as I sketch the final line, grinding the lead into the paper harder than I intended. “Not for this assignment, but then again if anyone would know about the devil, it's you.” I add an unnecessary detail to her hands so I don't have to glance up again. I know it's his demon talking and it's in my best interest not to provoke him.

“So, I'm the bad guy?” He scoffs, moving closer. “I'm not the one breaking fingers. I must say though, I didn't know you had it in you. Maybe I don't know you at all.”

I wince, glancing at his hand as it sits on the table. His fingers are carefully and expertly wrapped, but beyond the bandages, purple and blue bruises peek out.

Shit.

What am I supposed to say? Getting marked again by him could be the nail in the coffin for the shrine if Toga decides to raise the rent again to punish me. It was sheer dumb luck the eldest Taisho didn't sense the mark this weekend. Grimacing, I fight not to touch it. It burns like poisoned needles stabbing my skin. The pain was manageable this morning, but sitting next to him – it's near unbearable.

“Please change position,” Professor Takami asks the model and she bends over at the waist, gracefully reaching forward.

I make the mistake of glancing up at Taisho as a smirk pulls at his lips, his eyes dancing with some amusing secret. Whatever he is thinking, it's not good.

“Remember when I had you like that?” His whisper is low, sensual, and sexy. I close my eyes for only the briefest of seconds to regain my composure, lest I close them longer than a blink and let him think he's getting to me. It's clear I'll never get my Inuyasha back. But this constant war zone is taxing; I just want it to end.

Moving the pencil across the page as I ignore him, I draw her back before moving to her legs.

“The classroom was empty, just the two of us. The principal dismissed classes early that day to give everyone a head start on the homecoming game. The teacher had a huge desk in the front of the room. What was his name?”

Mr. Jensen.

He damn well knows the teacher's name. Taisho has a better memory than me.

“Change of pose, please.”

Thank God. The model leans backward, her arms gracefully behind her. The pose looks painful, a credit to her athleticism. I used to dance when I was younger and gave it up after a few years. I love all forms of art, but drawing allows me to eat more Oreos. Besides, I-

A throat clears beside me, reminding me of him and everything I wish to forget.

Rough hands clench my waist, lifting me to sit on the desk as I straddle him. His lips are all over me, trailing hot kisses down my neck until he reaches the top of my breasts exposed by my button-down uniform top.

“Yash,” I whine, pulling his body closer with my legs until we are as close as we can be with our clothes on. I have debated this moment for months. But I love him. And he loves me. While I would rather not lose my virginity in a high school classroom, sometimes the moment just strikes.

And I trust him completely.

He glances back at the door, probably to confirm it's locked, before kissing me again. Sliding my skirt up, his hands find my boy shorts, gently running his fingertips over the hem. His golden eyes meet mine and a sudden uncertainty fills them.

“Is this what you want, Kags?”

The gold in his eyes dulls slightly, like he fears I'll reject him. He's been rejected so many times, by so many people. And yet, I know that if I ask him to stop, he will with no questions asked and no love lost.

I run my hands up his chest and over his broad shoulders before nodding. “I'm sure.”

His grin returns, that sexy one that I never can resist. Stepping back, he grabs my waist before flipping me over, bending me over the desk. Before I can ask what he's doing, his hand is at my waist, pulling down my panties until they fall around my feet.

Leaning over me from behind, his hot breath fans my ear. “Gotta make sure you're ready.”

When his calloused fingers brush my clit, I nearly come off the desk. The swollen nub is painfully sensitive as he flicks and rubs, making my moans echo in the empty classroom. Just as I'm about to ask him to end the torture, he pushes a finger inside me.

“Yash,” I moan, gripping the desk harder.

“You're soaked. You want me bad, huh?”

I can barely manage a nod as my core squeezes the single digit, wanting more, wanting all of him. “Please.”

As the finger withdraws, I think I'm finally going to get what I want. Somehow the emptiness it leaves behind is worse than the torture of his touch.

“Not yet, baby.”

His warm hand runs over my ass before thrusting two fingers where the other was before. My hands try to steady myself on the desk but manage to fling a slew of papers to the floor instead as his pace quickens.

Drawing my shoulders up, I fight the urge to wince as a stabbing pain shoots down my arm like unrestrained electricity. When we were separated before, the unfinished mark was bearable due to the distance between us. He had no desire to see me, and since he was a senior and I was a junior, we had no classes together. The wound would burn if we happened to pass each other in the hall, but once he graduated, it scarred over.

Now no matter how much I try to run and hide, fate is fucking with me.

He's staring at me, no doubt listening to my heartbeat, trying to discern what effect the memory had. I try in vain to copy the model's various forms, but the curves and angles aren't my best, far from it. I crack my knuckles for good measure and attempt to roll my shoulders, but the pain only increases as a drop of sweat runs down my brow.

Why would he bring up that memory now?

I clutch my pencil until it bends, nearly snapping in half. Water gathers in my eyes, slightly blurring the chalkboard as the professor continues to talk animatedly on and on about the female form. Don't cry, Kagome. It will pass, just hold on a little longer.

The model slips her robe back on in slow motion. Am I remembering to breathe? “And that about wraps it up today. See you on Friday.”

As I rush to stand with a sharp intake of air, a large hand puts pressure on my thigh, pinning me to the chair.

Eternity stretches before us as the rest of the class files out the door. If he feels like arguing, I have no fight left in me. I did when class first started, but the pain is diminishing my resolve. I place my backpack on the table, focused on trying to find something so I don't think about his hot palm burning right through the thin cotton fabric – so we don't look like two creeps just sitting and staring at everyone as they leave. Eventually, the last student leaves. Mr. Takami glances up and opens his mouth to say something, then thinks better of it as he walks out. My body tenses, preparing for the war in which I now feel woefully unequipped.

Taisho's nose scrunches and the swirls of red as his eyes widen terrify me even more than the thought of losing the shrine. “You're bleeding.”

Pressing my palms against the table, I fight not to touch the mark hidden by my hair and the straps of my dress. “Stop acting like you care, Taisho. It doesn't suit you.”

The pressure on my thigh eases as he lifts his hand and I allow myself to breathe. But it's short-lived as his hand moves to brush the hair from my shoulder, the long strands creating friction as they slide across my feverish skin. I try to jump back, but the rough callouses of his fingertips gently hook around the strap of my dress, pulling it to the side. The low growl he emits causes goosebumps to prickle across my skin.

His golden eyes go wide, fixated on my neck. “I-but I didn't bite you again.”

The gentle and shocked tone makes my breath catch. He can't care, he can't. The new unfeeling asshole Inuyasha I can deal with. I can't deal with the considerate, sweet guy I used to know. It makes it too hard. Makes it impossible.

I need to snap us both out of it before I lose everything.

“The mark will heal, just as it has before.” I stand, breaking the connection as I toss my bag over my other shoulder. “Excuse me, I'm going to be late for class.”

“Just like that, huh?” He shakes his head in disbelief as he stares blankly up, his ears pinning back against his head. “All that time we spent together, was nothing to you, was it?”

It was everything to me.

I want to scream the words, for him to feel the pain I can't show him, to spill my guts and leave the truth out on the table. I want to go back to when everything was simple and I knew I had found the love of my life. I want my Inuyasha back – not this monster of my own making.

But I can't. My throat constricts back the undercurrent of weight threatening to drown me. And that silence confirms his worst suspicions.

“Keh. Sure fooled me. Even your damn scent-”

He shakes his head in disbelief as if trying to clear it like he's trying to wake up from a nightmare.

The tears that threaten to spill aren't from the pain. “This changes nothing. I'm going to be late for-”

“Your next class. I know.” The biting angry tone is back in his voice. “This may change nothing for you. For me, this changes fucking everything.”

Chapter Text

Girl, why you gotta be so in between
Loving me and leaving, leaving?
Ah, oh (Ah, oh)
I should probably know this shit by now
But no (But no), no

Why you gotta be so heartless?
I know you think it's harmless
You're tearing me apart and
Girl, the hardest part is
You're so high on attention
Taking miles from inches
Leave me in the darkness
Never finish what we started
Girl, why you gotta be so heartless?

Diplo - Heartless

Chapter 8: Inuyasha

The mark had reopened on its own accord. Every memory of the party couldn't be clearer in my mind, despite the alcohol. I hadn't bitten her; I'm sure of it. It was healed over, scarred. Now it's back. I don't know exactly what it means, but how could she say it changed nothing?

She tried to keep it from me like nothing happened. Like we meant nothing.

Isn't that what I want, her to be nothing to me? She's already proven I mean nothing to her. I can't break her if I care.

“Heads up, dumbass!” The football flies over my head, barely missing my face. I had called the guys for an extra practice before the big opening game. I don't need the practice, I need the distraction.

It's not working.

“Figures you'd call a practice and not even make an attempt at catching the fucking ball.” Koga throws his hands up in frustration as he walks towards me, but his expression lacks anger. “Is it your hand?”

I slowly flex and extend the fingers of my right hand inside the glove, but they still feel foreign and stiff. Maybe I need more than practice. “It's not healing like it should. Since when does a human have the strength to injure a demon?”

Koga grins, “We met her the other night at Fox Fire. Fiesty little thing. I certainly wouldn't underestimate her. She served Sess some sort of fruity ass beer. You should have seen his face.”

“Are you two done?” Sesshomaru quips. My brother is not one for small talk, but now I'm seeing red.

“You went to see her?” My demon takes over, a growl rumbling through my throat. Fox Fire is a bar on the other end of town, why the fuck would she work there?

“Calm down, brother. You said you were over her.”

Koga whistles, “Clearly not the case.”

So much for not caring. They share a look and wait expectantly for me to explain. “I'll get the ball.”

“Woah, woah, woah. Not so easy, Yash. What's up?”

I stop in my tracks, looking away. They are going to laugh, I just know it. But I can't hold it any longer.

“I marked her.”

The laughs don't come, but the silence is worse.

“But that's not possible,” Koga is never one to remain quiet for long, “we would know she'd been claimed. We would have smelled it at Fox Fire. That's the whole point of the mark; other demons know who's taken.”

Sesshomaru appraises me for a moment. “He didn't complete it.”

“Wait, you marked her as a mate and didn't fuck her? Why?”

My demon growls again at Koga's choice of words.

Koga puts up his hands in earnest, his scent shifting. “Sorry, man. What happened?”

I take a deep breath. “I marked her senior year of high school.”

No one has heard this story except father on that awful day. I ran to him then, scared and confused. I didn't know where else to go. He had calmly listened to everything; told me everything would be okay.

Except it wasn't.

“It was a mistake. My demon didn't ask my permission - or hers. I thought after we would somehow move past it, but a few days later she told me we were finished.”

“Kagome, please.” She's walking away from me. I have to stop her. She had asked me to meet her outside after school. I had no idea why, but I never could have imagined this.

I grab her arm, careful not to hurt her. When she turns back to face me, the resolve in her eyes cuts deeper than any words. “I said I was sorry, Kags. I meant it. How can I make it up to you? I'll do anything.”

“Who are we fooling? How many times have you told me that we would never work? You were right. I'm a human, you're a demon.”

I expect her voice to break. I expect her to cry. I expect her world to shatter, just as mine is.

Releasing her arm, I swallow, hard. “I thought you saw past that.”

Loathing flashes in her eyes as she steps away from me. “How can I, when I now have your mark reminding me?”

I stop breathing. This can't be happening.

“Stay away from me.”

Koga shakes his head, “Shit, dude. I'm sorry.”

His words tear me from the memory, my demon fuming once again in my subconscious. No matter how many times my mind relives the moment, it never gets easier. “The mark scarred over with time, but now it's back open. And I still...want her.”

Sesshomaru crosses his arms, “An incomplete mark is painful, she must really hate you.”

I wince, “Always a way with fucking words.”

“But,” Sess continues, “if the mark has reopened, it may mean she's willing.”

“Willing to break his fingers,” Koga quips.

I ignore the jab, focusing on my brother's words. Kagome has been willing multiple times and then at the last moment-

“There you both are.”

The door slams behind us, the sound resounding repeatedly in the large and mostly empty practice building. I give Sess and Koga a quick look, the same one my mother gave me as a child when I needed to shut my mouth. As if this day could get any worse.

“Father, what can we do for you?” I have to hand it to my brother, he knows how to handle our old man better than I do. Just remove every emotion and treat every conversation like a goddamn business transaction.

“I had a quick lunch break,” his polished shoes sink in the turf as walks to the sidelines, “figured I would stop by and see a few passes.”

I stretch my hand out. He's not here out of any sense of support; he's here to make sure our playing is up to par with his standards before the big game. On a normal day, I would be slightly lacking. But today?

Today I'm fucked.

Koga briefly gives me a concerned look. “Sure thing, Mr. Taisho.”

He picks up the ball before running downfield. Normally he just lets it fly, but instead he's waiting for my signal. After a brief nod, the ball spins expertly through the air coming straight at my chest. I allow the ball to hit me slightly before catching it, allowing my body to take the brunt of the force.

I reposition the ball, gripping it in my hand, ignoring the pain as my fingers spread into the correct position. My elbow moves back at a 90-degree angle as I distribute my weight before moving forward to release the ball. It should go right to Koga. It should, but at the last minute, my fingers slip, causing the ball to spin to the left. I fight back a grimace as Koga runs to catch it. Without his superhuman speed, it would have been an incomplete pass, or worse, intercepted.

“Run it again with Sesshomaru.” Father is pacing now, never a good sign. “And son, don't pull back on your throw like Koga. Give it all you've got.”

With a quick flip of his wrist, Koga tosses the ball to Sess. He had thrown it with my hand in mind. I'll get no such mercy from my brother. He's not as fucked up as our old man, but his perfectionist ass won't fail for anyone, not even me.

He throws the ball at an alarming speed and much too low. Even as I move to catch it, I know I'm going to miss. As the ball meets my hands, the stiffness in my fingers prevents me from gripping it, and it falls to the ground.

Fuck. This day just needs to end.

I quickly pick it up and grasp it, hoping by some miracle my next throw will be catchable.

“Don't bother.” Father is walking onto the field, straight towards me. “You'll never win like that. Let me see your hand.”

I drop the ball and stick my right hand out, testing my luck.

“Without the glove.”

I rip the Velcro off around my wrist, loosening the fabric, the entire time staring him down. I'm sick of his damned games. Gripping the tips of the glove on my good fingers, I yank the protection off, tossing it to the turf.

Holding up my hand like it's on display, I level my eyes again with his.

“I see.” He clicks his tongue like he's scolding a child. “And when were you going to tell me about this?”

“Was hoping never.” Sess shoots me a glance, warning me to continue with caution.

“Why are you not healing?”

“It only happened yesterday. Ball hit the tips and bent them back. Should heal before the game.” The old bruises are now a nasty yellow, but it's the best excuse I've got. “If not, I'll tell coach and Koga will play.”

For a second, he glances at Koga, sizing him up before returning his attention to me. “You'll do no such thing. Too much is at stake. You'll play.”

Fuck you.

I swallow so I don't say the words aloud. “Yes, father.”

“Very well then. Keep practicing.”

Tension hangs heavy in the air as he walks out and the door slams. We don't say anything. There's nothing to say. I pick up the football, staring at it until my vision blurs. As my fingers trace the familiar seams, a bitter thought makes itself known. This is never the life I would have chosen, had I been given an option. It's a thought I always repress with the rest. It's wasted effort; I'll never escape this suffocating prison of my father's expectations.

My claws elongate as his voice echoes in my head.

They say winning isn't everything. They lied. Winning is the only thing. Lose and see how fast they forget you.

It's not until the ball goes limp in my hands that I realize I've crushed it.

Chapter Text

Thinking about you, you're in my head
Even without you, I still feel dead
Why do I run back to you, like I don't mind if you fuck up my life?

All Time Low & blackbear - Monsters

Chapter 9: Kagome

I couldn't decide what to wear to class today. Part of me wanted to cover up every inch of my skin. Another wanted me to wear something that showed him I didn't need him, that I didn't care. The loudest part begged me not to go to class at all, avoiding the pain, both physical and emotional.

Eventually, I settled on a pair of SU sweatpants and a loose crop top. If I had to suffer, at least I'd do so in comfort. Having closed Fox Fire yet again last night, I am counting down the hours until I can get some sleep. I suppose I should be grateful, having off two Saturdays in a row, but I'm scheduled to do it all again tonight.

With every passing day, it's apparent college is far from what I envisioned.

Adulting sucks.

My mother always said, “Time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time.” With 10 minutes until class, I would enjoy nothing more than a nap. I bunch up my jacket on the table, laying my head on the crook of my arm before closing my eyes. God, this feels so good. With a yawn, I snuggle deeper into the jacket, blocking out the obnoxious lights of the classroom. I'm not going to fall asleep, just rest my eyes a bit.

Just for a bit.

“Higurashi.” The voice whispers my name, low and gravely. It sounds sexy.

Of course Taisho has to torment my dreams too. I drift back off into oblivion.

“Higurashi, wake up.” He sounds more urgent now, but the sleep feels too good to deny. If I ignore him, he'll go away.

Rough fingertips brush my arm as a sharp prickling pain radiates from my neck, jolting me upright. Blinking rapidly, I will my eyes to focus on Mr. Takami, who is looking at me with a look of contempt.

Great.

Had someone asked me at the start of the semester what my breaking point was, just how much I could take, I'd have grossly underestimated myself. I've been teetering on the line since I left Taisho, knowing that if I stumble, there is no solid ground to catch me on the other side.

It's a fucking cliff.

“Are you alright?” His voice is soft and warm, complete with a concerned tone. It utterly annoys me to no end.

This changes nothing. This changes nothing. This changes nothing.

I lower my chin, narrowing my eyes as I repeat the mantra in my mind. I grind my teeth together as the pain continues to burn. Good Gods, I don't know if I can manage being next to him for the entire period. Between the pain and the exhaustion, my stomach is doing flips. I forgot to eat breakfast, so at least nothing will come up. “Does anything about me look okay to you?”

The sound of the teacher's throat clearing draws my attention, “Please take out your textbooks.”

“Point taken.” He sets the heavy textbook down and flexes his hand with difficulty. He's not okay either. Like I care.

Harden your heart, Kagome. He's a jerk. He was late on the first day of class because he was fucking someone. You couldn't even manage the thought of another relationship and he's-

The thought trails off as another searing jolt courses through my shoulder.

What did you expect him to do? Remain celibate the rest of his life? You broke up with him, remember?

The thoughts don't have their intended effect.

I want to disappear back into the darkness of my jacket and pretend I'm invisible.

“Today we will take a break from fundamentals and form and focus on the feelings that art evokes in the viewer. In your text, you will find a variety of works from famous artists throughout the ages. Please spend the remainder of the period finding a piece that speaks to you and be prepared for a short essay on your test next week. Feel free to do your assignment in class, but those of you who wish to leave are dismissed.”

With that, our professor slumps at his desk and starts going through papers. I'm guessing this assignment has less to do with lesson plans and more to do with the fact he is behind on grading papers.

Not a good look only being two weeks into school.

Guessing it's grad student work.

I shove my jacket in my bag with a grimace. I've been saved by Mr. Takami's poor planning. I've dodged the bullet that is Inuyasha Taisho and won't have to deal with him until Monday. With a lot of luck, I'll figure out how to survive being around him by then.

If not...I'm not going to go there right now.

Standing up, he mirrors my movements. It was daft of me to assume he would stay in the classroom.

He is free to leave too, relax.

I throw my bag onto my shoulder with a wince, glad my comment to him earlier ended the conversation before it began. Still, I can feel his intense stare watching me. Without looking back, I quickly walk out the door, heading towards the library. I have a class next period, so going crash on a couch in the union is out of the question. Instead I can seek out a quiet table and get this assignment done so I can enjoy my weekend. Ramen and romantic movies are in my future.

And sleep, lots of sleep between Fox Fire and the shrine.

Entering through the double doors, a shiver runs down my spine. I'm no stranger to the pain; the previous mark took months to heal. But while the pain was an inconvenience before, now I can barely see straight. A burning pain like hot coals against my skin spreads across my neck and radiates down my shoulder.

The mark is punishing me for rejecting Inuyasha.

Ducking into the first row of books, I run down the aisle, startling a few students. Each step feels like a battle as I fight to keep one foot in front of the other.

More distance, I need more distance.

Desperately clutching my neck in an attempt to ease the burning sensation, I run deeper into the library. Each forceful stride echos in the empty sections as my feet hit the carpet. The once-familiar surroundings of the library blur as I struggle to focus, the pain casting a shadow over my ability to think clearly. Finally, I reach the part of the building that librarians send out of date books to die.

The lights above are dim and the only sounds are my gasps as I attempt to steady my rapid heartbeat. My arms cradle me as I rock back and forth on the verge of the cliff. Time slows and speeds up all at once.

Please, just stop. I can't take this anymore.

A shudder rattles my body.

Breathe, Kagome.

I'm so fucking tired. I've tried so hard, for what? Everything is so fucked up. It's hopeless. I'll never escape the shrine. I'll never escape Toga. I'll never escape him.

Still, the pain continues. Like if I continue to deny it, the mark will consume me whole.

Leaning my head back against the unyielding bookshelf, I stare at the halogen light above as it flickers. I want to fall, just let go and let the emotions overtake me. If I shatter, surely the broken pieces can be mended. I cover my mouth, muffling a sob.

“Hey.”

The casual word digs daggers into my heart as his golden eyes look me up and down, fully appraising me.

Does he like what he sees, this broken bit of a girl before him? This is what he wanted, after all. You win, your highness. Now let me suffer in peace.

What could he possibly want from me now? I have nothing left to give.

“You, ummm, forgot your book.” He holds my art textbook out towards me with his good hand, but I can't move, any motion towards him will be the death of me. I was in such a hurry I hadn't realized its weight was absent from my bag. The book slowly falls down by his side. “You run a lot faster than I remember. Have you ever thought of trying out for the football team?”

The words are teasing, but his tone is gentle, as if he's afraid I'll run again. If anyone knows just how good I can run, it's Taisho.

Why isn't he taking joy in this? Is this all a game to him?

“You know how much I hate sports.” I sniffle, trying to steady my words. “I barely know the difference between home runs and touchdowns.”

The golden swirls in his eyes intensify as he smiles. I had forgotten how quickly he could disarm me with only his eyes. “Home runs are golf, right?”

“Something like that.” I shrug, but immediately regret it as the pain shoots through my shoulder again, my entire body shaking.

My book drops to the floor with a thud. Within the span of less than a second, his strong hands steady me without hesitation. “How bad is it?”

I bite down a smart remark, while also resisting the urge to collapse into his arms. I lack the energy to fight and excuses are useless. “Worse than last time.”

“Let me see.” His words aren't a question, yet he doesn't move to reveal the mark without my permission. The loose top slides off with ease, exposing my entire shoulder as I cautiously avoid any friction against the mark. His intake of breath doesn't surprise me; it's the same reaction I had upon seeing it in the mirror this morning. The wound is marked by an unsettling shade of purple with scattered spots of wet blood. Swollen edges surround the inflamed skin. It looks like shit, much like the rest of me.

“Fuck, Higurashi.” I glance up, watching as his nose slightly wrinkles like he used to do when he was thinking too hard.

“I'd say it doesn't feel as bad as it looks, but...” He's still supporting most of my weight, however I make no move to protest as another wave of pain erupts and steals my breath away. My brain screams to run, to increase the distance again, but I doubt I could stand, let alone sprint.

“It feels,” my voice cracks, “like it's on fire.” I had tried every manner of medicine, including covering it. Everything made it worse.

He supports my weight with one hand as the other gently caresses my shoulder. His tender touch is another type of torture. “I think I can help temporarily relieve the pain, but you won't like it.”

I close my eyes, weighing my options. If the pain continues, I won't be able to attend classes. I'll fail and this will all be for nothing. When I reopen my eyes, his concerned gaze fills my peripheral. Why is he willing to help me? Once upon a time, I would have trusted him with my life. But now-

“Do it.” The words come out quickly, before I can overthink them.

Second thoughts enter my mind when he doesn't immediately respond, as if he's giving me a chance to take the words back. But before I can he turns me around, wrapping his right arm so tightly around me that I can't move. His left hand buries itself in my hair, exposing my neck.

Oh Gods, what did I just agree to?

Taisho's warm breath tortures my fevered skin before he places a gentle kiss right above the mark. Suddenly I understand why his grip is so tight. Upon contact, the heat spreads down to my toes as my back arches, every nerve in my body alert and overstimulated.

His grip tightens against my scalp, careful not to pull my hair.

“Brace yourself, princess.” The nickname goes straight to my core. “This might be intense.”

And this feeling currently coursing through my veins? How would one define that? It can't possibly get worse-

His tongue licks the mark and my soul nearly leaves my body. Warm fingers slip under my crop top, gripping my flesh as his thumb rubs lazy circles just beneath my bra.

How is he gripping me so hard with his injured hand?

I don't have time to ponder the question as another lick produces a loud moan that is most inappropriate for a library. With a knowing chuckle against my skin, he releases my hair and moves to hook his thumb in my sweatpants, steadying my hips against him. My hand follows, intertwining my fingertips in his as a final lick nearly makes me come undone.

The burning that consumes me is no longer pain, it's exquisite pleasure.

My breathy pants are very different from the ones that filled the room only mere minutes before. Taisho are completely tangled in one another against the bookshelf and neither of us can seem to move.

Or maybe we simply don't want to. The silence stretches on between us for what feels like forever, neither of us willing to break the spell we're under.

“Come to the game tomorrow.” His whisper is so low I barely hear it.

I can't tell which way is up as the room spins. All I can feel is him. But I know as soon as we leave the library, we reenter a world in which we can't exist together. The thought makes my heart ache as I breathe in deeply, trying to ground myself as my body trembles against him. “The football game?”

“Don't make me beg.” That insufferable tone is back in his voice, but I'm too sated to care as he nuzzles my neck again.

Taisho is a King and no one makes a King beg. It's a perfectly normal thing for a freshman to go to a football game. And I am off of work. Even if the elder Taisho is there, I can blend in with the crowd easily enough. For the first time, I ignore the warning sirens blaring in my thoughts nonstop.

“I'll be there.”

Chapter Text

If I'm crazy, I'm on my own
If I'm waitin', it's on my throne
If I sound lazy, just ignore my tone
'Cause I'm always gonna answer when you call my phone
Like what's up, danger?

Black Caviar and Blackway – What's Up Danger

Chapter 10: Inuyasha

The stadium night lights are blinding as I constantly scan the stands. Minutes tick by. We just finished our final round of practice and Florida State is taking the field for theirs. The game will be starting soon. Still I don't see her and my calm, cool, collected mask is slipping.

I had taken a risk asking her to the game. I put the ball back in her court to hurt me, whether she realizes it or not.

I hate not being in control.

I also hate this annoying feeling in my chest.

I've been lying to myself since she left me, thinking I could shake her from my system, force her from my life. Believing hurting her would somehow make me whole again.

But seeing her broken before me didn't bring me any satisfaction at all.

All it did was create this...feeling.

Where does that leave us? If she comes, it proves she cares. If she doesn't...

“Sango said they were coming, stop worrying so much,” Miroku says casually beside me as bends down to adjust his tennis shoes. He looks like a nerd in his SU cheer uniform, but if we tease him, he reminds us that while we're spending the football game risking life and limb, he's looking up women's skirts.

Fair enough.

“Oh, I almost forgot, here.”

He grabs something out his sock and flicks it up at me. Upon flipping it over, I realize it's a Shikon ID, complete with the picture of a 40-something looking old lady named Susan Barnes. I shoot him a confused glance.

Jerking his shoelaces tighter, he grins, like he knows a secret I'm oblivious to. “She's the hall monitor for a certain someone's dorm. It features emergency access to every room.”

I look at him with disbelief.

He stands with a shit-eating grin. “Perks of owning the school. You're welcome. And by the way, Sango won't be there tonight. We plan on going to the after-party and then my place. Just make sure you remember the right room. Otherwise, that would be super awkward.”

Miroku sounds like he's speaking from experience.

“Susan sits in the Baker Hall lounge from 10 to 6 at night before her shift is up. If you're lucky she might fall asleep on the couch tonight watching the game. But if you pass by the doors and see her at her desk, shoot me a text. I'll call from my burner phone and create a diversion.”

I'm not sure if I should be impressed or concerned as I slip the ID into my sock, making a mental note to put it in my duffel as soon as we get to the locker room. “Got it, thanks.”

“But if you aren't craving a challenge, I'll send you the fire map. You can use the emergency exit to the right side of the building. ”

Miroku likes to live life recklessly. After all, it's hard to get kicked out of a school your family owns. But if tonight ends up with me and Higurashi together, I'm not taking any chances.

Koga walks up, hitting my back harder than normal as I stand. “Looking good, Yash! We might win the game without me being QB yet.”

After this morning, my hand feels better. It's a little stiff, but it's functional. The few throws we just practiced went where I intended, which is a relief. Searching the full stands, it seems the entire town population is here. I glance up to the student section again, but she's still absent.

My demon pulses in my mind, wanting to take control. Since the mark has reopened, he always seems just under the surface, awakening with the slightest provocation.

She said she would come. I glance across the field and up to our box, confirming the one person in attendance that never fails to show. He doesn't smile, give me a thumbs up, or any other sentimental shit.

Even from here, the weight of his stare says it all.

Win, or there will be consequences.

---

The deafening cheers as we run across the field usually hype me up, but they sound hollow and distant. The only two seats that still matter are empty.

Fuck. It's the first game against one of our biggest rivals; I have to focus.

Whoever created our schedule pulled no punches. When you're at the top, everyone is waiting to take you down.

Taking my place as team captain on the center field, I study my opponent as the ref begins to drone about the importance of sportsmanship and respect.

I know very little about Ellis, Florida State's starting quarterback standing across from me. He's average build, only a little shorter than me. His height probably gives him better balance; his center of gravity is lower. Looking at him, he's nothing special, but something about him feels off.

The referee explains the rules of the toss. “Florida State, you're the visiting team. You will make the call.”

“Tails.” Ellis says low, not bothering to glance at me.

“Tails is the call,” the coin goes up into the air, flipping over and over.

I want it to be heads, not that it matters. It's just good team morale to have the choice.

“It is tails.” The referee leans over to Ellis, whose voice is drowned out by the cheers of the visitor's side, a sea of red that mirrors our own.

“Florida State has won the toss. They've elected to receive.”

Odd and cocky choice. I usually find it safer to defer to get the ball first in the second half. At least now I can see what this guy is made of. He didn't play football in high school, nor could I find any videos of him on the field to study his mannerisms. You don't get starting quarterback your freshman year for a major SEC team having zero record. Heck, you don't get it with one. Unless...

I reach out my hand to shake his and he grins up at me, his pointed canines glistening in the floodlights. “You didn't think you'd be the only ones forever, did you?”

Well, this makes things interesting.

I don't have much time as I drop his hand and stride straight for the sidelines. We have a rule that says we can't use our powers, but even without them, we're still much more formidable than humans. I need to know who I need to watch my back for. “Coach Myoga,” I call as soon as I reach the sidelines, “I need to know all the new additions to Florida's team that are starting. Who else besides Ellis?”

The stout man flips through the clipboard, finding the roster. “Anderson. Reed. Yarrow.”

Ellis is the quarterback, so he'll be defense's problem. But Yarrow was the top high school linebacker in the state last year and now I know why. He's brutal on the field and the injuries he leaves in his wake are numerous. Not to mention he also had the record for most sacks, both in a season and in a single game.

It all makes sense now and I curse myself for not realizing it sooner.

“Thanks.” I don't have time to explain as I motion Koga and Sess to me.

I glance up to the stands one last time. Maybe it's a good thing she's not here. The last thing I need right now is a distraction.

“I don't know how Florida State kept this under wraps, but Ellis and Yarrow are both demons.” My heart is racing more than I'd like, but I can't let them see any weakness.

“Tell the rest of the team. We stick to the plan.”

--

The game starts when Sesshomaru takes to the field. His kick is flawless. No one on Florida's team can catch it and it comes to a stop right at our five-yard line. While I'm grateful my brother is such an incredible kicker, some dark part of me wishes just once he would kick it too far or miss a field goal.

Just once.

The weight on my shoulders isn't just from the pads.

If we lose, it won't be his fault.

It'll be mine.

Koga and I watch Ellis with interest as soon as the ball is snapped. Our defense is damned good against other humans, but no match against demons. With a quick dash and flick of his wrist, Florida gains 50 yards in one play.

I hope it's a fluke until the next play when the stadium erupts in cheers and the band plays a fight song.

It's not ours.

“Well since I won't be playing quarterback,” Koga says grimly, “it appears I'll be playing both offense and defense.”

Ellis high-fives the wide receiver while smirking in our direction.

Their kick is good.

“Looks that way.” I slip my helmet on. “Watch Yarrow. We don't know his abilities.”

We're able to even the score within three plays since Sesshomaru's extra point kick is good...as always.

One demon on defense is no match for two on offense. Maybe all my worrying was for nothing.

--

With Koga playing both sides, the game continues in our favor. It's two minutes left in the second quarter and we're up 43 to 28 – more points than I'd like are from Sesshomaru's over 50-yard kicks. We are taking the field again and we'll get the ball first in the second half. We have only two injuries, which are moderate compared to Yarrow's record.

We get into formation at Florida's thirty-yard line, ready to increase our lead.

And then I feel it...I feel her.

I look up to confirm it, letting a few more precious seconds go down on the play clock. She looks stunning in her blue jean shorts and SU top. Interesting. I couldn't feel her before. Our little library encounter had unintended effects.

But she came.

“That's your girl, Taisho?” Yarrow follows my glance, speaking to us for the first time. “Funny she didn't mention you when she was in my bed last night with her mouth around my dick.”

My demon sees red as the ball snaps. It makes contact with my hands but my fingers slip before gaining a good grip. In the haze, I can't find Koga, or anyone else open. Fuck.

As I move to intentionally ground the ball, my feet are knocked from under me and my back slams into the turf.

I blink.

Once, then twice.

I move my fingers, but the familiar feel of the ball is gone.

My hands are empty.

And Yarrow is on top of me, sneering.

“You're a cocky son of a bitch aren't you?” He glances up at the scoreboard. “Did you think that was the best we've got?”

The announcer's voice rings in my ears and I realize the referees are too busy dealing with the fumble pile to notice us, but the medic should be coming soon. That's two new experiences for me in one day. Maybe I could move if this heavy fucker would get off me.

Concern and fear fill me, but the emotions not my own. They're...hers.

Oh shit.

Yarrow grips my jersey with his face so close to mine that my vision struggles to focus.

“Tell the refs. Think they'll believe you?”

It's an odd question, until electricity shoots into my body.

My first instinct is to push him off me, but my muscles remain frozen as I struggle to break free of his hold. White hot pain floods me. I shut off my emotions, abruptly severing the tether between us.

Protecting her.

The stadium lights blind me as Yarrow's weight is thrown from me. Circles of light blur before my eyes, further disorienting me.

“Yash?” Koga's face slowly comes into focus. “I need a medic!”

My arms and legs tingle and feel numb at the same time. Underneath my chest pads burns like hot ash. A high-pitched whine rings in my ears, combining with my thundering and erratic pulse.

“It appears the SU quarterback, Inuyasha Tashio, is injured.”

Nope.

That can't be right.

I can't be injured.

I sit up, brushing Koga aside as the world spins.

The medic kneels beside me, but I can't remember her name, followed by a team with a spineboard. “Lay down, Inuyasha. You hit your head hard. It could be concussed.”

“Florida State has recovered the ball.”

Of course they did.

“I'm fine.” I jump up to my feet much too quickly, jerking off my helmet and shoving it a little too forcefully into the medic's hands. She grabs it, looking at me in horror.

Jessica. The medic's name is Jessica. Or maybe Julia.

Whoever she is, I don't need her.

I wince as a muscle spasm rocks my body, trying desperately to focus on something other than the pain. But that seems impossible when the simple act of taking a step requires all of my attention.

I can barely feel my feet in my cleats.

Koga slips his arm under mine without asking.

“What the fuck happened? He sacked the shit out of you, but...”

“He shocked me,” I whisper low enough so only he can hear.

Our slow forward motion stops. “You have to tell the refs. He'll be kicked out the game.”

I grimace, “If they believe me. They couldn't see it.”

Koga glances to the stands. “We all heard what that fucker said to you about Kagome.”

I struggle not to see red again.

He sets me down on the bench and I wave off the flood of people surrounding me, fighting the urge to look back up in the stands myself as I'm filled with overwhelming concern.

I block her out as much as I can manage, breathing deeply.

Rolling my shoulders back, they're stiff. Everything is stiff. Jessica, or Julia, or whatever, is still hovering over me, glaring daggers as she still holds my helmet. She can keep waiting, I don't have time to be poked and prodded.

The game continues and the resulting cheers fill me with dread.

The buzzer sounds right after, signaling halftime. 20 minutes. That's all I have to somehow pull myself together.

If only Koga could play three positions. The thought makes me scoff. Our backup QB is human, and no match for Yarrow. Fuck, unless we play dirty, I'm no match for Yarrow.

It's going to be a long second half.

---

Kagome

“Kagome, are you okay?”

I feel like I've heard the question at least fifty times from Sango since halftime. It's now the fourth quarter and I haven't been able to convince her yet that I'm okay. The score stands at 50-57. I know how to read the board well enough to know we're losing.

“I'm still good, thanks.”

The zaps that have been pulsing through my hands and feet since Taisho got tackled seem to have stopped. I had given Sango quite the scare earlier when my body started trembling uncontrollably. She thought it was a seizure. She begged me to leave after that, but I refused.

I couldn't leave. I couldn't leave him.

I felt bad enough about being so late. I had promised my parents I would run to the shrine and had grossly underestimated the time needed to get back to campus in time for kickoff. The combination of Saturday night traffic and game day road closures resulted in a lot of road rage. But I was here now, and I couldn't tear my eyes from him.

The fear, the pain, everything when he had been hit was too much. And then, there was nothing. Can he feel like I can feel him? My concern, my doubts...

He walks onto the field again, slower each time. Never have I cared about the outcome of a sports game, until now.

“He's tired. The defense isn't giving him enough time to rest,” Sango explains. “And with his injury, he shouldn't even be on the field. I don't know how he's still moving. At least he hasn't been sacked again. If he doesn't make a solid play here, we're done.”

He had told me before that demons have incredible healing powers, but he's only half-demon.

The clock reads two minutes remaining and we're back on Florida's 30-yard-line.

Our side has grown eerily quiet. Losing isn't in SU's vocabulary and the score seems to have stunned the fans into sullen silence.

Just when the team needs us to believe in them...bunch of cowards.

I inflate my lungs and cup my hands around my mouth, hoping to reach him above the noise of the obnoxious Florida fans.

“WOOOOOO! GO SU!”

He turns until he's looking right at me.

And then he smiles.

It must be my lack of sleep, because my heart flutters.

“Shikon! Shikon! Shikon!” Sango chants as the entire student section below joins in before going quiet as our team gets into formation. With ample time on the play clock, the ball is snapped and Taisho catches it. My heart pounds as I watch him study every player downfield, but none are open. He grips the ball, running it for a five-yard gain before running out of bounds.

Sango sighs, “He's-”

“Stopping the clock, I know.” Her eyes widen and I shrug, now we are down to 1:40. “I'm a quick learner.”

The ball snaps again and he passes it off to number 17, who carries the ball to the 50-yard-line before he is tackled. The time continues to run down.

Shit.

One minute left and counting.

Come on, Yash.

He catches the next snap easily, looking down the field. One second he's open, and the next Yarrow breaks free of his lineman, charging towards him. I jump to my feet along with the rest of the section.

Throw the ball. Please don't get hurt.

Koga finally gets open downfield at the five and Taisho lets the ball fly seconds before he's sacked.

“Touchdown, SU!” The announcer sounds like he's about to have a heart attack as our fight song blares from the band behind us.

But my eyes are still mid-field.

Inuyasha pushes Yarrow off him before standing as I breathe a sigh of relief. He doesn't seem to be injured any worse than before. Thank goodness.

But the game isn't over, we still need a two-point conversion to win or a good kick to tie the game.

When they line up at the three-yard line, my heart skips a beat.

Sango crosses her fingers, “Inuyasha must be too tired to play overtime. Sesshomaru would have made the kick.”

If there are football Gods, I'm praying to them right now along with the rest of the town.

Every second the play clock ticks down feels like a million.

With the final snap, Inuyasha catches the ball. There is no path for him forward to run the ball and Koga can't break free.

Suddenly with a quick dart to the left, Koga is open.

The ball flies through the air before going perfectly to him in the end zone.

Sango and I nearly fall into the fans below us as we jump up and down, shaking the bleachers. The energy is contagious and the deafening approval from our side echoes throughout the stadium.

“Don't look now,” Sango yells above the roar, “but a certain someone is looking at you.”

I know I shouldn't, but I can't help it.

Even covered in grass stains and sweat, he looks irresistible, a magnetic force drawing me in. The smile on his face isn't for the thousands of people around us.

It's for me.

Something inside of me turns to mush.

He might still be the death of me yet.

--

I've reread the text message at least two dozen times.

Unknown: Meet me outside the practice building after the game.

I knew instantly who "unknown" is, just not how he got my latest number.

Maybe I don't want to know.

Why doesn't he just ask me instead of demanding? Perhaps asking is beneath him. Or maybe he doesn't want to give me the choice.

Maybe he's as scared as I am.

The doors to the building swing open and my heart skips a beat. He looks downright gorgeous in his clean number seven jersey and black sweatpants. The win and a recent shower must have done him good because the swagger is finally back in his step. I peek out from the shadows of a nearby building but immediately retreat as the doors swing open again.

“Congrats again, man.” It's Koga. “You deserved that win.”

“You deserve it just as much. I only had to play one position.”

The wolf demon grins, “Hopefully the rest of the season won't hold any surprises. See you at the after party?”

Taisho looks around but doesn't seem to find what - or rather who - he's looking for. “Nah, I got other plans.”

I smile in the darkness.

I'm Inuyasha Taisho's other plans.

Koga raises an eyebrow. “You'll be missed, man. I'll toast a beer to you. Later.”

As he leaves, Inuyasha clicks the button on his phone, the light illuminating his face as he quickly checks it before frowning and shoving it back into his pocket.

I hadn't responded to the message; I didn't know what to say.

What are we doing?

Are we just going to forget everything that happened and simply move on? Such a feat doesn't seem possible.

He should hate me. I should hate him.

End of story.

Even if we can somehow pick up where we left off, it doesn't solve the issue of why I left him in the first place. Like Romeo and Juliet, we're doomed to fail.

And yet-

The door opens again and the blood freezes in my bones as I will the shadows to consume me completely. “There you are. I've been looking everywhere for you. I need a word. Let's go.”

“No doubt you need a few,” Taisho spits at his father. “I can't leave. I'm waiting for someone.”

Toga grips his arm with an expression that lacks his normal restraint. “You really want to do this here?”

“I don't want to do this at all, dad.” He jerks his arm back. “But as always, it's not my choice, is it?”

Back when we dated, we never talked about his family much. Since they weren't important to him, they weren't important to me. Now I know the true reason why he was so silent.

His dad treats him with the same regard as my family, as a means to an end.

Toga glances around to make sure there are no witnesses. I retreat until the bricks behind me bite into my back.

“What the fuck happened out there, huh?”

“Were you watching the same game? We won, last I checked.”

His own father wouldn't hit him, would he?

“I watched you get sacked. I watched you practically get carried off the field. Are you not strong enough to take care of a few demons?”

No blows are exchanged, but Taisho draws back all the same.

“You knew?”

I wish I could slap the smug look off his father's face, for the both of us.

“Of course I did. I know everything.”

“And you didn't fucking tell me? The whole reason I was injured was because that fucker shocked me.”

That explains the pain. The pain he's feeling now is a different type of hurt entirely.

“I wanted to see if you'd rise to the occasion. Thought the great Inu clan could take care of a few repulsive felines. Apparently-”

Three players loudly exit, clearly still on their high from the game. “Hey, Mr. Taisho! Hey, Yash!”

Toga gives a curt wave, “Great game, guys. Keep it up and we'll be back in the championship.”

“You got that right!”

The silence drags on as the players walk to the parking lot, finally out of earshot.

Toga's smile transforms into a grim line.

“Apparently,” he continues, “you are incapable of doing so. You were one mistake away from losing. That two-point conversion was dumb luck.”

The pain turns into veiled rage, burning through my body and consuming my thoughts. I control my breathing, trying to focus on his emotions and not my own.

“If that's all,” Taisho says in an eerily monotone voice, “I'm waiting for someone.”

Toga glances down at his watch, then up, staring right at me. The breath stills in my lungs. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“I see.” He's still looking right through me. “You should rest. You're injured, remember?”

The moment he glances away, I run.

---

A huge thank you to MoonkissedA who perfectly captured the moment in the game where Inuyasha smiles up at Kagome. I love it!

Chapter Text

I like watching you,
When you're on fire,
Take off your pretty dress,
And feed the beast, deep inside me.
This is what you get, playing with a devil,
I don't give a fuck, if you're going back to heaven,
Breathing you, in and out,
I'm breathing you, in and out.

Emo – Don't Mess with My Mind

Chapter 11: Inuyasha

I shouldn't be here.

There are few things that can get a King into actual trouble, but being in the girls' dorm after hours is one of them. Even so, I have to know before it drives me mental. Why is she fucking playing me? I waited by the practice building for over an hour, and she never showed.

She got my message. The stupid fucking typing dots showed up at least ten times...like she was responding.

I thought that something had changed. That everything today meant something to her, that I meant something to her. 

As always, I was wrong.

I could go to the party, drown myself in whiskey and women, but I don't want anyone else.

I want her.

Glaring through the main window as I walk past, I notice Susan Barnes is not at her desk, but I'm not willing to tempt fate tonight. The emergency exit Miroku suggested is shadowed by tall bushes and the perfect place to sneak in. He had texted me the map as promised, along with the words, “Don't get lost,” and a stupid winking emoji.

If he knew my current mental state, he wouldn't have allowed me access to the dorm so easily. After the encounter with my old man, my demon is in full force. I'm sick of suppressing it. Sick of trying to be perfect.

I'm not perfect, as he so often reminds me.

Far from it.

Never good enough for him.

Never good enough for her.

The ID clicks forcefully against the reader, instantly popping the lock.

My ears twitch in irritation as the door swings open, listening for any signs of movement, but there are none. According to the map, Higurashi's room is in the middle of the hall. I don't have a plan when I get there. No doubt she'll bat those beautiful brown eyes and give me some bullshit excuse.

I'll have none of it.

Even though her scent is muddled with that of others, I can smell her everywhere. Instead of calming me, it rushes to my head like the quick hit of a drug, heightening my senses.

115. 114. 113.

Steam leaks from the slightest crack in the bathroom door as I pass. The sweet scent of vanilla slams into me, stopping me in my tracks. My eyes burn and I can't immediately figure out what has my demon so intrigued. Then it hits me.

It's her.

There are no other scents – she's alone.

Fuck.

I place my hand on the door, hesitating as my claws dig into the cheap wood. There's so little restraint left, I doubt my control. Footsteps resound down the hall, and I no longer have time to figure it out. My fangs elongate and I swing the door open, disappearing inside.

Kagome

The water is too hot, but I don't care. I need to wash away the day, all of it. The foamy soap suds run down my flush skin, pooling between my toes. Transfixed, I stare at the water as it circles the drain, going down in a constant loop.

It's a perfect metaphor for my life.

How long did I honestly believe this twisted daydream of ours would last? Longer than a day, I had dared to hope. Toga knows. He may have even known before tonight, when the mark reopened. Resting my head on the tile, I let the water run over me, closing my eyes. I have little time to figure out how to save our home.

Tell everyone the truth.

I smile sadly at the hopeful thought. Mom and dad would abandon the shine to protect me, leaving it in Toga's hands. He'd win.

Tell Inuyasha.

My body sags as the world around me further dulls. Nothing good would come from telling him. Him knowing won't save us. He might go into a rage he may never recover from. I would lose him and the shine once his father tightened his hold. And tonight made one thing clear, I'm not the only one on Toga's bad side.

There is no happy ending for us, only heartbreak.

As soon as the sun rises in the morning, I need to get home. I'll do damage control like always. I'll tell Toga I never planned to see his son again, but, as I mentioned before, the school schedules had other plans. I'll tell him it's platonic; I don't love his son.

We're...nothing.

I flinch as the mark disagrees, my mind reminiscing on the memory of Inuyasha smiling up at me on the field. In that moment, he felt like....everything. Like my world revolved around him. Like together we could beat any odds and be happy again, like we used to be.

I brush my hand against my neck, staring at the red droplets of blood as they dilute into the water. Since the library this morning, the mark remained painless...until the moment I ran.

Cool air caresses my back and I ignore it, turning the water off. I grab the towel behind the shower head, wrapping it around myself as the steam hangs heavy in the air around me like a warm fog.

Suddenly my body feels immensely sensitive and tense, completely foreign and different from a moment before. The towel grows tighter against my skin, the cheap fibers scratching uncomfortably against my nipples that have hardened against it.

That's...odd.

I shut my eyes, leaning my head back, focusing on my breathing as my pulse quickens. Gripping the towel, I desperately resist the urge to reach between my legs as my thighs clench.

I ache so badly for something to fill me it hurts.

And then I feel it, the awful gut-twisting feeling that I'm not alone. Someone is standing just behind me. My eyes shoot open just as a hot and heavy breath grazes my neck.

Two large hands appear, caging me in. Shit. My lungs inflate on their own accord, ready to call for help.

“Don't scream.”

I jump with an involuntary shriek. The voice is so deep and feral that I barely recognize it. I swallow, trying to turn around and face him, but his hard, unrelenting body presses against mine. My heart thuds uncomfortably in my chest, stealing the air from my lungs as I clutch the towel for dear life. I can tell by the growl in his voice that reasoning with his demon will be difficult, if not impossible.

Fuck me. A second ago I thought a stranger was behind me and I was about to become a campus murder statistic. The actual situation may not be an improvement. 

It takes a few seconds to regain my ability to speak. “How-how did you get in here?”

Breathe, Kagome.

His hands flex against the shiny tile; his claws making a sound that I'm sure is unpleasant to his sensitive ears.

“You didn't come.”

My eyes squeeze shut. The accusatory tone in his voice says it all. I betrayed him yet again.

Your father is a psychopath, as you know, and he has my family by the balls.

“I was scared.” It's the closest thing to the truth I can give him as his lust and anger continue to crash through me, unraveling my defenses. The thought arises that I should be afraid of him in this state, or pity him for what I witnessed earlier with his father, but I can barely discern my own thoughts. “I don't,” Gods it's still hard to breathe, “think we're good for each other.”

His hands shift, moving in closer, trapping me further. “I'll be the judge of that.”

I shake my head as the memories from only an hour ago frantically replay in my mind, clearing the haze for the briefest moment. “You shouldn't be here.” I push against the wall with one hand, but he's completely unmoving.

“Let me go, Taisho.” The words now have an edge of desperate panic as I struggle against him.

I've only seen him in this state twice before.

Both times did not end well.

“Why?” He growls and the sound vibrates against my body. “So you can run again?” Somehow he moves his body even tighter to mine, pushing me up against the now cold tile. His body behind me just as hard as the wall in front of me. “When will you learn you can't run from me?” My toes curl as his warm tongue licks my neck, trailing down my shoulder until he nuzzles the mark with a husky growl. “You're mine.”

My whole body clenches at the words as I search for something to say to defuse him, but my mouth has gone dry.

And my thoughts are suddenly not my own.

He's holding my hands trapped above my head as he pounds his cock deep inside me.

Oh, Gods. My core throbs at the vision.

“That's only the beginning of all the things I want to do to you." He grins against my neck, "Are you wet for me, little one?”

I'm desperate not to lose this impossible, never-ending game. My mind wants to run, but my body wants to surrender.

Silence is my only answer.

“No?” His fingers reach around me, disappearing underneath the towel and brushing my hot damp skin until they reach my sex. I catch myself against the tile with a moan as he roughly slips a finger between my legs with no resistance.

“Fuck, Higurashi. I knew you were wet, but shit.”

Gods, his voice was sexy before; now it's lethal. Craving friction, I rub against his hand. He asked me not to make him beg to attend the game and now I'm hoping he returns the favor. But if I have to beg, I will. Anything for his touch.

Luckily, he flicks his finger against my clit and my hands forget their purpose, dropping the towel and leaving me bare before him. A low growl of approval echos as his other hand finds my breast, filling his palm with a rough squeeze. The friction is too good to deny as he increases the pressure.

Yes, that's it. God, that feels good.

And then it's gone.

And I feel terribly empty again.

Damn him. “What are you-”

He smears his fingertips across my parted lips before I can protest, pushing them inside.

“Suck.”

I can't help but obey the command, careful to avoid his claws as I lap my juices from him. In this moment, I'd follow him straight into the pits of hell.

No matter how I try, I can't deny him.

Slowly, he pulls his fingers out, trailing them down my chin. He takes a step back and finally I'm able to turn and face him. But before I can get a good look at him, he drops to his knees.

Inuyasha

I could fuck her every hour of every day and it still wouldn't be enough. If the only way she'll accept me is with my hands all over her body, so be it. I allowed her to taste herself, but now it's my turn.

She falls back against the shower with a yelp as I lift her leg to rest on my shoulder. Just as I'm about to bury my face between her legs, the bathroom door swings open. A happy hum fills the room.

Well, this just got interesting.

We have an audience.

I glance up at her panicked eyes with a wicked grin as her body tenses against me.

Better be quiet, princess.

Stop. We'll get-

The shower across the room switches on and my tongue takes the opportunity to slip between her folds, earning a sharp intake of breath above me.

I'm going to coax all the sounds possible from her sweet lips.

As my tongue teases her clit, the resulting moans are music to my ears. Despite the time spent apart, I know her body as well as my own. How to play it, how to tease it…

How to ruin it.

The humming grows louder, and she glances to the shower curtain. The first time in the classroom felt dangerous, knowing a teacher could walk in at any moment. But we can get caught for all I care. There is no way in fuck I'm stopping now. My demon demands it. Fuck I demand it. This has been building since the first time I saw her on campus, and this time, I won't let her go until she shatters.

My eyes hold hers prisoner as I tease her entrance, darting in only to pull back until she her hips shift towards me, allowing me deeper. Sliding my free hand upward, I grasp her breast. Her nipple is hard as I roll it between my fingertips before giving it a tug. With a mewling sound, her hand rises to cover her mouth as I turn my attention back to her clit, first running my tongue across it before giving the swollen flesh a hard suck.

Her muffled cry causes me to shoot her a look of warning, my eyes narrowing as I note the mix of panic and bliss in her eyes. I'm surrounded by the scent of her arousal and the taste of her need as my tongue continues to torture her. My eyes close at how right it feels, my demon purring in my ear to finish the mating, to put an end to foreplay, lift her up, and fuck her.

But then her other hand finds my ears and I nearly lose my shit.

Now it's me who might give us away as I growl into her core. I glance up again as her head drops back, her breasts heaving faster as her breath quickens.

That's it, little one, come for me.

Her muscles tense in unison as she cries out, muffling the sounds with her hand. I suck her clit harder with each wave, greedily lapping her juices as she trembles against me.

Our heavy breathing echoes with the sound of flip-flops as our bystander leaves, none the wiser to our little show. After a final long lick, I put Higurashi's feet back on the floor, waiting a moment to make sure she can stand before rising. Her entire body continues to shiver, but I'm not sure whether it's from the cold or the pleasure coursing through her.

Without thought, I slip my jersey over my head in a fluid motion, before putting it over hers. Inhaling deeply, I savor the scent of her mixed with mine. It somewhat calms me this time, despite my raging hard-on. Her weight feels like nothing as I easily lift her with one arm, grabbing her clothes in the other. I have half a mind to leave it in the shower, but I have no doubt she'd protest.

As I kick the bathroom door open and stride into the hall, everything is quiet, including her, almost like she's in shock. I grip her tighter, reaching into my pocket for the ID, and open the door.

Luckily she doesn't ask questions about the key.

I waste no time in dropping her things on the floor and sitting her on the bed. The scent of her is on the bed, on the couch, all around me. Worse, the smell of her arousal is unbearable. Our time in the shower should have been enough, but my demon seems harder and harder to satisfy. Digging my nails into my palms, I attempt to make the pain snap him back in place. Back in the far corners of my mind where he belongs.

Still, he persists.

I study Higurashi as she sits on the edge of the bed, my red jersey falling to her knees. This is not the girl I remember, the happy-go-lucky girl who always smiled no matter the challenge. Part of that is my fault. Maybe she runs because she still can't trust me. The thought twists my stomach as the silence stretches between us. I should leave her to her thoughts, but every moment away from her feels...wrong.

Even my demon knows it.

She levels her eyes with my chest. “Are you alright? When I saw you get hit, I was so worried.”

With everything that has happened, her only concern is still me.

“Keh, I heal fast, remember? Are you hurt?” My voice has an undertone of a growl at the memory. “When that fucker shocked me, I thought...”

She swallows, the sound audible. “I'm fine.” Her eyes meet mine, going wide with worry as she rises to her feet. The gentle caress of her fingertips runs across my cheek.

“Why is this not fading?” She traces the purple marks before trailing down, resting her hand on my chest. Even a simple touch feels amazing.

I shrug. She has enough worries right now; she doesn't need mine. “I'm sure it's nothing.”

“Inuyasha-”

The concern in her eyes hits me harder than the tackle as I look away. “You should get some sleep. You're exhausted.”

Her hand continues to trail down my chest without hesitation before dipping beneath the band of my pants.

I grip her wrist on instinct.

“You-” My voice is not my own. “You don't have to do that.”

“I know,” she whispers as I release her. She doesn't hesitate as she wraps her fingers around my cock. “I want to.”

My eyes slam shut, fighting the urge to flip her on the bed and fill her.

She goes down on her knees, making quick work of my loose sweatpants, pulling them lower along with my boxers. I can't say a word as she grabs the base of my dick, her big brown eyes locked on mine as her warm breaths grow closer. Time seems to slow as she bites her lip, gently rolling it under her teeth. She lets go of me, running her hands up my calves until she grips me again. I'm mesmerized watching her, but fuck I need her now. Just when I think I'm going to burst from anticipation, she runs her tongue lazily over my length before licking the tip.

I moan as the smell of her arousal further fills the air. The idea of sucking me off is making her even wetter. She's putting on a show, but I can only take so much. My control is slipping. My oversized jersey slips down, revealing the mark as her shoulder is bared. Thoughts surface again of ripping it from her and fucking her until the dorm knows my name.

After what feels like an eternity, she takes me fully into her mouth, pulling with a slow and torturous suck. As she rocks forward, her ass peaks out from beneath the jersey, teasing me.

“Ka-go-me.” Her name is a whine and a warning.

She pulls back, staring at me expectantly with a coy smile, playing with fire and eager to get burned.

Enough foreplay.

I bury a hand in her damp hair, guiding my dick deep into her mouth. It's her turn to moan as she opens her mouth to accommodate me, gripping my thighs. After a few thrusts to come back to my senses, I loosen my grip, allowing her to take the reigns again.

The first thing she does is pull back, her wet lips gently brushing my cock, her eyes still locked on mine, challenging me. She's certainly not afraid of me. She should be.

Her lips wrap around the head of my cock with a strong suck before taking me into her mouth again.

Fuck, she's going to be the death of me.

I give into all the sensations, closing my eyes again as her nails run over my chest and thighs. I'm close. Who am I kidding? I was close when she first dropped to her knees.

Finding the nape of her neck again, my fingers twist into her hair as she increases the pace. A euphoric rush races through my body as my toes curl against the floor. With a final thrust and a hard suck, everything explodes.

The release feels incredible, like nothing I've ever felt before.

I expect her to release me, but her mouth continues to pull, taking everything I have to give until I'm shaking.

“Kagome,” I groan.

She looks breathless and utterly beautiful with her wild damp hair as she swallows before smiling up at me. Running my thumb along her lip, I slowly wipe away the last drop of come. My demon is temporarily sated, for now. The mark still beckons to complete the mating ritual, but I made that mistake once and I will not make it again.

She's not ready.

And I'll wait for her, no matter how long it takes.

She's worth it.

After helping her to her feet, I put my sweats back on before moving to her bed. I knew that this bed was hers as soon as I had entered the room, and not just by her scent – it's the same bedspread she used to have at the shrine. It's pink, slightly ridiculous, and girly. It somehow still smells like the shrine, a slightly musty scent. During that year, the year I was with her, that place felt more like a home to me than any other.

Briefly, I remember her financial aid folder. I'd have to ask her about the shine in the morning.

“Come on,” I lay down, patting the space beside me, “you need some sleep.”

She continues to smile, a genuine one that makes her eyes glow, and lays down, resting her head against my shoulder. As she yawns. I wrap an arm around her, running my fingers gently through her hair, over and over.

There is nothing to say. No words are worth possibly ruining this moment.

Everything feels as it once did, perfect.

Her breathing quickly falls into a pattern, her body snuggled up against mine. I feel the sting of the demon marks leaving my cheeks as I study her, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes. For the first time in a long time, she looks like the girl I once knew.

The girl I need.

I'll prove to her I'm good for her, no matter what it takes.

Chapter Text

Father's hands are lined with guilt
For tearing us apart
Guess it turned out in the end
Just look at where we are
We made it out
We still got clothing on our backs
And now I scream about it
And how it's so bad, it's so bad
It's too bad, it's stupid
Too late, so wrong, so long
It's too bad that we had no time to rewind
Let's walk, let's talk

Nickelback - Too Bad

Chapter 12 - Kagome

“Soooo, spill all the details! How was last night?”

My cheeks flush at the loaded question through my phone's speaker. I try desperately to focus on the road, but as the memories replay quite vividly in my mind, the rest of my body flushes too.

“It was-” I trail off, my tongue feeling heavy. Amazing is the first word that comes to mind, but I don't want to get sentimental. No doubt Miroku had filled her in on all the details, but saying the thought out loud made it more...real. I settle instead for silence, taking a quick sip of water.

“Did you two fuck?”

The water in my mouth sprays all over the dash.

“What? No!” Geez Sango, way to get to the point.

She clicks her tongue in annoyance. “Girl, you need to get some. You aren't still a virgin are you?”

I turn into the driveway of the shrine. Luckily I know the turn by heart because my eyes are rolled so far back into my head seeing the road is impossible.

Could this morning get any worse? I'm in a foul mood, there's no denying it. Not because we didn't fuck, but because I had to leave a very sexy hanyou in my bed this morning. With his tousled hair, adorable ears, hard abs, and big-

“Why does it matter if she's still a virgin?” I nearly faint at the addition of a male voice. “Leave her be.”

“Sango,” I wince, trying to take the venom out my tone, “Am I on speaker?”

“Hey, Kagome,” Miroku says sheepishly.

My foot hits the break too hard and Betty comes to an abrupt stop in front the shrine. Those two are hopeless. But with as much time as they are spending together, Sango probably tells him everything anyway. He has no reason to still be with her unless he truly cares about her. He better treat her right.

“I have to go guys. I will call you later Sango, fill you in on the details.”

The resulting squeal makes me wince.

“Yay, can't wait!”

---

I wipe down the shrine altar until the polished wood glows in the morning light. Smiling to myself, I hum a tune as I grab the broom from the corner. A heavy scent lingers in the air, making even my human nose scrunch. I showered three times since arriving with the most pungent soap I could find – my dad's Old Spice. Now that I smell like I rolled in both a forest and a whole grove of citrus trees, I hope my scent smells more like all of nature vomited on me and less like a certain hanyou.

My cheeks hurt from smiling so much as I remember the sexy grin Inuyasha gave me when I opened my eyes. My body just melted, turning useless under his gaze.

My heart flutters at the thought.

I can't leave him. Hell or high water, I don't care. We were meant to be together. Something that feels so right can't be wrong.

We will figure it out, together.

Rearranging a few candles on the altar, I glance up at the tapestry behind them. The walls are full of tapestries telling many tales, but this one is my favorite. The story behind it isn't exactly bedtime material, but that never stopped my mother. Long ago, there was a great war between mikos and demons. When all seemed lost and the demons were on the verge of eradicating spiritual magic, the great miko Midoriko sacrificed her life, saving her village.

My mom always had a glint in her eye as she told the stories, almost as if they were true. Dad would always humor her, but I believed they were like Greek mythology, trying to teach us lessons.

The click of polished shoes against the tile makes my heart stop. I adjust another candle as my hands start to tremble. I'm in no hurry to turn around as I take a deep breath. The air feels dark and tense, like the calm just before a strong summer storm.

“My parents are in town.” A candle to the left is slightly off-center so I slide it across the table, not daring to risk picking it up and possibly dropping it. “You'll have to come back later.”

“I'm not here for your parents.”

Mom and dad won't be back for a few hours; they had multiple errands to run. Briefly, I consider demanding he leave. I don't have a demon side like Inuyasha, but if I did, it would be in full force. Hate is not a word that is normally in my vocabulary. However, I fucking hate Toga Taisho.

I shift a third candle, briefly glancing to Midoriko for strength. If I continue to delay the inevitable, I'll have a panic attack and that won't do. The last thing I want to be in front of Toga is unable to breathe and function.

I am not weak.

Spinning around a little too quickly, I find my footing, facing him. His expression usually alternates between contempt and faked polite formalities, but this look as his brows furrow is one I have not seen before.

He almost looks...worried.

He takes a step forward then stops and I don't take the extra space for granted. “I thought you were smarter than this. But I see now I have underestimated your resolve as well as my son's.”

I cross my arms, mirroring his stance. I can no longer lie to myself. “He loves me.”

The admission feels powerful, freeing even. The weight of every lie I told him, every lie I told myself, lifts from my shoulders. “And he hates you.”

I want the words to sting, to hurt him like he hurt his son. God knows he deserves it.

Toga's eyes widen before he scowls, “He thinks he's in love with you, but he's as ungrateful as his mother. You have no idea what love is. All the sacrifices I've made for that insolent-”

Remembering himself, he straightens his coat, swallowing the rest of his words as my pulse pounds in my ears.

He glares at the marble statue of Midoriko behind me, “Humor me, girl. Why do you think I don't want you with my son?”

I grimace. The question has plagued me for almost two years, but the answer is simple. “I'm human. You think we're inferior.”

“So was his mother.” Not my wife, or my love, just his mother. The word choice isn't lost on me. I know little about Inuyasha's family, but next to nothing about his mom, only that she passed away before we met. The one time I mentioned her, the pain in his eyes looked like the question split his soul in two. I didn't make the same mistake again.

“I don't know.” Now my insecurities are running rampant through my mind. If it's not because I'm human, then what else is wrong with me?

I have no doubt he'll tell me soon enough.

Toga's golden eyes scan the tapestries on the wall with disdain as his lip curls. His eye color is the same as his sons, no doubt a dominant trait, but Inuyasha's eyes hold a warmth that both his father and brother lack.

“I bought this place to destroy it.” The words make my stomach clench. It's common knowledge, but hearing him say it so simply reminds me the ease in which he could reduce our home to rubble. “I thought at first you were a fling of Inuyasha's, something to pass the time. The girls before and after you certainly were. He would grow tired of you and move on. I didn't interfere because if I told him to leave you he would stay with you to spite me. But Inuyasha has always been reckless and passionate, like his mother, and he marked you anyway.”

I wrap my arms around me for comfort. There's a point buried in his words and I get the feeling I would sooner live in denial forever than know the truth.

He strides to a tapestry depicting the death of a wolf demon at a miko's hands. “The stories on these walls are not mere legends and folktales; they are our history. One I'd prefer to forget.” His claws run along the threads, carelessly snagging a few stray pieces and pulling them loose. “Everything must be in balance, so they say. As demons were created, so were mikos – imbued with the spiritual power to subdue demons.”

He turns to face me his eyes burn with a quiet rage. “Only a few survived, thanks to Midoriko. Times have changed, but their offspring have not. Mikos have hunted demons since their inception. It's in their nature to feel unnaturally drawn to them.”

Oh Gods. Is he saying he thinks I'm a miko? That my love for his son is some kind of twisted supernatural pull?

No. This can't be right. Stories such as these have existed since the dawn of time as a way for humans to explain things beyond their comprehension. They're not real. He's just twisting it to fit his narrative.

He's wrong about everything.

I level my face with his. “I would never hurt Inuyasha.”

Toga scoffs. “And yet you already have.”

I swallow as my throat constricts. His fingers.

“His control over his demon is slipping because of the mark. If you both continue down this path, it will consume him.”

“You're lying.” His claws. The marks on his cheeks.

“Why is this not fading?”

My eyes burn with the tears prickling them. “If we complete the mark, he will be fine.”

I can't be sure, but my heart can't imagine any other outcome.

“Would you care to test my theory? You are capable of much more than breaking his fingers. A miko has never been with a demon. It's unnatural. Are you willing to risk hurting him?”

“Hurting him?” My voice cracks as I echo the words, but my mind is too broken to care. Coming here was a last ditch effort to control us. His grip on his son is slipping and soon he'll lose him forever. I don't care. I'll toss kerosene on that bridge and let that bitch burn.

“Do you ever stop to think how you hurt him?” The memory of after the game replays in my mind, reminding me of all the ways Inuyasha has changed since we were first together. All because of him. “For even a moment, do you ever wonder if his lack of control has something to do with the never-ending expectations you put on him?”

Taisho straightens his spine, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “He doesn't understand now, but he will someday. Everything I do is to protect him.”

“And who protects him from you?”

The words hang in the air as the tears dry on my cheeks. The click of his shoes echoes through the room as he walks around me, surveying the walls.

“I think,” he ponders to himself, “that this will be the first room to go. I'd demolish it, but I think I'd take more pleasure it watching it burn.”

My legs go weak and my vision spins, until he is all I see.

Claws grip my face, tilting it upward, with enough pressure to hurt but not leave a mark. I suppress the urge to spit on him as he studies me in the same manner as he did the shrine. My hands grip his arms on instinct, but we both know the truth. If he chooses to kill me now, my resistance will make no difference.

“I can almost see what my son sees in you. Beauty, passion, that pesky miko resilience and urge to keep fighting even when all is already lost.”

As quickly as he grabbed me, he releases me. Turning back to the main tapestry, he wipes his hands on his pants like he just touched something vile.

“Expect the eviction papers on Monday.” He picks up a candle and meets my eyes, holding it up in the air as if making a toast, before letting it shatter against the floor.

Chapter Text

All I ever wanted was to find someone
But holdin' it together is the hardest part
No one said life gets in the way
That our plans may change, but our hearts remain
You stand in the doorway holdin’ me
Feeling the tension, you beg and plead
Not to go away again
And then she said,

“Every time you leave, I lose a little piece of me.”

I Prevail – Every Time You Leave

Chapter 13: Inuyasha

My fingers hesitate as they hover over my cell. Words have never been my strong suit. Still they've never been this fucking hard. My pulse has been pounding in my ears all afternoon. What should I say to her? It hasn't even been a whole day and I want her near me.

I need her near me.

Watching her walk away this morning was torture. When she hesitated by the door and gave me the sweetest smile I'd ever seen, I thought I'd won the battle. But after she turned around and walked out.

I guess helping her parents is more important to her.

They always were close when we were together. They seem like great people and all, but do they know how hard she works? It seems like she never gets a break. She's always tired...barely getting through her classes...

Maybe it all has something to do with the shrine facing foreclosure in the past.

One problem at a time.

My elongated claws drum against the phone screen as everything around me feels so...empty.

The human part of me knows that every time she leaves that it's not like that time. It's not like she's leaving me alone forever. But fuck if my demon has to throw it all back it my face like it was only yesterday she left us.

After last night, I need to send her something. Not going to make the mistake of her thinking I don't care, like it meant nothing to me. It's getting late and we haven't spoken since. We're gaining momentum and if I learned anything in football, throwing away momentum can cost you the game.

And I'm playing to win.

Thanks for last night.

Thanks? That makes it sound like she gave me a gift. Technically she gave me the best gift of all with her mouth around my dick but-

What do I have to do to get you in my bed every night?

Honesty is not always the best policy, even though it's the closest thing to the truth. I would give anything to open my eyes to her curled up against me every morning. I delete the words, not wanting to sound like that's all I want from her.

I don't just want her body – I want everything.

I love you.

My whole body tenses. I typed that without thinking. We had said the words before. Before she left. I backspace, a growl filling my mind. I can't do that again. I can't put myself out there until I'm sure she won't run.

I drop the phone beside me on the couch, letting it plop with a thud. Leaning back, I barely notice Sesshomaru approaching me. His eyes narrow on my phone screen still showing Kagome's name, before slipping his hands into his pockets like our father does before delivering bad news.

Great. This is just what my day needed.

Instead of immediately lecturing me, he sinks beside me on the couch with a sigh. I'm scared to break the silence between us, but the sooner we get on with it, the better.

I click a button on my phone and the screen fades to black. “What's up?”

I never thanked him for winning us the game, but sometimes words aren't needed. Plus his ego is big enough, doesn't need to get any bigger.

“Father asked me to talk some sense into you.”

I jump off the couch in one smooth motion, grabbing my phone. I fight the urge to stomp out, I can't take this shit today. My demon has been lurking under the surface, too close for comfort. If Sess keeps this up, I might just forget he's not the enemy.

“Inuyasha.” His condescending tone makes my cheeks burn.

I spin back towards him and his eyes widen. “He fucking said enough last night. Or did he not tell you about that? I know my duty.”

Sess starts to lean forward on the couch then thinks better of it. Throwing up his hands, he looks me up and down, quickly sizing me up. “Father said you were having...trouble controlling yourself, but I didn't believe it.”

“I'm fine.” My voice sounds feral and I take a deep breath, attempting to calm the demon. But he won't go easily. It takes me a moment to realize the building pain in my bottom lip is from my fangs. I just need to get through this conversation and get the fuck out. “Anything else?”

Sess hesitates. “He thinks the girl is a distraction.”

“Kagome?” I snarl, striding to stand over him. How did he even know we were together again? Of course the bastard knows, he knows everything. “She's not negotiable. You got that?”

My brother sighs. “Everything is negotiable to father, Yash. Either you give him what he wants or he'll make you wish you had.”

My claws dig into my palm, drawing blood. “Like he took mom?”

Losing her broke me. Kagome is the only person who makes me feel whole again. I won't lose her too, especially not because of him. I never stopped loving her and this time I won't let anyone come between us.

Sesshomaru slowly rises to his feet, giving me a sympathetic look. “She died eight years ago, brother.”

Sess was the result of a one night stand and the only role model he ever had was our lame ass excuse for a father. My body responds against my will, every muscle tight and taunt, ready to fight. “Don't lecture me about grief. What the fuck would you know about loving or losing anyone?” The room turns crimson and I can't stop. I don't want to. “You have our psychopath father and what do I have? I have nothing!”

I'm going to dig my grave and hell to whoever I bury along with me.

“Since father can't be bothered to talk to me himself, tell him I'm fucking done with him. I'm done with you too.”

I don't physically attack my brother, but his expression is all the same. His eyes glaze over, like I've just punched him in the face, stabbed him in the back. I've never seen him so uneasy. For the slightest moment, I feel guilty having been the cause.

And then the feeling is gone.

“Forgive me, I'll give you a moment.”

My brother walks out and a smug sense of satisfaction rises within me.

That's right. I deserve more than a moment after all the shit father has put me though. And now he wants to take away the only person in my life who makes me happy? I don't need either of you.

Glancing across the room, my reflection in a mirror stops me in my tracks. I barely recognize the fully red eyes that stare back at me.

What the hell?

“Why is this not fading?” Kagome traces the purple marks before trailing down, resting her hand on my chest.

I shrug. “I'm sure it's nothing.”

My demon has never been a problem to keep in check; my humanity was always the stronger half, at least in the past. My demon rarely surfaced after Kags left. It was almost as if he went completely dormant.

Since she's been back in my life he emerged in the classroom when she denied me...the football game when that dick Yarrow mentioned her...when I thought she left me after the game...

When she's away from me now.

Oh, fuck.

Until we complete the mark, the demon won't go willingly. What if I'm not strong enough to stop him? I want to give her more time, but what if I go so far she can't pull me back?

Closing my eyes, I try using the link to reach out to her, to feel something, but all I feel is utterly alone.

I grab my phone, once again staring at the screen. I type a message and hit send before I can think twice.

Kagome

My phone chimes in my pocket, but I can't stop. Table four needs their pitchers and the Abernathy boys are impatient little pricks. Tonight, I'm grateful to rich assholes like the Abernathy boys to distract me.

Life is unfair and cruel.

It's reality and it sucks harder than the Hoover vacuum cleaner I'll use to clean the floors later tonight.

Our world is going to come crashing down on Monday, but I push the thought down. I fear stopping because when I do, the tears will come again. My hands shake as I put the pitchers down, sloshing a few drops onto their tabletop.

“You're not making us pay for that wasted beer are you?” Billy, the oldest sneers.

“Sorry,” I lie, “but if you tell my manager about this I'll be sure to tell him about the fake I.D. in your pocket, ending your night early. And if you don't tip me, I'll still tell him and you won't be welcomed back. I hear The Grapevine down the streets has lower standards if you'd like to try your luck there.”

Billy's entire face scrunches, reminding me of a pig. “The wine bar? Do I look like I drink wine?”

I flash a fake smile, picking up a few empty glasses. “Better tip me well then.”

He doesn't know me well enough to realize I would rather leave with nothing in my pockets than rat him out to Naraku. That would require having to talk to my boss who I avoid at all costs.

I don't even know why I'm still here. No matter what I make, it won't change the outcome of tomorrow. I should have called in, but working in this hellhole seemed preferable to crying at home all night.

“Kagome,” Sango calls as I enter the back. I've been avoiding her quite well-until now.

“Hey Sango,” I set the glasses down on the dish washing rack before I accidentally drop them.

“You never called me back. I want all the details!”

The details. I can't decide which one is more painful, the shrine or the fresh memories of him. I suddenly feel the need to vomit.

“Kagome?” Her demeanor shifts, hands bracing my shoulders. “What happened?”

I swallow the lump in my throat, but the words don't come.

“The Abernathys are here.” I finally manage. “I better get back.”

When she doesn't release me, I force my eyes to meet hers.

“You always try to handle everything on your own.” Her hands fall to her sides. “I'm here when you need me. No judgement. I'm just worried about you.” With a sad smile, she steps away.

Taking in a deep breath, I don't stop until my lungs are burning. It all feels like too much. What do I have to lose now? 

The fight is lost.

“Sango,” I call out before biting my lip.

She turns silently, allowing me to continue.

“Thank you." I give her a big hug, holding on longer than normal. "Thank you for always being there for me.” The words come out like an open flood gate. “We don't have time to talk right now, but I promise I'll tell you everything later, okay?”

A soft smile slowly spreads across her face as I pull back, “Sounds like a plan. Hit the Abernathy's pockets deep. They are all drunk and dumb as fuck.”

I return the smile with a nod, my body feeling just a little lighter as she walks from the room.

My phone vibrates again in my pocket, reminding me I have an unread text. Grabbing it, I quickly unlock it and scroll to my messages.

It's from Inuyasha.

My thumb lingers over the screen as my pulse skyrockets. I haven't heard from him since this morning. I thought about messaging him at least a hundred times, but I didn't know what to say.

Hey Yash, thanks for blowing my mind last night. Just thought you should know, you're only in love with with me because I'm a miko.

Also our relationship may be slowly killing your humanity.

Oh and by the way, your dad is blackmailing me.

Not only me, my family too.

And tomorrow, we're going to lose our home.

Tomorrow we're going to lose our home.

And it's all my fault.

All the good feelings from just speaking with Sango quickly fade.

I brace myself against the cold wall, willing my legs to remain upright as a single tear inches down my cheek. 

My finger slips against my screen, accidentally opening the message. The words make the breath catch in my lungs.

I love you.