Adult-FanFiction.org : Inuyasha / Yashahime

Cold	By : Sessakag Category: InuYasha > Het - Male/Female > Sessh?maru/Kagome > Sessh?maru/Kagome Views: 5801 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-One
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Five
- 6-Six
- 7-Seven
- 8-Eight
- 9-Nine
- 10-Ten
- 11-Eleven
- 12-Twelve
- 13-Thirteen
- 14-Fourteen
- 15-Fifteen
- 16-Sixteen
- 17-Seventeen
- 18-Eighteen
- 19-Nineteen
- 20-Twenty
- 21-Twenty One
- 5
- 6
- 7
Chapter Six

February 24, 4035

Impassive amber eyes smoothed over the pitiful creature weeping nosily on the dirty, fluid soaked ground. Slowly, Sesshomaru pressed down, feeling the soft bones lining the alien’s head bend beneath his boot. Six arms strained against the bloody chains that held the abused limbs tightly to its spine. Ear melting vibrations crooned from its segmented body, deafening in volume and ringing with the intensity of an animal trapped in the throes of agony. Trilling expressions of torment that flooded the room in a torrent of soul shearing echoes Sesshomaru found both satisfying and painful to his sensitive ears.
“Names.” Sesshomaru prompted, grinding his foot into its dented temple.
The Gartuan’s wail joined the screech of its chest, its quaking body rattling the chains. It sucked in a sobbing breath before launching into a plea to the deities it believed had the power to intervene.
“Pyta sa rinte, varkariou mit tanakue!” it sobbed, “Vata rayal! Zyiliyanio, brt-”
Disgusted, Sesshomaru repositioned his boot to the vulnerable length of its throat. His foot sank and the fervent prayer ended abruptly. The Gartuan struggled, its lungs hitching in a desperate bid for air.
“Lyth, Rai’yt, Ozry, Sarkzen,” Sesshomaru dispassionately recited the names to the oxygen deprived Gartuan, “Your deity has no more power than any of the other fictitious caricatures contrived by the pathetic mind of the weak. Faith, prayers, Gods; they are naught but fodder for those that fear death. Their divine powers a product of childish imagination.”
It mattered not which planet he visited, the fairy-tale saviors were nearly identical, their names the only variant from one civilization to another.
And each one sickened him.
“You pray in vain.”
Unable to breathe, the multi-armed alien’s struggles grew sluggish and its battered flesh began a gradual fade to pasty yellow. Its thin lips parted and the trembling, wheezing benediction his boot had initially halted reached his ears once more.
“Py..ta…….sa……rin….te-”
Golden orbs narrowed and his boot sank deeper.
Soft bone gave way.
The Gartuan jerked beneath his foot, and a rush of lavender fluid left its mouth. Its yellowed skin erupted into a kaleidoscope of color, the vivid hues swirling in a silent, physiological telegraph of soul rending horror. Six arms pulled frantically at the bloody chains, lacerating its skin in a last bid for freedom.
An exercise in futility.
The pressure increased, collapsing bones that could bend no more. Resistance was fleeting, and for the last time, the sagging cartliage caved beneath the greater force. A distinctive crack reverberated, the disturbing sound shocking within the silence of the room. The pliant shelled body under his foot convulsed for several agonizing moments before lapsing into irrevocable stillness. The clash of color leeched from the Gartuan’s cadaver and a pasty pallor of death took its place. It spread rapidly along its arms, legs, torso and head before finally consuming the once glimmering onyx of its eyes.
Sesshomaru drew back his shinny boot.
His shrewd gaze moved on, dismissing the albino corpse in favor of new prey. Leisurely, he stepped over the cooling remains then lowered his bulk before the remaining captive. He squat down, lids half mast over frosty golden orbs. Sesshomaru smoothed silver locks from his face with a clawed hand, curling the strand behind his ear and baring his magenta stripped cheek.
The doomed Xerian traced the facial markings of his kinsman with eyes that were dull and haunted but dry of tears despite the painful wounds carved deep within his flesh. His green hair was damp with sweat and matted with blood, some his, some not. The tattered clothes soaked to his skin was decorated in rancid bodily fluid and the foul smelling brain matter of the defiant youth.
The cold barrel of a gun crept slowly beneath his chin.
“Gilrex. Pheran. Speak.” Sesshomaru prompted sharply.
The Xerian released a shuddering breath.
“The hit was orchestrated by the Gilrex,” he told his tormentor, “Senior level officials, which ones, I don’t know. Whoever they were, I don’t think they were acting on their own. Gilrex subordinates don’t execute high profile murders without the acquiescence of their leader.”
The battered male swallowed, a droplet of sweat sliding down his temple. He feared the consequences of his next words. Those chilly amber eyes had not once strayed from his own, and beneath their silent threat, he felt the fingers of death drawing ever closer.
Would his admission finally put him in range of its inevitable grip?
He looked down at the dirtied floor beneath him, the glinting silver of the pistol resting steadily beneath his chin.
A part him hoped so.
That the confession of his own misdeeds would be the trigger the took him from this life of pain.
“I…was responsible for ensuring their presence remained undetected long enough to intercept your ship before you landed on Saratuo. They gave me instructions on where to get the cloaking device and how to use it,” he closed his eyes against the rapid pounding of his heart as his lips formed those damning words, “The Gilrex, they knew you were trying to negotiate an alliance with the governing body there and realized the implications of that meeting turning out in your favor. It would cripple their operations and dissolve the monopoly they hold in this galaxy. Allowing the Xaltaric enterprise to expand it operations, to finally gain power in this galaxy and spread its influence into one of their most lucrative domains was a risk they weren’t willing to take.”
His eyes opened and again, he stared into glacial orbs of honey.
“That’s as far as my knowledge of the execution order extends.”
Feeling sickly, the Xerian swallowed again.
“The missing shipment of pheran,” he continued, “I know next to nothing but there was a rumor that the Foxlings cartel may have known about the hit and positioned themselves to take advantage of the ensuing chaos. With your death, it would have taken a while before anyone of your syndicate to realize it was gone, if at all.”
Drained, his shoulders sagged, and his tired eyes drifted to the filthy ground below.
“...but that’s…just speculation on my part.”
Twisted and bound at a vicious angle, his trembling arms felt numb, and yet throbbed with breath stealing intensity at the joints. His face, a punching bag through the night, felt unnaturally tight, the skin swollen and stretched taunt over the aching bones of his contused visage. The unyielding claws of terror, his constant companion since he’d been recruited in the plot to kill the sinister male looming above him, was at war for dominance with the pain riddled fog engulfing his brain.
He hurt in place that existed, agonized in places that didn’t.
And he was tired…
So very tired…
Sesshomaru watched the Xerian at his feet began a slow slouch that ended with his hunched form listing to the side. Uninterested in the silent display of weakness, he turned his attention inward, compartmentalizing the information he’d uncovered, before initiating a search through his personal files for any data pertaining to the cartel in question.
His inquiry returned a trove of records.
Absorbing the digital text with swift efficiency, the silver haired despot simultaneously opened a link to the universal database active in this galaxy. His digital presence remained cloaked behind encryption as he downloaded supplemental records and added the new intelligence to the dossier he already had.
There were an abundance of organizations he monitored, both legal and illicit, spanning several solar systems, and galaxies throughout the universe and in the grand scheme of his impressive arsenal of information, the coalition in question ranked low on the scale of importance. A diminutive operation, the Foxlings were nothing more than a bottom feeding enterprise functioning along the fringes of two drug cartel giants; the Gilrex and his own syndicate, the Xaltaric. Even so, the ragtag organization was not one he could dismiss completely. Their influence, pathetic as it was, extended into a number of key areas within the coveted Teriaus galaxy, influence Sesshomaru himself had failed to obtain through force or negotiation.
“Delr’ik,” he murmured with a glance,“I want a detailed report of their activities spanning the last six months.”
“Right away, Xaltan.” Delr’ik responded.
Amber eyes returned to the battered male.
“The cloaking device they used in the attack is not something I have knowledge of.”
“It’s experimental,” the male whispered, “A reverse engineering experiment based on the technological advances of a long dead world. That’s all I know. My contact was an an android of unknown manufacture. It was programmed to broadcast demands and nothing more.”
Sesshomaru’s head tilted in curiosity.
“And what were you to receive in exchange for your cooperation?”
The poignant scent of tears pierced the air of death a for just a moment, then vanished seconds later. Chains rattled and the male at his feet tensed.
“My child,” the doomed male rasped tightly, “My youngling. He was taken from me, kidnapped four years ago and taken off world to be sold into a slave mining ring. The Gilrex…they told me…that they found him. There were pictures…pictures of my boy…”
The gun clicked.
“Anything else?”
A tremor passed through the battered Xerian and the slumping of his posture followed. His head bowed, and the inherent vitality of life most living creatures radiated slowly leeched from his bruised shoulders. Another scent wafted from the emerald haired male, one that was wholly repugnant and drew an indiscernible scrunch of disgust to the sensitive nose of the Xaltan.
Defeat.
“No,” came the listless reply, “there is nothing more I wish to add…. and I know nothing more.”
The gun exploded.
Pink chunks of flesh and a shower of crimson erupted. The meaty thud of deadweight meeting unforgiving stone created a chilling reverberation that left a few of the Xaltan’s subordinates silently disturbed. Still knelt within the residual filth the Gartuan had left behind, the toppled body lay face first on the dirty floor, and a dark cherry stream of fluid crept lazily towards gleaming black boots. Sesshomaru slipped the gun into a compartment within his coat, then pivoted in the direction of his most trusted underling, removing his polished footwear from the line of scarlet in the process.
“The Gilrex are scrambling, they know you’re alive,” Delr’ik judiciously declared, “They’ve sent several units to comb Kreeri for you, the bulk of which have been densely concentrated around Saratuo. We’ve a while before they realize your escape pod didn’t crash land anywhere near it.”
A last ditch decision that had worked heavily in his favor.
Had he landed on Saratuo, his murder may have come to fruition at the hands of the Gilrex assassin or perhaps some other unknown enemy on the planet in question. He had no idea what his reception may have been in light of his injured state. While he’d communicated with the representative of the planet there and drafted a loose alliance to benefit both parties, he was shrewd enough to give credence to the possibility that the entire meeting was a set up arranged by the Gilrex, interplanetary law enforcement or even some third party threat he didn’t have knowledge of yet. Instead of seeking asylum with the Saratuo government, he’d entered an escape pod with coordinates unknown. His pod, equipped with the latest in shielding technology had slipped beneath the radar and overall notice of Rektan 7. Bleeding heavily, delirious, he’d left the pod and looked for a place to hide out until his system could recover. He’d loss consciousness at her doorstep in the middle of the storm, and lain there for hours before being taken in by Kagome.
Her nondescript, unassuming apartment, one among hundreds of neatly aligned clones, was ideal for the time being.
Her neighborhood was home to the seedy and downtrodden. Suspicious individuals appearing among the illegal activity that was integral to the daily function of the living complex was a common occurrence. His bleeding, battered arrival had barely warranted a curious glance and the likelihood of anyone reporting it to the authorities was slim to none.
“Kagome Higurashi,” Sesshomaru drawled, straightening his dark coat, “There are gaps in her files and no record of her origins within this planet’s database. I want those details recovered. From what I’ve been able to extract from her system, she doesn’t appear to be connected to the Gilrex or any of the local syndicates scattered throughout this solar system, currently or previously.”
Brooding suspicion narrowed his amber eyes.
“The mundane details compiled in her data would suggest she’s clean, however, until there is an explanation I find satisfactory that warrants the erasure of standard, procedural information, I will make no such concession.”
That woman; Kagome.
She reeked of secrets, of intrigue.
Her home and employment suggested carefully modest living, but her expensive internal system screamed the opposite. The maze of encrypted pathways, the firm shut down of his invasion, and the sophistication of her virtual defense had drawn the fierce tenacity of his curiosity. The pretty little waitress had something to hide, and gone to great lengths to keep it hidden. Unfortunately for her, clandestine overtures were self preserving mechanisms he was intimately familiar with given his line of profession, and in his experience, such measures denoted commodity of significant value. What he would discover once he unraveled the female’s secrets he couldn’t fathom, but his instincts, honed through hardship and Xerian evolution, were never wrong. She knew something of use to him, sensed it was something he wanted to possess and with each attempt she made to bury it, he was three times determine to unearth it.
Delr’ik nodded.
“Her younger brother currently resides with a female friend,” Sesshomaru added, “An Azeraic woman, Lyra. Gather her files, along with the boy’s and forward them to me. The pup is to be monitored and an appropriation squad dispatched on standby. Should either woman prove to be an enemy, the boy will be used as leverage.”
“The bodies, Xaltan?” Delr’ik questioned.
Sesshomaru glanced at the bloody pile of corpses.
“Return to sender,” he commanded with a sadistic upturn of his lips, “In pieces. I’m sure the Gilrex will appreciate the gift.”
Turning on his heel, Sesshomaru exited the building and strode briskly in the direction of Kagome’s abode. Halfway to the complex, he initiated another dose of pheran into his blood stream. The effect was immediate. Clawing shards of bliss surged along his nerve endings with the force of a speeding truck. He sucked in an inaudible breath, his magenta stripped eyelids lowering as he was awash in ecstasy. Booming thumps of his pounding heart filled his ears and the dark spheres of his pupils dilated.
Damn that felt good.
Delr’ik had supplied him a decent amount of pheran to get him through the next few weeks. Coupled with the pain inhibitor, the paraphernalia cycling through his system had him higher than he’d been in months. It was just enough to prod his inner beast to the surface, enough to feel it churn restlessly, recklessly, beneath his flesh, and yet mild enough to subdue the cauldron of bloodlust that accompanied the stirring. He’d missed the sensation, missed the heat crashing through his veins, missed the pulsating energy blasting through his body. It was a heady, addictive state he didn’t often get to indulge in these days. His senses felt razor sharp and alert, the people he passed a mere blur of speed to his glassy gaze.
By the time he crossed the threshold of Kagome’s home, his stomach was cramping with the ravenous howls of hunger. While the lure of food was tempting, cleaning his person was an even stronger desire. A quick shower later and he was standing in the tiny kitchen. He raided the fridge of anything that appeared pleasing to his palate, eating until he felt the satisfying expansion of a full stomach. With a thought, he switched on the television and turned it to the national news network while he read the information being fed to his system from Delr’ik and other Xaltaric sources scattered across the universe.
His empire was shaken but functioning in his absence.
Those he had placed at the helm of his cartel had dutifully curtailed the damage and initiated proper protocol previously established in the event of his absence; herding the great swell of Xaltaric followers to into their appropriate positions in preparation for the coming move against the Gilrex. Sesshomaru read through reports, analyzed functionality and honed in on weakness, of which, there was more than he would tolerate. Antecedently scheduled pheran shipments were of particular interest in hindsight of the one he’d lost. Unsatisfied with the quantity of foot soldiers assigned to guard his off world deliveries, he sent orders of reinforcement and emphasized his displeasure should another go missing in his communications. Once finished, he moved on, his blitzed brain whipping from one task to another. His internal system churned, launching into overdrive in an effort to keep pace with the drug induced, hyper stimulation of his mental facilities. A flurry of notification chimes pinged from one computer receptor to another, indications that his barrage of outgoing demands were being met with prompt incoming responses by those scrambling on the other end. Hours of rapid fire dictations passed before the frantic peak of his high melded into gentle waves of bliss.
Inundated beneath a haze of pleasure, the silver haired autocrat allowed the heavy weight of his magenta stripped lids to close. He leaned back, resting his humming head on the couch at his back.
xxxxxx
Sapphire blades of immaculately trimmed grass swayed alongside the cool afternoon breeze. Perched within the aquamarine lawn sat a towering tangerine dwelling. Surrounded in a sea of blue, the massive three story structure stood in sharp contrast beneath the luminous sun, much like the adjacent neon hued homes in Lyra’s well to do, upper middle class neighborhood.
Quite used to the startling splash of colors, Kagome focused her own cerulean orbs to the only part of the house that didn’t hurt to look at as she walked. The mellow tan of the rounded front door. Irregularly shaped foot stones cut through the vegetation, creating a tangerine path that appeared and vanished with each step she took. Despite their rocky design, the disappearing platforms were spongy and gave her aching feet momentary relief. It was a welcome comfort her friend installed, knowing how bad Kagome’s feet hurt following a busy shift at work.
One of many comforts Lyra offered.
Every now and again, Lyra extended an invitation of room and board to her and her little brother, expressing, not only the joy such an arrangement would invoke but also the peace of mind it would bring her to know the duo no longer lived within the nest of vipers of their current residence. Kagome truly, deeply appreciated the offer and was glad she had a place to stay if needed, but couldn’t bring herself to impose on her friend like that. To become more of a charity case than they already was.
Besides, she enjoyed her independence. It was something she’d come to cherish. Her home might be meager compared to this, but it was hers none the less, a place she could call home. Lyra accepted her unwavering decision with as much grace as she could and while visibly disappointed each time, her mocha skinned friend relented without much fuss, leaving Kagome’s pride and dignity intact.
Reaching the khaki colored portal, Kagome paused and raised her gaze to the small retinal scanner position above the entrance.
A red light twinkled and the door slid open.
‘Welcome back, Kagome Higurashi.’ the computer greeted.
She crossed the threshold and walked into the tastefully decorated, Azeraic culture themed living room.
Black furniture accented with vivid splashes of red and green lent the common room an aura of mystery and strength. Gleaming silver statues added a touch of light to the dark furnishings, while the dull gray walls were given life by the various paintings they showcased. Beautiful depictions of exotic animals native to her friend’s planet of birth framed in shinny gold. Opposite the pretty parlour, her little brother sat on a bar stool pulled up to the kitchen island and stuffing his face with a phantox and mayonnaise sandwich. Still dressed in his soccer gear, his chocolate hair glistened with moisture, his bangs sticking to the right side of his sweaty forehead. His previously pristine pale green and white shirt, shorts and socks were liberally smeared by bright blue stains of grass. His once white cleats were by far the worse. Stained navy and caked in thick mud, the bottom ridges had several pieces of foliage stuck between their crevices. Propped up on the foot holds of the expensive looking barstool, Kagome couldn’t help wince at the casual abuse of an item that probably cost more than she made in a month.
“What’s up, sis.” he greeted around a mouth full.
Kagome scrunched her nose at the bad table manners on display. Her hands moved to the swell of her hips, and the familiar posture was enough to trigger irritated sister mode. By the time she reached the messy teen, the staunch professionalism of her work uniformed had melded into a salmon sundress and low sandals. Giving her newly curled tresses a sassy head flick, she gave the scrawny youth a scathing once over.
“That’s disgusting, nobody wants to see the mashed up food in your mouth and how many times have I told you to get cleaned up before you eat, Sota?” she scolded.
Every time he went to Lyra’s house he conveniently ‘forgot’ his daily routine. Shower, a quick snack, homework and then free time. It was a sequence of tasks that kept them both organized and on schedule.
He grinned repentantly at her then polished off his sandwich.
“Lighten up Kagome.” Lyra called out as she descended a curved staircase, “he’s fine. He finished his homework at school and was really hungry after soccer practice.”
Outnumbered, the older sibling sent a glare from one, to the other before finally relenting with an exasperated sigh. At least his homework was done, that was her biggest priority.
Lyra meandered to the disapproving woman, slipping smooth brown arms around her neck. Kagome grumbled, a petulant pout twisting her lips. The good-natured Azeraic rubbed her cheek against her own, eliciting a reluctant smile. Lyra’s white scrubs shifted, shortening and fluffing to match her best friend’s sundress. The dress bloomed a vibrant dandelion, and was a sunny compliment to the radiant happiness currently bathing her curly Afro in shimmering emerald.
“We’re a little out of order on the after school routine, but we’ve at least covered the most important parts, food and homework. You can let it slide just this once, right?” Lyra cajoled.
As if this was a one time occurrence. Those two were always playing fast and lose with her tightly held mandates.
“Yeah,” Sota joined in, “just this one time. We’ll be good next time. Shower, snack, homework then free time.”
Kagome rolled her eyes.
“Alright,” she huffed, allowing Lyra to tug her over to the plush living room couch but not before she sent one last dictate to her brother, “but your butt better find a shower in the next two minutes.”
Sota slid from his seat and waltz in the direction of the stairs. He knew their routine even if he refused to follow his own. Girl talk was about to commence and he was completely uninterested.
“Don’t sweat it. Gonna get cleaned up right now.” he announced
“Take those cleats off, you’re tracking mud!” Kagome called to his retreating form before plopping on the couch next to Lyra.
Even with his back to her, Kagome could feel him roll his eyes, though he did stop, unlace his shoes and pull them off. Unlike his home clothing, his team uniform was un-enhanced by nanonites. A money grab move by the school in her opinion. With Sota rapidly leaving childhood behind, finance draining consequences followed. Constantly having to buy bigger shirts, wider shoes and longer shorts to keep up with his growth spurts was a strain her pocketbook barely tolerated. They were easily avoidable expenditures with the implementation of nanonites, something she was sure the institution of education was aware of.
Lyra poked her side.
“What a nag.” she teased.
“Shush, I’m not nagging, I’m...” she searched for a softer depiction, “mothering.”
“Same thing,” Lyra shrugged, “Soooooo, what’s new? Getting cozy with that mysterious ‘guest’ of yours?”
Cheeks burning at the implication of her sly tone, Kagome crossed her arms in rebuff.
“Oh please, you know me better than that,” the raven locked female dismissed, “beside, even if it was what you’re thinking, you’d never know. I never kiss and tell.”
Lyra pouted, then smirked.
“You wouldn’t have to tell, it’d be written all over your face.”
Kagome conceded with a laughed. Lyra was excellent at reading most people, but Kagome knew it was even more so true in her case. Sex was a difficult subject for her to contemplate, let alone discuss aloud and if her red cheeks didn’t give her away, the stammering and fidgeting surely would.
Leaning back against the plush cushions, she steered them in a more neutral subject.
“How’s Sota been? Not giving you any trouble is he?”
“Nah, he’s a good kid,” Lyra smiled with a wave of her hand, “Sweet as pie.”
A dark, skeptic brow rose.
“You keep saying that, but I don’t see it.”
“Of course not. You’re his sister, he’s always going to be a brat to you.”
“True,” Kagome agreed, “How was work?”
“Meh, same old same old,” she shrugged, “Paper work, patient rounds and more paper work. What about you?”
“Ugh, don’t get me started,” Kagome huffed, “How in the hell do you expect to get a refund on a meal you swallowed whole then regurgitated back onto the plate? The meal is intact, sure, but it’s beyond edible now that it’s been through your gullet and back. Freaking Siranitrons! I swear, I spent an hour explaining, quite nicely I might add, why it couldn’t get it’s money back and it had the nerve to bear it tentacles at me after being so pleasant when I certainly didn’t have to be.”
“Hmph, I’m surprised that’s all it did,” Lyra injected, “the few we get at the hospital don’t just threaten. I can’t tell you how many vials of antidote we end up going through whenever they drag their slimy bodies through the door. One thing doesn’t go their way and they want to sting the entire waiting lobby.”
“Rizek’s the only restaurants that sells that awful gritlik they love so much,” Kagome explained, “and if they get banned for stinging, they’ll be looking at a long journey back to their home planet to get it and that’s not a journey any of them seem willing to tackle considering the odds of them making the trip in one piece are slim at best.”
“Hmm, maybe we should start selling gritlik if it’ll help keep em in line.”
“Good luck getting the materials for it, let alone someone willing to cook it.”
Kagome shuddered, recalling the images and accompanying horrific smell of gritlik’s raw ingredients. That disturbing dish was special order only in large part to the rarity and scarcity of the required innards along with its complicated construction. Having witness its assembly once, Kagome avoided the kitchens during its conception.
“That bad huh?”
Kagome shook her head.
“Worse,” she corrected, fighting the urge to retch, “do yourself a favor, put up with the stings. Its better than living through that horrible recipe.”
Intrigued by a food item that came with such a dire warning, Lyra pursed her lips.
“Don’t even think about it,” the waitress scolded, eyes narrowing on the curiosity coating her friend’s hair, “its not worth a peek. Don’t give yourself nightmares trying to be adventurous.”
“Pfft, I never even heard of nightmares before I met you and Sota. We Azeraic are clearly exempt.”
“By the stars you’re obstinate,” she chortled, “go ahead then, horrify yourself into being the first Azeraic woman to have a nightmare and when you wake up in the middle of the night drenched in cold sweat, just remember, you brought it on yourself.”
Lyra laughed.
“Consider me sufficiently warned.”
For the next hour and a half, the female duo sat chortling and shooting the breeze then fired up the television for evening drama. Sota remained scarce until the girly entertainment marathon was over, but reappeared just minutes before dinner time. After a scrumptious seafood meal, which Kagome found herself only able to nibble at after their gritlik discussion, and lively dinning conversation, Lyra dropped her off a little after sun down, bugging her the whole drive over to meet the man she was positive was sequestered in Kagome’s bed.
“Give it up.” Kagome giggled, leaning over to give her curious friend a goodbye hug.
Kagome slipped from the plush leather, shut the door of the sleek, chrome vehicle and waved goodbye as she walked the path to her humble abode.
He was up and watching television, when she entered.
She gave him a quick once over as she stepped through the front door. He appeared strong and alert, certainly healthier than she’d ever seen him to date.
His amber scrutiny latched onto her emerging form in a way they hadn’t before. Those hawkish depths lacked the chilled suspicion of yesterday. Instead, they were burning, the dark pupils that dotted the swirling gold of his irises seemingly dilated. The intensity of his focus brought a small blush to her face. After Lyra’s sexual innuendo about her guest, she felt a bit flustered when faced with his reality. Clearing her throat, she broke the heated eye lock and strolled into the kitchen. She was a little peckish after snubbing her seafood dinner at Lyra’s, and she could use the distraction to settle her nerves.
“Hey,” she greeted over her shoulder, “You look a lot better today.”
Her complimentary observation went unanswered and she sent him a slightly miffed glare as she opened the fridge. Eyeing the chilled contents she noticed quite a few missing, “I’m assuming you’ve eaten?”
A low rumbling sound of affirmation reached her ears. It wasn’t the verbiage she felt her overtures of conversation were due but she’d take that over rude silence any day.
Kagome grabbed a light salad comprised of crisp, tangerine hued sark lettuce, a sprinkle of mixed vegetable and drizzled with cyan rayn dressing. Feeling comfortable now that she had a benign task to focus on, she brought her food with her to the living room and took a seat a respectable distance from the silent male. The channels shuffled a few time before settling on an action packed television show featuring a Betr detective hot on the trail of an elusive and brutal Heedrix responsible for the death of his partner.
A companionable hush bloomed as they engrossed themselves in the series.
She was just polishing off the last of her leafy meal when his voice pierced the mutual quiet.
“You arrived at a different time than yesterday,” Sesshomaru commented, “Is your work schedule routinely inconsistent?”
Cerulean orbs cut in the direction of the question, and contemplated the merits of a snarky response. Hadn’t he ignored her when she’d tried to make nice with him earlier? Now he wanted to converse? And why choose her employment hours as a topic of discussion? The inquiry seemed steeped in curiosity rather than creepy probing, still, she had no intention of exposing too many details of her life.
“I guess it is,” she answered with a vague shrug,“it depends on the day and the amount of customers at the end of my shift.”
“You are a waitress. Rizek”
Kagome raised an irritated brow at the confirmation seeking statement, a cutting remark burning her lips while she again mulled the idea of revisiting her contention over his theft of her personal information.
‘Shouldn’t you already know that from the data you stole, jerk?’
“Yeah,” she said instead, “Foot aching work and the pay isn’t that great, but it’s something I guess.”
She waited a beat for him to reciprocate insight into his own profession but when he remained silent in the nook of his portion of the couch she recognized none would be forth coming. She raised a brow. Turn about was fair play and she wasn’t about to be the only one dishing details.
“What about you?” she prodded, “What do you do for a living?”
“I own a pharmaceutical company.” he replied, eyes glued to the screen.
She frowned.
That certainly wasn’t the employ she expected him to claim. He didn’t seem the type. An interplanetary enforcer was certainly a more plausible answer. Blue orbs wandered over the hard muscles straining his shirt. He certainly had the build for it. A soldier of fortune was another that came to mind, or maybe a mercenary for hire, something that justified the scars on his body.
“Really?” she murmured with a wealth of skepticism, “What’s a pharmaceutical owner doing in this part of town with blaster wounds between his ribs?”
Amusement at the doubt coating her question brought a slight curve to his lips. She wasn’t the least entertained.
“Pharmaceuticals is not an industry for the weak,” he informed her, “lethal interplanetary skirmishes are an integral component to interplanetary dealings.”
Did that mean he himself engaged in ‘lethal interplanetary’ skirmishes? Given his disturbingly casual acceptance of violence that resulted in fatalities, she wasn’t sure she wanted an answer to that question.
Her lips pursed.
She couldn’t really argue with his assertion though, even she caught the concerned news segments about space violence every once and a while. Pill pushing in particular was a lucrative, messy avenue of business, particularly on planets that lacked advanced technology and little resources to sustain their economy. With nothing of value to enter off world trading, many planets became dependent on the production of medical merchandise. Dependent enough to kill if necessary, anything to maintain that flow of financial stability. From offering raw material to pharmaceutical companies to converting their worlds into necessary pit stop for pill pushing shipments, involvement in drug trade created an element of power to worlds that would otherwise have none. Drug runners paid big money to friendly pit stops along their route and fought tooth and nail to protect those pockets safety.
The medical field was incredibly lucrative, especially in the wake of the mini wars being waged between the endless amount of species littering the galaxy. It would certainly explain his high tech computer. The guy had to be filthy rich to be able to afford that type of hardware.
It was a plausible, convenient, explanation.
Too convenient for her liking.
“Is that why you don’t want to go to the hospital? Because they might find you that way?”
His warm, assessing gaze met hers before roving subtle over her figure.
“Until I am able to contact my security team and inform them of my location, it is best to avoid situations of detection. Those that seek my end are uncertain if I live and will be unaware of my location should they discover the truth. My whereabouts are secure for now.”
Hardly a comforting picture of his situation. She was glad he was safe and that the likelihood of mercs busting down her door was minimal, but it still made her nervous to know one careless move on his part could bring unscrupulous aliens to her home.
“You need not fear for your safety,” he commented, reading the worry on her face, “I am well trained, and more than adequate to handle any incoming threat, despite my injuries. When I am able, I will leave here and you will be greatly compensated.”
“Trust me, if something happens, I’m well trained too,” she informed and warned him, “I don’t mind helping you, so don’t think you have to leave here early if your life is in danger. I can sympathize with being hunted, more than you know, but like I said the other day, I have a brother to worry about, not just myself. He’s going to stay with a friend until you’re on your feet. I don’t want him to have to worry about anything other than being a kid.”
He raised a brow but retained his silence.
Assuming the conversation was at an end and they’d come to a consensus, she turned her attention back to the television but by now, she’d missed enough of the story that she had no idea what was going on anymore. Losing interest after minutes of trying to fill in the gaps, Kagome peeked over at her companion a few times before asking, “What made you want to pursue pharmaceutical ownership?”
“I was attracted to the…‘hurdles’ of building and maintaining such a corporation.”
She ignored his emphasis on ‘hurdles’. Those ‘hurdles’ were responsible for the holes in his side.
“Did you have a job before that?” she questioned, looking him over, “Not to be rude, but you seem more like an Enforcer than a suit and tie business owner.”
A small smirk made its way to his lips.
“I was an Enforcer decades ago, the demeanor never leaves even after discharge.”
“That’s what I thought,” her brows lowered, “Decades? How old are you?”
He glanced over at her.
“How old do I look?”
She looked him over.
“Hmmm, thirty-two?”
“Ninety-eight,”
Kagome’s head tilted.
“Pretty long lived then, what planet are you from?”
“Xer.”
Kagome whistled at that information.
“You’re a long way from home.”
He shrugged.
“I have several homes littered throughout the Kyroctin galaxy, it is nothing I am unused to.”
“Sounds lonely.” Kagome murmured.
“Lonely?” he questioned, eyes sliding over her again, amber depths inquisitive.
“Yeah, don’t you think so?” she asked, facing him, “Home is where you feel safe and comfortable. A place to live with families and friend, where you create memories to last a lifetime…. Not having a place to call home is bad but I can only imagine how spending so much time away from it would feel.”
“You define ‘home’ in indubitable terms and yet speak with a tone that is wistful, as one who has never experienced it.”
Kagome looked away.
It was true.
Her definition of home came from the words of mother, not from her own memories or experience. There was no place for her to return to. No place she could call home. No haven where she feel safe. No sanctity that she could lay down her burdens. As tightly as she held onto her current abode, as close comfortable as she had gotten in it, this was not the ‘home’ her mother described.
Not by a long shot…
Her chest ached.
It was more than a lonely feeling, it was an emptiness she had never been able to fill, a sensation she was working so damn hard to shield Sota from.
“Let’s just say I know how it feels to not have a place to call home.” she answered cryptically before lapsing into silence.
xxxxxx
Laters!
~Sessakag
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