Withholding

© Salome Wilde, 2008

Withholding

Chapter 4

Kyura was traveling fast. It took intense concentration for Sesshomaru to keep the so-called War God’s sharp scent in range, a smell like burning leaves that singed his nostrils. He could barely detect Rin’s aura now, and its absence hit him bodily. He forced himself to calm. He would not transform; it would give Kyura far too much credit as an adversary if he was to take his true form now. No, it was not Kyura’s threats but the ache at Rin’s absence that had begun the process. He growled, annoyed that marking her was resulting in such complications. But she had been a complication in his life since they had met. He would conquer all obstructions to his control; he had always done so. He willed his red eyes to return to their usual molten gold, shut out his discomfort, and fixed his mind on Kyura.

No, Kyura would not be allowed to harm Rin. Sesshomaru could never lose to such a conceited fool, one whose power was based on Suzaku’s gift and feeding on others. Inferior beings though hanyo were, it galled Sesshomaru to think of a creature so weak as to harvest and live off of their essences. It was like that charlatan Kikyo. She kept herself animate by devouring human souls; a weak, unworthy existence. But he would not let the remembrance of Rin’s betrayal in seeking the Priestess’ advice and intimate attentions distract him. Rin was his, now and for the rest of her life. She recognized his worth, his right to her body and soul. Thus, even as their bond caused unexpected challenges, so it also instilled him with even greater awareness of his own worth.

Lineage bestows true power, he mused, sniffing the air and changing his direction by a few degrees to keep Kyura’s in his olfactory sights. Yet, the devotion of others can reflect and enhance it. The image of Rin lying before him, open to him, came forcefully to mind. From protector to possessor, he could not help but desire to claim her. Already, as the eldest born of the Great Dog Demon and his inuyokai mother, Sesshomaru was a daiyokai of great stature. Marking Rin had helped him feel that even more fully. By contrast, Kyura was a weak pretender, a fraud. So he would lose to Sesshomaru, whether they fought once, twice, or a thousand times. And this fake would not be allowed to harm Rin. His heart raced. Rin was his by right and by merit. He would reclaim her unscathed. His determination reaffirmed, Sesshomaru forged ahead, and soon began to gain ground.

The small island where Kyura landed appeared suddenly from beyond a cliff’s edge. A mere spit of land—befitting its weak resident—it rested not far from a sandy shore and was easily reached. As Sesshomaru descended, he used his nose to search for Rin. He could smell her now, so she must have been released from Kyura’s magical fire. Rin wore his scent like a flag, and exuded her own unique aroma that drew him powerfully. He felt such pride that she was thus marked, even though, as a human, she might never be able to fully fathom the greatness of the honor he did her. He turned his mind forcibly from such thoughts and called out: “Face me, Kyura, and die again.”

He heard Kyura’s grating laugh before he saw his ornately fashioned foe. “Ah, so I shall have to defeat you before I bed your human, Sesshomaru? It suits me well enough. The spoils will be the sweeter if she must watch you die before she meets her fate. And fear not, inuyokai: I am certain I will satisfy her needs far better than you ever could. Who would be taken by a dog when there is a God at hand?” He gestured behind him and Sesshomaru saw Suzaku, holding Rin caged within his folded wings.

“Do you think your taunts affect me, weakling? The human is my possession and I will reclaim what is mine. That is all.”

“Ha!” Kyura jeered. “She is your mate, Sesshomaru, and it is you who is therefore the weakling! When I fill her with my seed it will be for my glory, not out of some pitiful mortal-like affection. Can you say the same?”

“More: Her body and soul are mine because she submits willingly to me. I possess her entirely. I need not force her or trap her like you, Kyura!”

Sesshomaru heard Rin’s gasp and his name invoked in her dismayed whimper. Her emotions hit him like a blow. He turned a hard glance at her, and then turned quickly away, fighting off the impulse to rush to her side. What mattered now was not her feelings but her safety, and that meant defeating Kyura. He closed his mind and aura to her and launched himself at his boasting foe, slashing out with his claws as Kyura put up a barrier of fire to hold him back. The shield could not hold Sesshomaru, and he burst through it, raking his claws along Kyura’s face as he flew by. He did little actual damage, but Kyura screamed as though mortally wounded.

“Defiler!” he shrieked. “How dare you attempt to mar my godly visage!” He raised his crimson fan and shot a torrent of swirling fire at his nemesis. Sesshomaru unsheathed Tokijin and met the fire attack with his sword’s own demonic thrust. The glow of Tokijin’s amethyst aura clashed in the air with the flood of red-orange fire from Kyura’s fan. The competing energies crackled and spat, and Sesshomaru began to press ahead to close the gap between himself and Kyura so he could strike him down. Kyura let himself be moved backwards a short distance, clearly seeking to maintain the ranged attack.

Rin watched in anguished silence. Though the battle was tense, she had no fears that Sesshomaru was the superior fighter, the superior being. He would certainly defeat Kyura and Suzaku and free her. Yet, she could no longer hold onto her illusion that their relationship was more than that of master and slave. Her heart clenched as she searched in vain for his comforting scent in the air. It had vanished after he had uttered those harsh words, claiming her not as mate but property. And she felt suddenly that she had always known that conquest was at the heart of everything for her indomitable Lord. He had always had ambition for power and control, and she had always—or until very recently—been content to live as a testament to that power, a willing and devoted vassal to the yokai who had brought her back from the dead and protected her since that day. Yet, hadn’t the past year proved that she could be more to him? Always a mere human, but at least an obedient companion to soothe his wounded body and spirit when they needed soothing. Why had she been so foolish and so greedy as to hope for more? She wanted his heart. Rin closed her eyes and remembered his gentle embrace, the feel of his lips on hers, his mouth on her body. All was so quickly transformed, so obvious now to her adolescent mind as the casual attentions of a daiyokai so far above her that it was all just a game, additional evidence for a bored master of her submission and his absolute power. The truth of Sesshomaru’s soul was in his words to Kyura. And her crushed young heart flew to a conclusion that seemed perfectly logical as she watched the demons battle: of the two, it was Kyura who was ultimately the more honest. He would use and destroy her, force her to bear a child and then devour its soul, but he did not pretend otherwise. However, even as the thought formed, she began to cry and hide her eyes. She was overwhelmed with guilt for her treasonous thoughts. It could not be true that Sesshomaru saw her only as chattel. She begged aloud to be returned to the innocence of unconditional obedience and absolute worship. Let her forget everything that had happened since she tore the arrow from his arm. Let him be again her infallible, mythic hero, Lord Sesshomaru—and nothing more. This confusion was unbearable. She inhaled in deeply, frantically longing to smell and feel him again, to know what was real. Why had he withdrawn from her? She struggled to resist the cold reality of his dispassionate dominance. The world grew again as bleak and terrible as it had been when she was a tortured and abandoned child, bereft and mute, before Sesshomaru had come into her life, resurrected her, and given her existence meaning; before he had marked her and revealed in his scent the depth of his need for her. She wrapped her arms around her knees, let her hair fall over her face, and anxiously awaited her fate.

Sesshomaru locked eyes with Kyura and pressed his advantage. He was almost within striking range. Kyura responded to Sesshomaru’s proximity with a change in strategy. Turning his head, he commanded Suzaku: “Kill the human!”

In the blink of a tawny eye, Sesshomaru used his opponent’s inattention to shift to his left, disengage Tokijin, and bring it slashing down to sever Kyura’s outstretched arm. The limb and the fan it held tumbled to earth as Kyura howled with rage. He vaulted himself at Sesshomaru, but, with neither weapon nor demonic attack, Sesshomaru easily raised Tokijin and ripped through Kyura’s body, from one shoulder to the opposite hip, directly through his heart. Kyura flared and began to dissipate as Sesshomaru sheathed his sword. The inuyokai turned and plunged down to Rin, still held captive between Suzaku’s mighty wings.

Before Sesshomaru could speak, however, Suzaku released her. Whatever the relationship between Kyura and Suzaku had been, the Firebird apparently had no loyalty to a dead War God and no adversarial agenda of his own. Sesshomaru watched as the majestic creature spread its multihued, flaming wings and ascended into the heavens with a scorching cry. Sesshomaru let him go. Then he turned to Rin, who remained sitting, head forward, hugging her shins.

“Rin,” Sesshomaru hailed her. “Are you injured?”

For long moments, she did not move. Sesshomaru was standing right before her and still she felt alone. She came to her knees and pressed her head to her hands at his feet. “Thank you, Sesshomaru-sama,” she pronounced, each syllable sticking in her throat. She should be grateful he had saved her, always grateful to her lord and master. No matter what else she had imagined there was between them.

“Rise, Rin,” Sesshomaru replied, wondering why she was responding so formally. He had expected her to throw herself into his arms in gratitude. In fact, he hesitantly confessed to himself, he had desired it. Perhaps she was too traumatized. But she would soon feel safe again, and all would be as it was. He breathed in her scent and was reassured by its familiarity. “I am yours,” the aroma said.

Rin came to her feet, eyes lowered. Her robe was still unfastened. Sesshomaru removed his long sash and tore off a piece so she could cover herself. He thought to wrap it himself, but her posture kept him from doing so. He held it out in his hand and she took it, hesitantly.

In time, Rin hoped it would come naturally to behave this distant way again, with total deference, to relinquish any intimacy. But as he handed her the piece of his sash she wondered, would he demand her body? Would he take her again as he did that first time? Would he gently toy with her instead? Without his aura to guide her, she was lost. As she tied her robe, she could not stop herself from looking into up his eyes for the answer. As always, they were cool, distant, and impossible to read.

“What is wrong, Rin?”

“Nothing, Sesshomaru-sama,” Rin answered.

“Then let us go.” Sesshomaru held out his arms. He would transport her. Rin nodded and was hoisted into his powerful embrace, then whisked into the air. The wind was crisp and made her shiver. Unable to keep herself from doing otherwise, she nestled her head into the soft fur at his shoulder, and let him take her where he would.