The Beads

Miroku had received the beads from an old man by a village temple while the group was passing through. They were a sort of frosty pink color, much like the shards of the Shikon Jewel. They exuded no aura that Miroku could feel, evil or otherwise; and they were very small.

The old man told him that they would give him luck in love. That sealed the deal. Miroku took them with a smile and walked off with them around his neck.

“I don’t like the look of those things. Take ‘em off, Miroku; they might steal your soul.” Those were Inuyasha’s words upon seeing the beads. He had backed away from the monk slightly and he’d scrunched up his nose, as though retreating from an awful smell.

“I think they look nice,” Kagome told Miroku, a reprimand hiding in her voice for Inuyasha.

Sango agreed. “They’re such a nice shade of pink.”

Now, as Miroku focused on them to avoid the eyes above him, the innocent pink they were supposed to be looked more like a malicious red in the darkness. He thought for a moment that he ought to take them off, but of course he couldn’t—his arms were pinned above his head.

He was paralyzed with fear.

Out of nowhere, something strong, something with force had taken him down and dragged him away from the safety of the group. Even if he turned his head Miroku would not be able to see Sango, Kagome, or Inuyasha. In the brief time it took for Miroku’s eyes to adjust to the night, he wondered, in a half-level state of mind, just what it was that had attacked him.

Panic flooded through his body as he registered the stunning face above him. At first he could not look away. Something about the golden-eyed gaze was so intense that it kept him focused. It wasn’t until the gold began to bleed that he turned his attention to the beads.

He could barely speak, but he felt he must, so as to snap his captor out of his demonic state. He did not want to die.

“Sesshoumaru.”

Awareness seeped into the demon lord’s reddening eyes. He seemed startled at first, but then he let out a low growl and his grip on Miroku’s wrists tightened. “Do not address me so casually, monk.” The inuyoukai leaned low, a few of his silvery tresses falling to rest upon Miroku’s chest.

Miroku swallowed hard. Sesshoumaru’s lips were reaching his neck, the hot breath advancing on his skin, making him tremble.

“Why are you doing this? Why have you come here? Stop!” The frantic cry halted the demon’s lips as they were centimeters from the monk’s neck. Sesshoumaru drew back. He still didn’t let go of Miroku’s wrists. His captive glanced up timidly, daring a glance at the lord’s face.

Sesshoumaru’s eyes were golden again, but tinted with the slightest hint of that demonic red. It reminded Miroku of a sunset.

“I am not sure,” the demon replied quietly, almost idly after a moment’s pause. “Something…called me here.” He looked down at the still trembling monk. “It is still calling me. I hear it ringing in my ears…” His claws released Miroku’s wrists and traveled down to his face, where they began to caress his now chapped lips.

Miroku drew in a sharp breath. “Sesshou—!”

At once, the claws hissed with poison and clamped warningly over the monk’s mouth. His trembling continued more violently than before. “Don’t move,” the demon growled.

The only sound for some time was of Miroku’s frenzied breathing and the beating of his heart. He heeded Sesshoumaru’s warning and did not move a muscle.

“I do not know…” Sesshoumaru murmured. “I do not know…what it wants me to do…”

He leaned forward. As the poisonous glare of his claws faded, Miroku saw the ferocious glow of red in his eyes return.

His eyes widened. He heard the sound of cloth tearing as Sesshoumaru tore open his robes to expose his skin. His back arched—a lustful tongue explored his body. Claws tickled the insides of his thighs. Something hard and eager penetrated him without hesitation or hindrance.

Miroku was paralyzed to his core—he couldn’t even scream. Sesshoumaru had taken his voice along with his virtue.

It was over before he had the time to grasp the words to describe what had happened. All that his mind accepted at the moment was that his clothes were ruined, he was naked, and he was being wordlessly carried back to the group by none other than the demon lord Sesshoumaru.

Sesshoumaru set his petrified plaything back down on the ground, leaning down once to kiss his neck.

“I will see you again, monk.” With that, Sesshoumaru disappeared.

Miroku got up the courage to move and drew up one hand to touch the spot on his neck that Sesshoumaru had kissed. His fingers brushed past the beads.

When he looked at them now, they looked the color of Sesshoumaru’s demonic eyes.