Shards of Us by Drosselmeyer

Chapter 1

She lay naked on the bed, the darkness still and silent but for the flickering of the fire and the blizzard stirring outside. “Did we make the right decision?”

The question tasted sour. Obscene.

“No. But it is the one we have made.”

Clutching the bedclothes to her chest, Kagome watched as his eyes slid to hers. They were indifferent and yet not, inhuman golden irises transmuted into a burning amber by the firelight. She tried to ignore how the flames warmed the pale expanse of his skin, wrestling with the truth he didn’t shy from, but she failed. Miserably.

It didn’t go unnoticed. “Regrets, Miko?”

“What kind of question is that?” She felt the scowl crease her brow as she held the blankets tighter, and she forced herself to look away. “It would hardly be appropriate if I had none.”

The laugh that came next was dark and unexpected. “Appropriate?”    

Her spine straightened, and she bristled. But before she could bite back, he stretched, and she fixed on that languid motion, the reminder of what they had done screaming at her from every inch of flesh and muscle on display.

Averting her gaze, Kagome swallowed. “Yes, this was inappropriate.”

“Hn. You smell of shame, yes. But regret?” Rolling to his front, he rested his chin in his hands, cocking his head in a way that made her want to smack him for arrogance, and a smile that didn’t reach his eyes split his lips. “There is no remorse in your scent, Miko.”

Blood drained from her face, and she licked suddenly dry lips. “I have a husband.”

“As you did a century ago.” With a flippant flick of his wrist, he turned over again, craning his neck back glimpse her. “It did not matter then and does not now.”

Kagome clenched her fists. Reveling in her past indiscretion was intentional, cruel. It was a decision she had never forgiven herself for as much as he had never forgiven her for committing to another in the first place. And here, now, she had slapped him with the same offense yet again.

He wasn’t inclined to let her forget.

Pulse speeding through her veins, she clenched her fists, her nails digging harshly into her palms. “Who says it didn’t matter?”

That firelit amber darkened, a ruthless glint buried deep in the color. “You. When you came crawling back into my bed.”

He pulled the blankets from her.

She yelled, shallow, cursory words that held no meaning. And when he pinned her, his weight holding her hips secure to the bed, her struggle was disingenuous.

“Do not think of him.” Lips pressed to hers, deceptively soft. “Leave him to memory.”

“Memory?”

“Distant memory.” He kissed her again, his tongue brushing hers, and her eyelids fell, lethargic.

It was wrong. Every moment she spent in his bed, moaning under his touch, was wrong. But as clawed fingertips skimmed her belly, tracing tingling paths over her skin, the façade of remorse slipped away.

“There it is,” he murmured, cocking his head again as he considered her, that molten amber reflecting the flames.

“There’s what?” Kagome spit, impatient. Above her, his eyes never left hers, and she rolled her hips against his, wanton. Shameless.

For a moment, his breath caught, and then eyes darkening, he almost smiled. “Verity.”

The shackles holding her restraint crumbled.

Like a starved woman, she pulled his mouth to hers, kicking off the sheets tangled about her legs. Wrapping them about his hips, she wound her fingers into his hair. Yanked.

With a hiss, his head snapped back. “Patience, Miko.”

“I’ve been patient.” Outside, the wind howled outside, frigid gusts sneaking through cracks in the beams, but she paid it no heed even as her skin pebbled under the assault. Digging her heel into the muscle of his backside, she pressed him closer and scraped her nails over his back. “For centuries. You”—she angrily bit his ear—“can’t commit.”

When he bit her back, she screamed.

“Turnabout is fair play.” There was no ceremony as he flipped her, weighing her down with himself. “Yet, I do not sink so low as you.”

His tongue, warm and wet, dragged up her spine.

Perhaps it was anger. Or maybe it was arousal. But as he found the bite on her shoulder, sucking gently to soothe, Kagome shook. “Why are you here? If I’m so lowly?”

Behind her, he stilled. “Do not ask questions you know the answers to.” The words were like butterflies’ wings over her skin, and his lips pressed a soft kiss against the shallow wound. “There have been none since you.”

Bitter, she laughed. “Does that matter when you won’t—”

His weight slammed into hers, knocking the wind from her as his legs forced hers apart. “Do not mock me.”

Cheek to the bed, Kagome gasped. Like this, he was heavier than she remembered, though his strength when she tried to wriggle free was the same dauntless force it had always been. She pushed at the bed, collapsed again. “Asshole.”

“Uncouth wench.”

Hands gripping the bedclothes, and she jerked, trying to regain control. “I wasn’t until you.”

“Placing blame, Miko?” Claws snapped off in his teeth. “Does love inspire your temper?”

Her eyes burned. “When I get nothing but pieces.”

Blunted fingertips paused, resting at her side, and his voice, previously tinged with rancor, quieted. “I am not my brother.”

Razed open and raw, old hurts choked in her throat. “You were the moment you refused to make me yours.”

It was out of her mouth before she could stop it. The sound of the blizzard outside was suddenly louder, the air seeping in through wooden cracks colder, and but for the rage simmering at her back, all warmth had fled. Even the fire’s flames licked cautiously at its logs, mere slivers of orange daring to taste.

“Is that your opinion of me?”

His tone was a split-second warning, and then, with no ceremony, she was ripped from the sheets.

The next moments were a blur. One second her cheek was warm against the mattress, and the next it stung from the cold as angry tears streaked down her skin, and she screamed. He had flinched then, the grating sound assaulting his senses, and before he could recover, she cracked him across the face, her hand shocked with pins and needles from the slap.

“You will not do that again.” Before she could retort, he slammed her onto his lap, spearing her in an instant.

Kagome gasped. There wasn’t pain, only that stretched, full feeling that demanded satiation. And he knew it.

“What is wrong, Miko?” A smile as sincere as a snake promising not to bite stretched his lips. “Were you unprepared?”

Gritting her teeth, chest heaving, she looked away. No, she was not unprepared—earlier had seen well enough to that. But moreover, no matter how much time passed or how angry she became—how unfit or demented her desire—she wanted him. And that fact had never changed.

She kept silent, defiant as she clung to her shame.

“Foolish woman.” He was pulling her legs then, arranging them to sit comfortably astride his own. “Why do you deny us?”

Need stirred as he situated her, even those careful movements rousing a delicious friction that made her breath hitch. Kagome clenched her teeth harder, giving into the urge to grind down and subtly roll her hips, turning the tables on him. “You denied us first.”

“I never denied you.” He grappled her to him, claws tangling in her hair as he began to move with her. “I have loved you since that era breathed its last.”

Memories of Japan, years before modernity stepped onto its shores, filled her mind’s eye. She could see it clearly, almost smell it.

Taste it.

“Miko?”

Angry tears pricked her eyes again, the lingering burn of his confession spanning centuries. “You love me against your better judgement—isn’t that what you said?”

“Careless words.” Exasperation bled through his control, and his cheek pressed to hers, his voice growing rough in her ear. “I was young.”

“Young?” The snort that escaped was unladylike. Disbelieving.

“Perhaps foolish.”

“Young?”

He chuckled then, all previous echoes of spite absent from the sound. “Does ‘an idiot’ suit you better?”

Hiding her face in his hair, Kagome allowed a smile to slip free. “It does.”

“Very well. I was an idiot.”

For a moment, she was appeased.

“But I have been punished enough.”

Inside the small bedroom, the atmosphere changed. The light mood vanished as quickly as it came, firm hands stilling her hips, and he straightened, meeting her eyes with an intensity that belied his composure. And he lay her back, untangling himself before stretching over her once more. “We are done with this charade.”

Raising his hand, he snapped two claws off in his teeth, not looking away from her face, and she watched, her lower belly tightening as she struggled to breathe.

“You infuriate me.” He touched her.

There was no teasing, no slow, trailing over her flesh to warn her. He simply smoothed the bitten edges of his talons and reached low, sliding one long finger inside without ceremony, and Kagome arched back, fisting the sheets.

An appreciative noise rumbled in his throat “But in the end, that does not matter.” His thumb grazed that swollen bundle of nerves, making her cry out as he drew careful circles. “We always return to each other, one way or another.”

“It doesn’t make it right.” A second finger joined the first, pumping slowly, curling upward, and she turned her head, jaw going slack. “It’s not.”

“I do not care.” Lowering his face, he took the tip of her breast into his mouth and began to suckle, and Kagome gasped, grabbing his head and holding him tight as he murmured around a mouthful of her. “You have never loved them.”

His tongue drew her deeper, and she gasped again. “I do—”

Angrily, he pulled off. “You do not.” Removing his fingers, he aligned himself with her and entered with one smooth thrust. “Do not lie to me.” His hips drove forward.

Kagome moaned, circling her arms about his shoulders and pulling him close. “I won’t. I won’t.”

He was unforgiving after that.

As if he were a lifeline, she clung to him. Cold bled away as heat built between them, her legs locked about his waist. She wrapped her arms desperately around his back, nails digging into his skin as his movement, artful and deft, worked her into a frenzy.

It—he—was everything she wanted. Everything she currently lacked.

“I don’t love him,” she said, lifting her hips to meet him stroke for stroke. The truth of the confession brought bitter tears, and she tried unsuccessfully to swallow them back. “I never loved any of them.”

“Kagome.” Her admission hovering between them, he exhaled. It was heavy and ragged, tension fleeing the line of his body with its unanticipated release, and he let his forehead fall to hers as his eyes closed. “Say it again.”

Shaky hands raised and cupped his jaw, her thumbs brushing the stripes along his cheeks. “I never loved them.”

Without missing a beat, he slowed, his movement tender and rolling as he fit his mouth to hers. “Good.”

She grabbed him by his hair and pulled him down. Kissed him again. “It’s always been you.”

Amber eyes softened. Gentled. “I know.”

It didn’t quite reach her eyes, but as he turned his face to her palm and brushed his lips there, she smiled just a bit. “I’ll leave. Tonight.”

A foreign vulnerability flashed across his face, and he gathered her to him. “I have one requirement.”

Pressure began to build in her abdomen, and she moved against him faster. “What is that?”

Above her, he shuddered, and his mouth pressed to her ear. “Say my name.” The words came out breathless, almost pained, his movement growing more erratic as their completion drew close. “You have avoided it.”

Kagome panted, her eyes heavy as she fixed on his face. “I haven’t—"

He thrust harder, stretched her arms over her head, and they both cried out as he hit deeper, desire and tension coiling tightly. “You have.”

And it was the truth. One more unpleasant truth among others, she had been avoiding what was his—had avoided whispering its melody among the cursed symphony of their indiscretions. It was the nail in the coffin of her actions, and she foolishly, recklessly felt absolved if only she kept its temptation from her tongue.

In the grand scheme of lies, it was perhaps the greatest.

“Kagome.” His arms braced alongside her, muscles quivering with restraint beneath his skin. “My name.”

“Sesshoumaru.” The first waves of her orgasm hit like a tidal force, and her back bowed, poised to snap. “Sesshoumaru.”

He crashed with her. Arms nearly giving way, he pressed his forehead to hers, panting, harsh breaths mingling with her own as his eyes clenched shut, everything he had held in releasing at once.

He was undone and visceral, raw.

Breathtaking.

Wrapped in their pleasure, she trembled as he spent himself inside her, whispered her name, and touched her cheek, nurturing her with intimacy long missed.

Too long missed.

“My husband,” she said when they had finally stopped, and Sesshoumaru held still above her, his eyes dark as he waited for her to finish. “It’s never like this with him.”

She cracked a grin.

He tried to look irritable. Cross. But his face held a restrained and subtle fondness as he lay on his side and pulled her to him. “Perhaps I am satisfied to hear it.”

“Perhaps?”

“Hn.” Arm stretching up to cradle his head, he pulled the blankets over them. “With certainty, I am.”

A flippant burst of youki brought the flames back to life, warming them.

Kagome reached for his hair, running her fingers through the silken strands cascading over his shoulder, and for a moment, she pretended it was just them. No husbands, no histories.

No hurts.

But somewhere, as a blizzard still screamed outside, a man waited alone for her to return to a home she would never see again. It wouldn’t be a regret. She wouldn’t mourn him or the loss of them. But this one, the man resting sated beside her?

As had been proven, even if it were wrong, he was the one she couldn’t live without.

She released his hair.

“Miko?”

Through the window, the snow fell harder, showing no signs of stopping, and she tucked her head under his chin, hands resting against his chest. “It’s nothing.”

A creaking sound groaned beneath the mattress as Sesshoumaru pulled back, glancing down at her. Sleep already glazed his eyes, that burning amber from before muted by fatigue, but they were sharp and shrewd, and he waited for her to speak.

“Really.” She lay her head against him.

“Hn.” His arms came around her. “Sleep. We will leave before dawn.” And as he closed his eyes, Kagome followed suit.

Sleep. Yes, sleep was what she needed.

But as she lay there, the storm still raging outside, eddies of snow swirled with memories as much as they did the cold, and she didn’t sleep well.

In truth, she didn’t sleep at all.