I don't own Inuyasha, nor will I profit from it.
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His fangs left her shoulder, small rivulets of blood boiling out of the twin puncture marks and dripping onto the bed below. The girl beneath him was too exhausted or too afraid to take notice or cry out in pain.
He, Sesshomaru, had just marked the female Kagome as his mate. This, after a twelve hour long romping fest in his bed, until he felt his revenge had been met.
His half breed brother was dead, his remains cremating in a fire, the same fire that was keeping the two of them warm. That was the price he was to pay for laughing, laughing at him and at his expense.
The miko will surely have learned her lesson by this.
Next time, she'll think twice before using her puppy eyes to convince Sesshomaru to try something called a Strawberry Margarita with Lime.