Chapter 11: An Unwelcome Guest
The fire crackled, spitting embers toward the indifferent stars. Koga’s grin was a slash of white in the flickering light, but his eyes held a challenge hotter than the flames. The wolves of his pack shifted in a loose circle, their gazes flicking between their alpha and the daiyoukai who stood like a statue carved from moonlight and shadow.
“Meat’s over there,” Koga said, jerking his chin toward a spit where a haunch of boar sizzled. “Help yourself. Don’t expect me to serve you.”
Sesshomaru did not move toward the food. He stood just outside the circle of firelight, allowing the darkness to cloak him. His gaze was a physical weight on Koga’s skin. “Your hospitality is as refined as your manners.”
“You knew what you were getting into,” Koga shot back, turning to nudge a younger wolf with his foot. “Hey, runt. Stop gawking and check the southern perimeter.” The wolf scurried off.
Koa grabbed a section of meat, tore a strip off with his teeth, and dropped onto a moss-covered log. He chewed, watching Sesshomaru watch him. The silence stretched, broken only by the pop of fat in the fire and the distant chorus of crickets. It was a different silence than the one in the black-lacquer chamber. This was full of eyes, full of unasked questions.
One of the elder wolves, Ginta, finally shuffled forward, bowing his head slightly toward Sesshomaru. “Lord Sesshomaru. An honor to have you at our fire. Our alpha has… spoken of your recent alliance.”
Koga choked on his meat. “I what?”
“You muttered about it in your sleep last week,” another wolf, Hakkaku, supplied helpfully from the shadows. “Something about a cold bastard and a very warm—”
“Shut it!” Koga snarled, a flush heating the back of his neck. He dared a glance at Sesshomaru. The daiyoukai’s expression was unreadable, but a flicker of something—amusement?—seemed to dance in his golden eyes.
Sesshomaru finally moved. He stepped into the light, and the wolves instinctively made room. He did not sit. He stood over Koga, close enough that Koga could smell the unique scent of him—frost and rare blooms—cutting through the woodsmoke and blood.
“You talk in your sleep,” Sesshomaru observed, his voice low.
“I have nightmares,” Koga grumbled, looking away into the fire. The bruises on his neck, mostly faded now, seemed to thrum under Sesshomaru’s gaze.
“Do you.”
It wasn’t a question. Koga felt pinned. He took another aggressive bite of meat. “So, you tracked me all the way out here. Missed me that much?”
“You left without giving report on the western border skirmishes. Your… distraction has consequences.”
“Right. Duty.” Koga laughed, a dry, hollow sound. He stood, forcing Sesshomaru to take a slight step back. They were nearly chest to chest now, the fire painting their faces in warm, shifting light. The pack’s murmured conversations died. “Let’s talk duty, then. Privately.”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He turned and stalked away from the clearing, into the thicker trees where the firelight faded to gloom. He knew Sesshomaru would follow. He always did.
Under a canopy of ancient pines, Koga spun around. “What are you really doing here? You don’t give a damn about border reports.”
Sesshomaru stopped a few feet away, a pale specter in the dark. “You are correct. I do not.”
“Then why?”
“You were not where you belonged.”
The words hung in the cool night air. Koga’s breath hitched. “And where do I belong?”
Sesshomaru closed the distance between them in a blink. His hand came up, not to strike, but to trace the line of Koga’s jaw, his thumb brushing over the pulse point. It was a shockingly gentle gesture. “You are willful. You neglect your pack to wrestle with ghosts in your own head. You scent of frustration and unsated hunger.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “You belong where I can see you. Where I can decide what to do with you.”
Koga should have pulled away. Should have bitten the hand touching him. Instead, he leaned into the touch, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “You don’t own me.”
“Do I not?” Sesshomaru’s other hand came to rest on Koga’s hip, possessive and warm. “You said the words. You wear the marks. Your pack knows something has shifted. Who do you think they believe owns your loyalty now?”
The truth of it was a punch to the gut. Koga had been short-tempered, distracted, disappearing for days. They’d seen the changes in him. They could probably smell Sesshomaru on him even now.
“This is a mistake,” Koga muttered, but he was turning his head, nuzzling into Sesshomaru’s palm.
“Undoubtedly.” Sesshomaru’s lips were suddenly at his ear, his breath cool. “Yet here we are.”
From the clearing, a howl went up—long, questioning. A call for their alpha. Koga stiffened, the world crashing back in. Duty. Pack. Identity.
Sesshomaru felt the change and slowly withdrew his hands. The space between them turned cold. “They call for you.”
“I have to go,” Koga said, his voice rough.
“Of course.”
Koga took a step back, then another. The pull to stay was a physical ache. “You’ll be here in the morning?”
Sesshomaru tilted his head. “Does it matter?”
“Yes,” Koga admitted, the word torn from him.
A slow, deliberate blink. A slight, almost imperceptible nod. “Then I will be.”
Koga returned to the fire. The questions in his wolves’ eyes were plain, but their loyalty was stronger. They made space for him. He sat, picking up his forgotten piece of meat, its warmth gone. He stared into the flames, feeling the phantom press of a cool thumb against his jaw.
Across the clearing, just beyond the ring of light, a shadow detached itself from a tree and melted into the forest. Not leaving. Just watching. Always watching.
Ginta moved closer, handing Koga a gourd of water. “He’s staying, then?”
Koga took a long drink, washing down the taste of confession and want. “Yeah,” he said, his eyes fixed on the dark trees where Sesshomaru had vanished. “He’s staying.”