Page 19 of Foxin' Around

From the moment she woke up, he was there with hot water ready for tea and happy to feed her. And yet he was still awake well into the night, quietly reading by the fire from one of her uncle’s tattered paperbacks crowded in the nearby bookcase. Though he set the book aside to walk her to her room everyevening, she was certain that he returned to the living room, as she would often hear soft sounds of him stirring out there. The fact that he was awake before her and in such a good mood was incredible.

Her lips twitched as she glanced over to where he was currently elegantly perched, his nose buried in another book. The cover was so faded that she could barely make out by the light of the oil lamp on the table beside him that it was her uncle’s favorite book.Dune. Somehow that struck her as funny. Syrix looked so out of place in her uncle’s old armchair with his favorite paperback. With his beautifully dyed and woven robe, tunic and pants, he looked like he should be reading some sort of wizardly text or an obscure book of philosophy, rather than a popular science fiction novel.

As if feeling her gaze on him, Syrix’s brown eyes lifted, flashing red just briefly in the lamplight before fixing on her with a glow of warmth. Silently marking his spot, he carefully closed the book, mindful of its brittle yellow pages, and smiled at her.

In the past she might have found such behavior ingratiating and disingenuous from anyone else—and would have been disgusted and irritated by it—but from Syrix, it just hit differently the more she got to know him. He wasn’t attentive as a way to play up to her, he was just genuinely happy taking care of her, to the point of practically humming with pleasure whenever he could do something to please her. It was strange and while she’d initially distrusted him, she was beginning to lean into it and discovered that she enjoyed those moments when she could return the favor in some small way.

“Did you need something, sweetheart?”

She shook her head, her smile inching higher as she noted the dust clinging to his hair from handling the book. Her uncle’s books had likely been sitting undisturbed for years as her cousins weren’t big readers. He looked like an adorablebookworm and her heart unexpectedly flipped seeing him enjoy himself so carefreely.

“No. I just wouldn’t have taken you for a science fiction fan,” she teased and nodded toward the book in his hands.

Syrix glanced down at the book, an answering smile curling his lips. “I must admit that it is a great adventure. I marvel that the human imagination can produce such things that have never been seen or experienced to create an entirely new world. It is truly… captivating,” he settled on at last as he gazed down at the novel with delight.

Krystal’s eyebrows rose in response. He had never heard of science fiction before? That seemed impossible. But then again, those same words he spoke could have easily been applied to a novel of any genre. Disappearing into the worlds created by authors was one of her own favorite pastimes.

“Haven’t you ever read a novel?” she asked.

“A novel,” he murmured speculatively, his fingers brushing lightly over the cover. “No. Where I come from, books are for conveying information, whether that be for specific tasks or plans, or for educational purposes. There was nothing so imaginative.”

Her brow furrowed. Did he grow up in some sort of far-off commune? She supposed that was possible, though she hadn’t realized that there were any thriving communes around the time of the Ravening. He certainly seemed skilled in arcane things, however, and possessed mannerisms different than anyone she’d ever known before.

What sort of small pleasures had he missed out on? She couldn’t give him cinemas, online streaming, or her backlog of movies, much less the adventures of wandering a mall with a cinnamon roll or hot pretzel during the holidays or a trip to a cozy bookstore for coffee and a new novel. Then there was herbeloved e-reader that had been filled with hundreds of books that she still privately mourned the loss of.

Abandoning the couch, she headed toward the bookshelf and skimmed it for some her favorites. Her uncle was a prolific reader. There were books crammed wherever they would fit and small stacks not only on the top of the bookcases but also on the small tables closest to it. It brought back wonderful memories of spending the occasional rainy day perusing for something to read with her uncle. Hell, he’d been the one to open the wonders of the literary world to her. A smile on her face, she began to pull out copies of books that she’d loved. Returning to Syrix, she held up the small stack.

“I think you might enjoy these. They were some of my favorites. Most I haven’t read in forever, but I’m think you might like them if you are enjoyingDune.”

She went to set the books beside him, but was surprised when he stood and putDunedown to take them from her.

He nodded toward the couch. “Would you like to read together?”

Warmth curled within her at the invitation, but she glanced toward the abandoned book. She didn’t want him to abandon a book he was obviously enjoying just to read with her. He had barely gotten more than a handful of chapters into it and hadn’t even reached the good stuff yet.

“What aboutDune?”

He shrugged, unconcerned. “I have plenty of time to read it. It would give me more pleasure to enjoy the books with you.”

She licked her lips. Although she imperfectly remembered the first few chapters, she went to the table and picked up the weathered copy and hugged it to her chest. Syrix had been clearly enjoying it and the book was one her uncle had read to her the first summer she’d spent with them at the cabin, despiteher aunt’s scolding that she was far too young. It was really the perfect place for them to start together.

Turning from the chair, she headed back to the couch and settled on it, holding the book up. “I think we will start with this one. We can just pick up where you left off.”

His gaze glittered down at her with some deep emotion that she couldn’t name, but he nodded and placed the stack of books on the coffee table before settling beside her. Plucking the book from her fingers, he surprised her by opening to the first page, his warm voice filling the cabin as he read.

Gradually, Krystal sank into his side as she listened to him read until she was pillowed against his chest, his lovely voice rumbling through her and the steady beat of his heart filling her ears. Warmth settled deeper through her with a sense of contentment and belonging that blocked the howl of the weather outside their door.

They read together until she began to yawn and Syrix set aside the book without complaint to walk with her to her room. Unlike other nights, he lingered there at her door, and she felt almost reluctant to enter, even when the foxes zipped between their legs to take their customary spots on her bed. Her eyes were watering with exhaustion, but she didn’t want the night to end. She knew she likely also looked like hell, but the way he looked at her made her feel beautiful and desirable. She had no idea how he managed to look so good no matter how late or early it was, but when they finally parted, it was with incredible reluctance and her heart clenched at the sadness that flitted across his face before disappearing beneath a sweet smile.

What if she invited him to stay?

She toyed with the idea, but ultimately her courage deserted her before he pulled her door closed with a whisper of good night. She stared at the closed door in frustration. Was he really going to wait for her to invite him? It seemed so.

It was no surprise to her that she slept fitfully, erotic dreams tantalizing her, but when she woke again, she was surprised to find that she had no interest in wallowing in her blankets. Instead, she eagerly slipped from her bed and pulled on her clothes with a sense of haste before hurrying out from the room to join Syrix.

It quickly became apparent that he had heard her moving around her bedroom as she dressed for the day because her tea and breakfast were already on the table waiting for her when she emerged. She stared at it in surprise as she sat in her chair, glancing back at him as he took the chair directly beside her, angling himself so that he faced her. His expression was lively with his usual morning cheer, and his hair was a little damp, as if he had hastily washed himself with gathered rainwater at some point while she was sleeping.

Did he usually wash so early in the morning? She couldn’t recall him looking so distinctly wet before, aside from when he returned the other night from burying the body they’d found. But then again, she never really paid much attention before, as she walked through the house in a semicomatose state in the mornings. It was only because he was so close to her this morning that it even registered.

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