Page 31 of Foxin' Around

“I understand. I am waiting as patiently as I know how. And when you are ready, our book shall be waiting for us again. There is no hurry.”

A winsome smile brightened her expression. “Yeah? You didn’t read it without me?”

“Reading now feels incomplete without you,” he replied earnestly in a quiet voice. “I will wait.”

Her lips curved in a smile of appreciation. “Thank you. I promise that it won’t be too much longer. How about tomorrow we have dinner together… just to talk.”

That was a start and one he gratefully accepted with both hands. He drew in a deep breath and nodded, his smile widening. “I would enjoy that very much. But I am not here to make any demands on you. Truthfully, I was curious to see if I could draw a bath for you so that you can luxuriate while I am out hunting.”

A look of surprise stole over her expression momentarily before her smile returned, more radiant than ever.

“Thank you, that is so very sweet of you.”

Syrix nodded as he dropped back away from the door a pace. “I will see to it. When you hear me scratch at the door, that will be a signal to you that it is ready at your pleasure.”

Krystal nodded with a blush of delight as she shut the door, and he stood there for several heartbeats afterward, savoring the rush of emotions filling him. His tail quivered and he finally turned from the door with a new lightness in his step. True to his word, he filled the tub with the ridiculously hot temperature of water she seemed to favor and even found some scented salts to scatter over, the soothing hints of lavender mixing with another sweet fragrance that he was not familiar with. He glanced at the faded label. Vanilla.

Whatever that was, it was quite pleasing. But the atmosphere needed something else. He immediately recalled the candles scattered throughout the cabin and hurried out of the bathroom to collect several nubs of differing sizes, and painstakingly ignited each one with the snap of his claws. In the end, it was such an appealing scene that he was still smiling several minutes later as he scratched her door in passing.

He was in such a cheerful state of mind upon entering the forest that he could not focus on hunting overly long, and even Fixi seemed to be more in the mood to play than focus on any task seriously. It was a hopeless case for both of them, and Syrix was so distracted by thoughts of his mate’s lovely smile that he gave up after bagging a couple fat birds, just so that he did not return empty-handed. It was also with his mate in mind that he cleaned them thoroughly and plucked them, so as to not draw any unpleasant smells or messes that she had mentioned especially disliking too near to their den. Only when this task was done and the birds were packed into his sack did he head back to the cabin at a brisk trot, eager to return to her side so that he could perhaps catch a glimpse of her warm and rosy from her bath.

He did not think anything could possibly distract him further, but it was on the way back, however, that he slowed and drew to a halt as his eyes fastened on a large wild rose bush in full bloom.

“It is not the season for roses,” he quietly observed, glancing down at the fox at his side. The small male gave him an inquisitive look, conveying his question. Syrix sniffed the air delicately and shrugged. “I do not smell anything wrong with them. Perhaps they were influenced by a portion of the magic coming up from my forest gardens.”

His eyes glittered as he peered at them with interest. Fixi whined unhappily, his tail lowering as he paced nervously away. Syrix gave the male a disgruntled look. “Do not be ridiculous. It is just a flower. I don’t smell any taint to them. Besides,” he said as he turned back to the bush, “Krystal will love them.”

The fox whined again but he ignored it as he sheered numerous stems with his claws and carefully peeled every thorn one by one. Several of the damned thorns pricked his fingers, a few catching him hard enough to draw tiny drops of his shimmering blood. He hissed in pain but ignored it. The few drops were worth the sacrifice as he finally stood with an arm full of roses. He knew just the vessel to put them in. It would make a perfect arrangement to await his mate for when she came out of the bath. He would put them on the small wardrobe dresser that faced her bed, where she would immediately see them upon entering. It was the perfect surprise.

More than that, he just knew that Krystal was going to love them. And that was what truly filled him with pleasure as he returned to the cabin. The pleasure took root within him, creating a haze of bliss as he stood within her room a short time later, artfully arranging the roses. He had to get every blossom just right, and his eyes fluttered shut at the at the scent of their rich musk filling the room around him. It truly was potent insideand for a moment, he worried that she would not like something that smelled so strongly, but another wave of euphoria swept over him, and his concern rolled away. Human senses were duller than that of a fox, anyway. She would likely find them highly enjoyable.

He smiled to himself in anticipation, and his smile grew as his ears pricked at a soft melody floating through the walls. Krystal had to be in a good mood if she was singing. The bath had done more than he expected. He had thought only to help her feel relaxed and happy, and yet there was far more within her voice. He could hear the heavy desire within it as his name drifted sweetly to him, and his tail stiffened and then curled with delight.

“Syrix.”

She was in need and calling to him. A shiver ran over him and he walked from the room, eager for his mate.

Chapter

Twenty-Three

Beautiful roses practically spilled from the large pasta pot that nearly completely covered the surface of her dresser. There were so many roses that they not only crowded against each other, but several of them were bent on the weight of the others, so that their blooms brushed the top of the wood surface. They were extravagant and beautiful, and the entire room carried the thickness of their scent.

Krystal breathed it in and smiled. The smell was… unusual. Far deeper and possessing a musk that made her think of midnight walks. And that in turn reminded her of her walk with Syrix in the gardens at midnight, and their kiss beneath the light of the moon. There had been no roses then, but a blush rose to her cheeks at the memory, and she grinned despite herself.

“Syrix, you ridiculous fox,” she mused as she sniffed a blossom. “Ridiculous and so very clever and sweet.”

Although they had dinner plans for tomorrow in some sort of post-fall-of-civilization date, and she was still determined to take it slow from here on out, she had to admit that she really missed him. He was so very right about chasing happiness and finding it in the small moments, and there hadn’t been too manyof those moments for her since the Ravening stole her world and then shortly afterward, the life of her mother and the rest of her family. She hadn’t honestly thought she had any real happiness left in her. But then, she hadn’t been prepared for Syrix. The clever fox had somehow managed to do the impossible and steal her heart.

Snatching a flower from the pot, she brushed it against her nose and smiled as she headed out of her room to find him. It was late but she was eager to talk to him and perhaps lie for a bit in his arms. She missed that closeness with him of simply being held by him and listening to his heartbeat beneath her cheek. She hummed a little under breath as she approached his bedroom door and knocked on it, an eager smile blooming on her face. Her smile wilted a little when there was no answer, and she knocked again. Maybe he hadn’t heard her.

“Syrix? Can we talk?” she called through the door.

Again, no response. She frowned in concern and twisted the doorknob. Normally, she wouldn’t trespass against another’s privacy, but she was growing worried enough to risk a peek. She opened the door, fully prepared to catch him in some embarrassing state of undress or perhaps already asleep, but the empty room caught her off guard. She stepped inside and slowly spun in place so that she could see all the angles of it.

“Syrix, are you here?”

It felt like a stupid thing to say when there was clearly no one else in the room. There was nothing but a neatly made bed, various little odds and ends set in an organized fashion on a table nearby, and a closet full of robes in varying colors. She was certain that if she checked his drawers, she would find his socks, trousers, and tunics all carefully folded and put away. Even the rug on the floor woven in an unfamiliar design was perfectly in place at the foot of the bed. There wasn’t a speck of dirtanywhere, or even the smallest hint that he had even been in his room at all that night.

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