Page 13 of Foxin' Around

“To the meadow,” she agreed with a little laugh.

He gave a low whistle, alerting Fixi that they were leaving, and the male sprung up from the grass with his mate to race off ahead, their kits trailing just behind them. Syrix and Krystal followed at a more sedate pace back into the woods, and his hearted lightened with every step. Things finally seemed to be moving in the right direction.

Chapter

Ten

The view from the window was a vision of beauty. The sky was colored in hues of pink and orange as the woods slowly began to darken into violet with the shift of the sun. Krystal sat in the chair beside the window, her body turned toward the setting sun, a teacup resting between her hands as she watched the dazzling colors illuminate sections of the trees. They became almost silvery while casting other part into ever deepening shadows. It was perhaps one of the most beautiful sunsets she had ever seen, which somehow just felt fitting for just how fanciful her life had become.

Sorcerers. Monsters. Fairylike forests. It certainly all felt like something that jumped out from the pages of a fantasy novel or right from the big screen. Or, if she was really unlucky, a horror film.

“More tea?” Syrix asked, though he didn’t wait for a response before he set the porcelain pot on the small table between her chair and her uncle’s overstuffed recliner.

She could almost picture her aunt and uncle in these chairs while watching over the chaos reigning throughout the cabin. It was strange to see Syrix superimposed over her mental imageof her uncle there, in that chair. The corner of Syrix’s mouth hitched, and his head tipped in that adorable way he had about him as he regarded her. The genial humor in his eyes was a bit sharper than what she recalled her uncle having, but it was familiar enough that it made her instantly more comfortable with him, even if his bearing had a distinct presence that spoke of casual elegance over a cunning swiftness expressed through his tall, sleek build that bore no resemblance to the man who had sat there before him.

Her uncle had been a bear of a man, quick to laugh, and possessing an even, laid-back temper so long as no one messed with his family. He was fiercely protective of his family, and because of that, he had a personal feud with the Mallorys that had become almost a legend within their family.

The physical and noticeably sharper edges to Syrix’s personality aside, what she saw was someone her uncle would have been happy to have sitting there in his place and watching out for her. Syrix’s sweet yet playful and often laughing demeanor was a strange counterpoint to the grim brutality in his expression that spoke of the great violence he would be capable of in his determination to protect her. It would have been something her uncle would have approved of.

“You are thinking of your family,” he mused knowingly and proceeded to refill her to teacup when she set it on the table between them. “You are sad.”

“A little,” she admitted. “Good memories, though. I cannot look at a single room in this place and not think of my aunt and uncle. I spent nearly every summer with them while Mom and Dad worked on saving their marriage, and then later, after their divorce, to keep me occupied when school was out, since they both worked all the time. My aunt and uncle—and my cousins—often felt like my real family that I waited all year to be reunited with again. Summers at the cabin became a thing of the pastwhen I grew up and had to join the real world, but there were still weekend phone calls and holiday family gatherings. I miss them.”

Syrix hummed softly in his throat and refilled his own cup before setting the teapot down once more. “I understand that great feeling of separation,” he murmured. “Like most of my people, family life is one of closeness and what often feels like an inescapable overabundance of love with everyone tripping over each other and in each other’s business. But life happens as it does and eventually the young become adults and move on into the world and the distance becomes too great to gather as frequently as we might like, but overall is necessary for everyone’s peace, comfort, and safety,” he added with a chuckle, his eyes gleaming over his cup for a moment before he sipped.

“I’m jealous,” she replied, grinning back at him over her own cup. “I was an only child, so, outside of my summers visiting my aunt and uncle, and family holidays, I never really got to enjoy that big family vibe.”

He gave an overexaggerated delicate shudder that made her laugh. “It has its good points and many fond memories, but it is not as grand as you might think it. There were many occasions as a ki…child when I would have given my sharpest teeth to have a bit of space of my own and blessed silence.”

She laughed harder at the mental image, but it quickly died as the sobriety of their current circumstances weighed down on her. For all she knew, they were the last surviving members of their respective families, and everyone they had known and loved was nothing but a memory.

“Do you think your family survived the Ravening?” she asked quietly.

Syrix’s smile faded as he regarded her solemnly. “I would like to think that they are safe within their territories, loving and being loved and dancing in the moonlight every night.”

Her lips twitched anew. “Dancing in the moonlight, huh? Is this something you frequently do?”

He gave her a lock of mock offense as he flattened a hand on his chest. “Of course! We are definitely moon worshippers in every sense. Did I not explain that clearly enough?” he teased.

“Ah, I see,” she hummed in agreement and took another sip of her tea. “And I suppose that is related to the moon bathing then? Shall you demonstrate your skill when we go?”

A grin stretching across his face, Syrix set his teacup aside and hopped to his feet. “Why wait, when the moon is rising in all her glory!” he exclaimed, gesturing to the window where, indeed, the pale moon had risen above the trees into the darkening sky. Syrix bowed and offered his hand with a flourish, a sly smile on his lips. “Dare you dance?”

Krystal shivered in reaction to the hungry expression as heat began to warm her belly, chasing away the lingering shadows of sadness that had descended upon her. Instead of bittersweet memories flooding over her, she was filled with a sudden, unexpected excitement. Dancing with him meant that they would be close—very close—and his hands would be on her. Was that something she wanted?

Oh, yes please, a primal part of her whispered, sending a giddiness sweeping through her as she swallowed her tea and hastily set her cup down.

“Why not,” she challenged as she pushed up her feet, not missing even for a moment the look of startled delight darkening his eyes.

His grin widened as she set her hand in his, and his fingers curled over her own in a firm grip seconds before he hauled her against him. For a moment, his robes seemed to envelope them both as he held her, and his scent drifted over her, one that she struggled briefly to identify… something she had once bought… an Arabic perfume that she loved…something oudh! It hit hersuddenly and she breathed his scent in, luxuriating in it until her nose was practically pressed against his chest that vibrated with his quiet laughter. She drew back with an embarrassed giggle, but he did not let her get too far before his arm tightened around her.

Tipping her head back, she peered up at him curiously with amusement. “There isn’t exactly music to dance to here,” she pointed out. “Unless you can magic the record player over there.”

He glanced toward it and laughed quietly to himself. “A task that I will see to for future purposes. For now, I am happy to provide the music myself.”

Krystal didn’t recognize the words that fell from his lips in a sharp, sweet, lyrical language as he sang a haunting melody. In her mind’s eye, his music conjured images of the moonlight playing over the leaves of the trees and the petals of flowers in bloom. It rushed over the gardens and orchards in a silvery melody, caressing the tall grass of the meadow stirred by the invisible song until at last she came to the lake. The moonlight reflected on the water, chasing away the ominous shadow of the cabin at the far side… and they were moving.

They flowed together in swaying steps across the cabin floor as Syrix led the dance. Krystal didn’t resemble any kind of gifted dancer and inwardly winced at how graceless she was compared to her partner, but if he noticed at all, he didn’t show any indication. Nothing but pleasure radiated from him as he sang and led her through the steps. His eyes held hers, his smile warming her with his genuine delight in just being there with her and holding her in his arms. Gradually she relaxed as his incredible heat sank into her and her own body trembled and swayed instinctively toward him with its answering spark. It seemed to give the illusion of grace to her steps as she leanedinto him, surrendering herself to his song as he whisked her around the room.

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