Page 14 of Foxin' Around

It did more than just stir her desire as their bodies brushed continuously against each other, it awakened her instinctive receptivity to him until she was practically humming with awareness. It also touched something within her heart. She felt like Belle in the enchanted castle, a song as old as time spun magically around her. And all of this was a gift thathewas giving her. He was sharing his peculiar gifts in that moment, making a fairy tale of magic and moonlight real to her, and for once Krystal let herself be carried away.

In a world gone to hell, more than anything, she wanted a little magic of her own and she wasn’t about to apologize or make any excuses to herself for taking it. Resting her head against Syrix’s shoulder, she was happily swept up in the magic he had spun.

Chapter

Eleven

Syrix was smitten with his mate. Oh, he had already adored her from the moment he had set eyes on her. The spell had guaranteed that, bringing him exactly that which he had desired and yearned for, but this feeling was different and rawer in a way he found particularly delicious. He growled softly to himself, his eyes fluttering open sleepily to stare at the bedroom window. A velvety darkness filled the window. It was still night, and his ears pricked at the sound of an enraged hiss that carried on the wind.

The snake-bitch was angry. Good. His lips curled smugly in response.

Let her rage. He would not be letting her anywhere near Krystal. His mate was safely tucked into her own bed with Fixi and Fata keeping an eye on her until he could join them.

He rose silently from his bed, his muscles stretching languidly as he walked toward the window and stared out into the night. Yellow eyes gleamed in the darkness for a moment, briefly betraying her location before the dark impression of her large body whipped among the trees and she disappeared once more into the shadows.

His smile widening dangerously, Syrix chuckled quietly to himself. “Impatient… and sloppy. You betray yourself far too soon, lamia. It is only a matter of time now.”

Tossing his long, red head fur over his shoulder, he turned from the window. There was a temptation to launch into an immediate pursuit, but he suspected that she expected that. He shook his head and laughed in quiet mockery, happy to disappoint. She was either very young, or of such an advanced age and dwelling comfortably for a long enough period that she was trying old, time-tested tactics without considering her opponent. She clearly believed that he would just follow blindly in pursuit at the first glimpse of her.

Perhaps that would have been the case a couple centuries ago when he was barely out of his juvenile years. Young foxes were hotheaded and ruled by instinct to an unhealthy degree, and because of that, got into quite a bit of trouble before reaching adulthood. A mature lamia would use that to her advantage, but he had learned patience since then and such tactics were practically useless on him. Foxes not only learned to become more patient but also more cunning. And while he was a nocturnal spirit and thus stronger when empowered beneath the rays of the moonlight, he was also far from foolish. He would not act to his disadvantage, and he certainly would not disgrace his own fur by falling into whatever trap she devised.

He would continue his hunt, but it would be on his terms. Until then, there were other far more delicious activities he would happily savor.

Lips curled with a smile, he prowled from his room, walking the familiar route between his room and Krystal’s. His shape morphed as he walked, fluidly shifting into his four-legged form so that he trotted quickly toward her bedroom door and nudged it open with his muzzle. His gleaming eyes swept the room before fixing on the shape of her body beneath her blankets,her side rising and falling subtly with every deep breath. He watched her momentarily before glancing over at Fixi as the male’s head lifted to blink tiredly at him. A wide yawn exposed the fox’s sharp teeth, and he burrowed down into the bedding, unconcerned. Syrix snorted quietly and bounded over to the side of the bed before leaping up onto it as lightly as possible so as not to disturb his mate.

One of the kits squealed in its sleep and he froze in reaction, his gaze shifting to it in alarm before flicking back to Krystal. He sent up a silent prayer of gratitude for humanity’s poorer senses when Krystal didn’t react other than to shift very slightly in the bed and sigh into her pillow. Focusing on keeping his steps light, he crouched down low and crawled in closer until he was able to press against her side and snuggle against her. She murmured unintelligibly in a sigh at the contact, and he lowered his head slowly to his paws as he continued to watch her, his adoration for her overfilling him. He was certain that, in the same way that generations of foxes emitted magnetism through their eyes, he found another use for it by way of directing all his affections onto her through his eyes so that she would surely feel it and be aware of it deep within her dreams.

She slept peacefully, and to all evidence she didn’t seem to be even aware of his presence on any level, but that just made him relieved that she found such comfort when he was at her side, rather than unconsciously repelled, as was so frequently the reaction of those who have casually shared their bed with foxes—an instinctive unease that came with lying beside a predator even if the waking mind was not aware of that fact. Unexpectedly, pride welled up within him and he regarded her with a small measure of triumph. On previous nights, she had appeared restless to varying degrees that had slowly decreased. But not tonight. Tonight, she was completely at ease in his presence as she slumbered deeply and undisturbed.

As pleased as he was, he felt a touch of regret that he could not reinforce that comfort in a more tangible way. Foxes were incapable of purring the way some other species managed to. Instead, all he had was the comfort his weight against hers and what gifts his magic offered. Resting the weight of his head against her side, he sighed heavily and smiled inwardly.

“I will give you anything that you require or desire if it is within my ability, my love,” he murmured, the words coming from his muzzle as his red gaze caressed the soft curves of her face relaxed in slumber.

The fingers of her hand draped beside her cheek on her pillow twitched before going lax again. Syrix dozed as he watched over her. It was fortunate that adult fox spirits, like most spirit races, did not require as much sleep as juveniles. He was able to enjoy watching over her without having to worry about missing anything. And he was glad for that too because it meant that he also did not miss when her face pinched, and she stirred faintly and then more aggressively with the hold of a nightmare descending over her.

Crawling in even closer, he rested his upper body against her chest until they were lying heart to heart, and stared down into her face. Her eyes moved restlessly beneath her lowered lashes, and he grunted quietly as her breathing drew in more rapidly with her fear. He could feel the tension knotting her muscles and stiffening her body. He watched her head thrash, and his ears caught the sound of her pitiful moan. Flattening completely against her chest, his muzzle drifted closer to her lips and then he saw the marker of the energy on her lips that was slowly gathering as it leaked out of her in her distress. It was heavily laced with her fear and as it built, it drew her own fear higher, building off of itself further with every breath, like a cancerous boil building up onto her energetic body as her nightmare slowly began to poison her.

“Poor little love. I will ease your pain and spare you this,” he rasped as he drew the tip of his muzzle parallel with her lips.

His mouth opened and his teeth snapped on the energy bubbles and jerked back, rising abruptly into a seated position as he tore the foul energy from her and quickly bolted it down. Fear was normally so savory, but from her, it made his insides churn foully. That didn’t deter him from lowering himself once more and cycling breath with her, building her peace within her, even though it meant that he was transferring a small amount of his magic into her.

This was natural with fox spirits. Cycling energy gathered from the moonlight sustained mated pairs far better than preying off others did—and despite their reputation, it was even favorable as far as he was concerned.

More than that, it settled his mate, and it was for this reason that he often found himself cycling energy with her during the day whenever she became distressed. He offered all that he was to her for her comfort and would happily feed her in this way for the rest of their days, however long the gods granted them.

Chapter

Twelve

Krystal threw a log on the fire and slowly straightened, her hands going to her back as she winced a bit at the ache. It was raining again. For three days it had rained, and it was slowly driving her insane. Or perhaps it was the way that Syrix was looking restlessly out the window so frequently. It would be enough to make her live in a constant state of nerves if it weren’t for the fact that whenever she started to feel afraid, it was magically plucked from her. That was also making her uneasy, even if the fear itself was difficult for her to cling to. It wasn’t natural.

Not that she didn’t appreciate it at times. She certainly wouldn’t have enjoyed driving herself mad with worry. But it was strange, nonetheless. Or perhaps it was the weather making her jump at shadows. The cabin was certainly filled with dark recesses that the fire in the hearth and the meager few candles they had couldn’t quite illuminate.

“The weather certainly came upon us quickly,” she muttered. “I forgot how damp and chilly it got so close to the mountains this time of the year.”

Syrix hummed in agreement as he stood in front of the window, peering out in the deeply gray world just outside the door. He clasped his hands behind his back as he stared into that nothingness, and Krystal wondered what exactly he was searching for. He frequently took position at the window as of late, as if looking for something… or waiting.

She peered at the window uncertainly. “Do you think Jasper is okay out there? He is always gone for so much of the day, but I have thinking of him stuck out there in that.”

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