Page 26 of Found in Obscurity

“We can sleep, yeah,” Lorin said, picking up the blanket his grandmother had left for him.

He turned toward the door next to his childhood bedroom, the process of elimination telling him it had to be his parents’ old room.

He couldn’t go in there. Not after one full emotional breakdown at seeing his own room. He didn’t know how he’d cope with the ghosts of his parents in there. Tomorrow, maybe.

Not tonight.

He made short work of getting himself ready to sleep in the tiny bathroom, turning off the lights as he finished. He walked over to the sofa, toeing off his shoes and grabbing the blanket again. He went to lie down but found the fox sprawled in the middle of his makeshift bed.

“Can you scoot over a bit?” Lorin asked, and Kit shuffled sideways with his eyes closed until he was just under the armrest where Lorin’s head would be. “Really?”

He got no answer to that, so he huffed, stretching himself across the sofa, the fox tucked right into his neck. Kit’s tail landed on his chest, a soothing weight, and Lorin pulled the blanket up, covering them both.

He looked up at the ceiling and counted the shadows until sleep took him over.

Kit

There was something about this den that was special.

Kit had been around a lot of magical communities, so the brush of magic or the taste of it in the air like ozone didn’t faze him. But this house breathed and called to him in a different way. Not even Lorin’s grandmother’s den felt like this one.

There was a melancholy that had seeped into the beams, a history that could be felt in every nook and nick in the wood. Maybe that was why Lorin was so sad. Kit was hyperaware of it, but he wasn’t scared or uncomfortable.

There was excitement and joy there too. An overwhelming pulse of love and welcome that was easing the pain with every moment Lorin stayed within its walls. It shifted and moved as if trying to get closer, hug Lorin tighter.

Kit didn’t know if Lorin had noticed yet or not. The witch often got lost within his own head, and Kit didn’t know if he was too good at looking out when he was always drifting inward.

It didn’t matter. Kit could look out for both of them now.

He would be able to do that better if he could still shift, however.

He slipped away from Lorin’s sleeping form, watching him scrunch his nose as Kit’s warmth disappeared from his neck. He was happy his mate was finally getting some rest after an emotional day.

Kit padded silently toward the back door, looking out over the woods pensively, sharp eyes catching all manner of woodland creatures skittering around in the dark.

Kit sighed through his nose, holding back any other noise that wanted to escape. He was happy in his fox skin. It was a natural part of him. A seamless shift. But to have the human part of him blocked off was stifling.

He longed to stretch his legs, to communicate properly with Lorin, to have the ability to hold him back when he was sad.

The frustration made him pace until he couldn’t stand it anymore.

He climbed onto the dining room chair and then the table, hopping across to the kitchen counter. Walking along, he got to the window and nosed the latch open, pushing it wide enough to slip his body through and jump out into the chilly night.

He looked up at the moon above, shining down through the canopy. An owl flew across with an echoing hoot, its shadow eclipsing the crescent shape. Kit breathed deeply, his breath fogging in front of him.

The snow would be coming again soon, and this time it would stick.

Kit could feel it in the air, and his anticipation rose. Nothing was better than curling up warm in his den, then heading out and hunting in the snow. And now he had his mate to cuddle with, this winter promised to be extra special. Even if he couldn’t be human, he wouldn’t have to spend it alone again.

He bounded off into the night, crashing through the underbrush to try and work off some of his pent-up energy while Lorin was asleep. This form needed it. He couldn’t be still for too long, it made him feel itchy and anxious.

He’d be back by morning.

Chapter seven

Lorin

He had folded andrefolded the blanket on the sofa about five times since he’d woken up. The dishes from their breakfast were washed, and the living room, kitchen, and bathroom areas were as clean as they were going to get. And the pawprints that had mysteriously appeared during the night had been mopped. Again.