Page 14 of Foxin’ Around (Mated to the Monster: Season 3)

Chapter

Thirteen

S yrix took in her pale face, but he nodded in agreement. His poor, determined little mate was trying to be brave. His hand curled into a fist, his claws sinking into his palm in irritation. The damn lamia was once again distressing her. This could not go on much longer.

Reaching behind him, he followed the path of her crossed arms and entwined his fingers with hers, drawing her hand into his. The silent reassurance was not much but her hand tightened around his, gratefully clinging to him. Through her hand, he felt a small amount of tension running through her release from her arm, and she allowed him to lead her deeper into the woods.

She did not speak, and nor did he. They walked silently in grim respect for the dead. And all the while, beneath his glamour, his fox ears swiveled, listening, and his nose twitched as he subtly sniffed the air. The scent of the lamia was quickly fading within the rain, leaving behind only the bittersweet bite of blood in the air and the scent of wet flesh mixing with the smells of dirt and greenery. That smell grew stronger as they walked toward its source, and the strands of long fur on his head prickled.

The smell of dead lay heavily there, and he squeezed Krystal’s hand in warning as he tipped his head to the bushes directly ahead of them.

“It is just over there,” he said quietly.

“Okay.”

It is one word and yet it bit into his heart just how much fear and dread it carried. Fear for herself and fear that the body that they might find belonged to someone she loved. He prayed that it did not.

Jaw hardening, he pushed through the branches and briefly closed his eyes in dismay as he held the branches out of the way for her. He swallowed and he opened his eyes to squint down at the human remains staring back at up him as Krystal joined him at his side. His sensitive ears picked up the shudder of her breath and the silent, choked sob. He bowed his head. It was truly a horrific sight, one that he did not wish his mate to be exposed to or be forced to endure. The male lay strewn on the forest floor, his torso torn apart and separated into pieces, the broken bones exposed from where he was split and torn apart, his meaty internal organs streamed across the ground like gruesome confetti—little confectionary sweets thrown to the crowds throughout much of human history. The male’s head, however, was skewered on a thick, broken branch, blood streaming from between its lips and the sightless holes where his eyes had once been. Very gently, Syrix turned her away with a murmur of apology.

“Was it—” he began, but she brushed the tears from her eyes and shook her head.

“It’s no one I recognize,” she said quickly. “No one in my family, anyway, and no one I recognized from the neighboring properties—though it has been a few years and admittedly someone could have sold their cabin since then, prior to the Ravening.” She stared helplessly down at her hands as she drew in a deep breath. “We… we should probably bury him anyway. It is the right thing to do. I… I think there might be some shovels back at the cabin. We can go fetch them and bring them back before she returns.”

“I do not think she will return tonight,” he soothed. His jaw clenched as he glanced back toward the remains, the splatter of blood on the leaves mingling and washing away with the rain. “This was a clear message left for me. She is toying with me and letting me know that she is not afraid to hunt and kill in my territory.” His upper lip curled back from his fangs. “It is a challenge to her sick game.”

Krystal’s free hand gripped his forearm urgently, bringing his attention back to her so that he turned toward her attentively, his head bowing so that his brow brushed the top of her head.

“Maybe we should just go,” she whispered. “Don’t play her game… just run.”

He smiled, his heart warming at her plea. She wished to flee with him. Certainly, she would just brush it off as her selfish desire for self-preservation that made her wish to keep him close to her, but he saw more than that. She was reacting instinctively, speaking whatever came to her mind and heart. In doing so, she revealed far more of herself than perhaps even she realized. If only it were so easy to just take her and run.

He shook his head regretfully. “If only I could. If I felt that we could escape that creature’s hunt, I would have already carried you away from here and disappeared with you. But a lamia is not like other monsters out there. Once she has begun her hunt, she will not abandon it, she will pursue us, and she swift. That you managed to elude her for so long is truly miraculous, but I do not think you will be so fortunate a second time.”

She sighed heavily and took a step closer to him, her small, soft body leaning into his larger frame. “So, we can’t go anywhere. We can’t run.”

“It would be fruitless, and we would be in a position where we would lack the safety our home provides,” he replied honestly. He shook his head. “I would not have imagined that she would linger so and set herself in a position of such opposition. Usually, predators like the lamia are cowards who hunt where the best opportunity lies. The protection of these woods should have deterred her,but even though it has not, it is at least keeping us safer than we would be out there.

“Yeah… you’re right. Nowhere out there will be as familiar and safe for us.” She straightened and scrubbed at her face with one hand before peering up at him through reddened eyes. “I really don’t want to give this place up without a fight, anyway.”

“I suspected not,” he agreed, and the corners of his mouth hitched with grim amusement. “You battled me far too hard to walk away so easily.”

Krystal greeted his observation with a small, valiant chuckle that was nothing short of love’s arrow directly to his heart. “That’s a tactful description of events. Hell, if I didn’t know any better, I would say that sounds suspiciously like admiration.”

Drawing back slightly, he skimmed his fingers along her jaw, his thumbs brushing her chin momentarily before tipping her head back so that he could look down into the oceanic depths of her blue eyes, wet with tears.

“Why would it not be admiration?” he replied. “This female before me is bold and possessing a great and courageous spirit.”

“Not to call you a liar or anything, but said female is shaking in her boots, doing everything she can just to hold her shit together,” Krystal pointed out dryly.

Syrix hummed under his breath and brushed the tip of his nose affectionately along her brow. “Nonetheless, her tongue is as sharp as her wit, and she stands here with me even when fear would have her flee and barricade herself in the cabin.”

Her lips twitched. “I’m that obvious, am I?”

“Just a little,” he teased. “But it is unnecessary, and as to your plan as to how to proceed, I have a better one.”

Her brows inched upward. “A better one. I hope it’s not to just shove his corpse into a bush and let nature take care of him. He deserves at least some respect.”

Syrix wrinkled his nose but did his best not to look too guilty. That had indeed been his plan. Spirit foxes typically were set afire by their kin and mourned properly on the rare occasion that they ascended to places beyond the immediate spirit world. Generally, with anyone else, he would return them to nature as discreetly as possible and leave things to properly sort themselves out as matter decayed and returned to the earth. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Not exactly,” he lied, thinking quickly on his feet. She squinted at him skeptically and he sighed. “Okay, yes that was what I was going to do but only after returning you to the cabin. You do not need to witness this any further, and as long as the door remains shut, the enchantments on the cabin will keep out anything short of a god.”

“And then?” she prompted.

“And then I will return to bury him,” he replied sourly as he glanced down at the hard earth. That was really going to dull his claws. He would need to file them for weeks to get them reasonably sharpened again.

Krystal gave him a doubtful look. “You are going to dig out a grave… by yourself? There are two shovels, you know. With my help it would take half the time.”

Lips twisting in a grimace, he shook his head. If he was going to dig, he was not about to make it even more laborious by using human tools. Not when his magic and his two hands with all ten claws would be far more effective.

“I can take care of it easily enough on my own,” he quietly assured her as he herded back toward the cabin. “Quicker in fact, as I have my own ways.”

She peered up at him, her brow puckering. “If you are certain…” she said slowly. “You are going to actually properly bury him, right?”

“I swear it,” he replied gravely.

She did not look entirely convinced, but she nodded and allowed him to escort her back to the cabin without any further protests. It was only when the door was open and she had stepped through the entrance that she turned to him, a look of worry on her face.

“You will be okay out there by yourself, right?”

“I will be fine, you will see,” he assured her.

She nodded again in reply. “Then return to me quickly.”

A flirtatious smile spread across his face, and he inclined his head, lifting her small hand that was still entwined within his fingers to his lips and brushed a kiss against the back of it. He felt the tiny tremor of awareness through her where his lips were pressed to her skin, and he lifted his head with an expression of satisfaction.

“I shall,” he promised. “Now, remain safely inside. And do not come out no matter what you see and hear. Understand?”

Krystal muttered an agreement as he released her hand and immediately wrapped her arms around her waist to hug herself. “The lamia can deceive me, I imagine.”

“Yes, and will do so without hesitation if she believes it to be to her advantage. Now, go in and warm yourself. Throw an extra log or two on the fire, change your clothing to something of mine—I have plenty to spare, though soon I will be supplying you with new clothing of your own. And wrap in the blanket,” he added authoritatively.

Her lips quirked. “Gods forbid I catch a cold, huh?”

“Absolutely,” he replied and shooed her farther inside before gently closing the door between them, the sound of her quiet laughter filling his ears in a very pleasing way.

It was almost enough to make him forget the unpleasantness of his task. Unfortunately, grim reality set back in swiftly when he returned to the lamia’s hunting spot. The remains were still there where she had scattered them and there were no new impressions of her scent nearby. She had not returned, it seemed. He half suspected that she would in order to retrieve some portions of her meal that she had been forced to hastily abandon.

Unless she had never intended to eat him, which potentially made it even worse. Lamia were cruel creatures, but they worked off a certain sort of logic set into their existence. Like most predators, they killed chiefly due to their necessity to feed, no matter how horrific and repugnant others found it and no matter how it might result in her death or those sisters she might nest with.

What manner of madness infected this creature?

He shuddered, uncomfortable with the thought, and quickly reached for his four-legged form before he could get too caught up going down mental rabbit holes, assuming the true size of his four-legged form, rather than the more compact miniature version that he usually adopted around his mate in an attempt to disguise himself. Stretching leisurely to work out all the kinks from his muscles, he immediately bent to his task and began to dig into the forest floor, sending out huge showers of dirt. As he dug into the earth, he wondered what his mate might think of his other form. He was a fox that was as large as some of the larger horses ridden among the fae—he had little doubt that she would find him absolutely terrifying.

Unsurprisingly, that did not make him feel any better. Still, he made quick work of burying every bit of the human male he could find, and returned quickly among the game trails back to the cabin.

Normally he would luxuriate in running through the woods in his true form, but not when his entire being called for his mate. There would be time enough for running later and by then, he hoped he would have his mate perched upon his back and running with him.