Page 19 of Foxin’ Around (Mated to the Monster: Season 3)
Chapter
Eighteen
A fter the incident with the bear skull, Syrix not only gathered necessary firewood while his mate soaked in the bath, but also dragged back several fallen trees that would fill the woodshed once chopped—and with little extraneous effort on his part. Chopping wood was hardly the most demanding of tasks and he rather enjoyed the physical exertion of swinging the ax and neatly stacking the split logs. It gave an outlet for his nerves and soothed his mind despite the fact that he was obsessively mentally chewing on what had happened out there.
It suddenly made the incident by the lake far clearer to him. Of course she was frightened to go around the lake. She’d been curious, and her need to see to the welfare of her neighbors was admirable, but when it came to actually doing it, her fear had overwhelmed her to the point that his ability to soothe had been rendered useless.
He had felt it through the subtle connection that all foxes enjoyed with their mates. The same connection that allowed them to feed from casual sexual encounters was the sort that with his mate expanded and grew into an ever-deepening bond that made him sensitive to her needs. It was also what helped him soothe her when required, though it was frustratingly useless when it came to the Mallory cabin. So, he did what a good fox would do for his mate. He had shielded her from the source of her fear as much as possible, making a point to not return to the tranquility of the lake with her. Had he known that it was the cabin itself, he never would have allowed them to wander so close to the edge of his territory.
Returning to the cabin, he checked in with his mate, a cheerful smile on his face when he found her clean and nearly dry beside the fire. “Shall we try that walk now?”
The smile she gave him was sweet but there was a lingering hint of shadows within her eyes that made his heart ache for her. “Actually, do you think we can just stay here today? Maybe read on the porch? That tired old porch swing may be about ready to fall down but I’m willing to chance it if you are.”
“Of course. There is no rush,” he assured her. “We will just take a couple pillows from the couch and carry them out with us,”
In truth it was a beautiful way to spend the afternoon. They cuddled together on the swing, enjoying the warmth of the sunbeams and the perfume of the roses as they spent the day reading while Syrix rocked them gently with one foot. They only briefly abandoned it throughout the day to enjoy a small midday meal or brew some tea before returning to it once more. He thought of nothing else and desired nothing else but being right there with her. Even when the sun began to set and they retreated indoors so to read more comfortably, he did not entertain any thought of leaving the cabin until Krystal stood and stretched with a yawn.
“I’m heading to bed,” she announced with a contented smile.
She appeared so warm and happy despite the episode earlier in the day that it lightened Syrix’s heart as he stood and accompanied her, as usual, to her bedroom door. To his surprise, she did not immediately go inside but turned to look up him, her expression soft and inviting as she rested a hand on his forearm.
“Thank you for today. And for being patient. I really enjoy enjoyed it even if it may have felt a bit repetitive to you.”
He shook his head in denial. “Not at all. Every moment with you is one that I cherish. Beside which, the swing was certainly a new pleasure. Today made me very glad that I chose to restore and keep it despite initially seeing it as a frivolous and useless thing. I could not have been more wrong, and I now understand why they are enjoyed so much by lovers,” he teased, enjoying the blush that rose to her cheeks. “I very much enjoyed our day together.”
Her lips curled in a shy smile. “I’m glad. Well, goodnight, then.”
Syrix inclined his head and watched as she slipped instead and shut the door between them. It was only when the door was firmly closed, and he listened to her retreating footsteps that he decided to venture outside and do a quick patrol of his territory. The night air was cool but welcoming and it teased his fur as he took his four-legged form and ran into his woods.
With his mate’s welfare firmly in mind, he scouted every nook and cranny, sniffing at every fallen tree and crevice between the rocks just to make sure he was not missing any kind of hidden entrance where the lamia might be hiding herself. He scouted toward the Jensen cabin at the farthest edge of his territory and slowly circled around, not once catching even the faintest hint of the lamia’s putrid scent. His trek eventually took him to the lake and he peered at the cabin illuminated by the rays of the moon, recalling his mate’s fear and revulsion.
But what was it about the place? Other than looking somewhat foreboding due to the lack of life within it, it did not spark any instinctive warning within him other than general unpleasantness. But he did not doubt his mate. If Krystal said there was a sense of wrongness to the cabin, then he believed her. That sense of wrongness had clearly overpowered his ability to soothe her when she was in its grip. It was no laughing matter.
His head fur rising warily, his gaze drifted from the cabin at the water’s edge to the trees that stood as silent sentries. He half expected the lamia to drop from one of them to taunt him, but when his eyes shifted to the trees nearest to him, he startled when something burst violently in a rush from the branches nearest to him. His legs bracing, he promptly fell into a widened stance only to blink quizzically at the bats as they swooped over the water, chasing insects.
Bats? He did not recall seeing bats around his territory before. But then again, he had arrived in the winter. Perhaps they had been sleeping. He would not have immediately noticed a cavern of roosting bats, given that bats flew long distances from their caverns to hunt and eat. He would not have even scented their heavy musk at such a distance, not like he would if they were roosting somewhere within his territory. Because of that, their presence did not concern him as much as it amused him to watch them flit over the pound.
It was unlikely that the lamia would take advantage of nesting someplace that was likely in an inopportune location.
Taking a deep breath, he sniffed the air and filtered through the scents of the night in search of the one he was looking for. Nothing. It was as he suspected. The lamia had gone to ground to digest.
Growling softly to himself, he drew back from the lake and returned along the path back to the cabin he shared with his mate. Fixi darted among the brush, pausing for only a moment to look over at him questioningly, his tail stiff. Syrix nodded to the male and the fox’s body relaxed before bounding down the path—eager to rejoin his mate. Syrix well understood that feeling as eagerness thrummed through him in anticipation of seeing his female again.
Picking up his pace, he jogged back to the cabin. He was tempted to assume his four-legged form, but he resisted the urge. Although he was a fox spirit, he wanted to return to his mate in the way of men, his anticipation sweetening with every step closer he came to the cabin. His steps slowed, his heart in throat, when his eyes fell upon the female who had claimed him completely.
She was a vision—like a gift from the gods delivered to him on the beams of moonlight that all foxes adored. Krystal stood on the porch, his blanket wrapped around her, her gaze drifting sightlessly over the shadows. He knew she did not see him—not yet—but he smiled as stepped into the moonlight just outside the tree line, his heart lifting joyfully in his chest when her expression immediately brightened.
“Syrix, what are you doing out here,” she called out to him, and his smile widened into a grin.
“I could ask the same of you, lovely one,” he replied. “I thought you wished to sleep.”
“That had been my plan, but I could not sleep.” Her lips twisted ruefully as her gaze followed his approach until he arrived at last at the bottom step of the porch. “What about you, handsome? Why are you out here prowling. I thought you said that the lamia would likely go to the ground for a while to digest that fucking bear.”
He chuckled in agreement, though he inwardly preened at being called handsome. He knew he was attractive as foxes tended to be, and he had certainly been invited into many beds over the centuries of his life, but hearing it from his mate’s lips was sweeter than he could have imagined. Her opinion of him was the only one that mattered in his eyes.
“That she did. I decided to verify the matter and made a quick trip around the perimeter of my territory. If it is nesting somewhere, it is not within the land that I have claimed as mine.”
Her expression softened. “That is excellent news.”
He hummed in agreement but made no effort to ascend the steps to her. Instead, he grinned playfully at his mate, struck by a sudden idea. “Since you have come out on this lovely night, would you care to take advantage of the situation?” he crooned up at her.
Krystals brow knitted faintly in confusion. “Take advantage of it?” she echoed.
He nodded eagerly. “I did promise you a moonlit walk and now would be the perfect moment,” he offered, his hand extending in invitation to her. “Do you trust me?”
Her eyes brightened in the soft glow reflecting off them as she stared thoughtfully at his hand. Her lips curving with a smile, she slipped her hand into his and he immediately felt as if he could breathe easier as his fingers curled around hers. He sent a wave of affection to her and delight filled him with the way her eyes briefly widened in response. She felt that. He was certain of it. His mate was more than just keenly perceptive, she was extremely sensitive, not just to her environment but also to him, as her mate, in nearly the same fashion that he was sensitive to her. How had he not seen it before? It seemed that his heart had sharpened his clarity toward his mate more than he had expected.
He bit his tongue so that the sting of pain kept him from yipping in excitement and gathering her into his arms. He could not seem to cease smiling, however, as he helped her down the porch steps and led her onto one of the nearby paths that took them through his garden within that part of the forest. His heart fluttered with excitement as he walked with her, his eyes never straying far before returning to her again.
How could one be so beautiful and perfect to him? And out in the holy light of the moon, she looked like a goddess walking beside him. The fact that her eyes frequently flitted to him to steal little glances charmed him to the tip of his concealed tail as they walked, surrounded by the night bloomers that awakened with the setting of the sun. A hint of lilac teased his senses, mixing amid this perfume and the scent of damp herbs releasing their fragrance in the cool night air. They mixed with his mate’s scent in an intoxicating blend that made his head spin with desire and adoration.
Tipping his head back, he breathed in the energy of the moonlight and smiled up at its glorious sphere peeking through the trees.
“The moon is beautiful tonight,” Krystal observed quietly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen it quite so big before.”
“It is the perigee, the point at which the moon’s orbit is closest to this world.” He breathed deeply, drawing in more of the moon’s energy, and smiled, his gaze drifting to his mate. She was radiant in profile and so incredibly precious to him at that moment as she was caught up in wonder. “It is beautiful. There was a time when I thought that nothing could possibly compare to a night like this where the moon dances so close. That is until now.”
Her gaze snapped toward him in surprise. “Until now?”
The corners of his lips curled, and he inclined his head. “Until now,” he agreed. “Though the goddess who dwells upon moonbeams might strike me down, I cannot lie. For there is nothing as beautiful in my eyes as the female by my side.”
Krystal’s eyes widened and lowered bashfully. Not wishing her to be embarrassed while still wanting her to know the true depth of his feelings, he hooked a finger beneath her chin and tilted her head so that her eyes met his.
“Do not by shy,” he whispered. “Though I am so enamored that even this is so sweet to me, I want you to feel empowered by my declaration, not embarrassed by it. They aren’t merely words to win your favor, but a truth that could not be contained or hidden any longer.”
“And what reward is this truth worth?” she whispered. “I confess that I feel… things, but I’m still figuring out my own truth amid all of this.”
He brushed his thumb of her plump lower lip and smiled. “Take all the time that you need. I will take nothing that you are not willing to give.”
“A kiss?” she quietly offered, and he nearly growled with the shaft of pleasure that slammed through him at the very thought of it. “Will a kiss be a sufficient offering?”
“A kiss from your lips alone would be more precious than even gold from the vaults of the gods,” he rasped.
A shiver ran through her and he was unable to restrain the quiet rumble of the growl caught within his throat as she tipped her lips up in offering. They brushed his bottom lip like the wings of a butterfly, the nectar of her lips like honey. His tongue swept over the offering as she pulled back just far enough to study his reaction, and he trembled as her flavor hit his blood. It was utter perfection, and he had not nearly enough.
Syrix closed the distance, his arms sweeping around her as his lips descended to hers once more. Holding her to him, he drank of her, his tongue twining and dancing with hers as the moonlight caressed them and ivory moths rose up around them to wing their way through the night.
It was a kiss, but it was more—it was everything, as the all the countless years of his existence became defined within that single moment, as if every breath, every hunt, every joy and pleasure had been shadows building up to this moment. Preparing him for her. His Krystal, his precious jewel.