Page 24 of Foxin’ Around (Mated to the Monster: Season 3)

Chapter

Twenty-Three

B eautiful roses practically spilled from the large pasta pot that nearly completely covered the surface of her dresser. There were so many roses that they not only crowded against each other, but several of them were bent on the weight of the others, so that their blooms brushed the top of the wood surface. They were extravagant and beautiful, and the entire room carried the thickness of their scent.

Krystal breathed it in and smiled. The smell was… unusual. Far deeper and possessing a musk that made her think of midnight walks. And that in turn reminded her of her walk with Syrix in the gardens at midnight, and their kiss beneath the light of the moon. There had been no roses then, but a blush rose to her cheeks at the memory, and she grinned despite herself.

“Syrix, you ridiculous fox,” she mused as she sniffed a blossom. “Ridiculous and so very clever and sweet.”

Although they had dinner plans for tomorrow in some sort of post-fall-of-civilization date, and she was still determined to take it slow from here on out, she had to admit that she really missed him. He was so very right about chasing happiness and finding it in the small moments, and there hadn’t been too many of those moments for her since the Ravening stole her world and then shortly afterward, the life of her mother and the rest of her family. She hadn’t honestly thought she had any real happiness left in her. But then, she hadn’t been prepared for Syrix. The clever fox had somehow managed to do the impossible and steal her heart.

Snatching a flower from the pot, she brushed it against her nose and smiled as she headed out of her room to find him. It was late but she was eager to talk to him and perhaps lie for a bit in his arms. She missed that closeness with him of simply being held by him and listening to his heartbeat beneath her cheek. She hummed a little under breath as she approached his bedroom door and knocked on it, an eager smile blooming on her face. Her smile wilted a little when there was no answer, and she knocked again. Maybe he hadn’t heard her.

“Syrix? Can we talk?” she called through the door.

Again, no response. She frowned in concern and twisted the doorknob. Normally, she wouldn’t trespass against another’s privacy, but she was growing worried enough to risk a peek. She opened the door, fully prepared to catch him in some embarrassing state of undress or perhaps already asleep, but the empty room caught her off guard. She stepped inside and slowly spun in place so that she could see all the angles of it.

“Syrix, are you here?”

It felt like a stupid thing to say when there was clearly no one else in the room. There was nothing but a neatly made bed, various little odds and ends set in an organized fashion on a table nearby, and a closet full of robes in varying colors. She was certain that if she checked his drawers, she would find his socks, trousers, and tunics all carefully folded and put away. Even the rug on the floor woven in an unfamiliar design was perfectly in place at the foot of the bed. There wasn’t a speck of dirt anywhere, or even the smallest hint that he had even been in his room at all that night.

Frowning in confusion, she backed out of the room and slowly closed the door behind her. That was odd. She had been so certain that he would be there at such a late hour. Perhaps he returned instead to the living room after arranging her flowers.

That seemed like the likely answer. Even so, there was an unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach as she made her way down the hall. Perhaps it was because of how dark it was. Although he seldom bothered with artificial lights since getting the generator working, it seemed darker than usual. She could barely see anything at all in the faint light given off by the coals that remained banked in the fireplace. But the couch was empty and so was his chair, that much she could make out. The foxes, in fact, were piled together on the couch, sleeping peacefully, undisturbed by anyone’s presence moving about the house.

“Syrix?” she quietly called, and when that got no answer, she proceeded to the kitchen, but he was neither behind the stove nor sitting at the table enjoying a cup of tea. He certainly wasn’t in the bathroom either, since she would have noticed him slip in after she exited. “Where the hell are you?” she mumbled as her gaze skimmed the space.

Like his bedroom, everything was neatly cleaned and stored as if no one had set foot in there in the last few hours. It was creepy and terrified her because it was like he just picked up and left without a word or any trace. If it weren’t for the fact that Fixi and Fata were still there with their kits, she was certain that she would already be losing it and latching onto any worst-case scenario. Regardless, now she was getting really worried.

Moving around the house with increasing urgency, Krystal shouted his name, no longer trying to keep her volume or tone moderate as a real sense of fear rose within her. She even went as far as stepping outside and descending into the open yard in front of the cabin to shout for him.

“Syrix, this isn’t fucking funny. Come out now!”

But there was no answer. And with the silence, a pain within her grew into a void that echoed his name inside her every time it burst out loudly from her lips as she ran about the cabin in a frenzy. Her cries became more desperate the more she looked until they broke from her among the sobs that racked her body.

Wherever Syrix was, it seemed that he was well and truly gone, and that she wasn’t going to find him this way. The truth was, she suspected that given he was a spirit fox as he claimed, she wouldn’t have any hope at all in finding him until he was ready to be found. And only he would determine when he wished to return.

She fell to her knees, collapsing in the middle of the living room, her fingertips scraping listlessly against the rug there.

“Syrix, where the fuck are you?” she choked out. “Please come home. I need you and want you by my side. Please.”

But no response came. Nor did it come later when she turned to anger as she flew around the cabin in the light of day, looking for any sign of him at all. And it didn’t come when she collapsed with grief and cried her heart out after one day passed and gave way to night, only for the sun to rise on a new day without the male who called her his mate.