Page 9 of Foxin’ Around (Mated to the Monster: Season 3)
Chapter
Eight
K rystal yawned and stretched, and a familiar warm lump beside her brought a smile to her face as she sat up and blinked at the large red fox cozied up with her. So, he was back, was he? She would have to ask Syrix if he had a name. If not, then Jasper he would be. Smiling at the sleeping fox, Krystal carefully shifted the blanket, intending to slip out of the bed without disturbing the fox, but bit back a laugh when she spotted Fixi and another fox with a pair of kits curled up on the bed at her other side. She almost felt guilty because they must have abandoned their usual sleeping partner to curl up in bed with her, but she couldn’t feel too bad for Syrix. It was hard to feel anything but pure delight.
She was giddy, in fact, until she set her feet on the cold, wood floors and winced. Hissing beneath her breath, she hobbled over to her shoes and shoved her feet in them. She stomped them on as quietly as possible, but winced when she couldn’t quite manage to muffle it and glanced up guiltily to meet Jasper’s mellow, brown eyes. The fox yawned, showing his impressive set of needle-sharp teeth, but watched her with an expression akin to amusement, if she felt comfortable assigning such a humanlike trait to him. But then again, what fox stared at someone the way he was currently watching her, his eyes focused so fully on her that something within her unsettled.
“What are you, secretly half cat?” she muttered.
Now that she thought about it, he was quite an unusual fox. Not only was he uncommonly large but his mannerisms seemed odd. He wasn’t nervous or shy, and he didn’t wiggle with excitement like Fixi. He watched her with absolute stillness, as if he was the predator and she was the prey.
She shook her head and chuckled uneasily but couldn’t quite make herself look away from the fox. “Krystal, you are starting to go off your rocker. Next thing, you’ll be thinking he is plotting some clever tricks as if this was some sort of old fable.”
Jasper blinked at her and for a moment she could have sworn that he grinned. She immediately squeezed her eyes shut for a long moment as she inwardly scolded herself for her overactive imagination. When she opened again, she laughed weakly as the fox dropped casually to the floor and trotted out of the room as if nothing had ever happened and he hadn’t just been sitting there, watching her and understanding every word she said.
Giving her arms a brisk rub—all the while telling herself it was just the chill in the air that was currently making her feel so unsettled—Krystal left the bedroom she’d claimed as her own and glanced around the cabin curiously as she stepped out into the kitchen. Her gaze at last landed on Syrix just as he straightened and stepped away from the fridge, a thick chunk of meat in his hand as he closed the door and greeted her with a smile.
“Good morrow, Krystal.”
She blinked at him, confused by his odd phrasing, but nodded a greeting in turn. “Good morning. Did you happen to see a red fox come this way?”
The perfectly shaped, high arches of his red eyebrows lifted curiously, his lips tipping in amusement. “A red fox, you say?”
She sighed. She was not even remotely awake enough to play whatever game he had in mind. “Did he or did he not? I wanted to ask you about him.”
His lips twitched but he inclined his head in acknowledgement. “He entered the kitchen,” he replied elusively.
Krystal rolled her eyes and headed toward the kitchen sink, eagerly washing her hands and face while he stood there, standing in place with a hunk of meat in his hand, watching her. Grabbing a towel, she stepped out of the way and turned toward him, giving him room to approach the cutting block.
Her eyes fell on his long, graceful fingers as he handled the meat and drifted upward. The outer robe of his attire pulled back, along with his sleeve, to reveal a hint of his powerful and yet slim forearm. The way he projected strength while having such a slender build was wild to her. It was like he was some kind of elven prince possessing inhuman strength without the brawn.
“You were wishing to ask me something?” he murmured, and her eyes flew up to meet his gaze.
There was a flash of a sheen of red in those depths—a trick of light that dazzled her for just a moment before fading away. Gods, she was being silly.
Forcing a cheerful smile to her face, she nodded, her eyes following his movements as he set what appeared to be pork on the cutting board and grabbed a large knife. “Sorry, yes. It was about that fox. Is he one of the foxes you mentioned who live here with Fixi? I saw Fixi with his mate and kits, but wasn’t sure how the big red one fits in with their little family. He doesn’t really seem to be a part of their unit.”
Syrix’s blade faltered on the down slice, but he recovered quickly and chuckled. “No, he is not kin to either Fixi or his mate Fata. That one comes and goes as he pleases, but they know he means them no harm and they are quite accustomed to his presence.”
“I see,” she mumbled, her eyes drifting around the kitchen, searching for some sign of the fox while the thump of the blade against the board seemed to echo with every beat of her heart.
She was experiencing some crazy levels of attunement with Syrix if such a basic activity from him was affecting her so strongly. Attunement that she didn’t even understand. Having the welcome distraction of the fox to focus on was a relief.
“Do you happen to know what his name is?”
He shrugged casually without interrupting the rhythmic chop of his blade. “He may have a name, but foxes aren’t quick to relinquish their secrets.” He glanced up at her, the corner of his mouth quirking as if there was some private, inside joke that she was missing before lowering his gaze to his task once more. “But I am certain that any name you wish to call him will be a well-thought-out choice.”
Krystal leaned against the corner of the wall, watching him turn the meat into long, slender slices. “I thought Jasper was a good name, since he’s as red as the stone.”
Syrix lifted his head, and his eyes crinkled with amusement. “Jasper? That is a terrible name. What sort of magic is in that name for a fox?”
“Just the right amount. It suits him and you did say that I could name him, didn’t you?” she challenged.
“Yes, yes,” he soothed as he washed his hands and grabbed the towel hanging near her head.
Krystal’s heart began to pound as he leaned in close, the towel pulling free from its bar slowly. He held the moment, suspending time between them for one heartbeat, and then another, before slowing pulling back and wiping the moisture from his long, graceful fingers with it, his lips curling in an expression she couldn’t even begin to guess at.
“I found some goose eggs last night while wandering around the lake, but I am not sure how your people are about eating them,” he said conversationally, breaking the tension that had gathered in the growing silence between them. “I happen to love eggs and could not resist.”
“The lake? You found goose eggs around the lake… at night?” she echoed.
She could scarcely believe that he had been able to see well enough to accomplish it, but sure enough on the table sat a bowl containing five large goose eggs. Krystal’s mouth watered. How long had it been since she’d had eggs? She couldn’t even remember when she last tasted one, since they didn’t keep as long as the frozen meat had. She frowned, a thought occurring to her.
“How are the refrigerator and freezer working? Nothing powered by electricity worked following the Ravening.”
He hesitated, an uncomfortable expression on his face. “Simple magic currents are not too different. I need to renew the enchantments on this regularly since it does not have any other source options for power for the time being, but it works to fulfill my needs.”
“Wow,” she whispered. In other words, if he left, the magic that powered it would cease working the moment he was gone for a prolonged period of time. Krystal was even more grateful that he decided to stay. “That… is really a handy trick.”
He nodded, his bearing relaxing as he scooped up the meat strips and began to line a pan with them. In the midst of his work, he tipped his head toward the table. “If you would be so kind to crack three eggs for me into a bowl, I would be grateful.”
Murmuring an agreement, Krystal headed over to the eggs and began to meticulously crack them as Syrix’s warm voice floated across the room to her.
“I thought we might go over to the lake, today, if you like. The weather should be warm to enjoy being by the water and I can show you how to locate the young cattails. They are quite edible and very enjoyable in my opinion. It is a little early in the season, but I thought I saw some.”
“You mean you do not just magic everything into growing?” she teased over her shoulder.
Glancing back at her, he met her eyes with a faint twitch of his lips as she went over to the drawer and recovered a fork. “It may surprise you, considering all that I’ve done here, but I prefer to not use my magic to directly influence the unnatural growth of things out of their seasons. There will always be a warp in such things anywhere I live because my magic will influence the land itself and so the seasons will be… different, for lack of a better descriptive word,” he added with an apologetic grimace. “But other than getting a foundation started, I prefer to leave the plants to grow as nature intended as much as possible.”
She’d just picked up the bowl, ready to attempt copying what she’d seen plenty of times on TV on how to beat an egg, but paused in surprise. “That is actually really commendable. I don’t think that there are many who would have such powers and not be tempted to use magic for every little thing.”
He shrugged, but a guilty chuckle drifted across the room. “I am not quite so innocent. Like anyone who is born with such powers, there is always a temptation to wield them beyond what is wise. Like many, I have been caught in one of my own tricks before.”
“Really? I would like to hear it.”
He grinned over at her and gestured for her to join him. “Bring over the eggs then and listen to my tale.”
And so, he regaled her as they worked side by side cooking breakfast. She found large parts of it unbelievable and other parts awkward, as if he was intentionally making revisions in his story, but they happened in such unusual spots that she couldn’t even explain it. By the time they sat down to eat, he had drifted to another story, and she decided that it didn’t even matter.
So, there were some details he didn’t want her to know. That was natural. Who didn’t have their secrets and little things that they wished for no one to know? She had more than one embarrassing story herself. There was no harm in it.