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The members of Sakurako’s honor guard lived in their own wing on the first story of the mansion, behind a long line of doors with no identifying features to hint at who slept within. Given no way of guessing who was in residence at the moment, I banged on the first six doors one after another, then stood back as sleepy males stumbled out in pajamas, boxers, or in one case entirely nude.
“Um.” I looked them over, noted that my grandmother had definitely included physique in her requirements for service. Then my gaze caught on Yuki at the end of the line.
Oyo’s former lover appeared delighted to see me, despite the fact that he must have been on the night shift like the others. And yet, his presence sent a queasy rumbling through my gut.
“Yuki, go back to bed.” Turning away so I wouldn’t have to see the light in his eyes fade into disappointment, I addressed the other five men with more warmth in my tone. “I’d like to get to know you all better.” Then I dropped my hand down to the sword belted at my hip, raised my eyebrows, and waited for them to catch on.
Then waited. And waited. For warriors, they were remarkably slow to get the message. Perhaps binding yourself to a kitsune mistress had a dulling effect on the mind?
Whatever the reason, all five of them just stood there awaiting further instructions. So, at last, I sighed then elaborated. “Get dressed and show me where you keep your swords. We’re going to spar.”
And that got them moving like I’d kicked over a hornet’s nest.
***
I’D EXPECTED THERE to be a practice hall inside the mansion. But, instead, my five chosen warriors led me out the back and into a courtyard where flowering vines dripped and rotted off the rock walls and onto the ground. This was the result of kitsune magic, brilliant autumnal foliage killed before its proper hour by an unseasonal snow. Ignoring the shiver that passed through me at the realization, I split us up into three duos then proceeded to fight.
We were practicing rather than engaging in true battle, but we still used real weapons rather than padded blades. “I’m Koki,” offered my opponent even as he dipped beneath my guard and nearly sliced through my jugular, the sun glinting brilliantly off his sword.
Rather than answering audibly, my blade deflected his and twisted sideways to slice at his exposed fingers as a retaliatory measure. He grinned as he danced backwards, sword flying so rapidly it turned into a blur before my eyes.
It was a pleasure to spar with a well-matched partner, even when he lunged nearly horizontally and managed to slice a thin nick in the only pair of jeans I now had to my name. I took advantage of the resistance of the fabric, however, and managed to cut the thinnest scratch across his forearm even as I told him, “I’m Mai.”
Instantly, my opponent was bowing, speaking acknowledgement of my success directly to the ground. “I know who you are, Mai-sama. It is a great honor to lose to you.”
I smiled...and that’s when it happened. A streak of magic arced like lightning away from his groin and into my center. It was lewd and unpleasant...and infused me with so much energy I thought I might have been able to levitate into open air.
***
“SWITCH PARTNERS!” MY voice came out high and breathy, an almost orgasmic pleasure suffusing my core. I’d thought I was so clever choosing swordplay rather than bedplay...and yet it appeared the results were largely the same.
But I grimaced and bore it. Learned names and fighting habits of four other devotees then gritted my teeth as, one after another, magical connections formed between me and the humans I crossed swords with. Only when the fifth tether threatened to dislodge my older connection to Gunner did I bend over gasping, drawing the concerned attention of the rest of the honor guard.
“What did you do to her?” Koki demanded. “We allow the mistress to win always!”
They hadn’t even been fighting to the full extent of their prowess? Grabbing Gunner’s tether in one fist so it couldn’t escape me, I didn’t bother to dismiss them. Just stormed out of the training yard and back into the mansion from which we’d come.
Up the stairs, down a hallway, into the study where Sakurako had recently prodded me with beginner magic. My nemesis sat behind her desk with a book open before her, not bothering to glance up when I pushed my way inside the room.
“Done already?” she asked after a moment of silence. Or not silence, but the harsh sound of me panting as I strained to cling to a slippery mate bond that kept trying to slide out of my grasp.
Later, I’d wonder why I didn’t release the connection. Why I didn’t break the bond between me and Gunner and put us both out of our misery. In the moment, however, I merely demanded, “Put my mate bond back.”
“I didn’t dislodge it. And I can’t replace it.” Despite the quietness of her words, Sakurako deigned to place one finger on the page to hold her place before looking up from her book. Her eyes had all the warmth of hard nubs of coal stuck in a snowman’s head.
“So how do I fix it?” I growled, sounding an awful lot like a werewolf. And I was somehow unsurprised when the old woman raised her left hand and gestured at the candelabra I’d failed to light earlier in the day.
Yes, that was right. I felt like I’d eaten too much, like the last bite of dessert was hovering halfway down my throat wanting to come back up as vomit. The obvious answer was to bleed off some of the excess magic and hope my connection to Gunner would snap back into place once given sufficient room.
So I focused all of my anger on those unlit wicks, expecting the process to be time-consuming and difficult. But, instead, I merely opened my mouth and breathed toward the candles...then watched wax puddle on the tabletop as the entire candelabra went up in a massive blaze.
“Control will be next on our agenda,” Sakurako noted dryly, dropping her head back down to the book she’d been reading. But I caught a faint hint of a smile ghosting across her features and her eyes didn’t slide back and forth across the page.
My grandmother was proud of my first attempt at pure kitsune magic. A week ago, such familial pride would have warmed the sodden lump in my stomach and threatened to create a full-on thaw.
Now, though, I had interest in nothing other than the way Gunner’s mate bond wove itself amidst the honor guard’s tethers as it was cemented back into my stomach. That connection was now solid and immovable, exactly what I’d been aiming for.
So why did I feel profoundly disloyal as I turned my back on my grandmother and took my leave?