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“Thank you,” Oyo told me ten minutes later as I handed over a pair of jogging pants. She sounded so genuinely grateful for such a small gift that I paused in the act of rooting through my as-yet-to-be-unpacked boxes in search of a semi-matching shirt.
“Hey, I should be the one thanking you,” I told her before delving deeper into the mess of fabric. “I had no idea what to tell Kira. You must have a big family to know exactly what to say.”
“A big family?”
Right. Kitsunes didn’t come from big families. Barring those who made a mistake with birth control and chose to sacrifice their own lives for the sake of a second child, we were a one-mother-one-daughter kind of race.
In an attempt to pull my foot out of my mouth, I pivoted verbally to the subject I’d lured Oyo into my room to talk about. “What I should have said is—your solution to Kira’s problem was both thoughtful and clever. And, speaking of clever, I was curious how you knew Kira and I were living here with the Atwood pack?”
After all, werewolves and kitsunes weren’t a predictable combination. And the two of us had been in wolf territory for only a few minutes before Oyo showed up.
“I’m not that clever,” Oyo evaded, turning her back to slip out of her robe and into the borrowed clothing. “You’re clever to convince werewolves to protect you. It’s something I’ve never seen before.”
“They’ll protect you too.” Her shoulders looked so slender, all hunched over with cold or fear as she faced away from me. But I squashed my immediate impulse to accept the change of subject and returned to my original point instead. “We’ll all protect you. But it’ll be easier if we know who might be following and what kind of trail you left behind. Did...”
Only I received no answer. Because Oyo was shifting, the air around her shimmering as she shrunk down into fox form right inside her borrowed clothing.
Then Allen’s voice came through the closed door behind her—“Everybody decent? If so, the boss brought breakfast. Better get out here before Kira puts it all inside her hollow leg.”
Whether or not Allen’s approach had been what originally spooked her, Oyo was thoroughly terrified now. She scurried for cover under my bed, wisp of a fox tail tucking away into the darkness behind her. Then—if my ears served me right—she started clawing through drywall in search of an even safer hiding place.
So I wasn’t getting any answers to my questions this morning. Well, I’d do my best to be patient. “Lead on,” I told the waiting werewolf as I opened the door and greeted Allen with an almost-genuine smile on my face.
***
“LOOK, MAI, GOBS OF bacon!”
Someone must have fed my sister sugar, because she was bouncing off the walls...almost literally. Behind her, Gunner raised his eyebrows at me by way of greeting, and I couldn’t quite tell if he’d been out righting wrongs or just hunting down food for the hyperactive teenager in our midst.
“I need to talk to you,” Gunner mouthed, his expression not as welcoming as I would have hoped for. But Kira was hanging onto my shoulders now, trying to leap up so I’d carry her piggyback.
“Kira, you’re strangling me!”
“Am not,” my sister countered, but she did slide off long enough to stuff an entire piece of French toast into her mouth. Which, in turn, gave me the opportunity to slip past her without being drawn deeper into her sugar rush.
“I’m on Kira duty this morning,” Allen promised as I walked toward his alpha. Then I was up close and personal with Gunner, whose face was still surprisingly grim. His fingers on my arm, however, were gentle as he guided me through the living room and out the front door.
“You know I want you and Kira here,” he started without a formal greeting. And as much as I’d been looking forward to spending a moment alone together, I suddenly wished I could join Oyo in her hole in my bedroom wall.
Still, it was always better to rip off the proverbial bandaid quickly. So, sure Gunner was going no place I wanted to follow, I still prodded him to continue. “But?”
“No ‘but.’” Gunner hesitated, then lowered himself down onto the top porch step, placing his head a good distance below mine. This wasn’t the behavior of an alpha werewolf about to evict someone from his territory. And even though I appreciated his gesture, I still found myself sinking down right alongside him so I wouldn’t end up towering above his head.
“Gunner, you’re scaring me.”
“There’s no need to be scared.” His huge hand landed on mine, furless and clawless and perfectly human. Still, I could feel the wolf vibrating inside him, itching to get out and hold this conversation in the two-legger’s place. Given the fact that my fox form was a fraction the size of his animal, that realization wasn’t a heartening feeling at all.
“I have a single request,” he continued, unaware of my continued trepidation. “And you are free to ignore it if you feel it restricts your range of movement unduly...”
“Gunner.” Now I finally smiled, understanding at last what he was so on edge about. He wasn’t getting ready to evict me to ease the strain on his pack mates. Instead, he was trying not to send me fleeing with wolf demands couched as human requests.
Given my past problems with similar behavior, the alpha’s caution was sweet...but we were well beyond that stage. “Talk,” I told him. “I’m not leaving unless you kick me out.”
“And I’m not kicking you out.” At least that got his lips moving. “Everything you did last night was powerful,” Gunner continued, diving into the heart of the matter at last. “The pack bonds actually look better this morning than they did yesterday. Still not good, but you solved as much in one evening as I have in four months.”
It made me feel good to hear that. And yet...Gunner had looked undeniably sour when I stepped into the kitchen this morning. “What’s your request?” I prodded him.
“Next time you walk into danger, please take me with you,” he growled. He pulled out a brand new cell phone, texted me its number right there and then. And yet, despite the humanity of the gesture, I could see his inner wolf wild and angry behind sienna human eyes.
The two-legged pack leader was impressed by my lancing of the pack’s metaphorical boils. But his four-legged counterpart was terrified I could have been even more badly hurt. And he was right to have sat us down for this conversation, because for one split second I was spitting mad.
How dared he distrust my ability to protect myself from danger? How dared he make a fox come begging for a wolf’s help every time she felt like taking a piss?
The anger washed over me...and out of me. Then I was taking Gunner’s hand in mine, glad to see my fingers were no more furry than his had been.
Because I wouldn’t have asked any less of Gunner. I wouldn’t have wanted him running off into battle on his lonesome. So—
“I promise,” I told him. “I won’t do anything dangerous without telling you. As long as you make the same promise in return.”