Chapter Four

The men showed up at dusk, bearing a feast of Dungeness crab, ravioli filled with winter squash, a bottle of Pinot Gris from an Oregon vineyard, and a crusty loaf of bread still hot from the oven. She’d intended to start talking—or better yet, to seduce them and get the magic started—as soon as they walked in the door, but the food broke her resolve. Even when she had no need to eat, she loved the flavor of crab and the giggle-inducing effects of wine—and these days she needed to eat.

Paul and Tag didn’t make it any easier by proving to be charming company who drew her into flirtatious yet not entirely frivolous conversation that distracted her from her troubles for a while.

Although looking at the two of them could do that to some extent—so pretty and so much in love, and yet so attentive to her.

It wasn’t until an hour or so later that a replete, slightly tipsy, somewhat amorous and more than a little desperate Akane licked each of her fingers, slowly and sensuously. It removed the last of the crab and butter, but more to the point, it made sure both men’s eyes were riveted on her.

“About this curse,” she said. “I’m eager to get rid of it, especially since it seems like the process will be…most enjoyable.”

She climbed onto Paul’s lap and kissed him.

His arms closed around her as if by reflex, and his lips parted under hers.

But only for a moment before Paul very gently nudged her off his lap, like a man might do to a persistent pet. “Not so fast, Akane. It’s not that simple. We will see to it that your curse is lifted, but we need to talk.”

She wanted to cry, scream, pout and do any number of other childish, undignified human things.

Then she ran through ways to trick Paul and Tag into doing what she wanted. It would certainly be challenging. Paul was telepathic, and it was hard to tell a telepath an outright lie. Tag was enough of a kindred spirit that he’d figure out what she was up to if she, oh, offered to rub the men’s backs or asked for a massage herself or pretended to feel faint or any of the other time-honored ways for luring a man into touching you. Once touching started, in her experience, the rest was easy. She’d have to come up with something exceptionally clever to bamboozle the two of them, something so outrageous Inari, trickster god/goddess of rice and foxes, would laugh in Heaven.

Except Inari wouldn’t laugh. Akane had lost Inari’s favor two centuries ago, and she had a feeling she wouldn’t win it back by tricking a couple who wanted to help her, but in their own time.

As she realized that, she also realized she’d risked lowering herself in their eyes by being overly pushy. Were she and either man pursuing a simple flirtation to its natural conclusion, being playfully demanding might work. But she wasn’t flirting. She was petitioning. Paul was a mortal of extraordinary power, far more powerful than she was in her cursed form. He should be approached with dignity.

She composed herself into a kneeling position, not in supplication, but because it was how she was accustomed to sitting in human form. “Then we shall talk. Forgive my impatience, Paul-san, but it’s been over two hundred years since I held my tails proud or walked on four paws, or became one with the moonlight. Two hundred years I’ve been solid.” She tried to put the horror of solidity into the innocuous word, not sure a mortal, even a witch or a dual, could understand. “I will do your bidding in all ways necessary to free myself from this curse.” As she said it, she couldn’t help thinking of the ways a man might take advantage of her offer—that she couldn’t help hoping they’d take advantage of it—and felt herself flushing like a human. “But it is difficult to be patient when I can almost taste the end to my solidity.”

The fox looked puzzled until Paul explained, “Kitsune are like the fae. They don’t have to be corporeal unless they want to be and, while they can be killed or choose to fade if they weary of living, they don’t die of natural causes.”

“But there are so many wonderful things you can do when you’re corporeal,” Tag said. That smooth-as-honey accent of his made her shiver. It didn’t take any magic to know exactly what he was thinking.

Most fair-haired men looked not quite cooked to Akane, whose taste in human beauty was formed in Japan. But redheads? Redheads, especially sharp-featured ones like this Tag, appealed to her fox spirit as well as her human seeming.

And this one might be safe for her. Might be more than merely safe—might be her salvation. She smiled in a way she hadn’t for twenty decades. “There are benefits to having a body, but I’ve had only limited chances to enjoy them for a long time. Part of the curse is that I can harm a normal human man, even kill him, if I lie with him.”

Tag looked downright alarmed and twitched as if he wanted to cross his hands in his lap to protect his groin.

“Kitsune always have that power against normies,” Paul said, “but it’s a choice.”

“One we rarely exercise,” Akane stressed. “There are men who need to be punished. If a man abuses the land, or women and children, or uses his cock as a weapon instead of a gift…”

Tag graced her with a predator’s dangerous smile. His teeth were sharper than the human norm, or perhaps he’d changed them to something more foxlike to make a point. “Then killing him that way is comedy!”

“Taggart.” Paul’s voice was low and controlled, but the way he spoke his lover’s name—and the way Tag kept grinning—told her volumes about their relationship. Tag was a rogue, Paul the gentleman trying to civilize him, all the while hoping it wouldn’t work too well.

She understood Tag. Two centuries as a human hadn’t smoothed the wildness from her soul.

But the magic that pulsed off Paul was what gave her hope. Without him, the gorgeous fox might ease her heart and her body for a little while, but that was all she could hope for. Together, they might give her back her life.

That thought—and the thought of the means they’d use—made her impatient as any human without eternity at her disposal.

“What remains to discuss?” she asked, trying to get them back on target without sounding like a nag. “Ask me anything and I’ll answer. I’m eager to get started.” Nervous, she had to force a sensual giggle. “The bed’s a bit small, but I’m sure we can be creative.”

Paul put his hands on her shoulders in a way that felt both intimate and brotherly. “I’m sorry, Akane. I wasn’t clear earlier, and that’s why we need to talk. We came here to Donovan’s Cove to find someone who can help you. I’m not permitted to work the magic you need. Tag and I are married. This benighted state may not recognize it yet, but the Powers do. For what it’s worth,” he added, “I’m sorry to have misled you.”

And not just for that, she sensed, using nothing but human senses and ancient intuition. He obviously wasn’t sorry to be married—it was clear how much he loved Tag—but he was sorry, on a purely carnal level, that he could not work that very physical brand of magic with her. The American phrase “married, not dead” applied.

If it were only lovemaking in question, she’d smile regretfully and move on. Her instincts would tell her to try to seduce him anyway, but she knew better. Now.

If the magic were as straightforward as he seemed to think, she’d tease that she hoped he had a brother or cousin as handsome as he was.

But there was nothing simple about the situation.

“Please reconsider,” she said, letting all the long years of humiliation and pain resonate in her voice. “It is not only you I need, Paul Donovan. Hiro, the one who cursed me, told me that I would be free only if I did red magic with a male of my own kind, and in all the years of my wandering, Tag is the closest I’ve found.’”

“I don’t have magic, darlin’,” Tag said regretfully. “I just follow around Witch-Boy here because he’s too damn pretty to let out alone. And because he can’t drive—shhh, don’t let him know I told you that.” Despite the intense turn the conversation had been taking, Paul took a second to punch his lover playfully on the arm.

“Liar.”

“Admit it. You can’t drive. Half the time you can’t even see cars because they don’t have auras.”

“That’s no lie,” Paul admitted. “The lie is you not being magic. You don’t do magic, but something about you makes my red magic a hundred times stronger. Akane has magic of her own, although it’s trapped by the curse. Maybe it would work.”

“Maybe it would,” Tag and Akane said simultaneously.

“But I can’t…”

“You could try,” Paul said reluctantly. “She’s suffering. We need to try to lift the curse. And just because Donovan custom says I have to be monogamous doesn’t mean you do. We’re monogamous to protect our magic, but since you don’t have magic of your own, I guess it would be safe for you.”

“I can’t.” Tag’s voice was firm. “I’m sorry, Akane. I’d like to help you. Believe me, if I were a single man I’d be beggin’ to help you. But I won’t hurt Paul that way, and it will hurt him, even if he’s volunteering me now.”

“It’s all right, Tag. Our bond’s strong. We’ll work through it. It’s not right to leave this poor kitsune with a curse on her because I’m insecure.”

The raw pain in their voices brought back a torrent of bitter memories for Akane. Memories that were over two centuries old, but still hurt like fresh wounds.

“Stop!” she said. “You two can’t sacrifice what you have for me. I may not have all my powers in this form, but I don’t need them to see how much you love each other. I won’t come between that.”