Fox Blood E-Book

Aimee Easterling

• Herausgeber: Aimee Easterling
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

A fox in wolf's clothing.

He said, "Come on. Move in with the pack. It'll all be perfect."

I said, "No. They're still healing. I'm a fox shifter, the reason they fell apart in the first place. I won't mess this up for you."

Yeah, so...I moved in anyway. And, sure enough, clan bonds started breaking, fights erupted, Gunner's entire role as pack leader was cast into doubt.

Now I'm struggling to posture like a wolf while protecting the stray kitsune who showed up on our doorstep. Gunner's stuck choosing between our relationship and his role as pack leader. And I've only got one thing left to say about the matter:

"I told you so."

This final installment in the Moon Marked trilogy follows Wolf's Bane and Shadow Wolf.

Leseprobe

Fox Blood

Moon Marked, Volume 3

Aimee Easterling

Published by Wetknee Books, 2018.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

FOX BLOOD

First edition. December 23, 2018.

Copyright © 2018 Aimee Easterling.

ISBN: 978-1386934035

Written by Aimee Easterling.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Epilogue

Ambush

Chapter 1

“I think this is called the walk of shame,” Kira suggested, her voice cutting through the foggy evening air like a sword through warm butter. I swiveled in unconscious reaction, peering through almost-raindrops hovering around us on every side.

Between the fog and the night, I couldn’t see anything, unfortunately. Which didn’t mean we were alone...just that visibility was painfully low. Unfriendly werewolves could be hovering just out of scent range, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce upon us. Good thing I wasn’t as oblivious as my pampered younger sister to the danger we were currently walking through.

So—“Shh,” I huffed out, hoisting a trio of cardboard containers a little higher in my arms while hoping the suddenly overwhelming aroma of stale beer wasn’t emanating from one of them. Perhaps I should have sprung for new boxes rather than begging for used ones behind the neighborhood liquor store....

“Well, it is, isn’t it?” Kira demanded, turning around to walk backwards down the gravel road leading up to our secluded cottage. “I mean, if we weren’t ashamed, we would’ve taken Gunner up on his offer to rent a moving truck. We would have come when it was daylight out. And we wouldn’t have parked twenty miles away so nobody would hear Old Red squeak her way up the drive.”

“Old Red isn’t so bad,” I rebutted, defending the new-to-me car. I’d never wanted a vehicle until I began living over a hundred miles away from a boyfriend who only visited in the company of needy pack mates. Skype had kept us in contact, but I had needs that weren’t being met via video chat.

Gunner had offered to throw money at the problem, but I wasn’t ready for that level of entanglement just yet. So I’d found a new job, had saved my pennies, and had bought a twenty-year-old, off-brand vehicle the previous week.

Old Red made it feasible to move into a secluded, rural village without feeling like I was trapping myself and Kira next door to a bunch of werewolves. The car gave me an easy out if we needed to flee and allowed me to spend time with Gunner without having to become monetarily indebted to him. Now, however, I was having second thoughts about the cleverness of my ploy.

Because my skin prickled with warning of hidden werewolves in the vicinity. Turning in a tight circle, I barely managed to keep Kira’s box of stage-magic paraphernalia from teetering off the top of the stack while I peered around the barrier. I knew they were out there. This was Atwood clan central after all. Even at the crack of dawn, there should have been patrollers out guarding the boundaries and early risers jogging down tree-lined paths.

Instead, the territory appeared empty even though it smelled far too strongly of wolf...plus impatient little sister. “And we didn’t park twenty miles away,” I continued, trying to get Kira off topic before I was forced to tell her what a walk of shame really was. “We parked a quarter of a mile away so Old Red’s brakes wouldn’t wake up the neighbors. It’s the considerate thing to do. You need to learn to be polite now that we’re denning with—”

“Whatever,” Kira cut me off, darting away to dance up cobblestone steps toward our cottage. The first dead leaves of autumn lay on the stones between us, and in daylight I suspected they would have glowed beautifully orange or red.

In the evening fog, however, the discarded plant matter merely appeared gray, slippery, and dangerous...like everything else about this place.

“Kira, wait.” I wasn’t in fox form, so I couldn’t be certain. But I got the distinct impression someone had marked his territory on the bottom step in the form of very lupine-smelling pee. Gunner had promised the pack was ready to welcome us into their midst, but urine wasn’t generally considered a sign of open-armed acceptance. More worrisome, however, was the fact that the liquid had been deposited so recently that it still puddled atop the cobblestones in my path....

“Kira.” This time I snapped out her name as close as I could come to a werewolf compulsion. But, of course, we weren’t wolves and my sister saw no reason to obey me.

Instead, she turned the knob of our new domicile without even glancing backwards. Pushed the door open into darkness...and walked straight through an overwhelming cascade of strangely sulfurous eau de wolf.

***

THE BOXES WERE ON THE ground and my sword was clasped in white-knuckled fingers before several sets of hands—at least they were furless—yanked my sister into the death trap. But I was four steps too slow to prevent them from enfolding her into their midst.

Enfolding her...and flipping on the light switch to reveal smiling faces and party banners. Apparently my attempt to move in after sunset hadn’t been as secretive as I’d initially supposed.

“Surprise!” werewolves howled, only some of the voices human. Then a whoosh of displaced air warned me of Gunner’s presence half a second before a large hand tucked itself into the small of my back. He guided me through the doorway, my sword reluctantly dissolving into the magical ether even as I did my best to paste a pleased smile onto my face.

“I take it surprise parties aren’t your favorite,” Gunner huffed into my ear while his free hand massaged tension out of my neck muscles. And even though I was bound and determined to give Gunner every opportunity to rebuild his splintered pack without our relationship derailing his efforts, I still found myself swiveling so his guiding arm turned into half of a hug.

“No, I’m not generally a fan of surprise parties,” I agreed. “But I am glad to see you.” After all, it had been nearly three weeks since we’d spent more than five minutes in close proximity. No wonder his fingers on my bare skin acted like balm. I melted into his arms, forgetting my worries as I tilted my head back in preparation for a kiss.

Only, no kiss was forthcoming. Instead, Gunner released me and pulled a small notebook out of one pocket.

“I’ll be sure to remember that in case it comes up later,” he said. And even though cold air where warm hands used to be explained the sudden rise of goosebumps along my exposed forearms, my shiver was out of proportion to the chilliness of the night.

Blinking slowly to tamp down my frustration, I stood up on tiptoes to peer at Gunner’s notebook. And what he’d written returned the smile to my face. “My place tonight once Kira’s sleeping?”

No wonder he hadn’t wanted to even whisper the words in the midst of the pack where shifter ears were bound to overhear him. My cheeks heated even as my head snapped up to peruse the partygoers. Somehow I was positive every werewolf present had read Gunner’s words right alongside me....

But the crowd looked just like it had previously. Werewolves partying. Werewolves laughing. Werewolves muttering in dark corners about the kitsunes in their midst.

“Maybe,” I answered, trying to decide whether I trusted Atwood shifters enough to leave Kira alone in the cottage after night fell.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Gunner interrupted, raising his voice until it was loud enough to be heard at the far end of the overcrowded living room. “New rule—all disputes must be settled with blades hereafter. Tournament rules, to first blood.” Then, as someone near us complained that he knew nothing about blades, that swords were archaic. “If you need instruction, I recommend asking our new sword master for tips.”

Gunner’s hand settled against the small of my back, subtly pushing me forward. And once every eye was upon me—exactly what I’d hoped to avoid by taking the walk of shame with my sister—the pack leader added: “Don’t forget to pay her. Old Red needs new brakes.”

Then just like that, Gunner left me alone in a room full of werewolves with nowhere to hide and no choice but to follow him deeper in.

Chapter 2

“He’s besotted with you.”

The voice curling over my left shoulder sounded pleasant, but it wasn’t. Instead, my instincts screamed “Angry werewolf behind you. Careful!” one second before I swiveled around with a fake smile pasted on my lips.

“Edward. Left your posse behind, did you? Braving the scary kitsune all on your lonesome?”

Because the middle-aged male who’d been Gunner’s principal ally in the battle against Liam was apparently not my greatest supporter. Moments earlier, Edward had stood at the center of the huddle of unhappy shifters shooting angry glances in my direction. So the fact he’d come all the way across the room to engage me likely meant he had an ultimatum to drop on my head.

Meanwhile, the rotten-egg aroma that permeated my cottage was so strong now I could only conclude it emanated from this shifter. It couldn’t have been his signature aroma, however, or someone would have warned me about the foul stench.

“Bad choice of cologne,” I noted even as he grabbed my arm and drew me into the dimly lit hallway with a grasp so bruising I had to fight down a flinch.

“This pack is barely hanging together,” Edward growled as soon as we were out of easy earshot of the rest of the partygoers, not bothering to comment on my snarkiness about his scent. “Liam was important to us and now he’s gone. Ransom was an asshole, but the transition away from him is still difficult. We don’t need you here making things more complicated. If you love Gunner, you’ll leave him alone.”

I wanted to snipe right back...but, unfortunately, Edward hadn’t said anything I didn’t already believe to be truthful. On the other hand—“Gunner asked me to come here. So I came.”

As I spoke, I stared at the hand clenched around my arm until Edward realized what would happen if his pack leader saw the lines of parallel bruises welling up beneath his fingers. Reddening, he shrank back so rapidly I might as well have swiped at him with my sword.

“Shit,” the male muttered under his breath. “If he smells me on you, he’ll go berserk.”

This, at least, I was prepared for. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out an aerosol can of scent-reducing compound, spraying it liberally across my injured flesh.

“I’m not here to make your life difficult,” I said as I worked, the chemical drifting up my nose in the process so I had to pause and stifle a sneeze before I could go on. But then I returned to the most important business—clarifying my place within the Atwood pack. “I’m here to support Gunner,” I continued. “And if you care about the clan, you’ll let me get on with my task.”

Which was all very true even though the words sat between us like a lump of brussel sprouts on the plate of a picky toddler. If Edward wanted the Atwood clan to hang together, he’d make nice and pretend he didn’t have a bone to pick with the pack leader’s mate.

I could tell from his scent—no longer quite so harsh and astringent—that Edward had gotten the message. Unfortunately, werewolves have a hard time dropping a juicy bone. “What happened four months ago...”

“Was the fault of an Atwood werewolf,” I interjected, not wanting to remember the awful battle of wolf against wolf fueled by the kitsune magic of my dead mother. “I would never do anything to damage this pack.”

The vigor of belief added volume to what was meant to be a private conversation, and this time I really did wince as my words rang a little too loudly in the echoing hall. Shit. I’d intended to say my piece to Edward then let him propagate it through the pack at the speed of werewolf gossip. I hadn’t intended to create a scene.

Ignoring the shifter beside me, I swiveled just as I’d done while walking up the path with Kira. Unfortunately, this time I wasn’t lucky enough to find our surroundings devoid of life. Instead, a tall, broad-shouldered werewolf towered in the open doorway between hallway and living room, silhouetted against the light behind his back.

“Something the matter?” Gunner demanded, taking in our proximity, our stiff-legged anger, the strange floral overlay of the de-scenting compound.

“Of course not,” I lied. “Edward was just giving me the recipe for his famous lasagna.”

Grimacing in what was clearly meant to be a smile, the male in question played along. “The secret,” he offered, “is in the sauce.”

“Hmm,” Gunner started, far from satisfied. Only he had no time to debrief us further, because the living room behind him erupted into howls, growls, and one long, quavering scream.

***

“KIRA.” THE WORD EMERGED from both my and Gunner’s lips in perfect synchrony, but we didn’t have time to gaze meaningfully into each other’s eyes. Instead, I sprinted down the hallway, sword materializing in my hand in a blaze of blue-tinted glory even as Gunner rounded the corner three steps faster and dove into the melee of angry wolves.

Because, despite their alpha’s ultimatum moments earlier, two-thirds of the pack had donned their fur forms and turned their teeth into weapons the second they felt threatened. Those still human were more obedient but no less dangerous—they’d grabbed up cutlery, some of it as long as my forearm.

Meanwhile, the entire room smelled like a forgotten egg factory, the scent even worse here than it had been beside Edward in the hall. How did everyone manage to go against a direct order from their pack leader? Did Gunner forget to imbue his words with alpha compulsion? The questions hovered over me like a foul-smelling storm cloud. But I pushed premonitions aside, hunting for my sister instead.

There she was...then there she wasn’t as she shivered down into the red fur of her fox. Ever since Kira had melded with our mother’s star ball, she’d been unruly and snarky and prone to shifting at the drop of a hat. Which wasn’t helpful in the current situation...but the chain of events also meant that her unusual fur form hadn’t been what set the werewolves off.

So what...?

I waited only long enough to glimpse Tank—Gunner’s trusted second—tackling my sister and enfolding her in a werewolf burrito of protection before I thrust my way deeper into the crowd away from them. Because the growling mob wasn’t facing toward either me or Kira. Instead, they were pushing and shoving, trying to get into the kitchen, or perhaps through that to the dining room beyond.

Mindful of the fact that these were supposedly my pack mates, I used my elbows and knees rather than my weapon to open up a pathway. But it was slow going, teeth snapping and claws scraping as I pressed past. My favorite pair of jeans was going to be spaghetti by the time this was over...but on the plus side, Gunner would never know that Edward had been the one to leave a bruise on my upper arm.

With that heartening thought at the forefront, I thunked a werewolf on the nose with my sword hilt, taking advantage of the resulting pocket of space to press through the narrow doorway separating kitchen from living room. And my grin of triumph promptly faltered as I took in the scene on the other side.

Because there was a fox perched atop the stainless steel refrigerator. Its fur was puffed up like the pelt of a cornered cat while its body pressed back against the wall behind it. No wonder since a werewolf currently swiped toward it with human fingers, attempting to pull the stranger loose from its hiding place.

There were a dozen other werewolves in the room with a similar agenda. But I had interest only in the much smaller canine cowering above their heads. Because even though its fur was pitch black instead of blazing red like mine and my sister’s, I knew the moment our eyes made contact that this wasn’t any mere fox wandered in out of the forest who’d accidentally ended up in my new home.

No, this was a kitsune. A being the like of which I’d never met outside my own family. After all, what right-minded wild animal would willingly walk into a cottage full of wolves?

Chapter 3

Not such smart behavior for a kitsune either, I noted even as I continued elbowing my way closer to the refrigerator on which our uninvited visitor perched. Despite my snarky internal commentary, however, I was as in awe of this being as if it was a unicorn walking out of a rainbow and into my life.

Because I’d never met a kitsune who wasn’t a direct relative. Could count the number of fox shifters I’d come in contact with on two fingers of one hand. If I’d thought about it, I would have realized that my mother had to emerge from somewhere. And yet, I’d somehow just assumed that Kira and I were the last of our kind.

“Who are you?” I murmured, knowing my words wouldn’t carry over the yipping and snapping of the werewolves between us. But, somehow, the fox heard. Swiveled its ears. Gently inclined its head.

There was a spark in the center of the being’s eyes that made me stretch forward to lean in closer. And my existence must have been equally attractive to the midnight-furred animal. Because it crept toward me in perfect synchrony, still crouching low enough to protect its belly even as it strove to capture a better view of me.

Not it—she. After all, we were the same in every way that mattered. Never mind that I was two-legged while she walked on four paws. Never mind that her fur was black while mine was red. This was someone who would understand my deepest yearnings. This was another kitsune just like myself.

The tiniest hint of a whine emerged from the black fox’s muzzle, her eyes watery with trust and request. Could I help her escape these werewolves...?

And in that moment of inattention, the shifters between us struck. One minute they were pushing and shoving, trying to reach the fox on human tiptoes. The next, a two-legger had boosted a four-legger on top of the refrigerator, placing the kitsune’s ability to nod at me ever again into doubt.

Luckily, fridges aren’t made for werewolf perching; the tops are too small and slippery for claws to find traction of any sort. And while the wolf teetered, unable to snap up its prey while maintaining its own balance, I made a decision that I knew I’d later regret.

“Here!” I called to the black fox, letting my sword recede as I stretched out both arms toward her. “Jump! I’ll protect you!”

Because I couldn’t let an innocent being perish, even if the last thing this pack needed was two kitsunes facing off against a mob of angry werewolves.

And the fox trusted me. Leapt across the surging, seething shifters who separated us to settle into my arms as easily as Kira had done hundreds of times during our thirteen-year shared past. Only, unlike my little sister, the stranger tucked her paws inward to ensure she didn’t scratch me. And her eyes, when they met mine, were full of gratitude rather than snark.

The lump in my throat came from instant bonding. My arms tightened, my shoulders hunching over to protect the black-furred critter I hugged into my chest. I inhaled the soft musk of fox fur...and in that moment of calm and quiet, the wolves forgot I was Gunner’s and launched themselves at me en masse.

***

“Get out!”

Gunner’s roar was so loud it rattled the windows. Or maybe that reverberation was due to the thunder of a hundred feet as werewolves fled in the face of their pack leader’s wrath. Whatever the reason, I was no longer in danger of losing my throat to supposed pack mates and my nose was grateful for the abrupt cessation of sulfur. So I uncurled from around the black-furred kitsune and peered up at my rescuer...who held a very naked yet very human Kira against his chest.

The alpha’s arm was steely without denting my sister’s skin painfully. And at the same time he still managed to look so murderous he might have stopped his underlings’ breath with a single command. In reaction, the black fox nestled closer into my body, clearly terrified of the aura of electricity emanating from the wolf blocking her ability to retreat.

The fox’s fear I would deal with in a minute. For now, I rose while scanning Kira’s exposed limbs. “Are you okay?” I asked.

“Not that you care,” my sister answered, brows lowering. “I might have been dead. I might have been injured. And you ran off in the opposite direction without even bothering to check on me.”

“I’m checking now.” And I’d also seen both Tank and Gunner racing directly toward my sister, so I’d known she was better protected than anyone else in the house.

Still, the pout on Kira’s face promised she wouldn’t let me off the hook so easily. Meanwhile, my quick survey of her limbs proved that the werewolves in question had done their job quite well. So I sighed acceptance of the fact that I was currently incapable of pleasing my sister and returned my focus to the strange fox instead.

Was Gunner really willing to fold yet another kitsune into his faltering clan structure? And would the pack splinter further if I dared to ask?

“Gunner...” I started, not sure exactly how to explain the fact that I ached to help this black-furred kitsune. It wasn’t so much a humanitarian mission as a compulsion and a need as imperative as hunger.

But apparently explanations were unimportant. Because the skin around his eyes crinkled ever so slightly as he jerked his chin upwards in a promise. As long as I didn’t sneak off on my lonesome, this werewolf had my back.

So—“You can shift,” I told the fox, prying her away from my neck and placing her on the kitchen table beside me, the separation hitting me in the gut for just a second before it eased. “Gunner won’t hurt you. I promise. We’ll protect you from whatever drove you here.”

Of course, the kitsune didn’t regain her human form immediately. Instead, her dark eyes flickered back and forth between me and Gunner. She was assessing, gauging, calculating her chances....

In response, the rest of us kept our bodies relaxed and our gazes averted. And even though our body language was more lupine than vulpine, the black fox still gave a tiny whine of acceptance before shimmering into the form of a naked, redheaded girl.

“I’m Oyo,” she whispered, gaze trained on the floorboards as her legs beat against the side of the table she sat atop. She was younger than me but older than Kira. In human terms, I would have guessed she was just barely old enough to drink.

“My mate speaks for me,” Gunner answered formally. “Just as she’s promised, so do I promise. Tell us who’s chasing you and we’ll make sure they never find you again.”

His words were protective, exactly what you’d expect from an alpha werewolf. But his tone was still gravelly with rage from the preceding battle, and his fur-form self was almost visible as he took one step toward the girl.

No wonder Oyo didn’t realize his advance was an offer to guard rather than a threat of imminent danger. Squeaking in reaction to the vague menace, the redhead was a redhead no longer. Instead, she’d fallen back down into the skin of her fox.

Chapter 4

Oyo scurried for cover, disappearing behind the refrigerator. Gunner growled in frustration then pulled me in the opposite direction even as he barked orders at his most trusted underlings, who had braved his wrath by remaining in my disaster zone of a living room.

“Allen, I want to know why no one smelled or saw a stray kitsune walking into clan central under her own power. Tank, check the perimeter and figure out where she came in.”

His gaze slid across me so fiercely that I found words tumbling out of my mouth before I could consider whether they helped or hurt matters. “Gunner, I didn’t invite...” I started, his sudden burst of alpha highhandedness making me wish my fingers were wrapped around a sword hilt rather than stuck in his crushing handhold.

“Edward, the pack needs reassurance,” Gunner continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “Think of a solution now.” Then, as the last few werewolves waiting in the living room scattered, he turned to face me at last. “Yes, Mai, I know you didn’t invite her.” The statement seemed to absolve me of all wrongdoing, but his harsh tone didn’t quite match his words.

And even though I knew Gunner was on edge from the recent risk to me and Kira, annoyance nonetheless flared at being treated like a toddler’s doll. Because every time the alpha turned one way, I was dragged along behind him. Then he’d swivel in the opposite direction and give me a severe case of whiplash.

“I’m not...” I started, not quite sure what I wasn’t. But this time the high-handed alpha hushed me with a finger to my lips even as he yanked out his phone and tapped rapidly at the screen.

“Brother, what a surprise.” The call went through after only one ring, Ransom’s voice so saccharine that it made my teeth ache. Or maybe that was just my fox incisors pushing their way through human dentition and gums in an effort to get out.

Either way, I wished I could see the elder Atwood’s face through the cell phone. Had he answered so quickly because he’d sent Oyo to disrupt clan central? Or had he simply been at loose ends and thought baiting his brother might be a good way to fill an otherwise quiet night?

If I’d been the one in charge, I would have danced around the matter in an effort to tempt Ransom into dropping private information. But Gunner wasn’t human enough for small talk, at the moment. Instead, he merely demanded, “Who did you tell?”

The words were a mistake—all three of us understood that as soon as they were uttered. And the smugness in Ransom’s silence spurred me to take matters into my own hands in an effort at damage control.

“Ransom, thank you for accepting our call,” I interjected, pressing my face closer to the phone and half expecting Gunner to yank the device away from me even as I spoke. But he didn’t. Instead, he closed his eyes then swiped one huge palm across his face as if to remove overwhelming frustration. And when his sienna eyes blinked back open, they were full of both apology and praise.