It was that same unpleasant stare he’d greeted me with across the minivan. Here, up close, I could smell the emotions that fueled it. Resentment and anger, just as I’d expected, but the most dominant scent was a deeply hungry greed.

  The resulting reek wasn’t even remotely pleasant, but our tussle had given me breathing room to make my decision. So I swore an oath...though not the exact one Ito had requested. “If you put me in touch with your brother, I swear to hold his best interests at the forefront of my decision-making.”

  I included no mention of becoming Kaito’s mistress. That wasn’t the type of kitsune I intended to become.

  But the promise I made was apparently enough for Ito. He nodded, reaching in his pocket and drawing out a key chain. Somehow, his feet wriggled four inches closer to my feet while he worked a key off the loop.

  “Here.” Our hands didn’t need to touch for Ito to relinquish the clue to his brother’s location but they did anyway. Heat scalded my palm where his fingertips made contact. I had to fight the urge to stick the injured area into my mouth.

  Instead, I turned the key over. USPS was engraved on one side along with a warning of dire consequences if it was duplicated. “A PO. box?”

  “It was the mistress’s,” Ito confirmed. “But Kaito and I were the only ones who checked it. I thought perhaps he might go there after he woke, so I left him a note, some money. The next time I opened the box, both were gone.”

  Up until this point, Thom had been silent. But now he pointed out the gaping hole in Ito’s story. “I’m sure you provided your own contact information. And yet, you say you don’t know where your brother is. What makes you think he’ll share with Kira that he didn’t share with you?”

  “She’s a kitsune,” Ito rebutted, as if that explained everything. He hadn’t bothered to look at Thom while speaking. Instead, he sidled closer to me until our toe tips touched, then he reminded me of my promise. “Your oath binds you, Kira-san. That means you won’t stake out the post office. You won’t install cameras or tracking devices to force Kaito’s compliance. You will leave my brother a note just as I did and let him decide whether or not to come to you.”

  ITO BARELY HAD TIME to tell us a town and a box number before Charlie’s back door slammed open. And since Ito’s gaze held me captive, I heard, rather than saw, what happened next.

  “Shiny!” his older daughter shrieked, her increasing volume suggesting she was making a beeline for the discarded weapon we’d all forgotten about. The weapon that could cut a little girl’s hand open...or worse.

  “Penny, no!” That was Jessie, had to be with the maternal sob underneath a whip-crack command. If I had to guess, her grip on the smaller child made her incapable of running after the one currently rushing into danger.

  “No blades until you’re at least double digits!” Charlie added, her voice muffled as if she was still in the house and too far away to provide physical backup.

  With an effort, I twisted around to see Penny ignoring both mother and aunt, scampering toward us so quickly they were unlikely to catch up. Ito’s sword gleamed in the brown grass at my feet, easy for me to scoop up. Or I could have grabbed the child. Penny was only six, after all, and unlikely to put up much of a fight.

  But my feet were ice blocks. Ito’s also, I gathered from the way his upper body strained away from mine while his legs refused to lose contact with my sneakers. We were locked in some sort of toe-touch dance that made us absolutely useless in the face of a kid about to do serious harm to herself.

  Thom was the one who tackled the girl as if she was a football. Thom was the one who twirled her up onto his shoulders and whinnied like a horse. “Which way, my lady?”

  She could have wriggled free. Children, I knew from babysitting Grub, were slippery even when dry.

  But Penny grabbed Thom’s ears and twisted the left one. “That way! Giddy-up!”

  Obediently, Thom giddy-upped all the way around the backyard, neighing and snorting. The tantalizing sword was forgotten by Penny, but not by Thom. He veered toward Penny’s mother and away from the blade. After reassuring Jessie that her child wasn’t in danger, he obeyed ear tugs and cavorted off again in a funny sort of dance.

  The scene was so sweetly adorable, it was no wonder the ice blocks around my feet melted. Ito snatched up his sword, sheathing it as I turned to face Jessie.

  Now that she knew Penny was safe, my former friend appeared to have developed heartburn. Her features twisted the same way they had out front. Her gaze slid back and forth between me and Ito as she measured my proximity to her husband.

  This time, though, I didn’t need to leave her hanging. Not when I had visual proof of my lack of romantic designs on Ito. “Jessie,” I said, “I’d like you to meet Thom. My significant other.”

  I gestured in Thom’s direction as he cantered back toward us, both of Penny’s fists embedded in his hair now. “Hang on, my lady,” warned the alpha of Gate City. Then he bowed with one foot extended, just like a circus steed. After rising, he addressed Jessie. “It’s an honor to meet any friend of Kira’s.”

  While he spoke, his piercing blue eyes found mine, something warm and heady passing between us. Was that the first time I’d labeled Thom my significant other? I guessed it was. And I had absolutely no urge to take the words back.

  Just like her sister, Jessie had no problem recognizing true attraction. No wonder her face brightened.

  “We’re available,” she said, grabbing Charlie’s arm as her sister came up behind her. Then she proceeded to weave a castle in the air the way she always used to when we were younger. “As bridesmaids, I mean. A matched pair is classy. And the kids can be flower girls.”

  Most single men would have spooked at talk of marriage before we’d even had an official first date, but Thom didn’t waver. Instead, his gaze still on me, he nodded. “We won’t get a better offer than that.”

  Chapter 12

  The rest of the day was a prime example of negativity bias, a psychological concept I always remember as explained in my favorite professor’s Irish bur. “Close your eyes,” he’d told the crowded lecture hall, “and imagine you’re walking through an orchard on a sunny autumn day. The trees are loaded with fruit and you reach up to pick the most perfect apple. The skin is red and shiny; when you take the first bite, the flesh is crisp between your teeth. The flavor is out of this world amazing, sweet and tart with just the right amount of something extra. You eat and eat and just before you hit the core”—he paused, his gaze sliding across the rapt students—“a worm!”

  “Ew!” The cascade of disgust rippled across the rows until it reached me. For my part, I grinned behind my laptop. Foxes are big fans of grasshoppers, an excellent source of omega-3s. Worms were an acceptable substitute in a pinch.

  Still, I got the prof’s point when he intoned: “The only thing you’re going to remember about that day is the worm.” Whipping an apple out of his jacket pocket, he offered it around to students who shrank away as expected. Then he shrugged and tossed the glossy fruit into the closest trash bin.

  “In fact,” he continued, “you might never want to eat an apple again. Not that I’m speaking from personal experience or anything.” He waited for the titters of laughter to fade before adding: “That’s negativity bias.”

  So, given the worm at the core of that Saturday, I have a hard time focusing on what happened after Thom and I left Charlie’s house. Still, I do remember some of the sweetness. I remember the buzz of adrenaline as I accelerated my twelve-year-old Corolla into race-car speeds in order to evade Reed wolves during our drive up to that little West Virginia post office. Glancing over at Thom after the danger had passed, I expected to find him clinging to the oh-shit handle. Instead, our eyes connected and he burst out in the deepest belly laugh I’d ever heard, one that carried me along with it until my eyes grew so mirth-filled watery I could barely see the road.

  Later, walking down a root-heaved sidewalk toward the post office, I couldn’t resist hopping up on top of a retaining wall. Beside me, Thom cleared his throat, a reminder—I thought—that full-grown human women didn’t cavort like children. But when I glanced his way, he merely reached up one hand, his fingers curving through mine as soon as they made contact.

  I raised my eyebrows. “You’re not ashamed to be seen with me?”

  “Shame,” Thom answered, “is the furthest thing from my mind.”

  I remember the pack dinner in Gate City we made it back just in time for. A long table overloaded with steaming dishes filled up the entire Moon Room while Pumpkin pranced down the length of the table, accepting tidbits from both doting and not-so-doting werewolves. Reluctant pack mate Rupert sat at the absolutely opposite end from me so I didn’t have to hear him complain the food wasn’t up to his standards. Hank and his kid brother made up for their lapse the previous evening by charming the socks off everyone before excusing themselves to get started on the dishes.

  Most of our human pack mates were there also—Dixie Lee, Eli, and Thom’s father, although Charlie regretfully informed us of a previous engagement. Dixie Lee’s daughter Ava was treated to the same courtesy Pumpkin merited even though she smelled like fox.

  And, okay, so the shifter on my left sometimes tried to pass dishes around me rather than to me, until Thom cleared his throat meaningfully, that is. And, sure, Dixie Lee griped that Hank’s younger brother smelled like locker room as the kid walked by, which made the boy’s cheeks flame and his brother growl. A conversation I wasn’t privy to ended with a shoving match and someone punching a hole in the wall...which was pretty much par for the course among werewolves.

  So, yes, the mood was festive. It felt like a pack gathering, like home, like family. The sweetness around me soaked into every pore.

  I remember all of that, but it’s not vivid. What’s vivid is what came later, after Kaito’s text.

  “HE ANSWERED.” I LOOKED up from my phone, not quite believing that my note in the P.O. box had born fruit so quickly. At the time, I didn’t realize there was a worm in the center of the apple being dangled in front of me. All I saw was its crisp, white flesh.

  One moment earlier, Thom had been engaging his wolves like the best sort of alpha. He knew how everyone’s week had gone, who craved encouragement and who deserved a quick kick in the rear. Now, though, his focus was 100% on me as he asked, “Kaito?”

  I nodded. “He wants to meet.”

  I tilted the screen so Thom could see the address. It was in Virginia just like we were, which might make the location easy to get to. Or, alternatively, might not. Gate City was near the southwestern tip of a long state that contained lots of werewolf packs. Reaching the diagonally opposite corner would either take my best evasive driving tactics or Thom’s best diplomacy or, more likely, a combination of both.

  Turned out, neither was required. “That’s close,” Thom rumbled. “In my territory. We can go tonight.”

  “I can go,” I corrected, thumb typing an answer. When did Kaito want to meet me?

  “How about now?”

  My blood fizzed but I kept my fingers steady as I answered: “How about in an hour?” Thom’s territory was small enough that I knew I could reach the furthest limits in less time than that.

  Before I could tap the send button, though, Thom’s grip settled over the phone. His palm was almost as big as my entire hand including the fingers, but he wasn’t forcing me to stop typing. He was merely requesting a pause to discuss.

  “You’re right,” he agreed. “We won’t spook him. You’ll go in solo, but the pack will be nearby. Backup.”

  I nodded. It was an obvious solution, fully acceptable. Again, I tilted the phone, this time to display the unsent message. “Timeline good?”

  Thom nodded. The message went out. Dinner wrapped up quicker than anticipated. Only the humans and the cleanup crew were left behind.

  And while Thom managed his wolves, I drove down windy roads, singing along to the radio. What I hadn’t realized about a freely given oath was how good it felt to do as I’d promised. The tingle in my fingers zinged up into my throat then through my thoughts until they bubbled like champagne.

  I’d meet Kaito and help him get out of whatever mess had sent him into hiding. I’d prove to Scarlet that Kaito was no longer a problem. Even if she didn’t keep her word and go to bat for me afterwards, I’d be no worse off than I’d been two days before.

  And Kaito would be safe. Kaito would be happy. Kaito would be....

  My phone’s mapping software reminded me to turn right. I was way out in the boonies now, the last farmhouse having receded in my rearview mirror five minutes ago.

  Then a light flickered through the trees on my left just as my phone warned of an upcoming turn. A mailbox sported the number Kaito had texted. Bubbles in my brain turned into ping-pong balls of happiness as I turned into a gravel driveway...and came face-to-face with that metaphorical worm.

  The first warning was smoke. Just a tendril, drifting out of the heater vents. A glow on the other side of the hill that seemed too intense for porch lights. I steered around the curve and slammed on my brakes.

  The house—the only house for miles, the one Kaito must be inside—rose before me. It was easily visible in the night because what might once have been a two-level porch in front of a tall, imposing residence had been replaced by a raging mass of flames.

  Chapter 13

  “Kira! Help!”

  The male voice—Kaito’s voice—came from a window on the fourth and final story. He was a shadow in the single dark patch that hadn’t yet caught fire, but I recognized him easily when the ping-pong balls turned to buckshot in my stomach. I sprinted forward, leaving the car door gaping open behind my back.

  The Corolla dinged complaint, but I ignored it. “Kaito!” I called, depending on my words to travel faster than my feet. “Shut the window! Stuff something under the door!”

  I hoped he understood what I was saying. Because he was too high up to jump, especially with a brick patio stretched out below his window. Meanwhile, the air space he stood in front of was an invitation for flames to gush into the one small pocket of safety he’d retreated to.

  I barely heard the window slam above the pounding of my own blood. Spinning, I surveyed a yard that was dark, or would have been if it wasn’t for the fire that gushed out the house’s front door like a dragon’s exhale. That glow seared away my night vision, making it impossible to hunt for a way up.

  I blinked frantically, squeezing my eyes shut then reopening them. Open, shut, open, shut. There.

  A ladder, neatly stowed on two hooks along the outside of a shed just far enough from the house that it hadn’t yet caught fire. It was an extension ladder, long enough to reach the fourth story if I was lucky.

  Unfortunately, the hooks had been installed by someone considerably taller than I was. My fingers touched the metal but only barely. Even leaping upward, I failed to bump the ladder loose.

  Behind me, something crumpled. The flames roared out their laughter. I couldn’t afford to waste a second, but I turned to peer back over my shoulder anyway and saw light where Kaito had been standing. Light instead of darkness. The fire had invaded the unburned fourth floor.

  Then Thom was there. Thom was lifting the ladder down from the wall as easily as if it was a beer on the shelf behind the bar. “Where to?”

  I pointed, words eluding me. We ran, him with the ladder on his shoulder and me by his side. Together, we ratcheted up the extension until it thudded against the side of the house. Thom only fought me for a moment when I put my foot on the first rung.

  “I might need to carry him out,” Thom rumbled.

  “He might not trust you,” I answered.

  Then I was climbing so fast I might as well have been vulpine. Up to the window from which Kaito had yelled my name. It was old, with a wooden frame that gave my fingers easy purchase.

  I dug in. Pushed. Grunted with effort and pushed yet harder.

  But the window wouldn’t budge. It was stuck.

  My first impulse was to break the glass and wriggle through on my belly. But there was so much smoke inside and I couldn’t see where Kaito had gone. He must have crumpled onto the floor, beneath the haze of gray. It would take time to find him, time during which, given extra oxygen, that smoke might burst into flames....

  “Need help?” Thom’s voice from below settled me. I shook my head, letting the oath bubbles speed my thought processes.

  A vent halfway down the length of the house was barely visible in darkness. It was a way in, further from the fire and thus safer to open. If I shifted....

  Thought became motion. My paws pushed off the ladder as my clothes drifted toward the ground beneath me. Thom shouted something. But I ignored him, scampering across shingles that were warm but not hot here. There was no time to explain.

  The vent was loose. Loose enough to dig free with my claws and my teeth without having to shift back and use thumb and fingers. Then I was inside a space so narrow a human wouldn’t have fit through it, some sort of ductwork likely meant to cool and dehumidify the top of the house. Or so I gathered when a breeze washed over me, a distant fan humming as it pushed smoky air into my face.

  Breathing as shallowly as possible, I scrambled forward into the darkness until the path split. Kaito was to my left, so I turned that way. But the path split again, and again. Whoever had built this house hadn’t planned for fox travel. Shouldn’t that sort of consideration have been in the engineering drawings? Glowing signposts for four-legged rescuers. Instructions on how to reach each room.

  The notion made me laugh, or maybe the smoke mixing with oath bubbles was turning me loopy. Whatever the reason, I inhaled too deeply and reality struck as my lungs screamed out a seemingly endless cascade of coughs.

  I couldn’t force my lungs to stop convulsing. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t....