Page 104 of Tsumiko and the Enslaved Fox
Tsumiko knew it was silly to wait up for Argent. Still, she was dozing in an armchair when theclickof the balcony doors drew her from the edge of sleep. Rubbing at tired eyes, she mumbled, “How far did you fly?”
“Not far.” Argent knelt before her chair. “I needed to return.”
She caught a whiff of winter as Argent slid his arms around her waist and bowed his head upon her knees. Slipping her fingers through windblown hair, she asked, “Did something happen?”
“Something has begun.” He lifted his face. “You have quite an effect on me.”
“What did I do?”
A shudder wracked his body, and his tails writhed together.
“Argent,” she whispered. “Are you in pain?”
“Discomfort,” he allowed. “It burns.”
“What?” Tsumiko couldn’t figure out what was going on. “What can I do?”
He stretched up to nuzzle her throat, her jaw. “At such times … those with close ties … a kiss is traditional.”
When he made no further advances, Tsumiko asked, “You mean me? I should kiss you?”
“That would be best, since you forbade me.”
Had she? Oh, yes. She hadn’t realized her former restriction would still stand. Really, she needed to be more careful with her words. But for now, the initiative must be hers.
Well, then.
Kisses took on different meanings in an Amaranthine context. Argent spoke of tradition, but for Tsumiko, kisses would always be an expression of love.
She bent and pressed her lips to his. A simple declaration.
“More,” he whispered.
Tilting his face upward, Tsumiko made her affection clear in a single slow kiss. Argent might not have been able to initiate, but he reciprocated with an appreciative hum. Which turned to a grumble when she drew back.
“More,” he repeated. “Nearly there.”
“Nearlywhere? What’s happening?”
A rumble built in Argent’s chest, and he pushed up on the arms of her chair, pressing her back into the cushions. Looming over her, he surrounded her chair, hiding them behind his tails. He bumped her nose with his own. “Once more, my lady, and you will see for yourself.”
Reaching up to stroke his cheek, she trailed a finger along his eartip. His elation rang through their connection, clear as the bells of Saint Midori’s. This felt like celebration, so she rejoiced with one who was rejoicing.
When their lips parted, he shivered and sighed, then bent low, hiding his face in her lap. Hands slid to her hips, and he took anchor there.
Tsumiko waited, but he seemed to be asleep. “Argent?”
He hummed.
“What happened?”
Argent huffed, and his answer was muffled by her night clothes. “Only what comes naturally at such times.”
Which was either evasion or entendre. She drummed her fingers on his head. “Are you going to tell me?”
He looked up with a hazy smile. “Not in any great detail.”
Tsumiko smiled bemusedly, but one thing was obvious. “You’re happy.”
