Page 25 of Tsumiko and the Enslaved Fox
His tone was flat. “Every Amaranthine who can take human form has an inhuman form. I have been forbidden to change.”
“Into what?”
“Tsk.Are you too dense to work that out?”
Tsumiko leaned back, wanting to see if he was teasing. “Are you saying that you’re really, truly a fox?”
“Sayyes, and you can see for yourself.”
“Now?”
Argent shook his head. “Your room is too small. Wait for a more spacious setting.”
“Promise you’ll show me?”
“My compliance requires your cooperation.”
“Yes,” Tsumiko said. “Because I’d like to see you as you are. Someday.”
He accepted that with a jerky nod. “Mistress, may I take the strength I need to make these changes possible?”
“Of course! You need totellme if you need tending.”
“I cannot make demands on my mistress.”
“But I won’t know otherwise. Unless there’s some kind of sign I should be watching for …?”
Argent’s sigh fanned her skin. “This.”
“This what?”
“Mistress, I would not be this close if I could help it.”
She’d assumed his approach and gradual encroachment had more to do with secrecy than allure, but he was definitely treating her like a slip of Dimityblest paper. “Yes, of course, Argent. But take the chair. Your knees must hurt.”
“No.” He pulled her more snugly against his body, lowering his head to whisper in her ear. “Stay like this. I only need a minute or two.”
“Should I take the beads off?”
Argent shuddered. “That would be unwise. Michael’s wards are incomplete. Stay hidden.”
He adjusted his hold to press his nose against her neck, and Tsumiko tried to focus on the exchange. It wasn’t easy, because he’d begun to nuzzle. She gasped when she felt the barest scrape of fangs along the side of her throat.
“Do not worry, mistress. I will not eat you. Just … stay still.” His voice took on a strained quality. “A little longer, please.”
Tsumiko tried to keep a level head. “Would it help if I let you kiss me again?”
His lips grazed her jaw, but he said, “That would also be unwise.”
SIXTEEN
Drifter
Two weeks passed before Sansa was satisfied that Michael’s wards were holding. For the time being, Stately House and its grounds were safe. So Tsumiko bundled up and braved gusty October winds with a sweet potato in each pocket to warm her hands and to eat for lunch.
She wandered along a hedgerow, past a potting shed and empty arbors. Beyond a low stone wall, the sound of waves grew stronger. The lawn fell away, and far below the cliff’s edge, the ocean rolled onto a narrow strip of shore. Leaning out over the wall, she spotted a staircase hugging sheer stone.
Firmly gripping the railing, Tsumiko worked her way down to the sand. Wind whipped her hair and flipped her skirt, and she finally gave up trying to keep everything covered. The beach was empty. No one would see.
