Page 59 of Tsumiko and the Enslaved Fox
Tsumiko pushed back her plate. “May I touch?”
His tails stopped still. “I am no more a pet than you are a child.”
“So it would be insulting?”
“Circumstances would dictate,” he replied vaguely.
“Cats and dogs beg to have their fur stroked, so I assumed it would feel nice.” The fur on his tails puffed out slightly, but she had no way of interpreting his reaction. It reminded her a little of Gingko’s ears, which broadcast a whole range of emotions. She asked, “Are you ticklish?”
Argent set aside knife and fork. “You are as eager as Jacques to get your hands on me.”
“I did promise Sansa.”
He sighed. “She extracted a similar vow from me. Proceed.”
Argent moved to a low, hillocky bench at the foot of the bed. The tufting was clearly more for display than comfort, but its height offered Tsumiko easier access. Bandages slowly fell away, but her progress was hampered by Argent’s tails. He hadn’t hidden them away, and avoiding them was a chore. However, counting them was easier. “Seven.”
“Are there?” His gaze slanted away. “A poor showing.”
“Should there be more?” Tsumiko bit her lip, but it was too late to take back the question. Bondage had undoubtedly curbed his strength and curtailed his advancement. “I’m sorry.”
Argent remained silent.
Sansa had packed all sorts of remedies and coached her on their preparation. Infusions to cleanse. Tonics to dull pain. Pastes to encourage the formation of new skin. While Tsumiko mixed and muddled, she relaxed into a sense of rightness that was the closest thing she’d ever found to home. Tsumiko belonged wherever she was needed.
Focus on the moment, letting tomorrow take care of itself. Focus on someone else’s needs, allowing yours fade in importance. Argent’s requirements were few and simple—food, rest, and whatever comfort she could offer through their bond.
. . .
Argent took refuge in a silent taunt, all but waving his tails under Tsumiko’s nose, but her fingers never twitched in his direction. Mildly aggravating, given her earlier curiosity. Yes, she was respecting his wishes, but he wanted an excuse to rise up and rail against his pitiable state.
Seven tails? Mortifying. A fox of his years should have progressed much further. Twelve at the very least. Fifteen, given his lineage.
Of course, with the lifting of former limitations and a beacon in attendance, he might well add to his flourish. But she made it too easy, sating him before his appetites could stir. With his past mistresses, Argent’s only satisfaction had come from stealth and stealing. Survival had consumed his thoughts and given shape to his existence. But Tsumiko withheld nothing.
Would she trust him to this extent if the bond wasn’t protecting her?
Undoubtedly.
Unless he broke that trust. Could he? It might be interesting to try. Or was he simply looking for a new challenge now that the old one had vanished?
Possibly.
“Argent?”
He opened his eyes. When had they slid shut?
Tsumiko asked, “Do you want any of this nectar? Sansa sent a small amount.”
“How thoughtful.” Her gaze drifted between his face and his tails, which were flagging his irritation. Drawing them close against his sides, he gave a more honest answer. “Huddlebud is potent. I would sleep more deeply than I should.”
“Isn’t that why we came here? This estate is nearly as isolated as Stately House. There are no other Amaranthine close by, or reavers for that matter. And you’ll have twenty-four hours to sleep it off.”
He gave in without grace. “Dose me.”
Tsumiko held a scant spoonful just out of reach. “You should lie down.”
“There is one bed.”
