Page 8 of Tsumiko and the Enslaved Fox
“Does that mean you’re a kitsune?”
Argent snorted lightly. She had yet to hear him speak.
Michael chuckled. “I’m sure that Amaranthine from the fox clans gave rise to legends of kitsune. But don’t mistake Argent for folklore. He’s quite real and in need of you.”
Tsumiko slowly shook her head. “I don’t think he wants me.”
“Please, miss. We really can’t put this off any longer. My friendrequiresyour touch. If we don’t renew the bond, his very life is at risk.” Michael took her hand and pressed it to Argent’s chest. “Can’t you feel it?”
Could she? Argent’s dislike was clear enough, but was she supposed to be able to feel something more? The skin under her hand was feverishly hot, and Argent radiated a strength that didn’t quite match his trim build. He looked fit enough, but underfed.
And with that thought came a sudden certainty that the person before her was wasting away. If she focused on that emptiness, she could feel the hunger … and him. His scrutiny was like a physical touch, as if his attention licked at the edges of her existence. The sensation was decidedly odd, but not exactly frightening, so she explored it. Was thisawarenesswhat made her a reaver?
She asked, “Do I have to say anything?”
“No, miss. That’s my part of the proceedings,” said Michael.
“So I just stand here?”
“Until it’s your turn.”
Tsumiko narrowed her eyes at him. “And what does my turn entail?”
“Accepting your butler’s pledge of fealty.”
She was quite prepared to quiz him into a corner and get proper answers, but at that moment, Michael undid the clasp on the bracelet he’d warned her not to remove. Argent’s breathing changed, and his heart pounded beneath her palm. His expression of aloof distaste had vanished, replaced by something heavy-lidded and hungry.
“What just happened?” she whispered.
“Without the beads, he’s feeling the full force of your soul.” Michael watched Argent carefully. “Judging by your reaction, she’ll do.”
“Do not patronize,” the butler replied huskily.
“Keep it together, old friend.”
“What’s wrong?” Tsumiko asked, trying for a calming tone. “Am I hurting him?”
“Not at all,” Michael assured. “Souls like yours and mine are attractive to the Amaranthine. They crave us like food, drink, or even a drug. In the old days, that made us prey, but reavers learned to defend themselves. These days, we’re allies, and we choose to share.”
“He’s addicted?”
Michael reached for his notes. “Not exactly. This is a generational bond, passed down through women in your family. When one mistress dies, he must renew the bond by accepting ties to a new mistress.”
She searched Argent’s face, but he seemed dazed. Pressing her palm more firmly against his blaze, she asked, “Is this okay with you?”
Argent blinked languidly, and for a moment he seemed to focus on her. But he offered no answer. Maybeokayno longer mattered when you had no choice.
“It’s a simple ritual,” Michael assured.
She tried again. “I don’t like forcing him.”
“He understands what’s happening, miss.”
Michael wrapped a long strand of irregular crystals around his hand and placed it over hers. They were cold against her skin. When he began chanting in a language she didn’t recognize, the stones responded with a vibration that tickled.
“What …?”
He shook his head at her, not stopping the flow of words.
