Page 10 of Tsumiko and the Enslaved Fox
Michael said, “We’ve succeeded; the bond is renewed. Anything further would be entirely up to you, miss.” Taking a cautious tone, he added, “She’s kind to offer. Argent?”
“As you say, it is entirely up to the mistress.”
A full sentence. Tsumiko chose to ignore the dislike lacing his demure. “Then let’s continue.”
“All right. What would you be comfortable with?” Michael glanced between them. “The more intimate the connection, the faster he can absorb….”
“What’s the rush?” she interrupted. “Can we do it slowly? Is that possible?”
“Certainly, miss. Let’s find a more appropriate setting.”
Argent bowed his head and led the way into one of Stately House’s many sitting rooms. This one had an abundance of curio cabinets and an exquisite set of painted screens. Michael took Argent’s suit coat and gestured for him to use a deep sofa. “I’m taking off her bracelet again,” he warned.
Tsumiko didn’t like being talked about as if she wasn’t right there, but hadn’t she been doing the same to Argent? That would have to stop.
Michael undid her clasp again, murmuring, “I’ll try to add a small break in the warding, enough to allow for a trickle. That should be safe for both of you.”
“Is there some danger?”
“Not if we’re careful.” Michael looked to Argent. “Nurturing through the bond will do him some much-needed good. But deepening the bond would be … inadvisable.”
Her butler sat forward, elbows on his knees as he watched her with unnerving intensity.
Michael returned the bracelet and waited until she’d fixed the clasp. Nodding in satisfaction, he said, “Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll be back shortly with Sansa; she’ll be done with her patrol soon.”
Tsumiko thanked him and turned back to Argent, who’d returned to glaring at the floor. She asked, “How close do I need to be?”
His gaze flicked briefly to her face. “Closer than either of us might wish.”
“Then we should follow Michael’s advice. What will be the most comfortable?”
“Tsk.” Argent pulled a footstool close and settled back against the cushions. Holding out his hand, he said, “Come here, mistress.”
Her fingertips brushed his palm, and his claws caught her attention—clean ivory, highly polished, and tapering to dangerous points. But they didn’t even graze her when his hand closed around her wrist.
Guiding her into range, he murmured, “I did warn you.” Then with a quick tug, he sent her sprawling. Across his chest.
She stiffened in surprise.
“Comfortable?” he inquired condescendingly.
She gritted her teeth and rearranged herself, ending in a position that distributed her weight evenly and gave her a place to lay her head.
When Michael returned a few moments later, his eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t comment on finding Tsumiko straddling her butler. “Try to relax,” he said kindly.
Argent snorted.
Tsumiko tended to agree, but she did try. Laying her cheek against the starched cloth of his half-buttoned shirt, she listened to his heartbeat. Gradually, the erratic pounding settled into a slower rhythm, and she tucked her hand under her cheek, right over Argent’s blaze.
Michael offered a few words of advice, then left them alone.
Again, Tsumiko searched for the needy rift in her butler’s soul. Turning her attention inward, she tried to encourage the trickle Michael had allowed them. It wasn’t much. Barely anything was getting through. She would need hours to tend to her Amaranthine.
Suddenly, fingers tangled in Tsumiko’s hair, tilting her face upward. They were so close. Was he going to kiss her again?
“I hate you.”
Considerably relieved, Tsumiko said, “I know. But it feels like you need me.”
