Page 55 of Toadstools and Vampire Kisses

“Your pack has a website.” I blink at him in surprise. Somehow, I thought they were all a bit more rustic than that and avoided the trappings of civilization.

Another grin splits his face. “Yep. We even having running water and electricity,” he teases as he suddenly takes off at a jog. “Satellite internet is a crapshoot during the winter, though!” he shouts before disappearing among the trees.

Staring after him, I snort a laugh and turn in the direction of the nearest hole. My skin tightens with a shiver of apprehension. The last thing I need is a new monster pushing into my territory. One willing to chase werewolves like prey. I debate just going back home and calling the authorities directly, but I grimace. If I don’t at least seal the hole, whatever it is won’t have a chance of escape if it snows again. It’s weeks too early for a big snowstorm, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.

I scrub my hand down my face, my eyes falling to Beast at my side. His head tips up, his ears perking as he gives me a sweet doggie and smile. My lips twitch in response.

“Okay, time to go see what big bad we caught. You’ll protect me, right?”

His bark of agreement makes me laugh, and I gather my rope and trudge over to it. The silence is the first thing that strikes me. There are no birds chirping and no movement of any of the local wildlife telling me whatever is in there has been thrashing around in the pit, scaring the critters around it, up until moments ago. My steps slow as I approach, the branches I carefully laid over the pit disturbed to reveal its dark mouth.

My scalp prickles under the hood of my coat as I creep closer to it. Drawing in a fortifying breathing, I peer over the edge just in time to see a pale webbed wing fan and strike at the side of the wall in frustration. A very familiar wing. My mouth dries, my pulse leaping as the wing slowly folds back and Reynard peers up at me, his lips parting in wonder before erupting into a wide smile.

“Fran!” He starts toward me, his wings slightly expanding in happiness only for them to get lodged in place in the center of the pit. He snarls a curse and wrenches them back against his body, his smile returns, however, the moment he looks up at me again.Oh, my heart!“I cannot seem to free myself. Whoever dug this hole certainly engineered it cleverly. It could easily trap a number of nonhumans.”

I purse my lips, a thousand questions on my mind, but I sigh, knowing that I should at least get him out of the hole first. “That’s the idea,” I call back. “One second and I’ll get you out of there.”

Tying the rope off once again, I head back over to the hole and drop it down, half-hoping that the weight hits him on the head. I am so happy to see Reynard that part of me doesn’t believe it. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for… and then the other part of me points out theweekspart. It’s almost a pity that he caught the rope so damn easily.

Shuffling back, I lean my shoulder on the tree and try not to scowl as the rope trembles with his weight as he climbs. He doesn’t scurry up it quite as quickly as the werewolf did, but the moment that he emerges I can see why, given that to get out he has to keep his wings practically flattened to his body. Even then it’s obvious that his wing-claws managed to break loose a bunch of soil on top of him as he climbed up the narrow chute.

A faint purr rumbles from him as he climbs out and stands, his wings stretching out around him. I squint up at him, trying to determine if any of the changes I had noticed before remain but it seems not. I’m not sure if I am disappointed. As much as I love his face, seeing him in full on monster mode was impressive as hell too.

His gaze warms as it slides over me, and for the first time since I’ve woken up, I don’t feel the terrible, bone-deep cold as he steps nearer. His hand caresses my jaw, and his head dips so that his nose brushes my throat. He breathes in deep, drawing in my scent, and I shiver with the arousal that small action inspires in me.

He looks at me, red sparkling in the depths of his eyes. “Why do you have a hole dug to capture nonhumans, my love?”

I pant as his tongue trails along my neck, tasting me, as his eyes remained fastened upon on me.

“Werewolves,” I gasp out with another shiver. “Their territory neighbors mine, and at the full moon it’s not unusual for one of the males to get carried away and cross over onto my land.”

Reynard freezes, his entire body tensing as he lifts his head, his lip peeling back in a snarl. “That is why werewolf scent befouls the air everywhere here? Males courting my mate!”

My eyebrows snap down into a scowl. “Hold your damn horses, your royal death dealership. First, the werewolves have been on and off this land for years, probably longer but that’s since I’ve been here. Second, we’re not technically mated or else I think they would have noticed. They seem to have ridiculously keen senses. So you can’t murder a werewolf for some harmless flirtation. And third… you’ve been gonethree weeks! I haven’t received even a word and you’re angry why? A werewolf was flirting with me as I rescued his behind from a pit yet again.” My scowl becomes darker as it occurs to me that it’s actually all too convenient that I’ve pulled the same wolf out more than once. They usually give my property wide berth once they realize I have traps out. “Damn it!”

Reynard’s expression grows darker, and I can tell my outburst sailed completely by him without recognition when the look in his eyes shifts dangerously as his nostrils flare and his head swivels in the general direction the werewolf had gone. Something shifts under his skin, something dangerous that makes a faint flush of blue scales streak up the side of his neck. My skin prickles in reaction as if a live wire has been threaded beneath it.

“I will end his flirtations presently,” he growls and begins to stalk by me. He only stops because I grab ahold of his coat, though we both know I don’t have the physical strength to actually restrain him. He stops because it’s me, and that threatens to make my insides go all gooey.

“Reynard, focus,” I snap as another sensation itches beneath my skin, but this one the familiar sense of my power uncurling angrily. “Three weeks! No phone calls, no texts, not even a fucking greeting card. What the hell was I supposed to think?”

His jaw tightens fractionally, but he exhales a long sigh, his face relaxing as he looks down at me somberly. “You are right. This has not gone the way it should have. I should have been there—I wanted to be there—I wanted to claim you, make our nest, and begin our life together as nature intends. To not suffer separation.”

“Okay…” I drawl, my eyebrows knitting despite a slight softening in my heart to the longing in his voice. More so when I see that there is a sunken look to his features that I hadn’t noticed right away as if he hasn’t eaten or slept in weeks, and I recall how terrible the separation is for his kind. Which makes me mad all over again that he stayed away so long. “And I get that it couldn’t happen. I know all about thankless responsibilities, but three weeks? What happened?”

“Endless talking. I had forgotten how it was dealing with the inner court of a coven. They wanted to go over the facts numerous times, with multiple questioning from different members of the queen’s high council to get the widest scope possible and all within complete seclusion. I have not worked in an official capacity since I awakened from the sleep, wanting to set aside that part of my life. Queen Isadora was aware of it but left me in peace regarding that particular set of skills until now. The whole experience was part-witness, part-interrogation, carrying out Titania’s execution before the queen, and a good part demonstration where she demanded to see evidence of my capabilities with her own eyes.”

“What does that mean?”

He drags in a breath and sighs. “It means that I am, as you might say, ‘on call.’ It seems that the tradition of death dealers has faded more into reputation, most covens no longer possessing males and females with those set of skills to protect them. I also must attend to the coven once a month as travel permits to train a few of those that Isadora hand selected with my observation and approval.” The corner of his mouth hikes tiredly. “It has been a very long few weeks, but the queen was insistent that we take care of matters immediately so that she did not have to call me away again any time soon. I am sorry I could not find a way out to contact you. I might have sent Jack if he weren’t still in recovery. I do not believe I would feel comfortable trusting anyone else with information on how to find you.”

“Jack? Is he all right?” I ask, my scowl disappearing completely. He may have caused enough mischief during the Witch’s Ball, but my voice wobbles slightly at the idea of some truly grievous harm coming to him. Not after all he did to help keep me and the children safe. “I was told he would be okay.”

“He is, he is,” Reynard assures me in a soothing voice. “It seems that Titania expanded her repertoire to include a festering type of wound that normally would kill even vampires with enough damage done. The coven mages, those among them trained in higher-level healings beyond our own natural capabilities, looked over him and said that he likely would never have survived the return to the coven if your young cousin had not intervened. I owe Tiffany Durmont a great debt of gratitude. Thankfully, he awakened from his paralytic coma the second week I was there, and I was able to assure myself of his recovery.”

I peer up at him searchingly. “And what of you? Titania had once been your queen… and more… . It couldn’t have been easy what you were required to do.”

“On the contrary, it was exceedingly easy. She tried to kill you. That was all that I needed to feel fully justified in the justice I carried out by Isadora’s orders.”

---