It was the politest way I could say, because we're damn foxes. And in a world of wolves, bears, snakes, and vampires, foxes ranked low on the threat meter. So far as I knew, I was the only kitsune in history to have ever been inducted into the guild. But then again, I’d just gained my ninth tail well before my time, so perhaps they knew something I didn't?
There was a long silence before the Ancients spoke again, but this time it wasn't to me.
"What do you have to say on the matter, Finley Wilde?" Giselle asked, and I heard Fin make a surprised noise behind me.
"You may speak, Finley," Nadege added, oh so graciously. "You were Thea Hunt's intended mate, after all. Tell us. Should we bind her tail and allow her to return to her little group of murderers?" Oh, for fox sake, I thought, so frustrated that even I was willing to resort to puns.
"As her intended mate," he snapped, and I swear, if it wouldn't have gotten me killed, I would’ve turned and chucked my bone knife straight into his throat. With my training, it wouldn't actually be that difficult an accomplishment to achieve. "I request a motion to block her binding."
"What?!" I shouted, forgetting my place for a moment and standing straight up.
Standing in the same room as the Ancients was not permitted.
Magic tainted the air around me, cracked it right in half like it was made of glass. For a moment there, I didn't quite understand what was happening, not until I inhaled sharply and found that it was impossible to breathe. Whatever entered my lungs was not oxygen, just this horrid cloud of needles that seemed to slice the inside of my chest in a million places all at once.
I fell to my knees with Finley Wilde in my field of vision, kneeling at the entrance to the cave like a proper kitsune male, his orange tails wafting back and forth in lazy annoyance. Damn it. I knew I should've chucked that knife in his fucking throat, even as my heart clenched painfully seeing his handsome face for the first time in … forever.
He looked exactly how I remembered. Same strong but slim athletic build, same rust-brown hair and autumn leaf eyes … Shit, he was gorgeous as ever.
"Sit down, Thea Hunt," Giselle said, and I could hear a smug sense of superiority in her voice as I landed on my side, vision blurring, body desperate for air. My tails twisted around one another, seeking out the natural magic of the earth, but there was none.
The three women sitting at the head of the cavern had stolen it all from me.
Rolling onto my side, I continued to stare at Finley until my vision went dark and I just touched the edge of unconsciousness. They decided to free me then and probably enjoyed the sight of me scrambling around in the dirt, gasping for breath.
"Continue, please, Finley Wilde," Giselle said as I laid on my side and took huge, ugly, rattling breaths that hurt my lungs almost as much as the needle-like pain from the spell.
"I request a motion to block her binding," he repeated as I stared at him. His orange eyes dropped to mine and stayed there, challenging me, letting me know that this time, he was asserting his rights as my intended mate. "I've waited eight long years as an unmated male, working guard duty. I have no home, no pups, and no social standing. Until Thea releases me as her mate and finds me a new one, I request that she stay unbound."
"Your response to the motion?" Trina asked, and even though I was facing the opposite direction, I could just imagine her tilting her head to one side, floor-length hair cascading down the front of her red kimono. Skin like cream, hair like night, and eyes that burned with a golden shimmer. All three Ancients looked much the same.
"I …" I started, but it was still a struggle to breathe, let alone speak.
They were going to nail me on a technicality here. They’d made it impossible for me to object … those cunts.
"If you have no further arguments," Giselle continued, and I knew from the tone of her voice that she was smiling, "then we'll accept Finley Wilde's request."
"Motion granted," Nadege said in a sensual purr, and I felt the warm curl of another spell. They might not bind my tail, but they also wouldn't let me walk around with a furry white bomb strapped to my ass. They would wrap my tail in threads of their own power to keep its volatility contained until I'd fulfilled the end of this new bargain. My tail wouldn't be a problem, but I also wouldn't be able to use the other eight either.
This was going to be an issue.
A serious motherfucking issue.
Since I'd declined to accept Finley as my mate—at least in a public capacity since we'd definitely fucked—he had every right to request that I find him a new one. In a world where kitsune were rare and mates were selected at birth, that put me in serious, serious trouble.
I was bound to carry out the orders of the guild and next Sunday, I had a very important client to deal with. But no magic, no way I could complete my work.
That gave me exactly one week to find Finley a mateless vixen that was actually interested in him.
One week to figure out how to weasel out of this mess before I botched the job and the guild sent someone to assassinate me.
"I can't believe you had the fucking audacity to pull that shit!" I shouted as I slammed the door to Finley Wilde's house—what used to be my house—and curled my twitching fingers into fists to keep myself from going for the knife again. Half of my anger was directed at him; the other half of my frustration was from being inside a house that held so many good memories that I’d given up. If asked, I’d do it all over again, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t going to hurt.
Like most kitsune, our home was set into the carved center of a massive tree trunk, with stairs leading up to treetop rooms and balconies. Most of the homes in this particular neighborhood were connected with rope bridges that left the privacy factor at a virtual zero.
That's why I wasn't at all surprised when a hulking, black jaguar appeared at the top of the steps, melding seamlessly into a tall man with a mottled brown mohawk to match his kitty-coat, and a crooked half-smile. He had a set of piercings on either side of his lip as well as a silver ring through the center of his nose, and a matching one on his left eyebrow.
My breath caught in my throat as our gazes locked.
Riot Langthorne.
My other ex.
Before I'd decided on a change of both career and scenery, I'd been in a ménage relationship with Riot and Finley. Riot's mate had been killed by a car when he was twelve and since he was a jaguar shifter—a breed which had been hunted to near extinction, even worse than kitsune—his pickings for a new mate were even slimmer than Fin’s.
I hadn't seen him in six months or more. For the life of me, I couldn't remember, but when he came down the stairs and brushed his fingertips lightly down my arm, I shuddered with undeniable desire. The way he moved, like a lazy house cat, was enthralling. A long, black tail twitched behind him as he headed for the sofa and slunk into it like he owned the place. Of course he did, he was a cat—they owned everything. Like a kitsune, a jaguar shifter had enough magic to hold onto their clothes when they changed, so unfortunately, I didn’t get to see him naked, but I could see his muscles sliding beneath his tight, black t-shirt, fluid and liquid and full of barely-leashed power.
When I’d first broken up with them, we’d still occasionally get together to fuck. Not anymore. I think it was too painful for all of us. Sometimes, I missed those hot, sweaty nights so much that I felt like I couldn’t live without them. Other times, I was glad for my hardwon independence.
"You blocked her binding, didn't you?" Riot asked Fin, blinking gray eyes up at me and trying his best not to smile. He might not be quite the vindictive bastard that Finley was, but he was still a serious asshole, a man that liked things the way he liked them, rest of the world be damned. I blamed the feline in his blood.
"I exercised my rights is all," Finley said, giving me a bored look which was like a knife in my heart, and flicking one of his orange ears in response. His tails drifted lazily, giving off an I could not give two shits less look that I didn't buy for a second.