Silver Fox (Silver Shifters 2)

This silver fox was larger than she’d thought foxes were supposed to be, but perfectly proportioned, from the intelligent ears flicking at each side of his head, to the magnificent pewter-colored ruff that shaded down into the liquid silver of platinum at his chest, between his forepaws. The only touches of color were his elegant black nose and the glowing gold of his eyes. His head cocked, and there was that wonderful sunburst golden gaze she had come to love.

Lights glimmered around the edge of her vision, and she realized she’d been holding her breath. She let it go, and met the fox’s eyes again. That gaze was so very much Joey. Even the fox’s grin was instantly recognizable.

The urge to touch—to throw her arms around him—brought her up on her knees, then she hesitated, hands faltering, not quite reaching. But then the fox moved into her shy embrace, his muzzle resting on her shoulder in invitation, and she hugged him to herself, burying her face in his soft fur, which smelled of sunlight and pine and Joey. She laughed, and maybe cried a little, too, dizzy with elation, and she said, muffled by his fur, “Oh, Joey.”

She laughed again unsteadily and let go so she could wipe her eyes. Another blink, and Joey was back in human form, sitting next to her. His arms tightened around her. “You’re all right with it?” he murmured.

She laid her head against his chest, loving the vibration of his voice. “It’s like the birthday of the world,” she said.

In answer, he kissed her, and then kissed her again. She kissed him back, and lost herself in the sweetness of his kisses as every cell of her body lit on fire. She wanted more—and from the way his hands drifted over her, he was right there with her.

But when she found herself fumbling for the buttons on his shirt, she forced herself to pull away, her breath as shaky as his. “No. Not here. Not with my family ready to barge in any second. And you know they will.”

He looked as disappointed as she felt—so much like a boy denied his candy that she had to laugh again. He smiled ruefully. “I think you’re right, dammit. Rain check.”

“Rain check,” she promised, a little of her happiness dimming when she remembered that she still had a confession to make.

But that could wait. A sudden thought occurred, and she set her hands on his shoulders, so she could see his face. “Xi Yong? You mentioned that Chinese creature, the—”

“He’s a qilin. They are even rarer than nine-tail foxes. And that’s rare enough. It’s why my family sent me to my Chinese relatives. I come from shifters on both sides, wolves and foxes mostly. But other animals can pop up in a family, as I did. My Chinese relatives had also had nine tail foxes.”

She blinked, wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her jacket, and said, “I could have sworn I just saw one tail.”

He laughed. “I was afraid to bring all nine into the world, and risk knocking things over. Nine tails do take up a bit of space. When we are alone, I promise to show you all nine.”

“Great! But . . . you said bring them into the world?” she repeated, more amazed by the moment.

“We mythic creatures have more access to the mythic dimension than other shifters.”

“Oh, there’s so much I want to ask—I hardly know where to start! But . . . I take it you came here because there’s some kind of . . . kind of mythic shifter problem?”

Joey looked up, then down again. “It’s a bit complicated, and involves another shifter who should probably be left to name themselves, if they wish.”

Doris’s mind had been racing from question to memory, and she snapped her fingers. “Bird! She said the oddest things. Don’t tell me Bird is a shifter?”

“No. She’s not. But since you’re halfway there, I suspect she wouldn’t mind your knowing that Mikhail is a dragon shifter.”

“Dragon?”

“Yes. More to the point, there’s a renegade dragon shifter—we think—hiding in that house above you.”

Doris felt her way through this entirely new mental landscape. “It makes sense,” she said slowly, sorting out the millions of thoughts whirling through her head. And because she was who she was, she reached for logic first. “If dragons really fly, then of course they’d want to be on the tops of mountains.”

“Exactly,” Joey said, mock-solemn.

“You’re laughing at me,” she said, giving him a stink-eye that was ruined by a little grin.

His smile flashed wide. “No, I’m just adoring you all over again—there’s the practical Doris who so entrances me. When she’s not becoming a psychopathic killer with no more than a shift in posture and a change of expression. You’re so wonderful—you surprise and delight me every day. Every hour.”

“Me? You can’t get more ordinary! It seems to me that you’re the wonderful one,” she retorted. “The only magic about me is what I teach the kids to do on stage.”

“And your cooking.”

“Ah, that’s the kind of magic I love most. Loved most. I think yours has topped that. So let’s not debate who is the most wonderful. What can I do to help, if anything?”

“Keep your family away from that mansion. That’s the most important thing.”

“I will,” she promised, reality closing in around her. “Which means that, while there is nothing I’d rather do than spend the entire rest of the day in here with you …”