Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 137871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 689(@200wpm)___ 551(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 689(@200wpm)___ 551(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
“A kitsune is a powerful shifter of fox decent. One of your parents must have been sired in Asia. Kitsunes are extremely rare in these parts.”
There must be some mistake. “But I’m American. And not a shifter.”
“That you know of,” he explained. “I had a close childhood friend who was kitsune. I know the smell. There’s no mistaking the breed.”
She scrunched her face. “Are you saying I stink?”
“No,” he chuckled. “The scent isn’t unpleasant. But it is unique.”
“Wouldn’t I know if I was part fox?”
“Not necessarily. There are more than a dozen different kinds of kitsune, each kind corresponding with a different element. As a witch, you’re probably familiar with the four basics—water, earth—”
“Air and fire—yes, I think I’ve heard of them.”
He smirked at her sarcasm. “Well, the celestial faiths take it a bit deeper. There is darkness, river, ocean, thunder, forest, time, sound, mountain, and many more elements to be honored. A specific one calls to kitsune more than the others.”
“Fire,” she breathed, settling back in her chair, no longer making jokes. “That’s where my magick started. I was in the woods. My friends and I were sitting around a bonfire when it started to rain. They went back to the car, but I stayed a little longer. Something happened to me that night. I took control of the fire. It moved with my breath. I could make it rage or make it flicker smaller than a birthday candle.”
“That’s exactly right.” When Lazarus shared his knowledge, he became less intimidating. He encouraged others the way a patient teacher might, further deepening their alliance. “Did it ever happen again?”
Fire often helped her feel the spirits, but strange things had happened before then. She nodded. “Something happened to me the night I escaped The Order.”
“The Order?”
“It’s an Amish sanctuary for immortals. They hate witches, so it wasn’t a sanctuary for me. More of a prison.”
“But you escaped.”
She flashed a cocky grin. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Tell me about your escape and how fire aided you.”
Juniper told him about how she awoke in a field, confused and smelling like an animal. She explained the incredible power she channeled from Adriel’s burning house and how she used it against the immortals.
“I stopped when I realized the females felt whatever pain I inflicted on the males.”
“Because they were mated,” Lazarus explained. “Called mates also share pleasure. The longer the partnership, the deeper the link. It’s why we rarely survive the death of a mate.”
“That explains why the elders never killed Cerberus.”
“But he would not share such a link with Adriel. True mates are the other half of each other’s soul.”
“And exactly why Cerberus should have never been able to hurt her,” she said angrily.
But if Cerberus wasn’t Adriel’s true mate, that meant someone could be. What if some dude was out there, waiting to get called to her? What did that mean for them?
Saving her was a given, but what if they found her, killed Cerberus, and the moment they started their life together, some new immortal showed up to claim her.
She scoffed. That was not happening.
“You are distressed,” Lazarus observed.
“I’m just thinking.”
Why were there so many complications? Was mating like menopause? After a certain time did the chances of a calling get smaller? Maybe Adriel was at an age where that immortal clock stopped ticking.
Aware that Lazarus was watching her, she squirmed uncomfortably, the heaviness of these new worries weighing on her. “Do you know how long half-breeds live?”
Lazarus glanced at the fading sky. “They’re all different. Like mortals, it typically comes down to genetics. Kitsunes, however, are said to live more than a thousand years.”
Relief flooded her. “That’s good.”
The front door slammed, and Juniper sensed Dane was the cause. She looked at Lazarus in concern, unsure what upset her friend. “Do you mind if I—”
“Go ahead,” Lazarus waved a hand and she followed Dane outside.
The night was silent, as all the birds were now asleep in their nests and the residents were tucked safely into their beds. “Hey, what was that about?”
He stood at the gate, with his back toward her and his face angled up at the moon, hands stuffed deep in his pockets. Unease radiated from his broad shoulders.
She approached slowly. “Dane—”
“Don’t,” he snapped, bunching his shoulders when she touched his back.
“What’s the matter?”
“Didn’t you hear Lazarus? He’s a draugr.”
She hadn’t realized anyone was listening. She also didn’t understand why he was so upset. “Yes, but there are ways to end a draugr. Lazarus is super smart and—”
“He’s my father, Juniper.”
She took a step back fearful he was suddenly suffering a change of heart. “But you said you didn’t feel anything for him.”
“I don’t. That’s not my point.” His voice broke, and his eyes shimmered. “What if I’m like him?”
Her heart hurdled into her throat. “Oh, Dane—”
“I don’t want your pity.”
“Empathy is not pity.” All of this talk about how awful Cerberus was, and she hadn’t once considered that he was a part of Dane’s DNA. Her heart broke for him. “We are more than genetic pieces of our parents. Our experiences matter.”