His touch was soothing, hypnotic, and despite herself, her worries and her fears, Melody found herself relaxing, her eyes sliding closed. Although she had slept a lot, her body was still depleted.
One more night, she told herself. One more night to rest, and then she needed to get back on track. She needed to face the world and own the life that she was beginning to carve out for herself. At least she could do that.
22. Trent
Waking was something that came to him slowly, despite the urgings of his fox to open his eyes and fucking get on with the day.
It was hard. Trent’s body was so exhausted, that even finding the energy to move was an effort, add that to the fact that he was so deliciously relaxed, he found himself inclined to just lie there and enjoy it.
Something inside of him purred, thrumming on a deep level that made him feel content and smug all at once. It wasn’t his fox, so what the fuck was it?
The presence of that something other, was enough to finally kick his languid brain into gear. Was it a threat?
Somehow, he didn’t think so.
Trent was the largest fox shifter ever recorded, and that wasn’t in his human form. Some said he wasn't a pure fox, that he was part dog, but they were way off track. It wasn’t so much that he was half fox and half something else. It was more that he was part fox and part more than fox.
His grandfather was a kitsune.
Of course, he was too much of a fox for the kitsune part of his family, and too much kitsune for his fox family. So, Trent had spent most of his life on the sidelines, nothing to be ashamed of, yet nothing to be proud of either. He was used to being a wallflower, skulking in the shadows, listening and observing.
The skills he had picked up as a pup, avoiding awkward situations with his extended family, had come into play later in life. They had allowed him to find her. Melody.
Melody!
Trent jackknifed upright, looking around him wildly. He was in a bed. A fucking bed! He didn’t sleep in a bed, he slept on a rug on the floor in his fox form. The rug that she had provided. The rug and pillow that smelled of her—the one his fox had chosen.
It was true what the others said, foxes didn’t have alphas, and they didn’t have fated mates. Kitsune, however, were a whole different ballgame.
It took him half a second to spot her in the bed beside him, still sound asleep. Melody. His Melody.
The thrumming inside him increased tenfold.
That’s what it was. Her. Their bond. The newly minted connection vibrating with life and vitality. It was also gently drawing on his strength.
Slowly, Trent lay back down again, revelling in her nearness. She’d never ignored him outright, she’d always made a point of acknowledging him with a glance, a smile, a touch. The truth of the matter was, however, her other familiars were just so demanding. Larger predators usually were. They were the attacking kind, not the ambush kind.
Trent knew how to bide his time. How to wait for what he wanted. It was how he ended up where he was. First, he had snuck in and challenged her while he knew she was open to it. The trauma of the last few days having left her vulnerable both physically and emotionally, he knew that she was more open to bonding with them then, than at any other time. There was a chance that she wouldn’t bond any more of them, and Trent had no intention of missing out.
While the bond was a lot to get used to, she was already balking, talking about needing time and space.
He smiled to himself and spooned up against her back, burying his face in her hair and inhaling her scent deep into his lungs. Only then did his fox relax, now happy to lie beside his chosen and bathe in her scent. For the rest of the day, she would smell of him, and he of her, no matter how many times she showered.
It quelled the thrumming inside him, that pressure, that urge to put another kind of scent on her. The need to fill her with powerful strokes and mark her skin with his bite.
Soon, he soothed his fox as it became agitated again. Soon.
Melody inhaled deeply, letting it hiss out in a prolonged yawn. She stretched and rolled over, snuggling up to his chest.
Trent froze.
Was she awake? Did she know what she was doing?
Ice blue eyes peered up at him, fearful and hesitant. “I’m sorry, I thought … you don’t … I didn’t ask …”
Crimson crept up her neck, contrasting deeply with the myriad of small scars that she usually kept covered with high neck clothing.
Before she could pull away, Trent grabbed her, wrapping her in his arms and pulling him against her. He knew what her problem was. It was the same thing his own heart was struggling with.
The fear of rejection was a powerful force in them both. After all, if your own family couldn’t love you, how could anyone else be expected to?
For her sake, however, he had to be brave. He had to protect her. Trent needed to put his heart out there first. Maybe then she would understand. Maybe then she would feel safe enough, loved enough, hopeful enough to offer her own.
“I panicked,” he said. “I thought you weren’t awake, that you didn’t know, wouldn’t want to …”
“Oh!” Pale pink lips formed a perfect circle, pinched together to the point that he wanted to lick them, to see if his tongue fit in that hole.
Under the blankets, his cock stirred, slowly thickening and rising. Within seconds it pressed against her, adding to his pleasure and pain
