Fondant Fox: Kinship Cove: Mates & Macarons

by Leigh, Ellis

  “I feel you. Come for me, baby. I need it. Then you can have my cock. Then I can fill you up and make you come over and over again.”

  And she did. Come, that is. I was more than grateful, because as she clenched and shook and chanted my name, I slipped my fingers out of her and replaced them with my cock, driving him home in one thrust. Pushing deep inside of her to feel that pulsation. Enough for me but not for her. She’d taught that lesson, and I’d memorized the theorem. I pressed on her clit with my thumb, giving her the added pressure she needed, and started moving. Loving the way her legs wrapped around my hips, the way she grabbed my shoulders as if she needed something to hang on to. That something was me, and I’d make sure she got what she wanted. Make sure I got something for me too.

  “Turn over.” I rose off Misty, smacking her ass as she flipped onto her stomach. Pulling her up to her knees so I could get a good view of those curves. Of the dip of her waist and the swell of her hips. “So beautiful.”

  “You’re not looking at my face.”

  “I know. Every part of you is beautiful.” To punctuate my point, I leaned over to bite her ass cheek, then reared back and slid home once more. We’d done this last night. Just once, but the position had made an impression on me for sure, had become a favorite within seconds. I didn’t like that I couldn’t see her face—I’d need to buy a mirrored headboard for that, something I’d already added to my mental to-do list—but I loved how deep I could go, how much Misty thrust back against me. How I could make her moan with my cock inside of her and my body wrapped around hers. This was a position meant for us. Obviously.

  “That’s it, little fox. You love it when I fuck you deep, don’t you? Love feeling my big cock all the way inside you. I want you to come again for me, show me how much you like this. How much you want me to keep fucking you.”

  “By the fates, Clark.” Misty groaned, coming around me with a sudden clench of her pussy that nearly made me crawl out of my skin. There was no holding back. I thrust deep and came, my entire body going white-hot, every nerve ending alight just for her. For us. Our union.

  Mate, my wolf howled. Mine.

  Maybe. I could consider that a maybe. Hypothesis, not theory. Unable to be proven true, but not able to be proven false either.

  “That was…” Misty sighed and stretched, laughing quietly. “Well done, professor.”

  Gripping her ass, I chuckled and tugged her against me. Relishing the feel of her hot skin on mine. Living for that touch. “Excellent research, fox.”

  She stiffened in my arms, but I stroked her back and she relaxed again. Curling into me and hanging on. I closed my eyes, thinking about another round, happily lying on the bed next to my mate and enjoying a few minutes of peace and quiet, when my world suddenly went sideways.

  Misty got up.

  Left the bed.

  She grabbed her clothes off the floor.

  And started putting them on.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I have to work at the diner today. Besides, you got what you came for.” Harsh words in an even harsher tone. Flat and emotionless and just plain wrong. She leaned over me, her eyes not meeting mine. Her lips dry as she kissed my cheek. “Hope you enjoyed your research. See you in two weeks.”

  She was gone before I could find the words I needed to make her stay, practically running from the room as if this space had become dangerous. As if the only place she wanted to be was not here.

  I was left alone—naked in the bed we’d shared, with no knowledge of how to make her come back.

  She’d walked away.

  It was only research, I thought. Just an experiment to determine why I felt so drawn to her. To investigate that connection and find the root cause of it.

  Only research.

  So why did her leaving hurt so badly?

  And why was my wolf howling horribly in my head?

  * * *

  Misty

  Biweekly was bullshit.

  Research was a crock.

  And I was a raging, sadistic idiot who should have known better.

  I’d spent two weeks suffering without my mate, on edge and completely distraught. My chest hurting more and more each day. But just as I could admit I was an idiot of epic proportions, I was also stubborn as hell. No way would I break down and go to Clark when he obviously wasn’t coming for me. Not happening. So I waited, and I suffered.

  And I made everyone around me almost as miserable as I was.

  Even the customers had noticed my grumpy side come out. The Chance sisters had allowed me half a shift at the counter before they’d moved me into the back to deal with the baking instead of the people. Good call—I may have threatened a man who asked for an iced cappuccino with my claws.

  Iced cappuccinos are not a thing. Ever.

  I’d been upset and cranky and altogether in a foul mood enough that even my own mother had noticed. Don’t get me wrong, my mom was amazing and kind, but when you had so many kits, little things like my bad mood tended to slip past her. Not this time, though.

  “Are you okay, Misty Rain?”

  She full-named me. Yeah, she’d noticed my mood. This wasn’t good. “I’m fine.”

  Her look sharpened, the mom side of her on high alert, it seemed. “You’ve been sulking.”

  Understatement. “I haven’t sulked.”

  “Sulkers always claim they don’t sulk. But they do. Why has a sulky sulker taken over my baby?”

  My sigh was big enough to earn a raised eyebrow, one I was helpless against. “I met my mate.”

  Her face lit up, her smile growing wide and high as my stomach sank into the floor. “Oh, that’s wonderful—”

  “He doesn’t believe in mates.”

  My mom was an expressive soul. Her face, her body language—she transmitted her mood in muscle twitches and eyebrow raises. The look she gave me was one I’d never seen before. Worse than the time one of my older brothers had gotten into trouble in a human town and she’d had to go bail him out of a human jail. Worse than the look I’d gotten when I’d borrowed my father’s car to go cruising with friends. Without asking. And drove it into a ditch. The look on her face could only be described as a thundercloud, and one heck of a storm was coming. “How is that possible? Is he stupid?”

  I wish. “No. He’s really smart, actually. He’s a college professor.”

  “Well, he seems stupid to me. What man wouldn’t want such a mate as you? Who could possibly turn down someone as kind and caring, as sweet and—”

  “You’re thinking of Tilly. She’s the sweet one.”

  “I’m thinking of my Misty, who went to work a second job at a bakery owned by humans because she knew they’d need help when their mates found them. Who made a deathbed promise to those girls’ parents to take care of them and worked hard to see that through. Who cooks for all of us at our weekly dinner and never complains. At least not to me. I’m speaking of my devilishly quick-witted daughter who deserves so much more than she’s been given.”

  Oh. Tears. They were a-comin’. “Stop it, Mom.”

  “I will not. I’m livid on your behalf. I have a right mind to track this professor down and give him an education on mating he won’t soon forget.” She huffed, pacing. Her lips twisting into a scowl that would have scared her grandkids. Heck, it scared me. “Why would the fates give you a man who didn’t deserve your kindness? I want to have a word with him.”

  “Mom, you can’t—”

  “I can. You introduce me to this man. I’ll set him straight.”

  She would, too. But I didn’t want my mom fighting my battles for me, didn’t need her to talk to Clark about mating. He didn’t believe in the concept—end of story.

  End of our story, at least.

  I kissed my mom’s cheek because she looked about ready to explode. “I know you’re upset, but it’s fine. I’m dealing with this and am ready to turn my back on the mating. No matter how much hurt that brings.”

  Anger faded
into utter sadness, a look no one wanted to see. “Oh, Misty—

  Don’t cry in front of your mom. “I have to go.”

  “You don’t.”

  “I do. I have a date.”

  “To see him?”

  Him. Clark. “Yes.”

  She pursed her lips and pointed her finger at me. “Bring him back with you, Misty. Let me meet this man. I may not be the smartest fox in the forest, but I can still put the fear of mom in anyone.”

  Yeah, no shit. I’d been afraid of my mother almost since birth. “Maybe someday.”

  Because the idea of my family meeting my mate only to never see him again was too much even for me to deal with. My mom had said I’d been sulking—I had a feeling my mood was only going to get worse.

  Because this whole biweekly thing?

  It was bullshit.

  Times a million.

  9

  Clark

  Two weeks was far too long. I’d tried to honor the agreement, but the idea of Misty being hurt or lonely or missing me for even a moment ate at my inner beast until I couldn’t take it anymore. When that happened, the two of us made a trek over the mountain to the little city on the cove where she lived. Four times, my wolf had stolen control, shifted us to his animal form, and ran us right to Misty’s front door. He’d whined and paced until he’d finally seen her, even if it was just a glimpse through a window, then he could settle again. Usually under her bedroom window where we’d sleep the night through before running back over the mountain before the sun came up. If any of her neighbors noticed a large, gray wolf skulking around outside her house, they certainly didn’t do anything to scare us off. Misty clearly didn’t notice, something that bothered both me and my wolf to no end. Him especially as all he had to do during the day was obsess over where Misty was, what she was doing, and if she smelled as good as she had the last time he’d scented her.

  No doubt about it, my wolf had an addictive personality, and his drug of choice was the little fox shifter. Our mate.

  I know, I know. I don’t believe in mates. But after the third time we’d crossed the mountain and lay sleeping peacefully under Misty’s window, I began to see that maybe—just maybe—my hypothesis that mating was more of a pheromone-based attraction thing was way off. I went back to the college the next day and began diving into my research. History, sociology, biology…anything and everything that might lead me to a new conclusion. I asked questions of people I respected and then cornered students in my classes to ask them about shifter mating as well.

  Sidebar—never ask a college kid about mating and mating habits unless you want graphic, graphic details.

  In the end, after much discussion with the shifters at the college where I taught—both the educators and the students—and after feeling the pull the past two weeks so strong and unbearable, I was a convert. I’d been convinced. Hypothesis proven true—theory of animal shifter mating connection achieved.

  Bad side to this discovery? All of my peers and most of my students now knew I was an idiot when it came to shifter customs and needs. Thankfully, I agreed with them. There was no turning my back on this mating connection, no walking away from it or treating it like a casual sort of thing. Misty needed to be mine. Permanently. On a daily basis. And she would be—I’d tell her I was an idiot and that I wanted her all the time.

  As soon as I finished this class.

  “Okay, students. You’ve all asked for a special lecture on string theory, and I’m here to give you a slower-paced, deeper, and more personalized lesson than I normally teach. Let’s get to it.” I stood behind the podium, giving the five students in the room—all good ones who simply couldn’t process things the same way or at the same speed as some of their peers could—a chance to settle in and open their computers. Once they were ready, I was too. “In the year 1919, a virtually unknown German mathematician named Theodor Kaluza suggested a very bold and, in some ways, very bizarre idea.”

  I fell into the rhythm of the words, the cadence of teaching something I’d taught for years, but today…something felt off. A need, a yearning. A distraction. One I couldn’t lay at the feet of the students or the lecture. “He proposed that our universe might actually have more than the three dimensions that we are all aware of. That is in addition…”

  The feeling within me grew, setting every nerve ending on fire. Making me want to race out of the building and take to my wolf form. Which I simply could not do, so I focused hard. Dug deep to pull out the words I’d recited numerous times over the years.

  “Now, when someone presents a bold and bizarre idea, sometimes that's all it is—bold and bizarre, but it has nothing to do with the world around us. But this particular…”

  The words flowed from my mouth, but my mind had focused elsewhere. On the one person in the world I wanted to see more than any other. The one tied to me in some cosmic way that I’d been too stupid to accept at first. Misty. She was here. On campus. Close. Early.

  Maybe—just maybe—she’d been feeling as anxious as I’d been since we’d been apart. Maybe—just maybe—I had a shot to fix my own failure and claim that woman as mine.

  I spoke faster.

  * * *

  Misty

  My hands were clammy as I pulled onto the college campus. Nervous. I was totally nervous. Not because of the college itself—it looked nice enough. I’d never been to college, having already been assigned a job in the restaurant and needing to help the family after I graduated from my shifter high school. I didn’t regret that decision at all, but college seemed fun enough. The Ivy League-looking brick buildings and cutesy little signs directing people around the campus weren’t intimidating. Not at all of my world, but I’d never been afraid of celebrating differences. No, the school itself was fine. Knowing my mate taught here, though—that was different. He belonged in a place like this. With his theories and hypotheses, his relying on research and proof instead of instinct and gut, he fit right in. I did not.

  “Maybe that’s why you’re just research material, you dumbass.”

  Sometimes, I hated when I talked to myself. Inner me could be a real bitch.

  Once I found a parking spot close to the building where Clark had said he’d be teaching, I turned off my brain and tracked him by feel. By the connection between us. I put all my energy into that bond, blowing it up, wondering if he felt the intensity. Curious if he’d think it was pheromones or something so basic instead of a deep connection to one another. The energy to keep us linked sapped my strength, a lack of sleep over the past two weeks wearing me down faster than anything else. Four nights—only four nights had I gotten any sort of real rest, and even then, I’d flipped and flopped in my bed. Restless. Needy. The rest of the two weeks? Nada. No sleep. Just a deep, pounding need rattling my inner self until rest became an impossibility. I needed to sleep. I needed my mate.

  On the third floor of the science building, I heard Clark’s voice. Strong and smooth, the sound soothed something inside of me. Pushed away all the tiredness and anxiety at meeting him today. That was my mate. Mine. And even if he pushed me away, even if he only wanted me to research the hypothesis of mating, I was in. I needed that connection.

  I slipped inside the classroom and watched from the back, settling into the shadows so he wouldn’t see me. I knew he had to sense me, to feel me close, but he didn’t falter. He simply kept teaching, kept talking. Something about…strings. The subject didn’t matter, though, because all I could focus on was how sexy he looked. Hair rumpled, glasses on, sleeves rolled up those strong forearms, and wearing a freaking sweater vest. I wanted to lick him.

  As soon as these kids left the room, I would.

  “Well, it turns out that Einstein and Kaluza and many others worked refining this framework and applied it to the physics of the universe as was understood at the time, but it didn't work.” He walked along the front of the room, looking good enough to eat. As much as I loved hiding from him, I was ready to end this game. I couldn’t wait to get
my hands on him, to rumple my naughty professor even more. To feel the muscles under that sweater vest, to see the beast in his eyes behind those dark frames. These children had no idea how much of an animal he could be. Especially not the girl who made the mistake of putting her hand on his arm as she asked a question.

  Oh, hell no.

  My growl was automatic and unstoppable, soft but there. Clark’s head whipped up, his eyes finding mine immediately. Every student in the room went still. This was a shifter college, after all—a place where I was surrounded by my own kind. They all knew what the sound I’d just made meant. A predator was in the room—and she wasn’t happy with them.

  “Sorry,” the girl said, jerking her hand back from Clark’s arm and packing up her computer. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  “It’s fine.” Clark kept his eyes on mine, kept that look burning into my skin. “We’re done here, folks. We’ll reschedule another time to finish this up. If you still need more help, I suggest you look up the TED Talk on superstring theory. We can discuss it at the next session.”

  Within seconds, all the students were gone, leaving out a side door instead of walking past me. Smart kids. I waited until the door closed behind them, then rose to my feet.

  “She touched you.”

  Clark leaned against a desk, casual but striking. Waiting for me. “She did.”

  “I didn’t like it.”

  “The touch wasn’t meant to be sexual.”

  My growl rumbled through the room, louder this time. “She doesn’t get to touch what’s mine.”

  I almost flinched, almost wished I could pull that word back. He didn’t want a mate—he wanted a fuck buddy. That was what I’d agreed to. I couldn’t help it that my inner fox was territorial as heck and that he was my territory. I couldn’t help that at all.

  Thankfully, he didn’t seem bothered by my claiming of him. In fact, he almost seemed…interested. “In my class, we don’t growl, young lady. It’s rude and unprofessional. Behavior like that could affect your grade.”