Crookshollow foxes box set: The complete fox shapeshifter romance series

by Steffanie Holmes

  "I can suggest a place."

  "Please, Alex, let me sit down inside and I'll explain."

  "Could you maybe…put your pants back on first?"

  "As you wish."

  I turned away from him and started walking back toward the flat, watching him over my shoulder as he walked over to the house at the end of the street, and pulled a bundle wrapped in plastic out of their bushes. He unwrapped a complete change of clothes, including underwear, jeans, a blue shirt, and a pair of expensive Italian shoes. Slowly, deliberately, he pulled them on, and I almost felt a twinge of regret when he covered up those muscled shoulders with the loose shirt.

  Almost.

  His head snapped up, and he met my eyes, smiling confidently. I turned my head away, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing I was looking.

  Ryan sauntered over to me, beaming as he buttoned up his cuffs. Why does he just happen to conveniently have a parcel of clothing stashed in my neighbour's garden?

  Ryan held out his hand, and, even though my mind screamed at me to ignore the gesture, I took it. Touching his skin sent a shiver through my body that had nothing to do with the crisp night air. He held my hand up in the moonlight and squeezed, and then he smiled at me – a nervous, slightly lopsided smile so unlike the sneer he'd worn previously. I opened my mouth to say something witty, but no sound came out. Ryan led me back down the street and into the flat, where he shut the door and bolted it.

  "Alex, what's going on?"

  Kylie. I'd practically forgotten about her. She was sitting on the couch in the middle of the trashed room, stroking a purring Miss Havisham and holding Edgar's black jeans in front of her like they were filled with bees. Furniture lay overturned on all sides, my print of Picasso's Dora Maar au Chat had fallen from the wall, the frame broken in three places and glass shards everywhere. The curtains had been torn to shreds and the stuffing pulled from the couch from what looked like giant claw marks. I dared a peek into the kitchen and saw the floor littered with broken china.

  "What's going on, Alex? Why is all our stuff trashed? Why is your hand bleeding? Who is that man?"

  Ryan shook his head at me, but I wasn't about to do him any favours. "Kylie, meet Ryan Raynard, the world-famous artist I told you about."

  "Alex, please," Ryan begged. "You can't just tell her this. We have to be careful to keep it secret–"

  I continued, raising my voice to speak over Ryan. Damn him if he was going to come into my house and tell me what to do. "It turns out, in addition to being an arrogant prick, Ryan also transforms into an enormous fox and jumps through people's windows to terrify them half to death. For all I know, he's probably responsible for all those fox attacks in the forest. As to what's going on, he's just about to explain, aren't you, Ryan?"

  Ryan sighed. "It's going to sound crazy, but after an introduction like that …perhaps it won't. Alex, you should sit down. Do you need a drink?"

  "No, I do not need a drink. I need you to tell me–"

  "G & T, please." Trust Kylie to forget about the current situation at the mention of a glass of plonk. Ryan went to the tea tray we used as a liquor shelf – it had miraculously survived the evening's activities – and began to mix us all a drink. He picked up several bottles and shook them, frowning at the labels. "Don't you have any single malt?"

  "There's some scrumpy in the fridge," Kylie piped up, standing up and moving into the kitchen. Ryan screwed up his nose, and set about mixing three gin and tonics. Kylie returned with the first aid kit.

  "Never mind that," I snapped. "You were giving me an explanation about the strange people in our house, the raven and the foxes, and the naked man in the street."

  Kylie sat up straight, knocking Miss Havisham from her lap. "Who was naked?"

  Ryan handed us each a drink, and gestured for me to sit down next to Kylie. I had to squeeze up near the arm of the sofa, because Miss Havisham had sprawled out across the centre of the couch, taking up three-quarters of the space. She opened one lazy eye at me, and began to purr. Ryan shot her a strange glance, and then settled down into the chair opposite us.

  "You've got your drink,” I said, “Now, tell me why there are men's clothes in our living room."

  He gestured to Kylie. "Can I trust you not to blab this all over the village?"

  She nodded, sipping her drink. I scowled at Ryan. "Kylie must know what I know, or I'm calling the police, right now."

  He sighed heavily.

  "When Edgar shifts into his raven form, his clothes don't fit any more, so they get left behind. Clothes don't shift with the body. Usually, we will hide clothes nearby or shift in our own homes so we don't leave a trail of Calvin Kleins everywhere we go, but when you hit Edgar with that sword, you caught him by surprise. He needed to escape, and that meant a drastic, unplanned shift."

  Kylie busied herself washing and dressing the cut on my hand. It wasn't nearly as bad as I'd thought. "See, I was afraid you'd say something like that. So this Edgar shifted into a raven?"

  Ryan nodded. His expressive eyes showed a tinge of … something … beneath their arrogance. Was it concern for Kylie and I? "You saw it with your own eyes, Alex, so I don't have to explain to you that it's possible. Edgar is a shapeshifter, and so am I. Shifters … the kind you've read about in horror stories … are real. There are many different types of shifters – most shift from human to animal form and back, but there are a few species that shift from animal to animal."

  "So the fox that came through the window and rescued me …"

  "That was me."

  "Jesus," Kylie covered her mouth with her hand.

  I looked at Ryan, muscles bulging from beneath his tailored shirt, the way his rust-coloured hair curled around his face, the ends darker, almost tinged with black. His eyes were large, piercing – the eyes of a hunter. I thought of the way he'd had that package of clothes hidden in the bushes. He was cunning and clever, just like the foxes in fairytales. Even though it was completely crazy, I believed him.

  "OK," I said. "OK. You're a shapeshifter. Do you change into any other animals? Or just a fox?"

  "Just a fox. I'm not some kind of sorcerer who can conjure up a new shape whenever I feel like it. Shapeshifting is a genetic trait passed on through generations. In fox-shifters, the gene is dominant in the male line, but in other shifter species, the genetics can be quite different. I've spent years researching shifter mythology, and it seems that practically every ancient civilisation has legends about humans shifting into animals. There are even cave paintings of half-human, half-bear creatures. Human shifters have lived at the edges of civilised society for tens of thousands of years, although mostly in secret."

  "That other guy was a fox shifter, too."

  Ryan nodded. "A few fox clans live near Crookshollow, because the forest is protected, and there aren't as many poachers and hunters as other areas of the country. Vulpines – that's the name for fox shifters – are very territorial, and we also have a sort of primal psychic connection between each other. We call it 'the call.' I was out hunting in the forest this evening when I heard Marcus move over into my territory, so I followed him here."

  "What about the lanky guy with the black hair?" asked Kylie.

  "Edgar is another species – a raven – so I can't sense him in the same way." Ryan gulped down the last of his drink, and poured himself another. "But I know him well. Edgar is a hired crook. He's particularly skilled at finding things. Marcus must have called him in from London especially for this assignment."

  "Why? What are those men doing here? Why do they have such a sudden interest in me?"

  "It's not completely clear to me yet, but I believe they think I gave you something when you came to my house today. Not my paintings," he saw my worried expression. "Something else. An … artefact of my family. And Marcus wants this artefact badly enough that he'd risk entering my territory to follow you here and take it back for himself."

  "But why does he assume I have it? You don't even like me." />
  "Don't I?" He smirked as he sipped his drink. Damn, but I wanted to wipe that satisfied smile off his face.

  "You need to stop being cryptic, Raynard. What is this artefact? And why would they think you'd given it to me?"

  "Because you carry the shifter gene."

  The room fell silent. Ryan's brown eyes met mine, and as I fell deep into those dark-brown pools, my head spun, my mind growing lighter as if it might at any moment float away. Some invisible energy coursed between us, swirling around inside of me, calling up strange images in my mind; forgotten memories of my childhood spent roaming in the woods alone, of how the forest called me back, no matter where I was. It took a few moments for what he said to register, and when it did, it hit me like a freight train.

  "Um … what?"

  "You are related to James Fauntelroy."

  Kylie stared at me with interest. "Who's James Fauntelroy?"

  "He was a magistrate in the village about two hundred years ago. He brought in all kinds of reforms, including making the forests off-limits to hunters. He was also a defender of witches, and he saved several women from being burned at the stake. There's even a statue of him in the market square."

  "Fauntelroy was also a vulpine." said Ryan. "He came from an ancient fox line – the Fauntelroy clan used to dominate this area. That was, until James Fauntelroy fell in love with a human woman – a witch, in fact. They had three children together – all women, and all human. That was the end of the Fauntelroy shifters, but not the end of the Fauntelroy genes."

  "I don't understand."

  Ryan picked up a legal pad from the mess on the floor, withdrew a pencil from the pocket of his jeans, and scribbled a design. "This is about as simple as I can make vulpine genetics for you," he said, tossing the pad in my direction, and sitting back with a smug smile on his face. I turned the pad around, staring at the doodles of foxes and humans, with lines running in all directions.

  "I think I get it," said Kylie, peering over my shoulder. "This is simple, high school biology – punnet squares and all that."

  Ryan nodded. "The gene for shifting is dominant, passed down along the Y chromosome. This means that vulpines are usually always males, although there are some anomalies that have produced female shifters. But mating females – whom we call vixens – carry a unique gene of their own. Only the mating of a vulpine and a vixen will produce shifting offspring. If a vulpine mates with an ordinary, everyday female, like you," he nodded at Kylie, his tone implying she was little more than a bug," any male offspring they have will most likely become completely human, or they may end up with a strange genetic makeup, a kind of half-shifter state, where they are neither completely human, nor completely fox. We call these anomalies mutts. Marcus is a mutt, which makes him extremely dangerous. He is one of the shifters who has been attacking humans, biting people. I'm sure of it."

  Kylie held her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with fear. "Oh, my god."

  "And you're saying I'm one of these vixens? How did I not know about this?"

  Ryan nodded. "Even though James Fauntelroy never produced a son, two of his daughters carried his shifter genes, making them highly desirable vixens. And that gene has been passed from generation to generation of Fauntelroy women – until it came to you. When you come of age, the gene causes you to secrete a unique scent, invisible to other creatures, but powerful to the vulpine. When I stepped into the room today, Alex, your scent hit me, and from that moment, we were linked."

  "Excuse me?" This was just getting more and more intense.

  "We are linked, fated to be together," he repeated, his eyes boring into me. "There's a powerful and primal connection between a vulpine and his vixen, Alex, a way to genetically sense the most compatible mate. And, as soon as you entered my property, placed yourself before me, and declared you weren't taken by another, we were bound together. You are destined to be my mate."

  "This is ridiculous," I snapped, standing up and walking to the window. I peered out into the night, hoping I wouldn't see the cool grey eyes of Marcus lurking in the darkness beyond. "You can't just decide I'm going to be your … your mate. I've got my own life, and my own plans, and they don't include being a breeding vessel for an arrogant shapeshifter."

  "You don't have to be so hostile. I'm not exactly thrilled about the situation, either."

  I balled my hands into fists. "And, just what about me isn't good enough for the great Ryan Raynard?"

  "It's not that at all." He looked pained. "There's a reason I stay inside my house and away from the world, Alex. I am part fox, and my emotional dynamic is very different from a human man. I crave solitude. I want to be left alone with my paints and my books. I don't want to interact with other shifters, or with humans. I don't want a mate, I don't want cubs, and I really, really don't want to fall in love."

  "Why not?"

  "That's none of your business," he growled.

  "People are breaking into my house. You'd better believe it's my business."

  He glanced at Kylie, then back at me. His mouth was set in a hard line, but his eyes begged me not to make him talk about himself. I dismissed him with a wave of my hand, indicating he didn't have to say more. He'd already told me his reasons, through his art.

  I knew Ryan's whole career, all his pieces, off by heart. His early works were such a celebration of life and colour, but for a few years, around the time he shut himself away in Raynard Hall, they became dark, violent, tortured, pictorial representations of love lost, all focused around a central motif of a black-clad woman with a bushy tail. The Fox Woman. Whoever she was, she'd hurt him bad.

  "Do you have sex with foxes?" Kylie blurted out. "Isn't that, like, bestiality?"

  "Kylie!"

  "Sorry. I'm just trying to lighten the mood."

  Ryan managed a weak smile. "Foxes and vulpines don't interact, although we can sometimes get into fights if we enter each other's territories. They don't see us as part of their species, nor do we welcome them to mix with ours. We do, however, share the call with foxes, so we might sometimes aid each other to fight off an attacker or to avoid hunters threatening our mutual territories."

  I leaned my forehead against the cool glass of the window. "So, let me get this straight. I'm a vixen. My family has carried this fox-mating gene for generations, and now I'm meant to mate with you, and this Marcus thinks you gave me some artefact, even though you didn't, and now he's after me … why?"

  "Marcus is obsessed finding a powerful vixen for a mate. It's the only way he can redeem his line from his current mutt genetics. As soon as I made the connection with you, the call revealed you to Marcus, too. He knows you're a Fauntelroy, and he'll stop at nothing to possess you."

  "Does what I want have nothing to do with any of this?"

  "Once the connection is made, the only thing that will break it is for him to kill me, and take you for his own. That's why he came here tonight – he wants to steal back my ring, and then he could kill me and claim you as his own."

  "Your ring?"

  Ryan lifted his finger, flashing a gold signet ring. "This ring is passed down through my family," he said. "When I take a mate, I will give it to her, and then she, in turn, will pass it on to my son. Marcus thinks I must've given it to you, but I know better than to give a ring to a girl on the first date." He smiled sardonically.

  Oh, how that smile turned my insides about! I snapped back a retort, before Ryan could notice that he'd gotten to me. "Especially after you practically fell over yourself trying to escape my presence."

  He shrugged. "Now you understand why, so let us forget about that and focus on the task at hand, which is protecting you from another attack by Marcus or one of the other shifters he might have allied with. He may be a mutt, but he's powerful, and he has resources, so we can't underestimate him."

  "He mentioned someone called Isengrim," I said. "Does that name sound familiar?"

  A dark cloud fell over Ryan's face. "Unfortunately, yes."

  "What d
o we do?" asked Kylie, hugging her knees to her chest, her face drawn with worry.

  "I can protect you both," Ryan said. "And even that ridiculous cat. But you have to trust me. You can't go running around with medieval broadswords taking matters into your own hands. I know this world, and we have to do things my way."

  I have to be in charge because I'm Ryan Raynard and I don't take orders from anybody, I thought, but didn't say.

  I didn't like this. I barely knew Ryan, and he was asking me to trust him? I was used to looking out for myself. Maybe some girls liked a man to come swooping in and save the day, but I wasn't one of them. I was also not the kind of girl who believed in fate or love at first sight, or who thought that some arrogant billionaire artist shapeshifter coming in to my home at night and professing we were destined to be together was in any way romantic. The whole situation made me feel queasy.

  Except … I looked at those thick shoulders, and those warm brown eyes, and I wondered what it would be like to be in the care of a man like that. Ryan was so unlike any other man I'd dated before. He intrigued me. I couldn't match his tough, arrogant personality with the delicate, melancholy artwork that gave me an intimate glimpse into the depths of his soul. Now, knowing what he truly was, I saw his work in a completely new way – the love of the forest landscapes, the intricate relationships between his animals, the …

  I wanted to be inside his head, to see the forest the way he saw it. And, damn me, if I didn't want to press myself against him, to feel the touch of that powerful body, to have his lips devour mine …

  "Are you OK, Alex?" Kylie asked, staring at my face with some concern. "You look all flushed."

  I snapped out of my vision, feeling my cheeks grow hot. "I'm fine," I muttered, staring down at my hands, feeling the blush creep down my neck and touch the tips of my ears. "It's just a lot to take in, is all. Can someone refill my drink, please?"

  5

  As confused as I felt around Ryan after everything he'd said, neither Kylie nor I wanted to stay alone in the house. Ryan offered to stay with us. Reluctantly, I accepted.