Crookshollow foxes box set: The complete fox shapeshifter romance series

by Steffanie Holmes

  “What else is new?” I went to the coffee machine and started to fill my cup. My hands shook so hard I spilled milk across the bench.

  “You look like shit. Rough night? Are you wearing jeans? And who’s that?” Belinda pointed to Marcus, who was standing in the doorway, glancing around the room with narrowed eyes like a big game hunter on the trail of a wild rhinoceros.

  “This is Marcus. He’s an intern helping me on the Raynard exhibition.” I didn’t bother to respond to her dig at my appearance. I’d been in a car accident and escaped from a horde of bloodthirsty shifters. I knew I wasn’t exactly powder-fresh.

  “What happened to the other intern ... what was his name? Damien?” She licked her lips. “He was gorgeous.”

  “I fired him. He proved too distracting to the cataloguing team.”

  “You get me instead,” Marcus gave her a manic smile. She nodded curtly, pulling her magazine back over her face. I handed Marcus a half-filled coffee cup. Not that he needed to be even more wired.

  The door slammed against the wall. The sound startled me, and I dropped my cup, spilling hot coffee down the front of my jeans. I grabbed a handful of towels and started mopping at the spill as Matthew stormed in the room. “You’re late,” he barked, puffing out his chest as he strode toward me. I could see his cheeks going red, a sure sign he was getting ready for a good dressing-down session.

  “Yes, I’m sorry about that,” I said, frantically rubbing at the inside seam of the jeans. I wish I’d thought to buy another pair of pants at the store. “I had an emergency at home. The cat, er … ate some poison and we had to rush her to the vet. Listen, Matthew, I need to tell you, I’ve lost my swipe card. I’m terribly sorry, but in all the madness this morning, my bag has gone missing. I’ll need the card to be deactivated immediately. It’s possible someone has stolen it, and–”

  “Yes,” he cut me off, “I know.”

  “How do you know?” My stomach churned. Had someone already broken in? I imagined Ryan’s paintings slashed to shreds, the canvas hanging in coloured ribbons from the broken frames. I was one dead curator.

  “Because it was returned early this morning,” he snapped. “And a mighty embarrassment it was, too.”

  I felt as if the air had been knocked out of me. “Who returned it?”

  His face still glowing red, Matthew walked back toward the door and gestured into the hall. A grey-haired man followed him into the room. He was so tall he had to duck to get under the edge of the door frame, but unlike most tall people, he didn’t appear awkward or out of place. His thin, commanding face and strong, broad shoulders dominated the room. He appeared perfectly at ease. He reeked of cologne, the cloying scent quickly filling the small room. Belinda coughed.

  I shifted from foot to foot, an uncomfortable feeling settling in my gut that had nothing to do with the fact I had yet to put underwear on or have my morning cheese croissant. Something in his gaze made my heart beat faster. His eyes, they were cold, cruel. I’d seen eyes like that before … gleaming up at me from the garden at Raynard Hall.

  They were the eyes of a wolf.

  Behind me, Marcus growled, low and steady. I realised I knew where I’d seen those eyes before. He was Isengrim. He was the wolf shifter who wanted to kill me, and he was standing right here, in my place of business, wearing a dapper suit and holding out his hand for me to shake.

  “What’s he doing here?” I demanded, ignoring the wolf’s hand hanging in the air.

  “That’s no tone to take with Mr Lucas. I’m surprised you don’t show a little more respect. It’s not every day a prominent art critic from Frieze magazine comes all the way down to Crookshollow to poke around our dinky gallery. Mr Lucas here is an avid collector of Raynard’s work, and he’s very enthusiastic to give our exhibit a prominent feature, although probably not now that you’ve treated him so rudely, James. Your job this morning is to show him around the gallery and the office, let him watch the exhibition being hung.”

  I swallowed hard. “I can’t. I’m sorry, Matthew. I’ve got to supervise the exhibit, and there’re a million calls to make–”

  “Nonsense. Your interns can handle all that. You!” He barked at Marcus, snapping his fingers impatiently. “What are you doing in here? You can’t be standing around guzzling my coffee! There’s far too much to do.”

  Marcus glanced from me to Isengrim, his ears growing out from his head, folding back into the triangular fox shape, moving upward toward the top of his skull. Luckily, Matthew was too busy glaring at me to notice. Panic started to well up inside me as I watched Marcus’s nose start to elongate. He isn’t going to change here, in front of my boss, is he? I had to get Matthew away from Marcus.

  “Of course, Matthew. Whatever you say. Marcus, Belinda here will show you to the storage room,” I said, pushing Marcus toward the door, turning his body so that his shifting face pointed toward the wall. “You don’t have to worry about anything, Matthew. I have everything under control, and of course I’ll take care of our guest.”

  Matthew glared at me one last time, then, after shaking hands with Mr Lucas and promising to meet with him later for lunch, stormed from the room.

  Belinda sighed, folded her magazine, and rose to her feet. “Come with me,” she told Marcus listlessly, her eyes mesmerised by Isengrim’s handsome face.

  “I’m going to stay with Alex,” Marcus snarled, stalking across the room to stand in front of me. He bared his teeth at Isengrim, who regarded him with an expression of wry amusement.

  “It’s fine, Marcus,” I said, although I felt anything but fine. “He won’t dare try anything in broad daylight, in a building filled with people, will he?”

  The wolf gave a sly smile. Great.

  Marcus stared at me, his face flashing with anger. Then he turned on his heel and followed Belinda from the room. I thanked the gods that clueless Belinda hadn’t yet noticed that Marcus had sprouted some very unusual ears, or the beginnings of a bushy tail poking up from beneath the belt on his trousers.

  I was now alone with the wolf, which was exactly what he wanted. I gulped hard, and extended a hand to the door. “If you’ll follow me,” I mumbled to Isengrim, plastering a fake smile on my face. “I’ll find a room that’s a little more private. We have much to discuss.”

  “I’d be delighted.”

  I led him into one of our meeting rooms, which had a wall of glass facing onto the busy office space. At least in here he couldn’t try to rip my throat out without someone seeing him. I gestured for Isengrim to take a seat. He closed the door behind him, the lock clicking in place with a violent echo. I fumbled with the coffee machine. My hands shook violently.

  “How do you take your coffee, Mr Lucas, was it? As in, the Latin word for wolf.”

  “I see you have seen through my tawdry facade, Miss Kline. I’ll have mine black. Please, let us begin.”

  I set down two cups of black coffee on the table. He slithered into one of the leather chairs and stared at me with those menacing eyes. “Marcus has been a loyal follower of mine for several years now. And yet, in one night you have turned him against me. I’m interested to know how you did it.”

  I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. It wouldn’t do him to know how fast my heart was pounding against my chest. “I made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.”

  “Careful, Miss Kline. If you lie with dogs, you end up with fleas.”

  “I have worse problems than fleas right now, Mr Lucas.”

  “I presume you know why I’m here,” he said, picking up his cup and taking a long swig. I touched my own cup to my lips, the hot water burning my tongue.

  I nodded. “You don’t want Ryan’s exhibition to go ahead. And you’re here to kill me to ensure it doesn’t go ahead.”

  His cruel eyes danced. “I’m surprised Ryan has me so completely wrong. No, I want the exhibition to go ahead. In fact, I welcome it. All the media attention on Ryan’s work plays nicely on my plans.”

  “Then why are you
here? Why are you stalking Ryan and trying to kill me–”

  “I’m not trying to kill you. Not yet, at least.”

  “You sent your shifters to my house. You followed my car and nearly ran us off the road. You chased me through the forest and attacked me. And you tried to stop me leaving the house this morning.”

  “I am sorry about all that. We didn’t know what you were until Ryan mated with you. Originally, we thought killing you might help us get to Ryan. But now that we know who you are, you are far more valuable to us alive. That’s why we chased you this morning, and why I came here to see you – we didn’t want to let you out of our sight. And as for breaking into your house, that was Marcus’s idea,” he frowned. “He thought he might be able to talk you into joining us. An ill-conceived move, I realise. I should know better than to listen to a mutt.”

  “He didn’t exactly do much talking.” I realised, as I said it, that Isengrim must not realise that Marcus had planned to take Ryan’s ring and claim me for his own. Maybe Marcus was cleverer than I thought.

  “No, he didn’t. Although Ryan showing up did rather destroy his chance of making our case to you. So here I am, Miss Kline, to present you with an offer; one you cannot refuse."

  "I'm assuming this offer includes some kind of sacrifice on my part."

  "Oh, it's hardly a sacrifice. I am inviting you to join my pack.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Hear me out. You may change your mind.”

  I folded my arms. “I doubt it. But entertain me.”

  He sniffed the air in a vulgar way. “I detect that you have a little love bite … on your neck, perhaps? Or somewhere a little more … private.”

  I rubbed the cashmere neck on my sweater, feeling the bite pulse beneath my fingers. How does he know?

  My face must have betrayed my question, for Isengrim smiled. “The bite is a symbol of a mating pair, Miss Kline. Ryan has claimed you as his own. As soon as you and Ryan were linked, the news of your bloodline passed through the call, and one of my foxes passed the information to me. You carry the Fauntelroy genes, and that makes you one of the most powerful pawns in my game. I suspect you know this, and that is what you used to lure Marcus away.”

  “I don’t understand what my genetics have to do with you.”

  “With the promise of Faunteloy blood, many of the oldest vulpine clans would happily bow to my power. With their foxes swelling my ranks, we’d soon have strong enough numbers to control all of Crookshollow, maybe even the entire nation. With Fauntelroy pups in the pack to raise in my image, I’ll finally be able to show the world that it’s not genetics that determine your fate, but your hunger for power.”

  “You want to … breed from me?” My stomach churned.

  He shrugged. “Isn’t that the core, primal urge that unites us all? Wolf or lycanthrope, fox or deer or horse or human. It’s not as despicable as you make it sound, Alex. I bet you enjoyed your little foray on the wild side.”

  I felt a flush creep up my neck as a memory from the previous night flashed across my vision. Isengrim sniggered.

  “I thought so. Now, I can’t promise all my vulpines have the skill or stamina of Ryan, but part of the enjoyment of being a vixen is taking many and varied lovers. Ryan would have to be your dominant, of course – after all, he has claimed you. But I have many vulpines in my pack who would love to be subordinate to Ryan. And, as you could imagine, Fauntelroy and Raynard genes would produce some remarkable pups. You, Miss Kline, would be a queen, the prime vixen of my entire pack, held up on a pedestal for all to admire. All the shifters in the world would worship at your feet. Anything you desired, you would be given, if you and Ryan join with us.”

  “You’re a fool if you think the prospect of being whored out to your pack of mutts and miscreants would convince me to join you.” My chest tightened as I spoke. The insult made Isengrim’s face flush with rage. There I went again, channelling my fear into righteous anger. Why can’t I just keep my mouth shut?

  “I wouldn’t test my patience, if I were you.” He tapped his fingernails against the table, and I saw his hand flicker, then transform into a grey paw, with long, curved claws that clattered against the wood. Click. Clack. A moment later his hand was normal again.

  While he was talking, I decided to try to find out as much as I could about his plans. I changed tactic. “Say I was to join up with your pack. Would I, as a vixen, not be subordinate to your lycanthrope mate?”

  “I don’t have a mate. There are very few lycanthropes living in England, and we tend to inhabit remote places, far from humans. No, I am building a new pack hierarchy, based on different species all working together, all offering something of value.”

  “Why are you creating a pack of different shifters, anyway? Shouldn’t wolf stick to wolf, fox to fox, etcetera?”

  “You have arrived at the crux of my great plan.” He folded his hands across the table. ”For thousands of years, the different shifter species have been divided, scrapping over smaller and smaller territories as the human race expanded unchecked across the globe.” He spat the words human race, as if they were poison on his tongue. “Divided, we are weak, easy prey for hunters and poachers. But united, shifters are strong, and it is time we took our rightful place as rulers of the world. Our numbers are growing, Miss Kline, and a high-profile event like Ryan’s exhibition is just what we need to unite all the shifters and make our presence known to the world.”

  “That seems an overly idealistic worldview for a murdering psychopath.”

  He smiled. “All revolutions begin in blood, Miss Kline. I’m under no misapprehension about my role – in all likelihood, I will not live to see the utopia I desire to create. My role is to stain the forest red, to lead the war that will determine the future of shifters and humans.”

  His words turned me cold. Isengrim was just another pawn. He wasn’t the mastermind behind this upcoming attack. There was still someone, or something, above him, pulling the strings. When I looked at the wild bloodlust in his eyes, I knew he hadn’t realised what he’d just revealed, and that I should keep that information to myself for now.

  Instead, I picked a different tack. “I’ve been loyal to the human race for my entire life. I’m not just going to suddenly wish their annihilation because you promise me some fairy-princess dream.”

  “Perhaps. But you must think on my proposal carefully, Miss Kline. Whether you join me or not, the time is nearing where the existence of shifters will be revealed to the world, and trust me when I say it will not go well for humans. We have lived too long in the shadows, for us to take a lenient view on humans, or on the shifters who sympathise with them. Our homes have been stripped by deforestation and our numbers decimated for sport. We have been made ridiculous through horror films and fetishized in romance books. We owe no kindness to humankind. If you don’t join us, then in my mind you are against us, and you are too powerful a figure to be allowed to live. If you both refuse me, Ryan dies, and you die, and that lovely flatmate of yours dies, and everyone you love and care for dies, too.”

  “You speak as if you have already won this battle, as if humans won’t simply storm into the forest with guns blazing and ferret out each and every one of you. They’re already planning some serious extermination after all your attacks.”

  “Don’t make the mistake of underestimating me,” Isengrim growled. “I’m not going to sit here and reveal all my plans to you.”

  “Oh, really?” I smirked. “I thought you’d gone all cartoon supervillain on me. This whole conversation is one great hulking cliché.”

  “Snigger all you want, Miss Kline, but I know how precarious your position really is. The question is, do you?” Isengrim’s claws rapped against the table again. “Ryan Raynard is not a pureblood. His mother was a human. A witch of considerable power, I understand, but a human all the same. His hold over this territory is not as strong as he likes to believe. In time, we will break through his defences, and his end will be b
loody and violent. But you could convince him to come over to my cause, to dedicate his wealth and his life to furthering the cause of shifters all over the world, and I would welcome you both with open arms as one of my prime mating pairs.“

  “I’m not his mate.” I squeezed my eyes shut, so that Isengrim would not be able to see the pain within them. “I have no power over him.”

  “That mark on your neck suggests otherwise. You have been claimed, Alex. Whatever has sent you running from Raynard Hall, it is inconsequential. You are to be Ryan Raynard’s mate.”

  “I cannot help you.”

  He shrugged. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “I’m not afraid of you.” A lie, and a pitiful one at that. The corners of his eyes crinkled up, his face erupting in silent laughter.

  He stood, “Thank you for the coffee, Alex Kline. I will be seeing you again, soon. All the best with the exhibition.”

  “Bite me.”

  The juvenile response came out a lot more forcefully than I felt. Isengrim turned the lock, flung open the door and strolled down the hall, his laughter echoing throughout the lofty Halt offices. I sank down into my chair, waiting for my heart to return to normal. I’d just told a werewolf to bite me, and I suspected he planned to take me literally.

  4

  I exited the meeting room, and found Marcus in the hall outside. He clamped his fingers around my arm, his nails digging in to my skin. “Get me out of there,” he snarled, his breath hot on my ear.

  “Excuse me?”

  He jabbed his finger toward the cataloguing room. “They have me trapped in there and they won’t stop giggling. Please, there must be some other insipid task I can do around here.”

  I snorted. “I’ve just been interrogated by a psychotic wolf, and you’re complaining about being locked in a room with two college girls?”

  “Their voices are extremely high-pitched.” he snarled. “When they laugh, and they laugh at everything, it sounds like a pigeon being strangled.” He lowered his voice, “What did Isengrim say? Did he mention me?”