Crookshollow foxes box set: The complete fox shapeshifter romance series

by Steffanie Holmes

  I reached up, and dragged my fingers across his chest, leaving jagged lines of red and black paint behind. His skin seemed to throb under my touch, our bodies pulsing together with the energy of the forest world we’d created.

  I drew dark patterns across Ryan’s chest, my fingers exploring every inch of his glorious body. His skin felt so smooth, so warm, his muscles heavy and firm. I felt so safe just being near him.

  “You are beautiful,” he said, simply.

  He bent between my legs, running his fingers across my stomach, as his lips touched my wetness. As his warm tongue connected with my mound, a wave of heat, like an energy surge, flowed through my body. Through heavy-lidded eyes, I watched leaves fall like rain from above us, tumbling in meandering paths through the air before settling across my stomach. Leaves fell in Ryan’s hair as his tongue traced a meandering path through my warm folds. His tongue found my clit, and he circled it slowly, teasing out the pleasure as he pumped that warm energy into my most sensitive spot. As he lapped at me, he reached up with his fingers, and scraped his nails down my thighs, dragging lines of paint across my bare skin.

  My body felt disjointed, as if I were no longer flesh and bone, but only white hot energy, a glowing orb of ecstasy that rolled and arched across the bed. My hands reached down and grasped Ryan’s hair, moving with him as he licked at me.

  He pulled my clit into his mouth and sucked gently, his tongue pressed against the hood. It was too much. The energy swirled and swelled, and the warmth in my body grew hotter. A fire burst forth from between my legs, engulfing my body in flames. My limbs burned up, my breasts throbbed, my face scorched with red hot fire.

  Somewhere in the distance, someone was screaming, wild with passion. It took me a moment to realise it was me.

  The light of the sun brought me back again. A gentle breeze blew through the forest, and, little by little, it cooled the heat in my limbs. My vision returned, bringing with it the face of my lover, my love, who lay beside me, his eyes alight with joy.

  “This is magic,” I wheezed, struggling to speak.

  Ryan laughed, kissing a line across my neck. “This is love.”

  Love. The word burned into my brain, bright and blazing like a fireworks display. He flipped me over onto my front, his hands caressing my sizzling skin, making large circles over my back, down my thighs, over the backs of my legs. He took his time, lingering over my body, his touch sending bursts of energy through me.

  He gripped my thighs with his strong hands, and pulled my hips up in the air, thrusting his cock deep into my wetness. I gasped as he entered me, and his energy became one with mine, and together we became a shining ball of light, a complete unit, a singularity.

  Ryan began to move within me, pushing himself deeper inside me with every thrust. He moved his hands up my torso, finding my breasts and tugging and teasing my hard nipples. I moaned as I felt him move inside me, his enormous cock sliding between my folds, rubbing me in all my most intimate places.

  He pulled me up on to my knees, leaning my back against his hard chest, our skin melding together, melting under the heat of our passion. His lips found my neck, and he bit down, the pain arcing through me, feeding the energy in my body, so the light within me pulsed and quickened.

  I pushed my buttocks back against him, my ass slapping against his thighs with every thrust. He bit deeper, his teeth sinking into my soft skin, clamping me tight to him. I reached up with my own hands, and wound them through his soft hair, pushing his head against mine, revelling in the completeness of his embrace.

  Faster and faster he pumped against me, with each thrust l tightened around him, my body begging him to fill me completely. His closeness became too much, and it felt as if he wasn’t just filling me with his cock, but sinking into me, becoming part of me. The ecstasy of it overwhelmed me, pushing out from my core, the orgasm sweeping over my body like a great tempest crashing against the rocks during a storm. I wept as he held me close to him, my body convulsing with uncontrollable pleasure.

  Ryan’s lips tightened around the bite, and he dug his fingers into my thighs, pulling me back against his hard shaft. He growled between his teeth as his own orgasm claimed him, his cock growing stiffer inside me as he pumped his seed deep within me. A new kind of warmth spread through my body, not the red heat of our passion, but a tender flame of something more… something lasting.

  When he was completely spent, Ryan released my neck and collapsed against me. We fell together against the bed, our bodies crunching against the falling leaves that littered the sheets. As we lay there, our limbs tangled together, our mouths searching for solace in each other, the forest faded away, and we were once again lying in my bedroom, the familiar artwork on the walls glowing with newfound colour, as if the light inside had changed, become deeper, richer.

  “What did we just do?” I whispered.

  He stroked my cheek, his brown eyes dancing. He pulled up my left hand, and in a swift motion, dropped his signet ring on to my finger. “I guess … we just mated.”

  9

  Eventually, the pull of our mission drove us out of bed. I found some clean clothes and brushed my hair. Ryan shifted into fox form and did a perimeter sweep of the property, checking for any sign of Isengrim or his pack. After he had shifted back to human form and dressed himself, we all sat down in the living room and bickered over the plan.

  I wanted more time to talk to him about what had just happened. We hadn't used protection. What exactly did he mean by "mating"? Am I going to have a baby? Why does this idea not immediately fill me with dread? But we had more pressing matters to attend to.

  Ryan’s plan was that Miss Havisham would take him to the cemetery, while the rest of us returned to the safety of Raynard Hall. But Melissa insisted on going with him. “I know Isengrim better than any of you,” she said, casting her piercing emerald eyes around us, daring one of us to protest. “If there’s anyone who can figure out what he’s up to, it’s me.”

  Of course, if Melissa was going, I had to go too. There was no way I’d let her be alone with my mate on a dangerous mission. Ryan tried to protest, but he must have seen the determination in my eyes, because he backed down.

  “If you’re there, I can watch over you,” he said. “Who knows what crazy stunt you’ll pull if I let you off on your own again.”

  “If Alex is going, I’m going too,” said Kylie, hugging her Therianthropy book to her chest.

  “Are you sure that’s such a good idea, dear?” Miss Havisham asked sweetly.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It’s just that you’re not exactly the most reliable person to have around.”

  Kylie’s face turned red. “I liked you much better when you were dissecting mice on the rug.”

  Ryan sighed, then turned to Miss Havisham. “What do you think? Will you be able to find a hiding place for all of us at the cemetery?”

  “I can hide you, but that’s not going to help. Isengrim is going to smell you all before you even get out of the car.”

  Ryan waved away her comment. “Don’t worry about that. I’ve found a way to disguise our scents.”

  “So can we go?” Kylie asked Ryan. He looked to Miss Havisham, who shrugged.

  “If they want to throw their lives away, it’s of no concern to me.” Miss Havisham yawned. “I have nine of them.”

  Ryan threw up his hands in exasperation. “Fine! But you have to do exactly as we say. And you should bring along your weapons.”

  The phone in the hall rang angrily, bringing the discussion to an end. I left it to go to the answer machine. It was Matthew. “James, where are you, dammit! The hanging is a complete disaster, and I’ve got the Times on the phone needing a file and Taylor is in my ear about the guest list and the caterer wants to know what fucking type of fish to put in the canapés. If you don’t get over here right now—”

  Kylie stared at me, her eyes wide with concern. I crossed the room and pressed delete, my stomach churning. By now, I wa
s probably out of a job, but I’d rather have no job than no neck, which was the likelihood if I returned to Halt.

  Kylie and I packed some of our overnight things into the car (unlike me, Kylie planned to go to work in the morning), and I pulled on some black jeans and a black shirt, hoping to camouflage myself against the night. I thought about making a cat burglar joke to Miss Havisham, but decided against it.

  While Kylie was polishing her mace, I noticed Ryan slip one of my notebooks into his jacket pocket. I thought about calling him out on it, but decided not to. The memory of painting with him, of the magic we created, burned within me, sending a flicker of pulsing energy through me. Instead of filling me with dread, the thought of him studying my drawings actually excited me.

  We piled into Simon’s tiny car. Kylie was driving, (thank god!) with Miss Havisham in the passenger seat, her immaculately-manicured nails tapping impatiently on the dashboard as she stared out of the window with an expression of utter distaste. Ryan, Marcus, Melissa and I, along with an assortment of swords, Kylie’s mace, a heavy bag of crystals, and several occult books, were crowded into the backseat.

  “Get your smelly mutt armpits out of my face,” Melissa grumbled at Marcus. He snarled in retort, his face contorting with anger, elongating his nose into its fox shape.

  “Don’t be a bitch. He can’t exactly help it.” I said, trying to shift my weight so my elbow ended up in her side.

  “Ow!” She shrank away from me, brushing up against Marcus, who had still not transformed back into his human form. He snapped his teeth at Melissa’s ear. Ryan glared at him, and he snorted, pawing the seat. His snout retracted into its human form, then quickly flicked back.

  “Let’s just try not to kill each other before we get to the cemetery,” Ryan said, glancing pointedly between Melissa, Marcus and me. In the reflection in the rear-view mirror, I saw Miss Havisham smirk. Ryan leaned forward and tapped Kylie on the shoulder. “Head down there.”

  “But that’s not the way to–”

  “We’ve got to see Clara first.” Ryan said. Marcus stiffened, his tail flicking back and forth. I guessed he hadn’t seen his mother since she’d abandoned him … if that was even what happened. Ryan met my gaze, and I could tell from his face that he was nervous too.

  “She deserves to see him,” he whispered in my ear, his breath tickling my neck. “And he deserves an explanation. Plus, we need Clara’s help. Whatever Isengrim has in mind, it’s some seriously dark magic.”

  We pulled up outside the familiar cottage, the front walk lined with fairy lights and whimsical statues. Ryan stalked up the path and rang the bell. Clara flung open the door, wearing a long black nightgown and holding an old ginger cat over her shoulder.

  “What time do you call this? Getting an old woman out of bed!” Clara’s face broke into a smile when she saw her son. “I’ve been worried about you. I’ve been scrying for you every night, but all the shifters in the area are making it hard to focus on your aura ... hello, Alex, dear.” She patted me on the shoulder.

  “I’ve been worried about you,” Ryan stooped down so she could embrace him. The ginger cat took one look at Miss Havisham standing behind me, hissed angrily, leapt off Clara’s shoulder and took off back into the house.

  Marcus leapt out of the car and stalked up the path. He crouched down beside me, his back arched and his tail raised in the air, the tip swishing back and forth. I placed my hand on the back of his neck, stroking his fur and trying to calm him. He drew his lips back and snarled. As Clara hugged Ryan, her eyes fell on Marcus, and her face broke into a joyful grin as she recognised him. She pulled away and rushed to her other son, wrapping her tiny arms around his furry body, not even being able to reach all the way around his heavy frame. He stopped snarling, his brown eyes registering only confusion. I knew he was wondering why she would embrace him if she had abandoned him so cruelly.

  “I have missed you so much,” she whispered in his ear.

  Marcus growled in return, but he did not push her away. When Clara finally pulled away, tears were falling down her cheeks. “Come inside,” she said, her voice wavering as she gazed up at her other son. “I’ll make you all some tea.”

  “We’re actually in kind of a hurry–” Kylie began, but Melissa pushed past her, sweeping into Clara’s home. Ryan shrugged, then gestured for the rest of us to follow.

  Once we were all seated around Clara’s dining table, with warm cups of tea sitting in front of each of us, (except for Miss Havisham, who’d asked for a cup of fresh cream and was now sporting a rather fine milk moustache.) Ryan began to fill her in on what had happened.

  Clara sat beside Marcus, her hand stroking his leg. “You’ve been hurt,” she cooed, touching the edge of his bandages.

  “Isengrim’s doing,” said Ryan.

  Marcus howled, his voice filled with pain. As I watched, his face stretched and smushed, the fur retracting back into his skin, his nose shrinking and flattening, becoming human. Even though I’d seen Ryan change several times already, it was still a fascinating thing to see. Marcus’s ears moved down his face, the points rounding off and the fur covering them disappearing. His fingers elongated, his arms and shoulders filled out with muscle. He collapsed forward, crying out with pain as his bandages tore away and he slumped forward, collapsing against the edge of the table. Clara leaned over in her chair, pulled a blanket from a nearby stool, and wrapped it around his shoulders.

  “That was a stupid thing to do,” Kylie scolded him. “You’ve ripped your bandages.”

  In response, Marcus let out a low growl, his fingernails clawing at the surface of the table.

  “My son. My beautiful son. I never thought I’d see you again,” she said, reaching out to stroke his arm, as if unable to believe he was real. “I searched for you often, but you have always been invisible to me.”

  Marcus yanked his arm away. “That was your doing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You abandoned me when I was a baby.” Marcus hissed, his voice dripping with hatred. “You left me in the forest to die.”

  “Who told you that?” Clara’s face fell. “Marcus, that is a complete lie."

  "Why should I believe you?"

  "Listen to her, Marcus," Ryan said softly.

  Clara tried again. "I would never have left you. You were taken from me. After he accidentally killed your father, your grandfather was overcome with remorse for his act. He channelled all his pain at losing his son toward anger at me, for he believed that I had used magic to tempt my Alistair away from his true path in life. I had to keep you safe from him, so I took you both and left Crookshollow, but your grandfather was always just behind me. One night he snuck into our rooms in a squat in London. I had Ryan in the bed with me, because he was always such a terrible sleeper, but you were in the cot. He scooped you up in his teeth, and leapt out the window. I guess he didn’t realise there were two babies, or he might’ve tried to take Ryan, also.

  “I looked everywhere for you, but I was a poor, single mother with very few resources, and he was one of the richest vulpines in all of England. I had no way to track him down if he didn’t want to be found. So I did what I had to do – I laid low, and pieced my life back together for Ryan’s sake. I never stopped looking for you, but I had no idea how to begin.”

  Marcus looked completely stunned. It was the first time since I’d met him that his eyes did not carry some kind of wild, uncontrollable rage. “My grandfather took me? But that doesn’t explain why I was left in the forest …”

  Ryan stared at his brother, his brown eyes sad. “He probably realised you were a–” I held up my hand before Ryan could say the ‘m’ word. “–a difficult child to control. He was a hateful man – he had to be to kill his own son – and maybe he couldn’t deal with the idea of his grandson being anything less than perfect.”

  Marcus said nothing. He blinked rapidly, and I watched his eyes pool with tears. He turned away so I couldn’t see, his hands reaching over the
crocheted tablecloth, searching for comfort. I reached out to him, and he clasped my hand tightly, his fingers entwining with mine.

  “How can I trust you?” he choked out. “How can I believe you?”

  Clara smiled kindly. She reached up her hand, and pressed her fingers against Marcus’s temple, closing her eyes and murmuring something under her breath. Marcus’s eyes closed also, and his fingers tightened around my hand. We sat in silence, the only sound in the room the tick of the grandfather clock and the faint murmur of Clara’s invocation. I kept my eyes glued on Marcus’s face, watching the tears rain from his eyes, trickling unchecked over his cheeks and splattering on to the blanket. Finally, Clara pulled her hand away, and Marcus opened his eyes. He dropped my fingers, and reached across the table, this time clasping Clara’s hands in his.

  “Well, this is all very delightful, but I’m already bored.” Miss Havisham had finished her saucer, and she was now eyeing up the swinging pendulum of the grandfather clocks with a keen hunger.

  “Won’t you all stay here tonight?” Clara asked. “I would love to make you all dinner and hear more about what you’ve learned about Isengrim in the last few days.”

  “We can’t,” said Kylie. “We have to get to the witches graveyard. It looks like Isengrim is up to something there, and we need to find out what.”

  “Can you make us a charm that will disguise our scents?” Ryan asked.

  “Of course,” Clara dropped Marcus’s hand and moved to a cabinet on the far side of the room. Behind the high glass doors were shelves of glass jars and bottles, filled with all manner of dried herbs and oils. She pulled a mortar and pestle from a drawer and began to grind quantities of herbs together, humming to herself. In a few minutes, she held up a vial of oily liquid, containing a swirling mist of ground herbs.

  “If you drink from this, it will disguise your scent for around three hours,” she said. “Be careful to be well away from the cemetery by the time it wears off.” She handed the bottle to Ryan, and he took a long drag before passing it to me. I tossed my head back and took a long gulp. The potion tasted like olive oil mixed with dirt as it slid down my throat and into my stomach, leaving a trail of uncomfortable tingling behind it. I sniffed my armpit, but couldn’t smell anything different.