Vixen (The Fox and Hound Book 1)

by Catherine Labadie

  “Tell me about it,” I mutter, the faces of my friends, the principal, and even my brothers filling my mind. Duncan frowns, a look similar to the scowl I saw when he noticed Lyle tucking my hair back, and I know who he’s picturing.

  “Maybe we should just come out with it…what’s the worst that could happen?” he says next. I shudder.

  “Only that we’re both arrested or assassinated in the streets under the feet of an angry mob.” My ears arch down, and my tail sweeps the wall behind me. “That’s why I called off lunch…even if we manage to avoid raising suspicion, there are too many variables. Lyle and Aaden might attack each other in two seconds flat.”

  “But how do you know that for sure?” Duncan asks.

  “What?”

  “How do you know that for sure?” he repeats, cocking his head to the left in a very adorable way. I can’t resist; I take his hand as I answer.

  “You know how we are…there’s literally going to be a vote on whether or not half-breeds have basic human rights.” I wonder at his optimism, watching his face as a muscle twitches near his mouth; I think both of us have decided being late is worth this conversation. “Do you really think humans are going to settle and let a half-breed girl and a human boy date?”

  “Suppose I reveal myself?” he asks, squinting in concentration. He’s serious.

  “And cause mass panic and end up a figure on a government experiment chart? I don’t think so, at least not until we have more facts,” I say. “Besides...not to be selfish or anything, but I’m unbiased enough to admit that it wouldn’t just be humans in the mob. The half-breeds would be furious: I’d be a traitor for dating you, and probably get my whole family in a lot of trouble.”

  Duncan huffs with frustration; his eyes have turned

  brown now, which oddly makes me notice how much stubble he has on his face. I reach up to touch it, half-expecting him to pull away, but he rubs his face against my palm, successfully melting the tension in the air. Well, one kind of tension, anyway.

  “I don’t see how our relationship should be anyone else’s business. Even if it was an issue, two teenagers dating against the rules of our culture shouldn’t be a matter of national security,” he says, meeting my gaze and touching his warm lips to my palm. Distantly, I hear the bell ring for class.

  “It shouldn’t be. But it is, and I don’t want you hurt because we can’t handle the secrecy…and to be honest, I don’t want a scarlet A painted on my chest either.”

  Impulsively, I stand on my tiptoes and kiss my boyfriend on the cheek; we’re close enough for me to hear his heart accelerate, if I cared to listen…which I do.

  “Fine,” he gives in right away. “No lunch. I can handle watching lion boy flirt with you all day if I get more of your time than he does.”

  Evenings…Tuesday evening…Hayley. My thoughts ricochet off random memories, and I remember I have to tell him about my plan to get my family on my side tomorrow. I have to tell him I told Hayley about us in the first place, and that she’s the only one I’ve spilled Duncan’s furry little secret to.

  “I have something to tell you…” I begin reluctantly, my tail still swishing back and forth nervously. Duncan’s momentarily dreamy expression—which made me

  really want to know what he was thinking as he looked

  at me with glazed eyes—snaps back into focus.

  “What is it?” he asks. I open my mouth to tell him, but he stops me by placing his index finger over my lips.

  “Hm?” I query; his eyes glimmer bright green now, staring at my lips. His expression and features suddenly look like he’s a hound on the hunt that I freeze up. However, one thing I’m sure of is that I like this side of him already, even if the pounding of my heart is a sign of danger. The good kind of danger.

  “Tell me later,” he says in a low voice. “I haven’t seen you all day, and I think I—” he doesn’t finish this thought. My eyes partially close, and I realize I expect to be kissed. I’ve never been kissed before, so maybe it’s some human instinct kicking in at the last minute.

  “Yes?” I prompt, breathless. His face is so close to mine, and I hold my breath as his warm fingertips brush feather-light over my jaw line and the pulse in my neck. I look up at him, willing him to go for it and kiss me, and his eyes burn so warm that my lips part in anticipation…

  He pulls away, breaking us apart with a few inches space; he had me pressed back against the wall with his body aligned with mine. We hadn’t been touching,

  but it still felt like we’d been in a very intimate position.

  “You told me not to say it yet, S,” he murmurs. The inviting lips I’d been focused on curve into a familiar smirk. My heart trips in annoyance—I dislike being made fun of, a weakness my brothers often exploited—and I’m briefly tempted to push him away.

  “I did say that,” I admit ruefully; my mind hadn’t been on certain declarations, but now I realize he must tie kissing and love together pretty strongly. Somehow,

  even though I was denied my first kiss by a boy I’m very

  attracted and attached to, it makes me happy to know that Duncan is still careful about taking advantage of me. Even in something seemingly insignificant.

  “I was just going to say I think we’re late to class.” Duncan proves his lie by laughing. I can’t help but grin as I punch him in the arm.

  “Aren’t you a high school boy? I think it’s your job not to care about being late or missing class,” I say. He shrugs, opening his mouth to speak again, but then he stiffens. My hackles lift, and my nose twitches as I catch the scent of a human approaching from downstairs.

  Before I can think beyond we’re in trouble, Duncan has seized my arm, opened the doors leading to the main hallway, and shoved me through. He’s so quick I believe his canine senses activated by instinct, and for a moment I stand speechless as I stare at the solid steel fixtures of the doors dividing us. What…?

  Duncan peers at me through the small pane of glass near the center of the door, his eyes dark brown; it’s only a moment, but he waves for me to go as we hear the steps of the person coming up the stairs.

  “What are you doing here?” I hear the voice of an older woman as she reaches the top of the landing and sees Duncan.

  “I’m skipping class, ma’am,” Duncan says in a comically matter-of-fact fashion.

  “Is that so?” the woman says in a stern voice.

  “That’s right,” he replies. Duncan clearly got in trouble so I wouldn’t, and I’m grateful his quick action kept us from being seen together. I’m a bit peeved that he had to be the one to get in trouble, and part of

  me wants to march in there to keep him from taking all the blame, but that wouldn’t be wise.

  He’s a human, so the worst that would happen is that he’ll be sent back to class or to the principal’s office, I tell myself as I muster the will to head back to class. A late is better than a skip, after all, and I resolve to make it up to my boyfriend—be still, my heart—later.

  I don’t know when later will be, especially since Eisen has his little decree hanging over my head, but at least Tuesday—tomorrow! Crap!

  I missed my chance to tell Duncan about Hayley’s infamous plot to get him in with my family.

  z

  I’m not quite sure how I lost total control of my Monday evening. The afternoon slipped away from

  me, true; my teacher didn’t expect an excuse for my lateness, but my classmates did, and I had to say I’d felt sick. A lame excuse, but I was worried about Duncan, and incapable of coming up with something better.

  Lyle backed off somewhat, perhaps realizing he spooked me by touching my hair earlier, and Morgan and Shelby swarmed and expected a bunch of girl talk during class when I wasn’t paying attention. When I wasn’t worrying about Duncan—that mostly stopped

  when I saw him back in classes by next period—or going on autopilot during conversations with my two friends, I continued to ponder Femi’s words about boys. “Just be c
areful, Sierra. Boys think with their dicks,” she’d said. I wondered which boy she’d been concerned about, and why she’d felt the need to pass on the vague warning. What did she know?

  “Sierra, do you think I could come over after school today?” Morgan asked me out of the blue as we lounged near the soccer field during lunch. I’d wanted to ask Femi and Hasida to join us, but I couldn’t find them before Morgan accosted me in the hall. At least I’m well accepted, I’d restrained myself from grumbling as I munched on some blackberry tart.

  “I’m not sure,” I’d said, chagrined to admit that I didn’t want Morgan’s unstable friendliness any closer to me than it had to be. “I might have a family thing tonight…my brother Wade isn’t working the hours he used to, so I’ll have to go home and make dinner.”

  “Oh, okay,” she’d replied, and I made the mistake of looking up into her sweet doe eyes.

  “Maybe for an hour though, if you don’t mind watching me cook?” I caved too easily, and I should’ve known then by the way her face lit up that this wasn’t the best idea.

  Wade came to pick me up from school today, and I courteously gave Morgan the front seat. If all else fails, I am a wonderful hostess. As I’m thinking about how I’m not going to call Duncan until later tonight—I can’t tell him the dinner plan over SMARTtext—I try to drown out Morgan’s happy chatter with Wade about various sports teams I don’t care about.

  I didn’t even know Wade knew how to talk to girls, I grumble internally as Morgan releases a high-pitched laugh. Still, he’s dating Emilee, so that has to count for something.

  Finally we reach my house, and I manage to take Wade aside to tell him to stay away from the kitchen if he knows what’s good for him.

  Now I assemble the ingredients for a simple taco casserole in a large plastic bowl, listening to Morgan’s idle chatter as she perches on our biggest kitchen chair. Two icy peach lemonades condensate on the table, but she’s already sipped the foam off of hers, and I could tell she liked it.

  “How have Femi and Hasida been recovering from the festivities at their house?” I ask, tactfully interrupting a soliloquy about a hot actor who starred in the latest teen film craze.

  Morgan shrugs, continuing without missing a beat. “Their parents were okay with the party, and Femi and Hasida are usually good with keeping any alcohol consumption hidden. I assume they had a cleaning crew come through afterwards since they can afford it.”

  “That’s convenient,” I reply, picturing the sisters picking up trash in an empty house; I can’t imagine why parents would knowingly sanction a party where teenagers might get wasted and have premarital sex, but the Reis family has always been eccentric to my memory.

  “And how have you…recovered?” Morgan asks in a timid voice; I decide not to face her as I grate a block of spicy cheese for the casserole.

  “I’m fine. I wasn’t there long, so there wasn’t much to recover from. Everything worked out in the end,” I say. Too true…I snuck out with Duncan and my life got a whole lot better. I can’t explain my feelings yet, but I know they’re worth all the trouble we’re going to go through.

  Morgan sips her peach lemonade; I hear her delicate slurps and her appreciative hum. “How are you and Lyle doing?”

  “We’re good,” I say too quickly, and too vaguely. “I mean…there’s nothing to report. Lyle and I are friends, and the dancing was fun. It was great until I had to leave.”

  “So what happened to giving him a chance after all?” Morgan asks; instead of sounding annoyed with me, her voice sounds hopeful. “I think he remembers how things stood between you differently.”

  “Did he say that?” I ask, dumping the contents of my bowl into a glass cookware pan and sliding it into the oven; the heat smacks my face, perhaps reminding me to be kind.

  “Gosh, Sierra, I understood you not wanting to see the signs at first, but it’s silly that you’re ignoring his

  major crush on you at this point,” Morgan groans theatrically, rolling her eyes.

  “I’m not ignoring the signs,” I say carefully, “but I don’t want to make him feel something I don’t return.” Now that dinner is in the oven, I take a seat at the table with Morgan and sample my own glass of cold lemonade.

  “Didn’t work out, huh?” she says after a long moment when both of us are silent. I sense a feeling

  from her I can’t quite define, although the hopeful feeling is tinged with a sour scent I can only call jealousy.

  “No,” I speak firmly, wanting this dealt with once and for all. “And I don’t know what’s between you two or what happened in the past, Mae, but if you have a crush on him you need to go for it. Regardless of how he feels about me, we don’t run in the same leagues.” I sound like a snob, but better that than I make an enemy or hurt a friend.

  Trying to force an attraction to Lyle was the dumbest idea you’ve had all year, my subconscious cheerfully informs me, and I take another swallow of my drink to keep from growling.

  “I told you, Sierra, that wasn’t going to work out…especially not when he’s head over heels crazy about you,” she replies too quietly, her eyes fixed on my face in doubt.

  “Crazy or not, that will go away in time if I don’t return his feelings. For frick’s sake, we’ve only known each other for a week or so, it’s not like we’ve bonded over soulful discussions,” I assure her, wondering why it’s taking me so much effort to explain my lack of

  attraction to the mountain lion boy. “He’ll be over me in a week, and if you play your cards right, he can fall into your arms for ‘consolation’ and maybe notice how you’re the one he’s wanted all along!”

  In response to this wisdom, Morgan continues to stare at me with something like wonder mixed with confusion. “How can you not like him?” she asks.

  “It’s easy…you’re my friend, you like like him, and since I’m not interested, it doesn’t make sense for me

  to hold on to something that won’t happen,” I say. “I try to be fair when I can, and setting you and Lyle up is as fair to you as it is to me.”

  “Then you really don’t mind?” Morgan cocks her head to the left, which is a comical look with her majestic antlers.

  “Not at all,” I admit sincerely.

  She sighs, and we both sip our drinks in the quiet. I feel awkward having this conversation, but I’m relieved it’s out of the way. Shelby will be upset she missed it, but I for one am glad her enthusiastic protests have been absent from this scene.

  Morgan’s SMARTcall rings shrilly; she fumbles in her pocket to answer the device. Her greeting for the person at the other end is chipper, and I glance at the clock on the outside of her battered device. Exactly four o’clock…how convenient.

  “It’s Shelby,” Morgan says, tilting the speaker away from her mouth to talk to me. “We had sleepover plans of some kind, and her Mom is ready to pick me up now.”

  “Sure, go ahead,” I say, since she’s acting like she’s asking for permission. “I have to catch up on some stuff around here, but I hope you have fun.”

  I sit in awkward silence as she chats with Shelby over the phone, and I feel I served my purpose by getting out of her path to Lyle’s heart. Morgan smiles at me, and I choose to believe she’s grateful. Honestly, I thought she was very sweet when I met her, and her virtuous expressions haven’t entirely dispelled that impression. When it looked like it would be best for Lyle and for you, she did back off and encourage you to go

  to the party as dates, I remind myself to dispel my annoyance.

  Still, me and my subconscious both know that Morgan’s not as sweet as she wants me to think; I am a fox, and I can read people well when I try.

  After Shelby and her mother pick up Morgan, I continue to ponder events as I clean the two empty glasses we left on the table. Now that I’ve rescinded any and all claims to Lyle, I hope Morgan will go back to being how she was when we met: fun, sugary, and not prone to think too deeply or pry too much into my personal life. This is why I don�
��t have many girlfriends, I muse.

  “You seem tense,” Wade grumbles as he pads into the kitchen barefoot; this is usually a little harder for him, since the fur on his feet can be slippery on our clean but stained linoleum floor.

  “You think?” I sigh, knowing he can sense my anxiety from across the room. “Don’t worry: I’m taking my frustration out on the lemonade glasses instead of on people.”

  “I could tell you didn’t like your guest from the minute she got in the car,” Wade acknowledges as he

  sets something down on the kitchen table with a thud and shuffles to the fridge. “What did she do to piss you off?”

  I rinse the glasses and set them on the towel beside our tiny metal sink to dry. “She thinks I like someone she has a crush on, and I don’t.”

  “Bet she’s still psycho about it, right? Girls…let one guy get between you, and best friends become mortal enemies,” Wade chortles as he removes a container of

  horseradish from a shelf in the back.

  “We aren’t best friends, but yeah I—” I pause, noticing Wade’s white-bagged prize on our wobbly table. “What’s in the bag?”

  Wade avoids facing me; his ears droop as he stares determinedly into the fridge. “A sandwich…or two.”

  “I just put dinner in the oven!” I protest, my hands automatically resting on my hips.

  “Mrs. Chirza invited me over for dinner,” my brother grunts, abandoning his sanctuary by the fridge and approaching the table. “I know she and Emilee don’t have much to spare…and I don’t want to eat them out of house and home…so I have to scarf these down and leave in about ten minutes.”

  “My my,” I say, my anger evaporating. “You’re turning out to be a sweetie after all.” Wade isn’t a boor, but sometimes he can be inconsiderate. His showing respect to Emilee is endearing.

  “Don’t count on this being a trend,” Wade looks up at me, embarrassed but pleased at my praise.