Crookshollow foxes box set: The complete fox shapeshifter romance series

by Steffanie Holmes

I cried out against his tongue as an orgasm swept over me, my body shuddering with waves of passion. The heat rose from my core and rushed upward, filling my head with fire. Red spots swam before my eyes.

  My release sent him over the edge, and he stiffened inside of me as he came too, thrusting sharply up inside me thrice more before, exhausted, he collapsed against me, his weight reassuring. He released my lips and laid his head against my shoulder, his breath coming out in short, sharp pants. I slid my feet back down to the floor, and nestled my head into his shoulder.

  “I missed you,” I whispered into his chest.

  “I missed you, too.” He stroked my hair. “I called to you every night. Did you not hear me?”

  “I had strange, vivid dreams, and I could hear your voice inside my head. You said that you loved–”

  “Pardon me,” A sultry voice said from over Ryan’s shoulder. “I’m just looking for a Bordeaux.”

  I whipped my head around. There was Melissa, no longer naked, but wearing skin-tight black jeans and a silk shirt that showed off her exquisite figure to perfection. Her elegant legs were crossed, one stiletto heel tapping against the rug. My face flushed with embarrassment and rage.

  Ryan did not loosen his embrace. “Over on the corner shelf.”

  “Thanks.” She slipped across the room, and took her time choosing a bottle from the top shelf. “As you were.”

  She sauntered back down the hall, leaving the cellar door wide open behind her. I could hear her chuckling as she moved deeper into the house. What a bitch.

  Ryan pulled a pair of jeans and a shirt from behind the bar. As he buttoned the shirt, he walked over to the shelf and inspected the shelf Melissa had just ransacked. “If it’s any consolation,” he said, “she took my most expensive bottle.”

  I smirked at that. “I would’ve done the same thing.”

  “We should see how Marcus is doing,” He helped me to lift my t-shirt over my head. I found the rest of my clothes – minus my underwear, again – and we exited the cellar to find the others.

  The room we’d left them in was empty, a large red stain on the couch the only clue they had been there. My stomach churned with fear as we moved through the house, following the murmur of low voices. We found them all huddled around the island in the vast kitchen. I was relieved to see Marcus awake and very much alive, still in his fox form, his sandy fur matted with dried blood. He lay on the counter, his bushy tail wagging brightly as he gorged himself on a bloody steak. A white bandage wrapped around his chest. He definitely looked more or less normal again. Simon was bent over the stove, stirring a pot of something hot and spicy and delicious-smelling. Kylie looked up at me as we entered, her smile telling me she knew exactly what we’d been doing.

  I slid into a chair at the island. “This can’t be hygienic,” I said to Marcus. He tilted his head to the side, staring at me with alert – but pain-filled – eyes. I smiled at him, and scratched him behind the ears. “I’m glad you’re OK.”

  “He’ll need to take it easy for the next few days,” said Kylie, stroking his back. “He was lucky. An inch lower and Isengrim would have done some serious damage.”

  Ryan stared at his brother, his face betraying nothing. Marcus stared back.

  Simon ladled some chilli into a bowl, and shoved it into my hands. “Sit down,” he said. “You’ve had quite an adventure so far. You need to eat.”

  I slid into the chair beside Kylie and started spooning chilli into my mouth. It burned my tongue, but I barely noticed. Kylie reached across the table and brushed my hand.

  “So … Melissa was in here just before,” she whispered. “You were right, Alex. She’s stunning. She looks like she should be in a shampoo commercial."

  I grunted, not stopping eating.

  “So who is she? What’s she doing here? Why did she say she was Ryan’s mate?”

  “Kylie, I–”

  “Oh, Simon, where do you keep the crystal glasses? I thought they were in the cabinet beside the smoker, but that seems to be empty now.” A familiar, sultry voice purred from inside the pantry. My whole body stiffened as Melissa entered the kitchen, her heels click-clacking against the tiles. She carried a wine glass in one hand, and, in the other, a package of meat. When she saw me, she smiled.

  “I see you managed to disentangle yourselves,” she said.

  “I wouldn’t direct any sort of comment toward me, if I were you.” I mumbled into my bowl.

  “Me-ow.” She poured herself an enormous glass of wine from the bottle she'd taken from the cellar, leaving a red mark on the rim from her lipstick. “You’d think you’d be a little more grateful, seeing as I helped save your life today.”

  “If you hadn’t lied to me, I never would have left the house in the first place, and I never would have been in danger. That’s your fault.”

  “Sorry,” she said, in a tone that implied she was anything but. “You know how it is sometimes, you say things you don’t mean. But don’t worry, sugar, I have no intention of stealing him from you. Ryan has made it very clear he absolutely cannot be swayed.” She looked pointedly across the table at Ryan, who glared back at her.

  “That's correct.” he said.

  “Then why are you still here?” I asked her.

  “I took a great risk, coming here to warn Ryan,” she said, perching on the corner of a barstool, and gulping back another mouthful of wine. “Isengrim knows I’ve left him. He’s always had it in for Ryan, ever since we first started dating. Now, Ryan can't let me out of his sights, or else Isengrim will come after me. Ryan is a very good protector ... you do know that Ryan and I used to be together, yes?”

  “The key words in that statement being ‘used to’,” Ryan added.

  “Yes,” I said through gritted teeth. “I know.”

  “Even when I was with Isengrim, I never could shake off my feelings for Ryan. It got to the old wolf. He’s developed quite a fixation with Ryan, actually. He seems to think that Ryan is the key to his whole revolution, even though he plans to get rid of him as soon as the exhibition is over. He can’t have another alpha in his pack. So now, Isengrim wants to kill me, and Ryan’s keeping me safe.”

  “Just until we can stop Isengrim,” said Ryan. “Then Melissa is leaving.”

  “Of course,” she gave him a syrupy smile.

  “And how are we going to stop this deranged wolf?” Kylie asked, her voice cutting through the tension. "Are we any closer to understanding what he's planning?"

  “Isengrim is here to perform some kind of spell,” Melissa said. “He hasn’t told the pack what it is, but it needs to happen in Crookshollow, and its purpose is to swell the numbers of his army and help him gain control over the area. According to him, there are only certain nights he can perform this spell, and one is coming up this week. If we stop him from performing that spell, we’ll be able to halt his progress until after the exhibition, when Ryan’s message has reached the wider shifter world.”

  “That’s why he showed up in front of the hotel.” Ryan explained to me. “He figures I know everything Melissa has seen and heard, and that we’re going to do everything we can to stop him. He’s getting desperate, and he wants you to use against me.”

  “He wants me, he doesn’t want me, he wants me again … the wolf changes his mind more than Kylie changes her hair colour.”

  “He’s a special man,” Melissa smirked, finishing her glass and pouring herself another. “Simon, be a dear and cook me one of those steaks, will you? All that exercise this morning has left me ravenous.”

  She pronounced the word ravenous as if it were the title of a porn film.

  “I’ve got some occult books,” said Kylie. “I can start looking for spells that might fit with Isengrim’s plans.”

  “I’ve been talking to Clara,” Ryan said. “She’s hunting through her tomes, as well. But she doesn’t know anything about dark magic, so it’s taking a while to find anything useful.”

  At the mention of his mother’s name, Marcus
’s head snapped up. He bared his teeth and growled at Ryan, who reached over and patted him behind the ears. Marcus gazed up at his brother, and some unspoken message seemed to flow between them. Without a word, Ryan got up and left the room, Marcus following slowly behind him. Simon had his back to us, turning meat at the stove, leaving us women alone at the island, Melissa staring daggers at me across the table.

  “So you came to warn Ryan?” I knew we had more important things to deal with, but I couldn’t help it. It was those legs, those bow-shaped lips, those emerald eyes. I didn’t like her being anywhere near him.

  She nodded. “I snuck away from the pack, scaled a wall, and waited until the sun rose. Then I climbed in Simon’s window when he opened it to have his morning cigarette, and up to Ryan’s bedroom I went. Imagine my shock when I found you there in his bed. I know I shouldn’t have said what I did, but … you took me by surprise. You weren’t part of the plan.”

  “How did you get past the protective charm on the door?”

  “The same way it doesn’t affect me now, even though it’s in your pocket.” She smiled sweetly. “It will only protect your from people who mean to harm you. I mean you no ill will, Alex.”

  I’m not so sure about that, I wanted to say, but didn’t. “I saw you in the car when Ryan came to talk to me outside Halt. Why did you go with him? If I hadn’t seen you, I might have stayed to talk to him, and I wouldn’t have gone to the hotel, and Marcus never would have got hurt.”

  “He didn't want me there, begged me to remain in the house with Simon, but I need to stay near him at all times, for my own protection. Besides, I wanted to see you again. I wanted to get to know the woman who stole Ryan Raynard’s heart away from me.”

  “I didn’t steal anyone. He was already over you when I came into this house.”

  “If that’s what you’d like to believe,” she said.

  I spread my arms wide. “I’m here. If you want to get to know me, then ask your questions. I have nothing to hide.”

  “You’re just his taste,” she said, swirling the wine around in her glass.

  “Excuse me?”

  “He likes his girls to be a little bit nerdy.” I blanched at the word. “Nerdy and needy. He wants them to fall at his feet adoringly, ‘Oh, Ryan! You’re such a genius!’ He thought he liked my independence, but he soon grew sick of it. No, I’m not surprised to see him with a girl like you.”

  I stood up, pushing my stool out from beneath me with more force than I intended. Kylie yelped as it toppled backward and crashed against the marble floor. She reached out to grab me – perhaps she thought I was going to do something drastic, like put my hands around the bitch’s skinny little neck and squeeze until she stopped talking, which I admit was a rather thrilling prospect – but I shrugged her off.

  “You’ve never met a girl like me before,” I said, keeping my voice calm and even. “You have no idea of what I’m capable of. Do not make the mistake of underestimating me, or crossing me.”

  “Are you threatening me, sugar?”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it, honey,” I spat back.

  “Good. Because, like it or not, I am staying in this house until after the exhibition, until Isengrim is put down, once and for all. And you are just going to have to deal with me,” she smiled sweetly. “May the best woman win.”

  “Get her out of this house,” I snarled at Ryan.

  I’d found him in his studio, an enormous, high-ceilinged room with elaborate plaster detailing and an inlaid marble floor. It must have been a ballroom at one point, but now it served as Ryan’s studio space – a white grand piano in the centre was covered with canvases stretched across easels. Benches stacked high with paint-stained cushions sat beside the floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the gardens and forest below. Lamps stood scattered throughout the room, bent at odd angles to create beautiful, delicate lighting. Shelves and boxes of paints and supplies lined one wall, beneath a large mural depicting a wild fox hunt painted in the traditional style of the rest of the house – the only reminder of the room’s previous occupants.

  Ryan was standing behind an easel, his hands moving furiously across the canvas as he sketched out a new composition. His eyes had a kind of glazed look, as if he’d had a couple of drinks. He didn't look up, or acknowledge me in any way.

  I stepped closer. "Ryan? Can you hear me?"

  “Huh? Who are you talking about?” This time he tore his eyes away from the canvas, and looked at me.

  “I'm talking about Melissa. When you left the kitchen, she started talking to me and … argh! She is impossible. I am asking you, as your mate, to make her leave.”

  “You know I can’t do that, Alex. If I send her from my protection, Isengrim will kill her. I don't want that on my conscience. Why does she make you so angry?”

  “I can’t help it. I hate her. She’s so … urgh!”

  He laughed. “Ignore her. She’s feeling a little possessive. Can you blame her?” He stood up, setting down his palette and crossing to me in a few wide strides. He wrapped me in his arms, resting his chin on top of my head as he stroked my hair. “You do have me utterly under your spell, you know.”

  I rested my head against his shoulder, breathing in the deep, spicy smell of him. "I know."

  “Try to imagine things from her point of view. She takes an incredible risk to come here, cross through the boundaries Isengrim’s pack is establishing, to deliver me a message. It seems that even stone-hearted Melissa still has some feelings for me. She arrives, only to discover I’m in bed with someone else, and that we’ve already become linked. For years, she’d begged me to link with her, but I refused, waiting for my last niggling doubts to fade away. And within a few hours of knowing you, I had linked myself forever to you. She is jealous of you, Alex.”

  “Mmm-hmmm.” He was making it sound a bit better. “Supermodel gorgeous, shape shifting Melissa is jealous of me. Right."

  He signed, reaching up and stroking my hair.

  "I’m sorry for being like this, Ryan. I know I sound crazy–"

  "You do."

  "And I know you've got other things on your mind."

  "Yes." His voice choked a little on that word.

  "How is Marcus?"

  “He hasn’t changed back yet. He’s too weak, and he could still do real permanent injury to himself. But we talked.” His eyes darkened.

  “And?”

  “And he’s a complicated man. We’re trying to work things out. He wants to see Clara.”

  “Is that safe for Clara?”

  “It will be,” he looked back toward his painting, his face pensive. I could tell he wanted to go back to it. I stepped toward the canvas, wondering what he could possibly be creating right now. “Can I see?”

  “No.” He moved between me and the canvas, blocking my body from stepping behind it. I tried to peer around him, but again he blocked my path.

  “I’m serious, Alex. I’m not ready for you to see this piece. Not yet. Lots of artists feel that way. I suspect that’s why your friend keeps his artwork in your bedroom.”

  “Huh?”

  “Those art journals under your bed? Clearly, your friend doesn’t want anyone else to see them.”

  “Oh, yes, those.” My face flushed. “But you clearly don’t respect my friend’s request, because you kept looking at them after I told you not to. So why should I respect your artistic wishes now?”

  “Just because I blatantly ignored your request, doesn’t mean it’s not valid.” He grinned.

  “But you’re Ryan Raynard. You are one of the most important modern English artists, period. What do you have to be nervous about?”

  “Ryan Raynard still gets nervous,” he bent in, and kissed my neck. “Especially around bright, intelligent, artistic women like you. Ryan Raynard is still that scared boy running away to Belfast, wondering if he’d ever get anyone to see him as an artist, not a monster. Now, if you don't mind–"

  "Fine. I just had something I forgot to te
ll you. It might help us fight off Isengrim."

  I told him about what Kylie and I had discovered about Iridium. Ryan, who’d never made a serious study of ceramic art like I had, didn’t have any in his studio. “You think you can find the pigment?”

  “Sure. It’s in a box under my bed. Do you think it’s safe to go out and get it?

  “No. But that’s never stopped us before.”

  “True. I would also like to bring Miss Havisham back here. She hasn’t been fed in a couple of days, and I hate the idea of her being in the house with Isengrim’s pack hanging around."

  He sighed. “Very well. She won’t be happy, though."

  "How do you know how my cat will feel."

  "She's a cat. This entire house reeks of foxes."

  "Oh, right. That."

  "If we're going into the village again, I'll also collect Clara and bring her back here. Marcus won’t be able to do much to her in his state.”

  “So it’s agreed? We go back to my flat?”

  “Yes. We go back, early tomorrow morning. Today, we all need to rest.”

  “Rest … is that what you really have in mind?”

  He scooped me up in his arms, planting a kiss on my lips. "Not in the slightest."

  8

  The next morning, Ryan cooked us all a hearty breakfast – a Spanish tortilla with sweet potatoes, chorizo sausage and caramelised onion, served with piles of mushrooms and some of the best coffee I’ve ever tasted. Not even watching Melissa across the breakfast table eating her tortilla as if it were the finest French delicacy, could make me lose my appetite. Today we were heading back to our flat.

  With the exception of Simon, who wanted to stay at Raynard Hall, we all piled into Simon’s car. He had lent it to Ryan – against my liberal warnings – and Ryan insisted that only he was allowed to drive it. As we tore through the streets of Crookshollow, my knuckles went white from gripping the armrest.

  We drove by the flat first, Ryan and Melissa peering into the trees, searching with their eyes and noses for any guards Isengrim might have posts.

  "Anything?" I asked.